"There's always a prophecy, isn't there? A bold and courageous hero to thwart evil and all that? Well, not this time. Garonar's paying me quite well to keep you out of trouble."
Gaenor eased open his weary eyes and immediately felt the pounding headache and cold metal table. He had been strapped down tight with steel clamps by the wrists and ankles. He found himself within the cave where the giant dreugh had brought him before, but he didn't know how long he had been there. There were no lights save the water which illuminated the cave floor, walls and ceiling. He tilted his head forward to see where the voice was coming from.
"How many times have you found yourself waking up in a villain's lair so far? You are a pathetic creature." The voice sounded high and cracked, much like the goblins' on the ship.. except it didn't seem as if it was coming from a mouth.. more like pincers of some kind. The dreugh slithered along its tentacles to the confused and aching Gaenor. Not many dreugh are able to stay out of water for long, so that led the elf to two possible conclusions: this one was either the king of his race or a dreugh which had somehow harnessed the powers of the school of Alteration to breath air instead of water. He wasn't sure how being the king would allow him to remain out of water for a longer period of time than the rest, or why he would be so enormous, but he didn't know much about dreugh at all.. nor did he really care. Once he was able to think and see again, the only thing on his mind was how to escape.
"I have taken the liberty of removing your armor and weapon. Don't worry, you still have clothing on.. I wouldn't want to humiliate the great Gaenor, now would I? Hahaha!" the dreugh laughed as he looked down at the Bosmer. Gaenor squinted and asked, "Who are you and why did you save me from the storm?" The dreugh enthusiastically threw his body back with an overly surprised look on his scaly brown face. "Well, it can talk! I've been around for 1,240 years and never have I heard one of you humanoids speak before!" Gaenor gradually widened his eyes to their regular shape and responded in a frustrated tone, "Perhaps you haven't been out of water too often.. and how are you out of water now? Shouldn't you be dead?" The dreugh burst out laughing while the elf watched in great confusion. "I apologize," he said, wiping a non-existent tear from his coal-black eye, "it's just so outrageous to hear one of you actually talk! But anyway, my Lord Garonar has provided me with this ring.. shiny, isn't it? He told me it would allow me to remain in the open air for about a week."
"Huh?" Gaenor exclaimed, "well what's going to happen when you.." the dreugh screamed in interruption, "I SAID IT'S SHINY, ISN'T IT!?!" The elf thrusted himself back as far as his shackles would allow and responded in fear, "Oh yes, quite shiny! Shiny it is, quite indeed! Why I've never seen something quite so shiny in all my years! If you ever asked me, 'Hey Gaenor, describe to me the word shiny', I'd say, 'Well, my good fellow, if the word shiny is the word you're asking a description of.." the dreugh stopped him, "Thank you. I think so too! Now, go on with your question."
"Yes, I wanted to know what is going to happen in a week after the magic of your ring runs out." Gaenor said cautiously. The dreugh eased closer and leaned in, his claws and hands on the table, "Well," he whispered, "it would seem I'd have to return to the water when that happens.. meaning you would have to come with me. Can you breath water, elf?" With that he quickly perked himself up and began laughing again, turning around and crawling into the shadows. Gaenor turned his head to face to ceiling and swallowed hard. After a week, he would be dragged down into the sea once more and drown. He had to come up with a plan of some sort to escape.. but first, he needed to get off of that table.
He searched the area with his quick elven eyes for a key. There was nothing to be found, for all the walls were bare and the floor was out of his sight. "No key.." he thought aloud, "but I've forgotten my power! The natural ability inherent to all Bosmer!" A smile grew across his face as he closed his eyes and began yelling out a strange series of sounds, much like a large sea creature would emit during communication. The dreugh quickly returned shouting, "What are you doing!? Are you nuts or something?" Gaenor stopped and calmly turned to him with his trademark smirk, "It would be wise of you to either move out of the way or start praying, freak."
The dreugh laughed and held two of his four arms behind his head, "Hah! You are quite entertaining, little elf! What, were you hoping I'd think you were so crazy that I'd get scared and run away? No such luck!" "Actually," replied Gaenor, "I was hoping to call upon a Tigerwhale to free me from this cave." The dreugh began laughing so hard that he fell over backwards, holding his sides. "You're too much! Where do you get these ideas? You are certainly the most creative elf I've met in my entire life!" As he continued rolling around on his back, tentacles waving about in the air, the cave began to shake violently. They both looked towards the water where they had previously entered through, the dreugh slowly quieting down and Gaenor smiling.
"Still think it's funny, jerk?"
-------------
Water in the form of tidal waves piled upon each other and crashed through the arcing cave ceiling above the entrance. Gaenor laid his head back down and closed his eyes, hoping that none of the rock fragments exploding from the gushing sea would hit him while the dreugh crouched to the floor, covering his head with all four arms. The Bosmer peeked through one open eye to watch as the great aquatic creature burst through the wall and onto the cave floor. "Hmm," thought Gaenor aloud, "that doesn't really look like a Tigerwhale at all.. in fact, it looks more like that.." The serpent cut him off with an earth-shattering shriek as it picked itself up onto its tail-shaped body. Its head was still badly wounded but the mess of blood had dried. The beast was berserk but not foolish, and it searched the cave for its elven opponent.
The helpless Gaenor shut his eye again and could do nothing more than lay there, strapped to the table and at the mercy of the serpent. The dreugh began to edge away and towards the gaping hole in the cave wall, still flowing with water. "So long, sucker!" he yelled as he sprung off the ground and through the entrance. Just as he did so, the slimy tail of the monster grappled around his waist and dragged him from the water. He lifted him up in front of his deformed face and opened its jaw as wide as it could. The dreugh pushed and pulled frantically at the tail but it wouldn't budge. The beast threw him into his mouth and crunched hard his body with its massive fangs.
Gaenor's amulet began to glow its familiar blue. The light grew as the serpent chewed on the dreugh until it illuminated the entire cave. The beast growled low in its throat as it swallowed and crawled towards the Bosmer. He was sweating profusely and shook in his bonds upon the table. He began reciting a prayer native to Valenwood in a broken and terrified voice as the monster advanced towards him, its eyes burning with rage. It recognized him as the one who had fought him on the surface before, and now it would have its revenge.
Just as its jaws were prepared to snap, the amulet blasted it with blue light. It was thrown backwards and onto the floor as Gaenor struggled in his shackles. Out from the entrance crashed the Tigerwhale, twice as large as the serpent and decorated with yellow and brown stripes all along its massive body. It opened its enormous jaw wide and fell towards the serpent. Its razor-sharp teeth sank into the scaley hide of the monster causing it to let out a screech of incredible pain. The whale bit deeper and tore away at the beast as it fell limp to the floor.
Gaenor stopped praying and stared in awe at the gigantic Tigerwhale towering over him. It grumbled low causing the cave to shake lightly and spit out the half of the serpent it had taken. He understood it and replied in the same language it had used before. The whale nodded knowingly and carefully snapped each bond holding the elf to the table. He climbed atop the massive creature as it rammed through the entrance and out into the open sea. Gaenor hung on tight to its blowhole as it rocketed forth from the cavern.
The amulet's light dimmed once more and Gaenor looked up, keeping his eyes closed and ducking through the water as the whale sped on. He told it to swim as quickly as it could south to the mainland. The whale acknowledged him with a loud roar and increased its already rapid pace. Every so often it would rise to the surface to allow Gaenor some air, then delve back down into the sea. Within twenty minutes' time they had arrived at the Grenmoor docks, the whale slowing to a halt and Gaenor still clutching to the whale with his eyes closed and head down. He thanked the whale graciously as it lifted him to the surface and onto land. "Terenius would never believe this.." he said panting, "but I must thank the gods for my safety and move on, I have to stay focused on my quest. He rose to his feet, dripping from head to toe, and walked slowly, keeping his balance by leaning on nearby walls and posts, to a healer.
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It was midnight in the Ashlands. Garonar's dreary tower stood amongst the waste as its demon guards patrolled about as they always did. The evil lord sat in his throne while two sentries watched him from the tall iron entrance doors. "What's he doing?" one asked the other. "Who knows. Necromancers are an odd folk, they are." Garonar was muttering to himself in an incomprehensible language, much like the one used to summon a communication link to Dagoth Ur, as he waved his fingers in strange motions. He had been doing this for almost a day by the guards' reckoning, and they were especially curious as to what exactly he was up to.
A purple mist began to emanate from his hands and his chanting became louder. The sentries observed in ever-growing curiosity as the mist billowed to the high ceiling and collected itself in a shapeless mass. Garonar stopped and put down his arms while looking up to the smoke. The guards followed his eyes to see it swirl down to the floor in a cyclone and separated itself into two large clouds. Each began to take form until it was clear who he was summoning - both halves of the dreugh. Having failed his assignment miserably, his spirit physically manifested by his master knew he had been pulled from the realm of the dead for no good reason.
"Master, let me explain.." he began but the sorcerer cut him off in his calm voice, "Tell me, Hkun, do you and I speak different languages?" Hkun the dreugh tucked his arms behind his back and responded nervously, "Forgive me sire, but it wasn't my fault!" Garonar's eyes burned red through the darkness of his hood with impatience. "Oh, I apologize my lord. We both speak the same language!" he said with haste. "As I thought," the necromancer raised his voice steadily, "so tell me this. If you and I both speak the same language, the one we are speaking right now, then how is it that you could not follow the directions given to you!?" Hkun and his lower half backed away in mid-air, stricken with terror.
Garonar stood and walked quickly towards the frightened Hkun towards the entrance to his great throne room. The guards backed away and hid behind the half-opened doors. "Sire, I understood every word you spoke, but it was not my fault! The serpent, it broke through and.. and.. it ate me!" Hkun replied, now up against the stone wall. "Indeed," he said, eyes still aflame, "I have seen it happen. Also, the fact that I am speaking to half of you as your other half is currently hiding behind a curtain is a hint. As you rolled about on the floor, LAUGHING, the beast caught and devoured you alive. What were you laughing at?" Garonar was in the dreugh's face.
"Well, my lord, actually, I was.. I was laughing.. at the elf! He told me he called a Tigerwhale to come and save him! How r-ridiculous is that!?" The flames in Garonar's eyes were doused with laughter. He stepped away from the spirit and walked in the opposite direction, then turned to face him once again. "Your mistake was taking the elf lightly. It so happens that the Tigerwhale did rescue him from your little cave and brought him to Grenmoor. However, although you failed to carry out my will, you should feel proud!" A smile crept along his pale face, "for you have shown me not to put my trust in brainless fishmen!" Hkun flew from the wall and up above his master as the guards listened from the doorway. "Well then, a brainless fishman, am I?" His other half ascended from behind the curtains and attached itself to Hkun as he shouted, "If I'm so incompetent and stupid, then why didn't you just grab him from the sea and kill him yourself, if you're so great!?"
"Ooh, he shouldn't have said that!" one of the guards snickered while they peeked around the corner to see Garonar raise his arms. "My dear Hkun," he said coolly, "you don't know the half of it." Two balls of fire exploded from his hands, ripping through the spirit of Hkun and blasting apart a portion of ceiling. The sentries ducked behind the walls, holding their armored hands over their mouths as to not make a sound that would alert their lord. The necromancer opened wide his mouth and sucked up what was left of the dreugh's soul.
The sentries quietly picked themselves up and one whispered to the other, " 'You don't know the half of it?' What a corny joke! But he sure got his point across!" The other nodded and they both began to return to their posts. "You two," Garonar yelled, "fix this hole, will you? It's racer season and I don't want any disturbing me." The guards stopped in their tracks and responded with a simultaneous, "Yes m'lord!" and scrambled down the hallway.
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"Sweet merciful Mara, what in the Emperor's name happened to YOU!?" Gaenor lay wearily upon a bed at an Imperial fort. His clothes were stained and torn to shreds, his legs scraped, arms cut and bleeding, torso bruised, and his face dirty and nicked. His amulet was the only thing on him that wasn't in the least bit worn; even the chain which held it around his neck was shimmering in the well-lit room. "It's a miracle you've still got pants, boy!" the healer exclaimed as he inspected his patient.
"Yeah, I really don't want to get into it right now.. I just came from Vivec and.." the healer interrupted in disbelief, "What'd ya do, swim here!?" Gaenor laughed, "Pretty much!" The healer shook his bald head and began to wrap the especially damaged areas of the elf in bandages. He was a Breton, somewhat old with a long, pointy moustache and beard. He wore a plain brown robe, common in the Cult for healers, which dangled low to his shoes on his thin body. The early morning sun shone in from the stone windows and reflected off his large glasses as he continued to clip off excess bandage from Gaenor's arms.
Fort Grenmoth stood atop a small hill, watching over the town of Grenmoor with archers at every post and guards within its shielding fortifications. Grenmoor itself sprawled across the wide open fields nestled in tall, healthy grass that peeked over the thatch rooftops and small crop fields. The citizens were diverse, ranging from Argonians to Nords, and to Gaenor's surprise, even Dunmer. It was an Imperial town, and he felt great security walking along the dirt roads after leaving the healer two hours after the last scratch was covered. He realized the urgency of his quest, but after such an ordeal, he decided to rest a bit in the quiet town.
Along the path between farmhouses, Gaenor spotted a tavern. "What luck! Perhaps they have grief?" he thought aloud, and entered. It was dim but welcoming and full of drunks, even this early in the morning. He sat himself at the bar and ordered a drink. Behind him he heard angry shouting and the slamming down of mugs on a table. He turned on his stool to see what was happening and listened to what such heated discussion was about. "Gah! It's obvious why an Altmer would say that!" yelled a Nord, his mouth half-full with meat, "Telepaths are an insult to the innocent!" The Altmer shook his head and responded angrily, "You don't understand! Telepaths are in the service of the Emperor for the sole reason of identifying truth from falsity! If someone is lying, they can pry the truth out from them! Can you not see how useful this is!?"
Gaenor took his drink and walked slowly towards the table as the group clamored on. "You're both idiots!" cried an Orc woman, "...what's a telepath?" Gaenor stood in front of the table, drink in hand, and stated, "A telepath, my good lady, is one who can read the thoughts of others." The three turned to the elf, sipping his grief. "That's right! And whoever thinks it's right for the Emperor to be hiring these sorcerers is a scuttlehead!" shouted the Nord. "Well now," Gaenor laughed, "they're not all that bad! You see, I happen to know one personally! He is my good friend!"
He awoke in a pile of garbage a short while later, rubbing his head and wiping the trash from his clothes. Not very hospitable he thought as he stumbled back onto the path. Straightening himself out, he noticed a thief cut a purse from a noble. "Guards! I've been robbed!" he shouted as the thief made his way down the road and towards the Bosmer. He stuck out his leg, tripping him to the floor and sending the purse flying. He scrambled to his feet and ran off into the fields. Gaenor picked up the purse and signalled a guard, quite satisfied with himself for preventing a theft.
Admiring the quaint scenery of the town, he happened upon a bakery. "Oh, greetings my friend! Hey, you look hungry! Tell you what, you can have this sweetroll, free of charge! Take care now!" the baker said enthusiastically, pushing Gaenor out of the doorway. "What a nice man!" he said, delighted. As he relaxed by the side of the shop, a gang of Dunmer approached him armed with small clubs. "Hey, Bosmer. Hand over the sweetroll and no one gets hurt!" the leader warned in his low, raspy voice. He stood with the sweetroll, looking up at the bullies. "And what if I don't?" he asked sternly. "Or this!" the leader shouted as he and the two others charged at the elf. He pushed himself from the wall with one leg and rammed into the leader, the other two stopping and lunging for him. Gaenor shoved him into the side of a house, knocking him unconscious. He pulled his sword from its sheath and halted the two bullies immediately. "I dare you." he said, and they ran off, leaving their leader behind.
"Excellent, my friend! Although you gave a better performance on deck!"
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"Terenius!?" Gaenor exclaimed, dropping his sword in astonishment. "Aye, 'tis I! It's good to see you in one piece and on the mainland." Tears welled up in the elf's eyes as he ran straight into his comrade. He wore all his armor with a hooded cloak over it and carried a fairly large sack over one shoulder. "Come, I'll tell you what happened after the serpent attacked." he said, patting Gaenor on the back. "Yes, and I can tell you a pretty crazy story about what happened to me after it pushed our ship away!" said the Bosmer as he loosened his grip. They both entered the tavern from before after Gaenor took back his sword, one hand on each other's back, ecstatic and filled with relief to see one another again. They sat at a small table in the corner, away from the fighting group who were still at it.
"Well," slurred the drunken Nord, waving his tankard around over his head, "look who it is! Mr. I Love Telepaths! Back for more, are we?" Terenius turned, put two fingers to his forehead, and closed his eyes. "Hjormar, it is unwise to pick on the innocent when Cult members are around," he said calmly as he opened one eye, "especially a telepath such as myself. And may I say, you bear a striking resemblance to your mother when you dress up in women's clothing like that each night." The Nord turned red, dropped his mug and ran out the door, leaving Terenius and Gaenor seated with the Altmer and Orc laughing hysterically. "So tell me," began Terenius, "what became of you after that accursed monster knocked me out?" Gaenor called for a waitress and turned straight in his chair, "You first!"
"very well," he said smiling, "after you jumped into the water with the serpent, it arose and rammed the ship, sending me backwards and into the mast. I became inconscious immediately and remained so for some time. When I awoke, the ship had crashed upon a krag of rocks somewhat northwest of Vivec." A waitress gave them drinks with nix meat and he continued, "Judging from the placement of the sun, I could tell it had been about 3 hours. Not knowing where I was, I left the ship and wandered aimlessly in the hopes of finding civilization. It was a miracle from the Nine that I happened upon a small abandoned cave inhabited by a group of slave abolitionists who took me in and fed me."
"They were mostly Khajiit with a few Argonians, and they were all extremely hospitable. Being an Imperial in the Cult, I'd have thought they'd kill me on the spot.. but they seemed to know more than my appearance may have suggested. Although I am Cyrodiil, I do not agree with this land's slave laws. Anyway, when I asked their leader how to get to Grenmoor from there, she called in a shaman of some sort. He wore teeth and bones over leather and beads, and a feather headdress with a wooden, decorated staff. He sprinkled me with a powder and gave me a tap with the staff, sending me directly in the middle of a wheat field in Grenmoor." Gaenor lowered his mug and said amazed, "Wow! That truly is something! It seems you were somewhat more fortunate than I.. you see," as he began his tale, the waitress approached their table once again.
"Yes?" Terenius asked. A grimace crept along her face and she dropped her tray at their feet. "Careful, you!" Gaenor shouted as the waitress turned her head to him. "ti si uoy ym retsam stnaw." His amulet emitted a blue glow and Terenius noticed it. "Gaenor!" he yelled, leaping from his seat and tackling the waitress to the floor. Gaenor unsheathed his sword and bent down, holding her with his knee to her throat with his blade ready to strike at her face. "Servant of Garonar, huh?" he said coldly, "What do you want?" Terenius held his palm to her head and closed his eyes, "No need to question this wench. I'll rip the information out of her."
After a moment he took back his hand and turned to Gaenor, "He's nearby." The elf launched himself from the waitress' neck and bolted out the door as Terenius shouted behind him, "Wait for me!" and ended her life with his mace. He thrust open the door and asked, "Where are you going!? We don't know where he is!" Gaenor stopped running and turned, "It's not a big town! I'll find him myself!!" and continued down the road. Terenius nodded impatiently and chased after him. If he happened to find him, which was in itself unlikely, what would he do? He didn't know how to use the amulet even if he had the chance.
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He flew through the town, his tattered cloak blowing in the wind. It was Garonar, on another hunt for souls. He blasted out fireballs in his usual manner, first aiming for houses and crops, then for the people. Gaenor slid on the dirt path, ducking under the flames that shot out towards him. He growled and grit his teeth as he eagerly launched himself up and faster down the road than before. He was following the brighter red light and screams from the populace until he came upon a circle of scorched grass and bodies.
Garonar hovered above its middle, firing balls of flame from his hands. Terenius caught up with his companion and yelled over the wind and explosions, "What's wrong with you!? You haven't even your armor!" Gaenor didn't hear a word, for his focus was fixed upon the figure of his revenge before him. The sky was filled with dark-red clouds, choking the life from the peaceful town of Grenmoor. "NECROMANCER!!" the Bosmer shouted ferociously, "You'll pay for every life you've taken!!" Garonar turned to him, arms spread wide apart, and muttered, "Gaenor. What a pleasant surprise. I see you're in good health." Terenius stepped forward, "Be silent! You are destroyed here and now!!" With that, he laid a gauntlet upon the elf's shoulder. As he did so, shining bands of purple light began a rapid movement around it which then passed over to Gaenor. Not even realizing it, he jumped into the air and began flying towards his foe.
"Meddling Cyrodiil." Garonar sputtered as the elf ripped through the air straight ahead, his blade held in front of him. As he drew nearer, his amulet shook violently and shot out a blue beam of light straight into the sorcerer's eyes. He screamed in pain as he held his eyes, the force having been so strong that it flung him backwards in a summersault. Gaenor continued after him over the burning town and out across the grass fields. The necromancer attempted to stop himself in mid-air but his powers were vastly diminished from the amulet. The elf's rage intensified as he flew faster, his body like a dagger with his sword pointed at the tumbling Garonar. He came so close as to feel his cloak upon the blade, and struck at it with all his might.
Blood black as ebony spewed forth from the newly-created stabwound in the sorcerer's back. As Gaenor pulled his sword out of the slit, Garonar vanished in a cyclone of ashes and fire. The Bosmer turned, still flying, to see this, and lowered his weapon as the skies returned to blue. The sun once again shone over the bloodied battlefield that Grenmoor had been turned into. Terenius called up from the ground, "Gaenor! Come down.. he's escaped." He descended and sheathed his blade, "And this time wounded and without souls. Things are looking up." Terenius turned with a surprised look at his friend, "Well, after our enemy escaping, that's the last thing I thought I'd hear you say!" Gaenor dropped to the ground on his feet, giving the smirk Terenius knew well by now, "And you call yourself a telepath?"
They helped the survivors and cleaned away the debris before departing south towards Mournhold, capitol city of Morrowind. There, Terenius told Gaenor they would meet with Crito Olisinius, the Oracle of the city. "No doubt he will know how to unlock the powers of your amulet," he said, "and if he doesn't, no one will." "Maybe he'll have some new armor for me as well." said Gaenor hopefully. They travelled on foot until sundown where they made camp on the side of the road amidst the rolling green plains and small fields of flowers, along with the occasional lone farmhouse or cottage.
"...and so that's how I ended up in Grenmoor. Pretty wild, huh?" Gaenor said proudly as he took some more bread from Terenius' bag. The healer laughed, "My.. what a story. I'm glad to hear that serpent got what he deserved!" The two fell asleep before their campfire below the full moons and dreamt of Mournhold. Neither have ever been there, and they were anxious to see it themselves. Being the capital city, King Llethan, leader of Morrowind would be there.. perhaps not in their direct view, but his presence would be enough to stir excitement in them. Indeed, the next day they would come closer to Mourhold, to unlocking the power of the amulet, and therefore - their destiny.
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Gaenor and Terenius slept under the starlit sky as the gentle breeze swayed the branches and grass while crickets chirped on into the night. They would hop from place to place every so often, pausing occasionally to rub their hind legs together in reply to the others in a ringing squeak. More than once they would land on Gaenor who was fidgeting in his sleep, dreaming of the grandeur of Mournhold and the royal palace of the king. He would bat them off quickly and onto the ground, only to have them leap back to the annoyed elf.
He awoke to the laughter of his companion, sitting over him with his legs crossed and head tilted back. "What's so funny?" he asked before realizing there were two crickets sitting atop his head. He scrambled up and swatted at his hair, but they were already gone. Terenius continued to chuckle as Gaenor slowly stopped, then pushed down his friend in a half-joking tackle. "You jerk!" he yelled, trying desperately to keep in his smile. After a short while, they finally got themselves up and continued down the trail.
"Our food's not as fresh as it was on the ship," Terenius noted as he checked the bag, "And all we have left is half a loaf of bread." Gaenor's sharp eyes spotted something a half mile down the road and elbowed the healer to get his attention away from the sack. "Maybe that fellow could direct us to where there's food." He pointed out across the straight, clear path to a human figure. "Perhaps," Terenius answered as he looked up and squinted at it, "if we're lucky. Can you tell who he or she is?" Gaenor jogged down the road a bit further to a short hill, leaned in a bit, then headed back while saying, "It's a he.. and he looks like a Dunmer. I think he's a nobleman of some sort, judging by his clothes."
"Nels Llendo, that's m'name!" he said, hands at his hips with his chest out and presenting his shining teeth with an obnoxious smile. He wore a silken shirt with matching pants and fine-tailored gloves studded with small jewels. Over his tunic was a breastplate made of bonemold and boots of the same material. It was obvious that he was quite wealthy. The two gave him an expressionless stare before he relaxed his position and began again, "It is I, Nels Llendo! The great bandit of the Ascadian Isles!" Gaenor and Terenius exchanged puzzled looks, "You do know you're not in the Ascadian Isles, don't you?" asked the elf as they both turned back to the brigand. He kept smiling and answered with confidence, "Oh my, yes! The Great Nels Llendo knows this, and he also knows that the Ascadian Isles' trade routes have been utterly massacred by my great skills as a.. businessman, shall we say?"
"Businessman, huh?" Terenius said as he secretly probed his mind, "It seems this 'businessman' is more than meets the eye. He's a highwayman, a thief." Nels took a step back and let out an exaggerated gasp, "Why, I take much offense to that, good sir! I am the perfect gentleman and in no way a 'thief' as you so cruelly put it. And, to prove that I am in fact a businessman," he continued as he slowly stepped back to his original spot in the middle of the road, "I will offer you a proposition. A proposition most healthy, and one you should certainly not pass up!" Gaenor raised an eyebrow in interest and said, "Keep talking," which perked the Dunmer up and caused his smile to grow even wider.
"Excellent! But please," he went on, "do not misinterpret my proposition for taking advantage of two such fine fellows as yourselves. For you see, my plan.. proposition, I mean, is quite simple: you give me 50 gold coins and I, Nels Llendo the Great, will allow you to continue your journey unhindered and unharmed. And be sure of this, for Nels Llendo always keeps his word, and he is a good ally to have!" Terenius was becoming agitated, "Listen, I've never even heard of you before, 'Nels Llendo the Great'. Now please, step aside so we may move on. We have very pressing matters to attend to and there is no time for petty criminals who talk in the third person."
"It seems a lesson is in order for such disobedient fools. Ah, well.. so is the life of Nels Llendo."
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"I've never seen him like this before.. something must've really shaken him up." said one of the guards to another in the large stone lobby of Garonar's Keep. There was nothing on the walls besides torches and spiderwebs with the occasional bloodstain. It was dark even with the torchlight and obvious that the lord of the castle was not preoccupied with decoration. The only thing close to being called such were the banners; tall, red-and-white banners that hung from the ceiling and blew with the wind whenever the entrance doors were opened. In the center of each was a symbol outlined with gold color of a mask. It had three eyes and runes on its forehead.
The warlock sat on his throne, shivering and clutching to his chest with both hands. He was hunched over and stared vacantly at one of the banners as two sentries stood at the doors. They looked at each other every so often, then back to their master in confusion as to what had befallen him. He was the most powerful force of evil in all Tamriel next to Dagoth Ur, and until now, they didn't think anything could do what Gaenor had done to him in Grenmoor. However, they had no knowledge yet of the elf and the amulet. The guards were never informed of any doings outside the castle, so they assumed most while talking to each other on duty. The two guarding the throne room dared not speak, knowing of Garonar's incredibly hearing and senses, but the others talked freely in the other areas of the keep.
"What could have? D'you think he's gotten into a fight with Ur?" asked the other guard in the lobby. The first replied, "You think so? Why would he have anything to do with that freak?" The second turned his head a bit and answered, "Well, it's pretty obvious.. I mean, he has banners of the guy's head all over the place. I've never actually seen Ur before," he pointed to one of the banners, "but those runes say 'Lord of Ash'. There's only one lord of ash I know of." The first thought for a minute and responded, "I suppose. I never even noticed that before. You sure are perceptive!" The second lowered his arm and sighed, "Yeah, I'm a genius, huh? Anyway, who else could have damaged him so badly? No one, that's who." They continued discussing the possible cause of Garonar's crippled new state, utterly oblivious as to the true reason.
The blast from the amulet broke through his ribcage but stopped within. He knew that if it had continued through his spine, he would not likely have survived until now. He remained in the same position for hours, shaking and holding his chest, fixed on the banner. The guards didn't realize it, but his wound was slowly regenerating, and within a few days' time he would be whole once more. What they also didn't realize was the fear. For the first time in his ages of existence, Garonar was afraid for his life. He thought about what would happen if he was defeated by Gaenor - the power of his transformed amulet would destroy his physical form and every spirit he had captured would be set free. Since his power came from the souls he consumed, he would turn to his lord, Dagoth Ur for help. "Such as he would not forgive failure. I would be sent to Oblivion for eternity." he said aloud, tightening his grip.
Although this was true, he did not yet despair. For he was Garonar, Harvester of Souls, and had never been defeated. Gaenor had found a way to turn the amulet from an instrument of self destruction to a tool to be used against its own maker, but that would not stop the dark lord. Once he had regained full strength, he would send out his legion of demons which crowded the keep to hunt down the elf and his friend. Imagining the carnage that would ensue, he was motivated and turned away from the banner to the entrance. No more would he lurk in these Ashlands and plot his attacks, for it was clear that this strategy was pointless against the Bearer of the Amulet. Now is the time for brute force and rampage, he thought.
"You two!" he commanded the guards at the entrance, "I want each of you to deliver a message to everyone in this castle. One of you take the left wing, the other the right. Tell them all to ready themselves for battle. No excuses shall be made. If they have not been assembled three days from now, I will personally tear your heads off and feed them to the hounds! GO!" They threw open the doors in a nervous rush and ran, armor clanging, down opposite hallways. The sorcerer leaned back in his seat, grinning and trembling, as he closed his eyes and dreamt ever hopefully of his victory.
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"Take this!" Nels unsheathed an enchanted longsword from its scabbard on his back and thrust it at his opponents. He and Terenius pushed off each other and presented their weapons. "Oh ho," said the Dunmer, backing away in a skip and juggling his sword from one hand to the other, "those would look much better on me!" Terenius raised his mace and shouted, "Then try it on!" He hammered it down upon him but was stopped with his blade. He held it by the hilt and end, then pulled it away, slicing off a spike. He kicked the healer away and turned to face Gaenor. They locked swords and struggled against each other while Terenius picked himself up.
"Don't take me lightly, wood elf." he murmured, then shoved him off and onto the floor. Nels now stood between them both, turning now and then to make sure neither came up behind him. "Heading to Mournhold, are you?" he asked smiling, "You have a ways to go yet.. that is, if you survive this fight!" Gaenor looked to his amulet quickly, but it was dim and did not react to what he thought it would have - danger. Each time it lit up he was in harm's way it seemed, but not this time. Perhaps it was because this Nels Llendo was not as dangerous as he thought he was. Or, perhaps he isn't working for Garonar. He had thought about it in the past, but what if it only activated if it sensed the necromancer's presence, whether by his henchmen or his own essence?
There was no time to ponder on this now, for Nels was preparing to strike again. He was skilled with the sword, so the plan was to take away that with which he was skilled. He faced Gaenor again, "No manners for you, huh? Think you can just run up to anyone you meet and ask them for food? What an insult! An insult to my honor, that is! That's what that is, no doubt about it..." As he yammered on, the Bosmer noticed several small streams of blue light behind the brigand. He tilted his head slightly to see Terenius casting some sort of spell. He moved his arms symmetrically in circles over his head and out in front of him as the light collected in his cupped hands. "...yep, if you were in No Mannersville, you'd be the mayor! And furthermore.." He was interrupted with the high-pitched tone of Terenius' spell.
The light enveloped the healer and stuck to his figure. It slowly grew to twice his size as Nels turned around. Gaenor was too awestruck by this display to attack the vulnerable Dunmer, but stood there and watched, wondering what he was doing to himself. Seconds later, the light dulled and revealed the new Terenius. His arms, legs and chest were now bulging with muscles, hardly able to be contained by his armor. His hands and feet were now the size of small boulders and his forehead had grown past his eyes which sloped up to the top of his head. When the light had completely gone, he let out an earth-trembling shout which created a strong wind. Nels and Gaenor planted themselves to the ground and pushed against the great force with all their might. The healer closed his wide mouth and threw his mace behind him. He wouldn't need it for this fight.
The Dunmer let out a shriek and darted in the opposite direction of the hulking ogre-like Terenius, dropping his blade along the way. Gaenor fell and kicked himself away and behind a nearby rock, holding out his sword in self-defense. Although Nels was fast on his feet, Terenius was even quicker and eventually caught him, his fingers wrapped around his body. "Okay!! I give!" he said in a panicked voice, "You can continue on your way! I don't want your money, really!" The healer looked him up and down, thinking of what to do with him. His jewel-encrusted armor caught his eye and he ripped it from him, then tossed it towards Gaenor. "Okay, that's fair! My
He turned back to Gaenor who was examining the armor and walked towards him. The elf looked up and backed away again in fear. Terenius smiled as the same light began to float away in waving rows. His muscles shrank back to their original size along with his hands, feet and forehead until he had returned to his normal state. Gaenor picked up the armor again and stood as Terenius continued towards him. "What in the world was that!?" he exclaimed. The healer laughed in response, "Fortify Strength and Speed. It takes a lot out of you, but it's worth it for guys like that. Where's my mace? That dork clipped a spike off of it!"
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Mace retrieved and armor equipped, Gaenor and Terenius continued down the road towards Mournhold. It wasn't far now, and they expected to arrive at the front gates by sundown. It was a little after noon now and they were still without food, but they knew that once they arrived in the capital city they would be greeted warmly by its Imperial Cult establishment. Crito Olisinius was the Oracle of Mournhold, and therefore a powerful figure in the Cult. Surely he would aid them in such an honorable quest. For now, their minds were on their stomachs, and they eagerly quickened their pace.
Terenius rubbed the rough spot where the missing spike on his mace once was with his forefinger, looking at it with confusion. "This mace is made from ebony and steel! How in the world could he have possibly damaged it so much with one swipe?" he asked. He looked at his companion for an answer and noticed Nels' scabbard on his back. "Was that attached to the armor?" Gaenor pulled out the brigand's sword and said with a smile, "Nice blade, huh? I guess this answers your question. I took it after you disposed of that Dunmer." It was an ebony longsword and sharper than any weapon Terenius had ever seen. He wondered how a common thief could have gotten a hold of something like that, let alone the breastplate, considering how much of an idiot he seemed to be.
"So what's Mournhold like?" Gaenor asked as he sheathed his new blade. "Well, it's by far the most historic city in Morrowind, and matches even Cyrodiil in its beauty. Only the very wealthy actually live within its walls, but any citizen of the province is allowed entry." "Uh.. I'm from Valenwood. How exactly do they check where you were born?" asked the elf. Terenius lowered his mace and replied, "There are four guards and a telepath like me at the main gate. The guards surround each person requesting entry into the city while the telepath, Laurette I believe her name is, examines the area of the mind which holds your birthplace."
After several more hours of travelling, they arrived at the gates of Mournhold. They were greeted by four guards in gleaming red armor and a Breton woman in a green-and-black robe, just as Terenius had said. The walls were five stories in height and encircled the half-mile wide city in impenetrable security. The gates themselves were enormous metal doors with a spiderweb-like design and looked as though they've stood for centuries. Two guards took Terenius by the arms and escorted him to the others, swords in hand. Each positioned himself close to the healer and boxed him in as Laurette the telepath held up two fingers and lowered her head. "This one is native-born and a Cult follower. He may proceed."
Next was Gaenor's turn. They did the same as if they had done it a thousand times before, taking and surrounding him with their weapons drawn to his torso, ready to strike at the discovery of danger by Laurette. They held him with one arm by his shoulders, chest and back while she read his mind. "I'm sorry Gaenor, but you hail from.." she paused opened her eyes. "..from Morrowind. Proceed." The guards released him and the gates cracked slowly open, allowing them both passage into the great city.
"Terenius," he recounted, "she just said I was from Morrowind. Valenwood isn't Morrowind." "Well, obviously," he laughed, "so I just made her think Valenwood was Morrowind. Mind-control is extremely difficult, but that woman didn't seem very resistant to it. They probably just taught her how to read minds and nothing more." As they entered Mournhold, the great gates slammed shut and they began their search for the Imperial Services building. They were informed by one of the commoners that it was held within the Royal Palace which was in the center of the city. It was divided into five areas: The Temple Courtyard, Plaza Brindisi Dorom, The Great Bazaar, and Godsreach, with the palace in the middle. They headed towards the palace gates, which resembled the ones they had previously entered through, weary from travel and hunger.
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The palace was magnificent. Small flames set brilliantly the large, metal structure aglow, dancing within glass balls which rested upon tall lampposts. They stretched high up to the leveled roofs and stain-glass windows, reflecting a rainbow of colors to the small, circular walkway below. A miniature garden lay in its center which lured any with a weakness for natural beauty to its sweet-scented and bright-colored, soft flower petals. Thin, arched pillars stood before alcoves on the lower level which housed the doors leading into the palace. There was no entrance or exit aside from a gate on either side, one leading to the plaza and one to the temple. A guard in the same red uniform armor as those at the front gate was patrolling the grounds as two citizens strolled about aimlessly.
"Welcome to Mournhold, travellers! City of light, city of magic!" said the guard happily upon their entrance into the palace. "Thank you!" replied Gaenor excitedly. Terenius glanced around the small reception area and turned back to the guard, "Yes, thank you. Where would we find the Imperial Services area?" He pointed towards a hallway and gave them directions, then returned to his post at the front doors. Within a few minutes they had arrived and found Oracle Crito Olisinius at the altar. He was considerably older than Terenius, in his fifties one might guess, and wore an extravagant blue-and-gold robe with the insignia of the Cult on its chest, signifying Oracle status. Although he was old for the time, he was fit, and strong in body and even more so in mind.
"Terenius? I haven't seen you in ages! And this must be Gaenor. It is an honor to meet you, sir." He shook their hands vigorously and asked them, "Are you hungry? Come, to the dining hall." He led them to a large banquet table with a throne on either end and twenty chairs on the longer sides. Gaenor noticed that the rooms of the palace were strikingly similar to each other and that none of them looked much like a palace more than they did a fortification. As they ate among a few Royal Guards, he thought about what he had heard of the layout of the city; the palace was surrounded on all sides by the rest of the city. Each of those four areas of the city were surrounded by enormous, five-foot thick protective walls with giant gates and a group of well-trained guards and even a telepath. He noticed an unusual number of even more guards, mixed between the monarchy and the temple, patrolling the plaza which held nothing but a large statue depicting some important battle or another. It was strange, but he cared more about the food before him than the city around him.
They sat for a while longer, telling the Oracle of their adventures, the amulet, and Garonar. "Ah, him. I remember him. I was but a small child visiting my father here in Mournhold. He was an Adept of the Cult and travelled from time to time around Morrowind on duties assigned to him by those of higher rank. Garonar attempted to take this city one day, but was stopped by Almalexia." "Who is that?" Gaenor asked. The Oracle lowered his goblet and answered, "Almalexia. She is a demigod of the Tribunal Temple and one of the three the Dunmer worship. She is like our Nine Divines in that she has god-like powers, but she has a physical form in our realm and draws her power from a physical source." Gaenor was intrigued, "So she's somewhere in this city?" The Oracle nodded.
"I've had the stewards prepare two rooms for you. It's late now, and you look like you could use some rest" he said, then returned to his chambers while a monk escorted them to theirs. They slept well that night in the guards' quarters. There were always a few beds free since some had night watch duty. It was warmer than outside the city walls and the sounds of creatures big and small, gentle and ferocious echoed through every window. Gaenor dreamt of the rest of the city he hadn't seen yet and of Almalexia, the demigod. Could they possibly enlist her help since she's dealt with him once before? Or would Terenius, because of the Cult's history with the Temple, refuse her aid altogether?
He didn't know of this history, but from the reaction his companion got from the Ordinators of Vivec, he gathered that they must have not had a close relationship. The thought of asking Almalexia for help had crossed the Oracle's mind as well as Terenius', but it would be difficult to persuade her. She was a kind and loving being, capable of only the highest levels of compassion, but only to her people. As well as being able to show kindness, she possessed terrible power and, if provoked, could easily display her wrath upon Gaenor, Terenius, the Oracle, and the rest of the Cult. If they were to confront her with such a quest as theirs, they would have to go about it very carefully, else their journey would end short and unfulfilled.
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The new day came in the form of a thunderstorm. It was dreary and the air was weighed down with humidity as Gaenor and Terenius dressed themselves and made their way to the altar room. It was late in the morning already, but Crito could always be predicted to be at the altar studying some ancient text as he always did. When they met with him, they proceeded down to the dining hall and they spoke along the way. "I've thought it over and I want both of you to meet with Almalexia." Terenius stopped, aghast, "My Lord, are you suggesting we, a Bosmer and a Cyrodiil of the Imperial Cult, simply walk up to the Temple of Mournhold and ask for Almalexia's audience?" The Oracle was serious, and the healer could tell by the look on his face as he continued past him, "No, I am not suggesting that, exactly."
"Here is what I propose you do," he began again at the banquet table, "This will be handled as a top-priority Cult mission. The danger Garonar presents is clear and we will deal with him as we have any other necromancer. He may be powerful but there are few who can match the might of a demigod. And, in order to recruit the only demigod at our immediate disposal, we must inform her of the urgency of this quest. Explain to her what you've been through. Show proofs of your exploits. Wear that amulet over your armor, Gaenor. I know her not well enough to give detailed advice, but I do know of her sense of compassion. If she can understand what is at stake here, then there is no doubt in my mind that she will make the right choice." Terenius paused from eating and looked to him, "Even if it is to help two who are not of her people?" The Oracle was silent.
They thought of the plan and discussed it over and over again with the Oracle that day. Would it be better to get disguises first, then enter the temple? Or would they simply go as they were and attempt to see her? If they were able to, would she agree or disagree? What if she saw through their disguises and killed them? There were many questions, all without answers. The only way they would know if she would help them or not would be to go the temple and demand to see her at once. They went over their lines for hours so they would get everything right. Terenius took off a bracelet he wore with the Cult's symbol on it so as not to alert anyone to his Imperial ties. This would be difficult, but it was the only thing to be done.
They decided to go without disguises for many reasons. One was because it would be close to impossible to obtain two from the High Ordinators, the guards of Mournhold and temple-faithful. Another reason was that Almalexia would surely realize they were not guards - Cyrodiil are slightly larger than Dunmer and Bosmer were simply too short. They left the palace with the Oracle's blessing and passed through the gates and rain into the Temple Courtyard. Being outside reminded Gaenor of his thoughts the previous day of how the entire city was enclosed and shut away from the rest of the mainland. Must be because of Almalexia and the King.. gotta take safety precautions when people like that are around, I suppose he thought. He didn't show it, but the truth was that he didn't actually care much about the walls or the guards in relation to the king or Almalexia. He was thinking more of how protected he was in the city from Garonar. He realized that the walls and the surplus of sentries, even in the plaza where nothing needed protection, were likely built and employed after Garonar's attack.
They came to the great doors of the temple. No High Ordinators seemed to feel like stopping them, so they entered. Their clothing dripped down upon the smooth, marble floor and their boots made tracks up to someone who looked to be of authority. "Who are you and why are you here?" he asked impatiently. He wore armor of silver and green glass partially covered with a brown ceremonial robe, and one eye seemed to have been torn out of its socket. His greeting was not one they had hoped for, but Terenius said his lines, "Greetings, Dunmer. I am Terenius Cetarian and this is Gaenor. We are here with dire news for your Lady Almalexia concerning the necromancer Garonar." Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to the healer. "Garonar? Wait here, Cyrodiil." said the Dunmer, and went through the large double doors to Almalexia's chambers.
They waited in anticipation for a short while, always watched by the guards. At last the Dunmer emerged and told them to follow him. "Come with me. My Lady wishes to speak with you and it is best not to keep her waiting." It was as if they walked through a portal into another dimension. The room was pitch black but somehow they were aware of its size without actually seeing the walls. There was nothing but darkness except for a large ray of light in the center. Five High Ordinators stood around it forming a pentagon in shimmering silver armor. These, however, were obviously much more powerful than the rest of the guards. They were the Hands of Almalexia, the most terrible warriors in the world. The garb they wore had been blessed by the demigod herself, and their skills knew no peer. If she took such precautions, perhaps they would find an ally in her after all.
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The doors closed slowly behind them as they advanced towards the light. "Remember your lines," Terenius whispered. Their escort had vanished into the darkness before they stood before the few steps leading to Almalexia. Her skin was golden but she had Dunmer features, her eyes a brillaint red and without pupils. Her hair was the same color, defying gravity and standing short atop her head. She wore but a large pauldron on one shoulder and a belt, markings and runes scattered across the rest of her. With her soft, soothing voice, she was the first to speak. "Lines?" One of the Hands turned to them and said in a low, grating voice which implied in itself a shock at their disrespect, "Kneel before My Lady Almalexia!" They quickly scrambled to the floor.
"Lines?" she repeated. They weren't expecting that question, but realized she was a demigod, and probably heard Terenius whispering. Gaenor improvised, "Lady, I will confess," knowing that she could most likely read minds anyway, and he should probably tell the truth instead of attempting to lie and get themselves into trouble. The healer did not think the same way, "Honestly, we fear your presence and thought it best to recite lines to you in case we became overcome with nervousness." It was difficult to tell which expression she made, but it was clear to them both that she was uncomfortable. "Terenius, although you are not one of my children, there is no need for nervousness. Gaenor does not share this feeling with you, do you, Gaenor?" The elf looked directly into her eyes and replied, "No, Lady. However, we did prepare lines, partly as a gesture of respect." He didn't usually speak this way, but something about his conversation partner being a demigod must have brought it out in him.
"And I graciously accept your gesture. Thank you." Gaenor felt it appropriate to lower his head, but Terenius stayed as he was. "The reason we have come here," he said sarcastically, "is because of Garonar, as I'm sure you, all-knowing Almalexia, must already know." Her Hands turned promptly to their Lady, used to holding back their rage after such comments. However, she was known as the Mother to all Dunmer, and as anyone would expect, would only resort to violence in the more dire of circumstances. She raised one hand signalling her guards to stand down and responded with fake ignorance, "Terenius, what have I done to make you hate me as you do?" The healer stood and the Hands gripped their swords, "What have you done? You don't have to do anything. Simply existing and being worshipped falsely by your 'children' is enough!" He stormed away and through the doors which Almalexia had opened for him.
"Lady Almalexia, please, disregard that. He didn't know what he was saying!" Gaenor pleaded. "There is nothing to apologize for, young Bosmer," she said knowingly, "He knows me not well enough to make such accusations, and therefore, will be ignored. But please, let us return to the matter at hand. You bring news of the necromancer Garonar?" He looked up to her again as the guards relaxed their positions. Now that Terenius had gone, the lines they had planned to recite were broken, and he would have to tell her their story himself.
"...and he disappeared. That was the last I saw of him. After helping the injured villagers and clearing away some wreckage, we came here and stayed the night." She remained expressionless throughout his story which lasted approximately ten minutes in the telling. He skipped over his encounters with the sea serpent and Nels Llendo as they did not pertain to Garonar. When he was finished, she inquired about the amulet. "The Oracle of Ebonheart.. she gave you your amulet?" Gaenor had worn it over his cuirass as directed by Crito and held it up to her, "Not exactly, Lady. She helped me transform it from harmful to helpful." She looked at the Hand closest to the elf and he stepped down to him as if by instinct. "Your amulet, elf," he demanded. Gaenor cautiously removed it from around his neck and placed it in the armored palm of the guard. He stepped back up to Almalexia and gave it to her, then backed away to his place in a bow.
"Yes, I see," she said, examining the jewel in its center, "This is the work of the Imperial Cult. The Oracle from Ebonheart has done her work well." Gaenor leaned forward a bit on his knees and informed her of his part in the transformation. "Yes, she deserves much credit towards the defeat of Garonar." Almalexia lowered the amulet and looked to him, her expression finally changing to seriousness. "Gaenor. You are good of heart and strong of will. Garonar is evil incarnate and has marked you for destruction. This amulet may be the only thing that can be used to stop him. Even I, Almalexia of the Tribunal, had not enough power to completely defeat this menace. Come, stand with me and I shall teach you how to properly use this item."
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Two days had passed within Almalexia's chamber. She taught the elf how to summon the power from within his amulet. She showed him how to direct the blasts. She explained to him that his indominable will was the only force strong enough to properly utilize the maximum potential of the amulet, and how to use it to his advantage. She was a thoughtful and understanding teacher, and her patience was infinite. All the while, Terenius remained at the palace with the Oracle, brewing with anger and fear after his outrageous display in the temple. He had told Crito about it as soon as he had returned, and they have not spoken since.
Gaenor exited the temple into the bright afternoon sun, squinting and skipping down the steps. He made his way to the Cult building and asked a monk where Terenius had gone. He directed him to the dining hall where he had been since early that morning, staring into space at the far end of the table. He went over what he said in his mind, first thinking himself a fool for daring to insult Almalexia in such a way, then rationalizing it by asking himself what else could he have said. He was of the Cult and she was a symbol of the Tribunal Temple, they were natural enemies. Was he to mindlessly bow before her for no reason other than fear of her power? That is not a true figure of worship. No, he felt his actions were justified.
"Guess who knows how to use his magical amulet?" said Gaenor as he hopped down the stairs to the dining hall. Upon entering he saw Terenius, staring straight through him in deep thought. "Hey, about what happened in the temple.. what possessed you to act that way in front of the Lady?" The healer rose from his seat and slammed his fists upon the table. "I feared as much," he snarled, "The only reason we came here was to seek the Oracle's counsel, but even he suggested seeing that witch. Now you've been taken in by her false religion. She'll have me killed for what I did, but if I didn't say it, who would have!?" Gaenor moved closer to the table and raised his voice, "What's wrong with you? If she was such a witch, why would she have shown me how to use the amulet against Garonar?" Terenius laughed, "Are you that foolish? She was unable to defeat that necromancer and has taken great precautions to keep safe from him. Now she knows about you and the amulet, and sees an opportunity to use you against him. You're but a tool in her eyes!" With that, he stormed out of the hall and past Gaenor, up the stairs and outside.
The Bosmer was taken aback, overcome with what Terenius had said. Why was he acting this way? Was it because of his intense hatred of the Temple? Perhaps their history would shed some light on his actions. He ran upstairs after him but he had already left the palace. Instead, he asked the Oracle where the Cult library was. Within minutes he was there, flipping through each book on the shelves, eager to figure out what had turned these two religions against each other. He took one down entitled, "Birth of the Cult in Morrowind" and sat at a nearby desk to read.
Excerpt: Many thousands of years ago, the Tribunal Temple was the main religion in what is now the province of Morrowind. Its' god-kings, the demigods Vivec, Almalexia and Sotha Sil, reigned supreme. During the coming of the Empire, the Dark Elves attempted to resist its' religion brought by the Imperial Cult. They are a proud elven race, their "gods" having total control over their major decisions as a whole. It was when the Tribunal agreed to allow the Cult into Morrowind that the Dunmer split apart. Half of their population remained loyal to the Temple while the others denounced their faith since it allowed other religions to practice in their homeland. Those who have strayed from the Temple have publicly announced their hatred of the Cult, usually through violence.
That was all he needed to know. The Cult and the Temple have been locked in a secret war all this time, and either side has taught new generations that the other side was the enemy. It all made sense now; the Ordinators in Vivec, the Temple guards in Mournhold, Her Hands.. perhaps Terenius was right when he said she would have him killed for his disobedience. And now he thought Gaenor had been brainwashed by Almalexia. He closed the book and ran as quickly as he could to the temple. He had to find his friend before they did.
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"My lord, your forces have been assembled. What orders?"
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"I will not be accompanying you, Gazh. My regeneration is not yet complete," said Garonar at his throne to the demon general. Gazh was the only one of them he ever spoke to intimately, and was the champion of his 100-unit army. Thick, heavy black armor rested upon his shoulders, a Daedric claymore at his side. He had the same features as the other soldiers, but he was at least twice their size. Battle scars covered his rough hide from decades of carrying out his master's bidding. He was the only one Garonar could trust and he never failed at his duties. "You will lead the attack on Mournhold." Gazh bowed and said with his deep, thunderous voice, "I shall not fail thee, m'lord."
He threw open the main doors and roared to the army assembled in front of the castle, "We march for Mournhold. Any who lag behind shall be slain without hesitation."
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Gaenor's movement through the temple was frantic. He questioned every guard, priest and healer within about Terenius' whereabouts, but none of them knew. He was not allowed into Almalexia's chambers since, as he had been informed by a High Ordinator, "None enter my Lady's chambers without direct permission from Her." He searched the entire city, from the residential area of Godsreach to the marketplace of the Great Bazaar, he asked everyone he saw, and some twice without realizing it. What if he left the city? That was the only logical explanation as to his whereabouts other than within Almalexia's chambers.. but he didn't know what to think.
After scouring the city for his friend, he returned to the temple under the setting sun. Before he could ask permission to see the demigod, the Dunmer who escorted him and Terenius approached him, "Gaenor, my Lady would like to see you." He entered her chambers and stood at the first step of her platform, Her Hands watching closely his every move. "Gaenor," she began, "it is good of you to come. I wish to offer you my aid in the coming battle." Gaenor did not kneel and furrowed his brow in anxiety, "What coming battle?"
"As we speak, Garonar's demons advance closer to my city. You will need help in defeating them, and my Hands are at your disposal. I assure you, they will not fail you." The Hands turned suddenly to the elf and struck their chest with one fist as a sign of loyalty. "I thank you, Lady, but I am in the middle of a crisis. My comrade Terenius has left the palace and.." she interrupted him, "Terenius? The healer who so rudely insulted my Grace? Oh, I never enjoyed being the bearer of ill news.. but it seems, in a fit of rage, he had attacked a High Ordinator in the Plaza and has been dispatched. He is at rest."
"What."
"I am sure this comes as no surprise to you, Wood Elf. He was clearly unstable and was bound to commit some sort of crime sooner or later. He is in a better place now." He was blinded with tears. Terenius didn't deserve this, he thought. It wasn't supposed to be this way. We were going to kill Garonar together. It wasn't meant to end like this. "Wasn't meant to end like this?" she asked, "I could very well make the argument that he was never meant to insult a goddess. It is not an intelligent thing to do, you know. One must have control over oneself while in the presence of one such as I." He couldn't take any more. He had to get out of there. He was suffocating in the darkness around him and the overwhelming misery within him. He had only known Terenius for a short time, but they grew to be close friends. Now that friendship was cut short, and for what? The arrogance of a demigod.
He ran from the temple and into a remote corner of the courtyard. Holding back his tears, he turned his sadness into anger. There was nothing he could do about Terenius. He was gone and never to come back. He could never have his vengeance upon the necromancer and avenge his father. He clenched his fist so tightly, it bled. He was speechless, but he knew there was only one thing to do about it. He would meet Garonar's army in battle with the help of Almalexia's Hands. However much he hated the idea of fighting alongside that accursed witch's henchmen, he had no choice. He would make Terenius' death mean something and hit twice as hard for the both of them. The only thing he cared about now was victory, and this time, nothing would stop him.
Nothing.
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Night fell upon Mournhold. The moonlight glinted off the walls' green metal outlining along the grey stone. King Llethan had been away on political duties in Cyrodiil and the Captain of the Guard who had been put in charge of the troops gave no orders to aid Gaenor and the Hands. Every High Ordinator in the city, however, had volunteered to help in the name of Almalexia to stop the necromancer's forces. They were vastly outnumbered, but these warriors were hardly pushovers. And, with Gaenor leading them, his heart filled with both grief and rage, the demon horde would not take them easily or without a fight. He had decided to wield Nels' ebony sword as it was finer and sharper than the one Terenius had given him in Balmora.
He dreamt of Almalexia that night. He tossed and turned in his bed at the Imperial Commission as he pictured in his sleep what she claimed his friend had done. He knew it all to be a lie, as Terenius would never allow himself to be reckless enough to pick a fight with a High Ordinator simply because he was angry. He was right about her that evening - she was using him as a tool to defeat Garonar. Utilizing her status as the figure of worship of the entire city and half of Morrowind allowed her to simply dispose of the healer for any reason she gave. As far as he was concerned, she and the necromancer were on the same level of evil, and he seemed to be the only one able to see it. It laid restless on his mind, but even if she was only taking advantage of him and the amulet, he had his own reasons to fight.
As he slept the army marched on, through the Ashlands and to the southern shores of Vvardenfell. They were less than a day early since they departed from their master's keep. He had instructed every guard to assemble together for an attack on wherever Gaenor was at the time, and so no one was left but him in that infernal citadel. For every minute that passed he was closer to full power once more, but one could guess what he was planning to do once that time came. He had prepared his minions for the journey across the sea and onto the mainland with an invisible bridge he would conjure once they reached the proper location, miles long and wide enough to fit twenty of his warriors side by side.
It was late in the afternoon and Gaenor was busy in the training room. The royal guards were astonished at his display with a sword, slashing to pieces almost any inanimate object he found, even what wasn't to be used for practice. He was full of energy and, by now, had vented out most of his sadness through his blade. Although so much was happening at once - his companion's death at the hand of Almalexia's guards, and now a massive assault on Mournhold where he would be fighting off demon soldiers alongside, perhaps, the same guard who had killed his friend - he had never been more ready than he was then.
Gahz halted a mile from the main gate. They had been travelling without rest or food for close to a day, but they would satiate themselves with battle. They carried no torches or supplies, only their heavy armor and weapons. They had no plan of attack and no group formation as they would simply charge the city and go berserk. "We want not only the elf dead," he boomed, "but anyone who dares stand in our way. Ready arms!" The army presented their weapons; they had a mixed combination among them of halberds, longswords, battle axes, clubs and hammers, as well as their own claws and teeth. They continued towards the city and could smell the flesh of their enemies through their deformed snouts.
Gaenor and the Ordinators were lined up on the other side facing the gate. One of Her Hands stood next to the elf and spoke to him as the rest of them listened to the guards and telepath being slaughtered. "Gaenor, is it? I am Salas Valor, most favored by my Lady among her guards. I have been charged with your protection during this battle." Gaenor made no movements, his sword before him, and simply responded, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about." Salas looked straight ahead at the gate being bashed through by Gahz' army, "Then worries are pointless here. You say you will live through this night, and I tell you I am the greatest of my Lady's champions. Almalexia, give us strength!" Her Hands and the Ordinators unsheathed their scimitars and held their shields up in synchronization. The demons burst through the gate and charged wildly to meet them in battle.
"For Terenius," said Gaenor, and swung.
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The Plaza was a battlefield. The demons came by tens, charging recklessly through the ruined entrance, their arms flailing as they roared. Each aside from Gahz was about the size of the Ordinators who stood in that line, waiting for the perfect time to strike. The army drew nearer as they poured into the city in rushed masses. Gaenor was unphased by the madness and stayed where he was in the middle of the line. "Why isn't your Lady helping us?" he asked Salas. The Hand replied from beneath his masked helm, "She knows us to have this under control. Do not let their appearance fool you, for they are worms compared to such as we." Then came Gahz, a creature that stirred even the Ordinators from their concentration. The demon general crashed through the entranceway among his troops. His size and strength enabled him to wield his Daedric Claymore with one hand as the other was heavily armored with a pauldron and gauntlet to match his black breastplate and greaves. He gripped his three fingers around the blade's hilt and stopped, pointing to the elf. "Consider yourself dead," he thundered, and barreled towards him. The Ordinators took a step back but Salas called to them, "Retreat is for the weak and disloyal! For Almalexia!!"
"For Almalexia!!!" they shouted back, and all twenty-five of them rushed fearlessly into the orgy of bloodthirsty war that was Garonar's demonic horde.
Gaenor was the only one left in his place, cutting through the air with his sword. He and Gahz knew it would be fitting to face each other in a one-on-one match to the death. What happened to Terenius had brought out a new Gaenor, one who was wiser and more skilled in combat. It was as if his friend was there with him, guiding his blade from the realm of the dead and instilling him with courage and strength. He stood, rooted to his spot on the cobblestone ground of the Plaza as he stampeded towards him, his giant sword set in front and prepared to run him through.
For every Ordinator there were five against him. They did not frantically struggle to survive, however, but rather kept completely calm and focused on prevailing as a whole in the name of their Lady. They showed why they had their reputation as possibly the fiercest warriors in all Tamriel in the form of tireless fighting against several demons at once, each. The army was berserk, but not without intelligence. They counted the Ordinators and split in groups of five for each. If one fell, the other four would attack. Almost futile were their attempts, though, for the soldiers of Almalexia absorbed nearly every blow dealt to them, and her Hands shook them off as if they were nothing. Gaenor halted his blade and braced his feet to the ground as Gahz leapt and landed quickly, their weapons clashing by the moonlight. They locked themselves in a sword fight, the Bosmer moving swiftly and dodging swipes while the demon general took every hit on his shielded arm. They slashed and thrusted at each other amidst the rest of the battle in the abandoned Plaza. Gaenor's amulet was glowing bright and caught the beastly eye of Gahz. Now he aimed at it, trying to cut it from his neck and claim it for his master. It would not be an easy task, for this elf would not allow himself to be defeated, especially by such a monster.
Gaenor felt surges of energy flow through his body with every move of his sword. The horde left Garonar's Keep in the Ashlands and travelled on foot without stopping for rest or food and water. The necromancer overestimated them in his blind rage and intensely painful regeneration, and they were not prepared as the Bosmer and Ordinators were. The demons were at half the number they were when departing from the keep now, and not a single of Almalexia's soldiers were killed. After a short while, Gahz was growing weary and became sloppy in his swordplay. He raised up his protected arm and stumbled on one of his deceased troops. Gaenor saw his chance and lunged at him, slicing open an uncovered area of his side and landing behind him to join the others in fighting off the rest of them. Blood black as his own blade gushed forth from the long slit in his side, and he fell.
Salas tore his scimitar from a carcass and turned to the Bosmer who continued to fight after dispatching the strongest minion of Garonar with one fell stroke. He rejoined his brethren without noticing what was happening to Gahz' corpse. It was liquifying into a dark, acidy ooze that melted away his body and spread across the ground. The violent bubbling resided as more and more demons were slain until it formed a heavy, clear substance. No one paid any mind to it for a while afterwards until but three of the creatures remained. One fought hopelessly against the elf and two others attempted to flee in vain. The last of them realized his situation and dropped his axe. "Wood Elf! Kill me if you must but know that my lord awaits you!"
"I'm ready when he is," responded Gaenor sternly as he sheathed his bloodstained sword. The demon backed away against the wall and explained, "Yes, you must enter through my general's portal. It leads to Lord Garonar's Keep where he waits for--" he was interrupted by the blade of an Ordinator through his skull. The elf turned around to the pool of steaming blood left by Gahz and examined it. He carefully touched it with one finger expecting searing hotness, which would not have bothered him much in his current state of mind, but he felt nothing. Instead, he could feel a hot wind against it. "Garonar's Keep," he thought aloud, and dove in, leaving the Ordinators among the piles of demon bodies which littered the Plaza floor.
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Gahz and the demon army arrived in Mournhold almost a day early since they never stopped for rest. Garonar was not expecting this, and so his regeneration was not yet fully complete. He remained on his throne of stone and skulls, still clutching his chest as it slowly rebuilt itself. He had seen in a vision what became of his minions as it happened and Gaenor entering the portal of blood. In an act of desparation he had enchanted Gahz' armor to incinerate his body into a magical gateway upon his death, in case he was killed in the battle. Only Gaenor was allowed through as the necromancer planned to finish him personally, but the elf arrived early and unwelcome.
He faded in from thin air, his boots echoing against the lobby's filthy marble floor. His amulet, glowing so bright it lit the entire room, sensed its wearer's enemy nearby, as if it had a mind of its own. Gaenor threw open the doors leading into the main hallway and ran through without hesitation. It was long and the spiked arches on either side nearly cut him with every step he made, but he finally came to a great hall. He never stopped but ran on past the tall, massive pillars that filled the room. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he was driven by vengeance he's wanted for so many years.
He stopped at the opened doors and breathed heavily the thick air that hung over the throne room. "You've.. finally come, Gaenor," yelled Garonar from his seat, cringing at the pain raising his voice gave him. "I see.. I see you've def.. defeated my army." Gaenor withdrew his sword and held it limply with one hand with its tip to the floor and replied with calmed rage, "You saw that, did you? I got your message and came as quickly as I could. I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, now would I?" The necromancer fell to the back of his throne, panting and sweating profusely, "No.. it's not a.. a good thing to keep.. m-me waiting." He raised the arm not gripped to his chest and managed out a fireball from his palm. The elf quickly held up his blade and pushed himself to one side, splitting the flames in half and into nothingness with a forceful swing.
"Ah.. an eb.. ebony weapon. You knew they w-were resistant to fire," said Garonar as his arm fell powerless. Gaenor turned around and walked slowly towards him. "No, actually. Guess I'm just lucky," he smirked. Garonar was almost completely exhausted, for his regeneration from such a critical wound from the amulet required much of his concentration and power reserves. He was also lacking in fresh souls as he had been stopped in Grenmoor. "Do you remember killing my family?" continued the Bosmer. "Did you take my mother's soul first, then my father's? Or were they consumed at once?" The necromancer dug his skeletal, claw-like fingers into his chest as Gaenor spoke. His fireballs were useless here, and there was not much he could do. "It would.. be wise to.. to stay where you are, elf," he warned.
"Did they scream!?"
"Come no closer!" he shouted and struggled to raise his arm for another pointless attack, but Gaenor cleaved it off at the shoulder. He screamed out in excruciating pain and toppled over onto the floor. He frantically pushed himself away from the elf, knowing his time was drawing to an end. "Answer me, you sick freak. Did they scream?" Gaenor repeated. His amulet was now so bright it blinded the trembling Garonar and forced his other arm to cover his eyes. "Almalexia.. is your true enemy h-here, boy," he said, hoping to play on his emotions, "Rumor has it sh-she's killed off your little f..friend Terenius. I'm sorry to hear that."
"ENOUGH!!"
His amulet exploded with a blast of blue and white, sending Gaenor flying in the opposite direction and his enemy to Oblivion once and for all with a blood-curdling shriek. It flooded out in an incredible, brilliant beam until there was nothing left of Garonar but his keep to remember him by. It drilled against the floor and into the ash beneath it as the raw energy continued to unleash itself. The elf braced himself against a small alcove high in the wall on the opposite side of the room, pushing back against the force of the amulet. The necromancer was torn to shreds from the inside out and was no more. Gaenor had prevailed, avenged his family, his friends, and all who had been taken from life by the warlock.
Gaenor fell to the floor as the gem in his amulet dimmed forevermore. It had served its purpose and would remain a symbol of Garonar's defeat as it hung around the Bosmer's neck. He stood himself up on his sword and leaned on it as he steadily walked over to the steaming remains of his foe. There was nothing left of him aside from his tattered cloak. Suddenly, it burst into flames and projected a white light up through the ceiling and into the night sky. Small, purple, shimmering spheres began to rise from the spot where the necromancer had been destroyed and floated up towards the stars. "The souls," Gaenor said, and sighed with relief and happiness. At last, all those innocents would be able to rest in peace.
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"He said 'Garonar's Keep', my Lady," informed one of her Hands. Almalexia, with her ever-stoic expression, waved one arm in the air to summon an alternate portal leading to Gaenor. "This was to be his fight and his alone, my children. Now, it is finally over. Go to him and bring him back to me. I would like to congratulate him on his victory."
The Hands proceeded through the gateway and directly into the throne room. Two of them immediately spotted Gaenor and went to help him while the other three watched as the souls escaped captivity and rose up into eternity. "Extraordinary," said Salas in awe, then turned to the elf as he walked with the help of the two Hands toward the rift into Mournhold. "Well done, Wood Elf. You have been of great service to our Lady." Gaenor gave no response and entered the portal with the Hands behind him.
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The entire city held a grand celebration that lasted three days straight. King Llethan had returned the day after Garonar's defeat and congratulated Gaenor with gracious words and extravagant gifts. "My friend, you have earned all our thanks. Without you, we would not likely be here this day. As an expression of my undying gratitude, I shall reward you with fifty thousand of our Empire's drakes to spend as you please. You deserve every coin," said the king loudly for all to hear while shaking the elf's hand. They both smiled and turned to the cheering city, and the festivities continued. Almalexia never spoke with Gaenor again.
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Two years passed quickly. Garonar's Keep had crumbled to dust in the Ashlands a short while after the portal to Mournhold had closed. The Nerevarine had defeated Dagoth Ur, the necromancer's Lord of Ash, and Vvardenfell was safe from corruption. Terenius had received a proper burial, although his body was never found, in the Imperial Cult's graveyard in Cyrodiil, reserved only for the greatest of heroes. Of course, Gaenor attended, but spoke no eulogy; he wouldn't have known what to say to express his sorrow. The Oracles Lalatia and Crito were also there, as was Thorek the Nord from Balmora and a few others unfamiliar to the Bosmer.
Gaenor had bought a grand manor in Godsreach where he lived alone for some time, enjoying his great wealth. His depression over the death of his companion had lessened over time and eventually, he had returned to the same elf who began his adventure from Sadrith Mora long ago. Unfortunately, the king had been poisoned in 3E427, the current year, and had been replaced with Helseth, a conniving, underhanded ruler. He had taken most of Gaenor's reward money on the grounds that 'there was no proof of him defeating Garonar' and that 'it could have been anyone'. His manor was taken as well since it was bought with the gold he had received from Llethan. The elf became enraged but knew he could not challenge the new king, so he retired to the streets as a pauper. He was welcome to sleep at the Imperial Commission whenever he chose.
Living in his manor, he came to terms with all that had happened. His personality had changed completely when first he heard of Terenius. He was sensitive to strong emotions as it was made clear to those around him during his quest, and the sheer impact that had on him was so devastating that all his fears had turned themselves off in his mind, leaving only what seemed to be homocidal rage towards Garonar and his army. As far he as he could tell, it was all a matter of adrenaline, and he dwelled on it no more. He cared not to feel such pain any longer. After the healer's funeral, his personality reverted from bold hero back to relatively annoying, yet loveable, jack-of-all-trades.
Since the news of Dagoth Ur's destruction at the hands of the Nerevarine came to Mournhold, he read everything he could find in the Cult's library about Lord Nerevar and his past. He had learned a great deal, including the fact that he had a close relationship with Almalexia at a time. This created within him an intense hatred of the Nerevarine and wished for many nights that he would come to Mournhold so he could speak to him face to face. Perhaps if I spoke to him, he could tell me why his former self could have possibly been close friends with that vile, murderous witch, he thought.
A few months after the fall of Dagoth Ur, the Nerevarine did come to Mournhold in response to an attempt made on his life by an assassin syndicate known as the Dark Brotherhood. Gaenor got his wish to speak with him in the Temple Courtyard one afternoon.
"Hello there, friend! Before you take another step, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gaenor, and I'm.. well, I'm an entrepreneur of sorts. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor of you..."
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The End
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(c)2005 Shrax