Part two

Sixteen: Master Barelo

I spent most of today reviewing what I know of the Nerevarine prophecies and comparing it with texts maintained here in the monastery. Most of the Heirographa, the writings of the Tribunal Temple can be found here. One of the critical differences that has led to the casting out of the dissident priests is their belief that the Apographa, writings the hierarchy have kept secret for millennia, should be open to study. Much of the Apographa is also available.

I found texts of the critical prophecies of the Stranger and the Seven Visions of the Seven Trials, which I heard from Nibani Maesa the Wise Woman of the Urshilaku. It is impressive how the oral traditions of the Ashlanders have preserved the legend. Texts transcribed by temple scholars many generations ago match the notes I took when Nibani described the trials to me almost perfectly.

The first trial reads;
On a certain day to uncertain parents
Incarnate Moon and Star is born.

This is what got me into this in the first place. The 'certain day', by tradition, happens to be my birthday. When the Emperor got that piece of information his agents found me in the Imperial prisons. Parents unknown, born on the correct day, the perfect pawn in the game of creating a false Nerevarine...or a true one. In any event, Nibani agreed that I do meet the test of the first trial. She was, however, quick to point out that a great many people share my birthday.

When I met Nibani that was a deciding factor. The only factor that went my way in fact. Now the second trial has taken on great significance. It reads;
Neither blight nor age can harm him
The curse of flesh before him flees.

The 'curse of flesh' is a common reference to the corprus disease, and Nibani suggested that this could mean that the Nerevarine could cure that dread disease. I cannot cure the disease, but I have been cured of it through the wizardry of Divyth Fyr. Through that disease and curing I have taken an immunity to diseases, including the blight. Divayth Fyr also speculates that I will not age normally, if at all. While it is not exactly what Nibani expected it does seem to serve, especially since Edwinna tells me Fyr has not been able to cure anyone else.

I discussed this today with Master Barelo, leader of the dissidents. He agreed that this second trial could be seen as fulfilled by my condition. He seemed easily convinced in fact, more easily than I am myself, and I'm afraid more easily than Nibani would be. To her the Nerevarine being an outlander is absurd, and it seems easier to agree with that than anything else. When I suggested that to Master Barelo he stopped, pondering, and suggested we move on to the third trial.

The third trial reads;
In caverns dark Azura's eye sees
And makes to shine the moon and star.

This appears to me to be the definitive trial. Nibani hinted at knowledge of a 'cavern of the Incarnate' when I asked about this, but she said she could not reveal anything more than that there is a shrine to Azura there. If I can convince her that I have passed the second trial she will perhaps tell me more.

Barelo nodded at that and excused himself to do some research. I suppose he may be able to locate this shrine, or perhaps he can find the 'lost prophecies' that Nibani is seeking. Despite the uncanny consistency of the oral traditions handed down by the Ashlanders, Nibani knows there are pieces that have been lost. If those pieces were recorded by temple scholars before they were lost Barelo may be able to find them.

I continued my own search through the ancient texts for a while, but must admit that the task is too much for me. When Mehra Milo came into the chamber in which I was reading she apologized for the interruption, but I thanked her. "I will have to rely on the scholarship of others to sort what I need from the wealth of documents here Mehra. I hate to do that, but to do anything else is a life's work."

"Yes, it is. Master Barelo knows a great deal about where to look. Have faith that Azura will guide him to what you seek."

"What I don't understand is his interest in helping me. I read Progress of Truth, and I honor the stand your order has taken against the persecution of the Nerevarine cult by the Ordinators. But it seems like that was a stand against the injustice of it. It doesn't ring of any great belief in the prophecies."

"I'm not sure there is any belief in them Arvil Bren, and there certainly wasn't at the time that Progress of Truth was written. But times have changed. At that time the ghostfence and the power of the Tribunal seemed to be keeping Dagoth Ur safely contained, and the good works of the Tribunes was openly and obviously visible, and on going. Now things are...different." She looked like she was about to cry.

"The blight," I said.

"Not just that. There's the tools of Kagrenak."

"Kagrenak. The Dwemer master enchanter."

"Yes," she murmured. "Accursed Kagrenak. His efforts to create a God to do the Dwemer's bidding destroyed the Dwemer."

"So I understand. Not really a bad thing though, considering that the Dwemer were at war with the Dunmer at the time. It could have gone much worse for the Dunmer."

"Yes, it seemed good in the short term. The Dwemer were destroyed, their outlander allies scattered. But the Heart of Lorkan, and the tools Kagrenak used to tap its power remained. Nerevar decreed that the tools were too dangerous to use, but Lord Dagoth fell to their temptation and became Dagoth Ur. So did the Tribunal after the death of Nerevar."

"They used the tools? So they are like Dagoth Ur?"

"Not entirely. Dagoth Ur tapped directly into the power of the heart, driven by greed and fear. The tribunes were cautious, and at heart wanted to do good. Dagoth Ur was immediately driven mad...with them it has taken longer..."

"But they are mad all the same," I concluded.

"Yes." She nodded sadly and her eyes brimmed over with tears. "I don't think we believe in the Nerevarine prophecies Arvil Bren. It is just that they hold out our only hope."

Seventeen: Lost prophecy

I am hard pressed to sleep tonight, or even lay down. The inactivity of a day spent toiling through dusty scrolls has left me with too much energy, and the revelations of Master Barelo have my head in a whirl. Around midafternoon he brought me a parchment.

"This is the work of an elder priest thousands of years ago. His transcriptions of conversations with an Ashlander Wise Woman are what we consider the authorative source for much of the Ashlander's history. There are bits and pieces of prophecy scattered through it, including one of the oldest written records of the Seven Visions. Read this part." His finger ran carefully along seven lines of graceful script on the the aged hide.

From seventh sign of eleventh generation
Neither Hound nor Guar nor Seed nor Harrow
But dragon born and far star marked
Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain
Blessed guest counters seven curses
Star blessed hand wields thrice cursed blade
To reap the harvest of the unmourned house

I read carefully, then again, though certain words seemed to leap from the page. 'Outlander Incarnate', an outlander Nerevarine. Me.

"Not of the four clans," said Master Barelo. "A guest. Dragon born; born of your Empire." He shook his head. "Not hard to see how this would get lost. It isn't something an Ashlander would want to remember, or admit. Even the scholars of the temple born of their great houses would just as soon pass that over. I did myself in my youth."

"What about the rest?" I asked. "The seven curses? Star blessed hand?"

"The seven curses rings familiar. It may be more prophecy. I have a few places to look, but I wanted to bring this to you. Give you a chance to... get used to it. The star blessed hand would no doubt refer to the ring Moon and Star. You have heard 'journey far neath Moon and Star' I assume?"

I nodded. "The mark of Nerevar."

"Mark; yes indeed. A ring which Nerevar wore that clearly identified him, since its enchantments would kill any other that tried to wear it. The thrice cursed blade is likely Keening, one of the tools of Kagrenak. Instrumental in tapping the power of the Heart of Lorkan, and probably required to undo that as well. Nerevar and the tribunal believed they had slain Dagoth Ur, every sense told them he was dead, but he survived. The tools that made him what he is will no doubt be needed if he is to be truly undone; reaping the harvest that House Dagoth sowed so long ago."

"Seven curses," I muttered. "Seven curses faced, then use a cursed blade."

"There is another possibility," he said. "Lord Dagoth had seven close kin, powerful wizard-lords in their own right."

"His kin would be long dead though, right? They didn't all tap into the stone."

"They didn't have to tap in directly themselves, they have been preserved by Dagoth Ur. They are the ash vampires." He went to continue his search through the prophecies, leaving me with a careful copy of the prophecy of the Outlander Incarnate. He was apparently out of bad news, at least for the moment.

Eighteen: Departure

I had to wait until evening to leave Holamayan. The protection of Azura prevents teleportation in or out, and Master Barelo demands certain precautions. Waiting until the twilight allowed a monk to come out and verify that I did indeed teleport away so that no backtrail would be left leading to the refuge. Since I had to teleport away I chose to use my recall spell and come home. I did not know where the nearest temple or Imperial fortress would be, and did not want an intervention spell to land me in an unknown city.

I was not sure that Master Barelo was going to let me leave at all. It weighs hard on him, being the leader of such a persecuted sect. The greatest weight being that he finds the prophecies hard to believe himself. While he clearly disagreed with the Temple's doctrines of persecution I don't know that he wouldn't describe the Ashlanders as superstitious rabble himself. Not justifying persecution, but certainly not worthy of actual belief. He could not ignore my experience with the corprus disease, and ultimately had to let me go to face further testing.

That testing looms more impossibly at every turn. While he was preparing to send me on my way Master Barelo sent Mehra Milo with another snippet of prophecy. These are, perhaps, the seven curses which must be countered. It looked bad enough when it was the seven ash vampires. The first two curses are fire and ash, obviously referring to the great volcano of Red Mountain itself. Am I expected to extinguish its mighty furnace? The curse of flesh is, of course, blight and corprus diseases that spread from the halls of Dagoth Ur. I am immune, but does countering the curse mean stopping their spread? Curing the afflicted? The final curse is the curse of dreams. The rising incidence of 'soul sickness', people driven mad by sleepless nights and tormented by dreams of Dagoth Ur's vengeance would suggest that this curse is at hand, and the time of the Nerevarine is as well. This more than anything else I believe led to my release. But there are three more curses; the curse of ghosts, the curse of seed, the curse of despair. I am expected to counter them, and I do not know what they are.

I say I am expected to counter them as if I were the Nerevarine. I would hope that I am not. The first two trials, and the prophecy of the Outlander Incarnate are compelling, but far from certain. My next task is clear; to present that case to Nibani Maesa so that she will confide the location of the Cavern of the Incarnate. There Azura herself will mark me as the Incarnate, or I expect that I will die. To die seems the easier path. The remaining trials seem impossible.

A stranger's voice unites the houses
Three halls call him Hortator.

Hortator; an office that has been vacant since Nerevar himself, a warlord who can command the united forces of the Great Houses of the Dunmer. The Great Houses could not unite behind their king in the face of Imperial expansion. They are locked in seemingly eternal strife, having replaced the devastating house wars with legalized assassinations and vendettas. For anyone to unite them seems impossible, but for me? The Redorans with their stiff codes of honor are staunch supporters of the Temple; the temple who would have me killed immediately at the first breath that I could be the Nerevarine. The Hlaalu are not so concerned with the affairs of the temple, but their council is under sway of Orvas Dren, who would have me slain out of hand if he ever traced responsibility for the setbacks his Cammona Tong have suffered. That trail of responsibility leads to the tip of my spear. Even further into the realm of impossibility is House Telvanni, sworn blood enemies of my guild. As the Archmage I am further down their list of prospective Hortators than Dagoth Ur himself would be.

A stranger's hand unites the Velothi
Four tribes call him Nerevarine.

The four clans of the Ashlanders; they are looking for Nerevar to return and sweep the land free of outlanders, Great House Dunmer, and the Tribunal Temple. A scrap of lost prophecy is not going to suddenly change their expectations and make a Breton acceptable, particularly if that Breton has somehow become the Hortator of the Great Houses. The fourth trial pushes the fifth even deeper into impossibility.

He honors blood of the tribe unmourned
He eats their sin and is reborn.

The tribe unmourned is no doubt House Dagoth, and to 'eat their sin' is to atone somehow, but after studying histories and prophecies and fantasies and fabrications I don't think anyone even knows what their sin actually was. What happened an age ago under Red Mountain? What is it that is to be atoned for?

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

And that makes a clean sweep. The Great Houses, the Ashlanders, House Dagoth, and the Tribunal; all the Nerevarine has to do is make friends of every enemy, which is to say everybody. The only question, really, is who is going to hate me the most, they are all going to hate me.

The house is quiet. Ahnassi has not yet returned. I read, I write, I touch the armors and weapons of my collection. I look at my fate looming before me. I await the dawn.

Nineteen: Juggling

I awoke this morning from a fitful doze. The brief sleep did little for me, and I had to rely on restoratives that I brewed in my lab. Fortunately I have learned well. I have also learned that there are times that call for walking alone. By the time I crossed the double bridges over the Odai and turned in the south gate of Balmora I had restored my spirit, the part that is beyond the reach of any alchemist's brew. Then I put aside the questions of trials and prophecy that are the lot of the Nerevarine. As the Nerevarine, if I am, I will shape the future of Vvardenfell, but today I needed to be the Archmage of the Mage's Guild.

Under Trebonius the mages were in some ways sheltered, and in other ways restrained. For me to be out of contact for the last few days was a trial for them; on both counts. While Ranis is among my most trusted advisors it was good to appear unannounced in the hall in Balmora and put things into perspective. My best friends in the guild, in all of Vvardenfell actually, needed to see that me being the Archmage was going to change some things...and that it was not changing some others.

I came in upstairs, through the enchanter's shop. Galbedir was momentarily shocked, and I laughed at her expression. It took a minute to sort out that I was her friend, her customer, and the Archmage, all in one untidy package. I dumped a bundle of various weaponry that I had claimed, some already enchanted and some ideal for enchanting. Our opening round of negotiation was strange. Her opening price was absurdly high. "Galbedir, what are you doing?" I said.

"You could demand whatever price you wish Arvil Bren. I know that."

"And you might think that since I'm your friend your shop doesn't have to be profitable, but it does. I'm not going to stop Ranis from seeing to that." At the mention of Ranis' name her eyes widened. "Tough spot." I grinned. "It would be best if at times like this you treated me as a customer, not the Archmage, and not your friend."

Ranis was a bit more difficult. The hall in Balmora has been her personal turf. I don't think Trebonius ever set foot there. When she saw me coming down the stairs her mouth fell open. I had never imagined Ranis at a loss for words. "Let's go in here a moment," I said, opening the door to her office. She recovered well, but it was a defining moment. It had always been her that used those words.

Ultimately the resilience of the Dunmer won through, and I took something from that. Ranis did not expect to have an Archmage who would just walk into her hall. That is what she has. When her expectations turned counter to reality she moved on; the Dunmer way. "Our lives are long Arvil Bren, we see the world change around us, and we adapt." Will that help the Great House councils accept me as the Nerevarine? The Ashlander clans? I can hope.

Our new relationship was reflected in the way she responded to my needs. It is necessary that any hall can serve as a base for me. Ranis left her office and gave a flurry of instructions. In short order word had gone out through the guild guides to every hall that I was available in Balmora. Hopefully that not only gave them a chance to report anything I needed to resolve, but also will have them all better prepared for my possible arrival.

By the end of the day I had heard from Ald-ruhn, Sadrith Mora, and Vivec City, and given a handful of decisions and opinions. There was nothing critical, but it made clear that I expect to keep my hand on the direction of the guild.

At the dinner table everyone was a little uncomfortable. I tried to imagine what it would have been like if Trebonius ever had visited the hall. His demands would have revolved around the show of false respect that fed his pompous ego. It gave me an inspiration. "My work is over for the day," I said. "I assume my usual bunk is open." To sit here at the library table, where I have sat so often, writing in my battered journal as I always have; it's a comfort to me, and to my friends.

Twenty: New hall

Keeping things in balance is going to take some work. Yesterday I was very resolute that the business of the guild had to be taken care of. The fact that I only made it from Pelagiad to Balmora in my journey to the Urshilaku camp seemed like acceptable progress. As I sit here at this same table, prepared for sleep in the same bunk, it is harder to see myself as moving to meet my destiny. While the other trials of the Nerevarine are still looming ominously the possibility of not being the Nerevarine and dying in the Cavern of the Incarnate is now slowing my steps. I do not want to die.

It would not be too difficult to claim today as great gains made for the Archmage though. I again set out walking. Not just to clear my head; and not to knowingly slow my progress though now I see that may have been underlying my choice. I wanted to arrive at the guild in Caldera by walking in the door, not appearing on the guild guide's platform. As I followed the pleasant trail northwards past the headwaters of the Odai I formed a plan that would only work because I had chosen to walk.

When I reached Caldera I did not go directly to the guild, but went instead to Surane Leoriane's house. Surane is a Blade, a member of the organization that collects information directly for the Emperor; in short, a spy. Unknown to the Mage's Guild I am also a Blade, in fact the ranking member here in Vvardenfell as far as I know. That is what I was told by spymaster Caius Cosades when he returned to Cyrodiil, but being a secret organization it is hard to tell. In any event I must admit my own loyalties do not lead directly to the throne of the Emperor, but since his instructions for me are to fulfill the prophecies of the Nerevarine it is easy enough to maintain at least a fiction of being at his direction. Being 'senior' in the Blades certainly does not put Surane under my orders, but it does provide opportunities.

Surane is posted in Caldera to monitor and investigate the Caldera Mining Company, and she is a very proficient mage. The Caldera Mining Company is an Imperial charter granted to House Hlaalu to exploit the local ebony deposits, and is the economic engine that allows Caldera to exist in the first place. Since House Hlaalu is in many ways a thrall to the Cammona Tong and the awarding of the charter stinks of graft there is definite cause for investigation by the Empire. Since the Cammona Tong has a huge price on the head of a spear wielding nemesis that they fortunately don't know is me I have my own reasons to be interested. All of these parts were clicking together in my mind as I walked, eventually forming a very cohesive whole.

"Hello Surane, it's good to see you again," I said as she answered the door.

"Hello Arvil. You are looking a little more wizardly these days. Unless I am sorely mistaken that staff is the badge of office of an Archmage. Come in, please." It was certainly simple to fit this visit into my cover story. My previous visits as a ragged spearman were a bit less obtrusive, because they would be much harder to explain. The time of day was in my favor, and I got to enlist Surane in my plan over an exquisite lunch.

Then I went to the makeshift guild hall, where they were just clearing away the plates following a hearty but plain meal that I was glad to have missed. Madila Indaren, a Dunmer mage who I think might be a distant relation of Ranis is the ranking member of the guild in Caldera. As I walked through the door she nearly collapsed, then erupted in a flurry of orders, all of which were intended to somehow relate to 'making me comfortable', most of which were contradictory. I had intended to shift the course of this fledgling hall gently, but this start left me no choice but to use a heavy hand.

I crashed the butt of my staff against the planking of the floor, which unleashed a shower of sparks and curling flames. "Stop!" was all I could think to say. Everyone froze in their places. At least the incipient chaos was headed off. "I didn't come here to test your furnishings or hospitality, so most of what you have all just decided to do is uncalled for. This hall is not getting done what really needs to get done already, so that would be a much better direction for your efforts. Assuming that you have regular tasks that forward the mission here, get about them while I consider what will have to be done for Madila here to get promoted." I looked around, taking in each startled face in turn, ending with the piercing red eyes of Madila. "You have an office?" She didn't. To have any sort of private conversation required Ernand Thierry the alchemist to disappear into his tower laboratory and the rest of her crew to retire to a common room upstairs.

"That is the first of many problems that need to be resolved," I said as soon as this was established. "I am here as the Archmage to get you set up as a guild steward in a proper hall, and having this meeting leaves no one but you and me to answer the front door. That really doesn't work Madila." She nodded, and wisely didn't say anything. Any trail of explanations she started would curl inevitably back at her and she knew it. That was what I was looking for. Had she not seen that the responsibility ultimately landed on her she would be difficult to mold into a Steward.

Caldera had been established under Ranis' supervision, mostly I suppose because it is Hlaalu territory and Ranis runs the hall in the Hlaalu capital of Balmora. A totally unworkable plan whose only real selling point had been that it didn't involve Trebonius in much of any way. Ranis has done a commendable job under the circumstances, but operation as a distant annex is not going to accomplish anything for anyone in the long run.

The crux of the problem in Caldera is that it operates at a loss across the board. Folms Mirel is a skilled enchanter, but in the 'business first' environment of a Hlaalu town he isn't in a position to provide services competitively. The local traders, pawn shops, and street corner hucksters all peddle enchantments and are overwhelming him. The alchemist Ernand Thierry gets much the same results. The guild guide does not do any thriving business. About the only place people in Caldera need to go is Balmora, and it is not a prohibitive walk. Ranis managed to assign Eraamion, an accomplished nightblade, as the spellsmith, but never quite handed his control over to Medila, and Ranis is too far removed to direct him.

"The Altmer, Eraamion," I began delicately, "to be a guild steward and have a successful hall you need to learn to use his talents."

"There is not much call for a spellsmith here Archmage."

"His other talents." A nightblade is the magically inclined version of an agent or an assassin. They use their spellcraft to conceal their entries and speed their escapes. Judiciously assigned they can tip the scales of commerce in favor of the guild, or against it. I knew that House Hlaalu had one of their best assigned in the governor's manse. "To begin with at least his eyes and ears. You have a very capable mage two doors away..."

"Surane Leoriane. She seems to do more business than we do."

"Seems to? She does. That's the sort of thing you need to know, and do something about. And you aren't in any position to do anything about it because you really have no idea what it is she is doing. She had a visitor for lunch, do you know who?"

"No."

"You should have. Sometimes important business gets done over lunch. In this case it would at least have given you a couple hours to get ready for me walking through your door. Madila I count on this hall to keep me apprised of the comings and goings of important people. That's one of the great benefits of having the guild guides sell their services to the public, but you still have to keep up with other transport. A master wizard shouldn't be able to walk into town and have lunch without you knowing it." Medila went back to nodding.

"Listen. I'm not here to crush you, and this isn't a reprimand. In fact Ranis is going to pop up on the guild guide platform shortly and we are going to formally turn this hall over to you as a guild steward. But by the time that happens I need you to be on top of what it is going to take for you to grow into that. We can call you one, but it's up to you to make yourself one."

"I will not disappoint you," she said. My turn to nod, deliberately.

"So here's the first big step. Surane Leoriane is ready to join the guild. A visit from the Archmage can be persuasive. In this case it may even have been required. Do you know why?" I hoped that she would not sidestep the reality that question represented.

She did not disappoint me. "Surane Leoriane is more skilled at magecraft than I am, or anyone else in this hall."

"Yes, she is. Truthfully in some schools she is probably more skilled than I am, but that doesn't keep me from being Archmage, and it doesn't keep you from being her guild steward. We need the best, and they have to be recruited. Now, you might be thinking that with her skills if she sets her sights on your position she may well take it from you. If you are thinking that you may even be right. If you let that thought get in the way of recruiting and training our members then you will get replaced, fast. Even if we don't have someone more talented a guild steward cannot let that thought get in their way for an instant." She nodded again. I was beginning to recognize her nods, and was pleased that this one showed grudging acceptance, not just mindless agreement. It's never easy to put yourself aside, I was glad it wasn't easy for her to say that it would be.

"What you need to do is give her assignments that will give her a chance to establish her loyalties. At the same time you might be able to improve everyone else's skills, even your own. I have learned a few things from her myself; no embarrassment in that." Surane is an established trainer in the Blades. "So, between her and Eraamion you need to get a handle on what is going on in this town. I am particularly interested in the relationships between House Hlaalu, the Caldera Mining Company, and the Cammona Tong."

"I'll get on top of it Archmage, you have my word."

I smiled my satisfaction. No need for her to know that she would be assigning Surane to do what she was already doing for the Blades. It would provide an extra layer of cover for Surane, get me direct access to the information she was sending back to the Emperor, and improve the standing of the guild in Caldera, all at the same time. Perhaps with Eraamion involved Surane's investigation would go even faster.

Ranis arrived as planned, and we announced the change to the guild members. Medila will have her hands full, certainly, but I think it will work out. Ranis and I were agreeably optimistic as we arrived back in Balmora on the guild guide platform. "I assume you set up enough of a cut from Surane's profits to balance their books," Ranis said as we walked into her office. "I don't know if Medila will be able to push her far enough herself. She will be good, but she isn't that good yet. Surane is formidable."

"I know. She will push Medila just by being in the guild. And yes, she will be generous in her contributions financially." That had been easy to manage. As soon as Ranis and I concluded our conversation I slipped invisibly through the streets of Balmora to the house of a Blades courier and dispatched two thousand gold septims to Surane to cover the expenses of her additional cover.

I ate a cheerful dinner here. In Balmora at least there is beginning to be a distinction between the work of the Archmage and the life of Arvil Bren. It was not until I sat down to write that I really had to face being not one step closer to the Urshilaku than I was yesterday.

21: Surprise, I'm just passing through

The guild guides provide transport from one guild hall to another. This service is available to guild members at a very inexpensive price, and the public at a fair price as well. Transportation is via teleportation spells and is instantaneous. Gossip, of course, travels even faster.

I appeared on the guide platform in Ald-ruhn right after breakfast. Erranil, the mage who operates the system nodded gravely. "Good morning Archmage. We were not expecting you so early, but Edwinna is in her office. I'm sure she will be pleased to see you." I suppose having appeared at two halls in the last two days I would be expected in Ald-ruhn next.

Erranil reached into a drawer and drew out a pack of small parchments. "These are to notify the other halls of your arrival. Do you know how long you will be staying?"

I laughed. There would not likely be much for me to do. "Not long Erranil. I have business in the north. This is your idea?" I took one of the notices and looked it over.

"Yes, Archmage. Edwinna wanted a system for keeping track of your location."

"Excellent." I handed it back. "Note that I will be in the northern Ashlands for three to five days and send them along."

As expected there was little to say to Edwinna. In her low key way she had her hall completely prepared to serve as my headquarters should I require it. I left after a brief visit, jogging northward at a strong pace that I maintained with my flask of restorative potion.

I had planned to eat lunch in Mar Gaan, but the early start made me think I would be well past that Redoran outpost. I was not. The rugged flank of Red Mountain did not slow me greatly, but the swarming blighted monsters did. There were many that I could easily have run past, as they were swollen into bloated masses of muscle that could barely move. I can't say that I gathered much information from the charred corpses my fireballs left behind, but it was a kindness to free these creatures from their horrific existence. Unable to hunt, they are reduced to gnawing on their own useless extremities. For every one that could not move though, there was another that could. Hugely overgrown muscles, blind unthinking fury; the blight monsters ravage the land. I noted the scars on the walls of Mar Gaan as I ran through the gates.

I had lunch at Aldur's Tradehouse. I considered making an inconspicuous entrance and moving on quickly, but opted instead to test my rank and privilege. It was not really out of line, as the Archmage of Vvardenfell, to command the main table in the dining hall, and send for the great warrior Miles Gloriosus to join me. The Cyrodiil has battled in every corner of the Empire, and he is the central pin in the defense of Mar Gaan; a defense that he tells me is failing. While the heroes and mercenaries have rallied to the cause from near and far the tide from Red Mountain batters inexorably against them.

I could not offer any long term hope without bringing up the Nerevarine prophecy, but I did the only thing I could to support the resistance. Mages and healers from all the halls will rotate through Mar Gaan, and they will bring scrolls and potions from the enchanters and alchemists, a tenth of their production. Gloriosus was exuberant in his gratitude, but concerned at the cost. I told him to be sure that all those who came to the outpost knew that the Mage's Guild is a part of Vvardenfell, and we will defend it. In the long run we will make back our costs.

Lunch was longer than anticipated and I had to draft a message to be delivered to Ald-ruhn. I opted to stay in Mar Gaan for the night. The harsh conditions of the Ashlands and the heavy flow of monsters from Red Mountain make it rash to risk being caught out at sunset.

22: Among the ancestors

Nibani Maesa met me eagerly when I arrived at the Urshilaku camp. When I showed her the lost prophecies that I had brought she laughed. "Arvil Bren, you have done well, but you are thinking like an outlander, not an Ashlander."

The clan gathered for a feast, and I was honored to participate as a clan friend. During the feasting there were ceremonies over every dish. I did not immediately understand the significance, but as the meal wore on it became apparent. The night air swirled with spirits. By the final course the Urshilaku clan was truly gathered; the living at the tables and the ancestors above.

Nibani Maesa and her apprentices disappeared promptly into her tent, accompanied by the swarming spirits of wise women past. Minutes later I was ushered inside.

"You will read the prophecies Arvil Bren; the mysterious writings of your Great House priests. The ancestors will recognize the truths, or the falseness. You will read them until we have the truths added to our lore."

As I read the ghosts of the ancestors clucked and chortled. They could not have restored the words of the prophecy, but they clearly verified it. As Nibani and her apprentices stumbled through the words it was obviously a huge shock. I was impressed and surprised at how quickly they overcame the difficulty of accepting the prophecy, and settled into committing it to memory. Like a drip of water wearing away a stone the words 'outlander Incarnate' pounded away at the wise women, and the ancestral spirits gathered over me to strengthen my words.

Time passed unnoticed. Eventually Nibani could repeat the prophecy as written, and her apprentices were close. The ancestor ghosts began to dissipate through the tent into the night sky.

Nibani dismissed her apprentices. "Practice these words, this is our lore," she told them. "Arvil Bren you have served our clan, and our people. I must consider this, and dream the dreams of the ancestors to seek the meaning here. You are an outlander, but there are many outlanders."

"Nibani, we need to talk about the trials."

The second trial, 'the curse of flesh before him flees'; I had to explain the entire series of events. I started with my mission to the Sixth House base. I told her about the curse of Dagoth Gares. I told her the message that had been delivered to me from Dagoth Ur. I wished the ancestor spirits would return to verify the truth of my words, but all I could do was tell her and hope she would hear the ring of truth in my words.

"This too I must consider Arvil Bren. I must sleep, and dream. You must wait. Live as an Ashlander. Hunt. Stay among us. As the ancestors confer with me the clan must confer with you. They will accept the words of the prophecy, an outlander Incarnate, but it will be up to you to sway them to accept it willingly."

Tonight I will sleep in a communal hut, shared with other hunters. I don't know how long the ancestors will take to confirm the prophecies. I have to wait.

23: Hunting

The Ashlanders are solitary hunters. After a coarse breakfast I set off into the wastes alone, as did the other members of the clan. I hunted alone, but not unobserved. Through the early part of the day I was well aware that the other hunters were watching from distant ridges. I rose to the challenge.

Stealth plays a large part in the hunt. With my conjured bow I could bring down a cliff racer from a fair distance, but that would not have impressed my clanmates. I watched. I followed the patterns of the great soaring creatures, learning the air currents that enabled their flights. When I had isolated a promising site I approached, slithering along the sand. The racers were bound to return to ride the rising air current. A hidden blind among the trama vines, a deadly shot from close range, and I passed the test.

By the late morning I had brought down three racers, and tracked a kagouti into a canyon where I could slip to an elevated spot and fell the great beast without allowing it to charge me. My distant monitors seemed to be satisfied and had gone about their own hunting. I had covered a significant distance to the south-west by then, and set off on a little hunt of my own.

Dividing the northern Ashlands of the Urshilaku from the western foothill region of Mar Gaan there is a deep foyada that cuts down the northwest slope of Red Mountain. This canyon may well run all the way to the shores of the Sea of Ghosts; I don't know. I do know that crossing that canyon involves following a very sketchy path through the wastes. I have found that path on some crossings, but more often I've resorted to a levitation spell. Yesterday was no exception.

When I crossed yesterday I passed directly over an ancient Velothi tower in the bottom of the foyada. There were ample signs that the tower is occupied. I wanted to know by whom. Who would be taking this remote outpost, so near Red Mountain? I expected to find the Sixth House cult.

With the threat of Dagoth Ur looming over all of Vvardenfell it seems to me the Great Houses would be setting their differences aside, or at least not openly be antagonizing each other. That would make sense, but I suppose over the long lives of the Dunmer they accumulate too much bitterness to set aside.

I crept to the door, and was surprised to find it ajar, partly torn free of its hinges. I slipped cautiously inside. The entry chamber held decorative columns that cast deep shadows in the light from the doorway. The torches hung askew on the walls, extinguished. In the broken light a battered corpse lay in a crumpled robe. I listened. There was no sound. I crossed the chamber.

In the hallway beyond I stopped again. A sound? I wasn't sure. To the right, or the left? Or no sound at all? I drew in magica, shaping it through the school of mysticism. The walls around me grew hazy, shimmering, and faded from my reality, leaving an undifferentiated grayness. Then to my left dim lights took form, like distant fireflies. I focused, and the lights, the energy of trapped souls, became more distinct. Enchantments, enchanted swords, and one was moving, coming towards me.

The mist cleared in the blink of an eye. I slipped quietly but rapidly down the hall to my right. The signs of battle were everywhere. The hall opened into a chamber. Typical of the quarters of retainers. Scorch marks marred the walls. Beds overturned, one burned. Another body, stricken down by a mighty blow from an unknown sword. Unknown, but quite possibly one of the enchanted blades I had detected.

Secure that I would not be attacked from this side I returned to the entry. Though I could no longer sense the enchanted sword I could hear the bearer approach. The tread of boots, bonemold boots by the sound of it. I blended into the shadows among the pillars.

The distinctive armor of the Redorans swept around the corner, a glowing blade leading the way. He approached the door, the visored helm sweeping the chamber. He could not see me. As he prodded the door, obviously looking for a way to secure the portal, I slipped into the passageway. Again the surge as magica flowed through me, creating a barrier of silence that filled the hall.

"Who are you, and what happened here?" I asked the back of the armored figure.

He spun, dropping into a warrior's crouch. The blade gleamed wicked in the dim light. "Back mage!" Then his voice raised to a shout. "Another! Here!"

"They can't hear you. For the next minute it's just you and me. I don't want to fight." Though I didn't want to fight I did not want to underestimate the warrior. House Redoran harbors the most respected warriors of the Dunmer. I conjured a spear. "What happened here?"

"This is Redoran territory. You may think that having yourselves declared as rogues by House Telvanni gives you free reign to settle anywhere, but it does not..."

"Telvanni? Trust me friend I am no Telvanni..."

"A mage, in this tower of magery. Where is your mage lord?" He prodded the robe clad corpse with the toe of a bonemold boot. "Like this one, you are a Breton, a retainer. Where is your master?"

"Once more, I am no Telvanni. If there was a Telvanni here alive I'm sure that would be painfully obvious."

"Enough lies!" he roared as he leapt to the attack.

His sword was powerful, as was he, but the Daedric spear struck through the bonemold easily. Blood flowed freely, and the spear lodged in his chest. I left it there, hampering his movements. I released the bonds of magica, and the shaft of the spear separated from the staff it had taken shape around. I spun the staff in a blurring arc and fended off a wild swing of his blade. Loss of blood began to take its toll and he struggled to keep his feet.

"I wish you had listened Redoran. I am no Telvanni. In fact these Telvanni would have been more inclined to kill me than almost anyone else that could come through that door." I hoped that I could reason with the wounded warrior, and perhaps use my restoratives to keep him from death. Instead, his final charge drove the spear completely through his body. He got close enough that I could see the red eyes glaring through the slotted visor as the life winked out of them.

I used my amulet to conceal me. At the end of the left hand passage I found the main tower. Stairs led to an upper level. I crept to the top. Two Redorans; one standing, the other seated at a desk; they did not see or hear me. I slipped past, away from the stairs. They continued to speak, agreeing on the content of the report that lay on the desk. This was the chamber of a Telvanni mage. Another slain retainer lay on the floor in a pool of blood.

The Redorans were drafting a request for reinforcements. The tower is in their territory. I certainly saw no reason to interfere. I left as quietly as I came and returned to the hunt. The enchanted sword of my opponent made a fine gift for the Ashkahn.

24: To trap a soul

This morning I rose with the rest of the hunters. It seemed clear that I earned some respect yesterday. Over breakfast I was included in the conversation more than before, but it didn't take long for that to get difficult. They trust their Ashkahn and their Wise Woman, but it is difficult for them to consider an outlander as a possible Nerevarine. I did not press the claim, but I did not back away from it either. Truthfully I just wanted to change the subject.

The opportunity to turn the conversation came from a hunter named Tussurradad. He said something about a golden creature that he saw yesterday. I pressed for details, and he gladly became the center of attention.

His description was concise, and as I asked about specific details it was clear that he had seen a golden saint. These rare constructs are summoned from a distant Daedric plane. They are basically nothing but an intangible spirit animating a gilded shell of pure enchantments. They are the most potent charge that can be contained in a soul gem, allowing the enchantment of the most powerful items. I asked where he had seen this creature and was pleased that it was not far away.

"But," he said, "the ruins of Assurnabitashpi house a shrine to Mehunes Dagon. They are horribly accursed. Hunters circle wide to avoid it. It is a very dangerous place outl...Arvil Bren."

I let his slip pass. "A dangerous place for a dangerous creature, clan brother. But a reward of great power to the bold."

Kurapli, the clan's armorer spoke up. "I have heard these creatures are often armed with great Daedric weapons; weapons of inhuman sharpness, like the summoned weapon of a conjurer."

"They are," I agreed. I put the Daedric shield I carry on the table. "Their weapons are like this shield. It is bound over from the Daedric plane permanently. It can turn the edge of the deadliest sword. It is an artifact of another plane that would rarely be found in an armorer's shop, and then would likely not be for sale. There are few opportunities to own a thing like this. I cannot turn from this one. Where is this ruin?"

I set off to the west as the other hunters conferred. There was little doubt that the morning's hunt would be delayed. They did not go their solitary ways, but climbed to a hilltop where they apparently had a view of the ruins. I would either impress them, or die.

The ruin of Assurnabitashpi is vast, and would be a source of great wealth to a hardy adventurer who dared to enter the shrine. I may be willing, but today it was not neccessary. It also would not have been ideal to leave my clansmen watching an empty ruin and a closed door. Instead I stood challengingly in the open, calling down the guardians of the cursed ruin.

First to catch sight of me were two great ogrims. They lumbered out of the ruins on their great legs, like the trunks of twin trees. Ogrim are not fast, and these two charged with the half hearted gait of monsters that are accustomed to being outrun by their intended victims. Ogrims are also not very smart, and they had covered half the distance between us before the recognition showed on their huge grey green faces that I was not taking to my heels. They faltered a step in their surprise, then accelerated their charge with a great gleeful roar. I'm sure my observers could hear it from their distant vantage.

The staff is far from my favorite weapon, but the powerful destructive spells woven into the fibers of my staff of office make it serviceable. It serves me well because the spells are unleashed on impact. A jab with the head or butt of the staff, normally a weak blow doing little damage, will unleash a storm of elemental energies on my enemy. The explosions provided a good showing for my observers.

The ogrim tried to use brute strength, which they have in abundance. To be caught in their grip would have been a terrible death, but the same lack of speed that has them so often outrun makes them vulnerable to a quick footed opponent. My time in Vvardenfell has honed me to a fine physical edge, but I wanted to push myself as far away from risk as I could. When their charge was within moments of completion I called upon a spell of the school of restoration to fortify my speed even further, making my advantage over my lumbering foes insurmountable.

I danced lightly aside as great arms slowly gathered air. The scaly green titans seemed to be wading through water they were so slow in comparison. I struck a huge round foot with my staff as it passed, and the explosion of magica sent the ogrim sprawling on its great belly in the dust. I released one hand and let the force of that foot kick the staff in a blurring whirl around my other hand, grabbing it again very close to its silver shod tip. It had just enough length at this full extension to rap the other ogrim lightly across the back of the neck as it lumbered past. The resulting fireball streaking from the tip of the staff sailed wide and exploded against a distant block of rubble, but the ogrim's head was shrouded in a cascade of elemental sparks. He howled in agony and rage as he dragged himself to a skidding halt.

As I said, I am not overly skilled with the staff, and without its enchantments neither of my foes would have been badly hurt by those initial blows. However, even without great skill the broad back of the fallen ogrim was an easy target. With my enhanced speed I was on him before he could gain his knees, much less his feet, and I brought the staff down with both hands in a whistling arc that went straight over my head. The stout steel shaft is very resilient, and reinforced by the enchantments woven through the essence of the metal. Even so the force of that impact brought the weapon into a great bow as it fell across the scaly green back. It sprang straight, driving the beast face first into the ground in an explosion of fire and sparks that ended its life.

Confusion flickered across the face of the other ogrim as it turned to find its partner already slain. I brought the staff to the ready, gripped in both hands across my body, head to my right and slightly raised. "You are going back to the plane of the Daedra, foul beast," I challenged. The creature had learned not to charge, and it stalked forward with its arms outstretched. Though certainly not nimble it could lunge from side to side, and clearly hoped to sweep me up in the crook of a great arm and crush me. Many of the green scales of its head and neck were blackened, and cracked as it moved allowing a thick grey blood to ooze through.

I spun the staff. With my heightened speed the ogrim seemed to be motionless, viewed through a gleaming disk. With a lunging step and a move that I learned from Wyan the smith I turned the staff from its vertical spin, bringing all of its velocity into one sweeping blow to the outside of the opponent's knee. The attack was designed to come in below a swordsmans shield and strike the vulnerable joint between his armor and his boots, but it was an effective way to keep my staff and myself out of the beasts grip. The blow fell lower on the huge ogrim, crashing against what could be called a shin. It was like striking a stone column. The impact rang through the shaft like a great gong, and the staff fell from my numbed grasp. The ogrim crashed down to one knee, engulfed in flame and again wreathed in huge sparks of elemental energy. I conjured a spear and rammed it through the titanic neck.

The ogrims lay dead. I gathered my staff and shook the dust from my robes. Fortunately the battle had not lasted long. Drawn unerringly to the clash of arms the golden saint emerged at a trot from the ruins. It came on quickly, but with control, a huge Daedric axe ready in its hands.

The enchantment of my staff was nearly spent, and a golden saint relies on great skill rather than the clumsy strength of the ogrim. I felt that I needed my best to match that skill. I dropped the staff to the gritty sand and conjured another spear. The mighty axe sped in great whistling arcs, but I kept just out of reach, backing and dodging. At one point I took a fierce blow that rang off the shield strapped high on my left arm that spun me sprawling to the ground, where only a frantic roll evaded the overhand blow that would have split me in two. But while my defenses were seldom breached the great reach of the spear allowed me to prick away at the misnamed saint. "You are more of a demon, spawned from the plane of the Daedra, nothing but a curse in this world," I jeered at one point when my spear had struck a particularly telling blow. The creature fought on in silence. The only sound it made was a sort of hissing sigh when it finally collapsed to the ground.

As it struggled to rise I cast the spell it dreaded most. Mystical energies coursed around it in a purple cascade. That broke its silence, and a searing howl of despair erupted from the golden helm. I drove the spear through, pinning it to the ground, a deathblow that would have dispatched the spirit back to the plane from which it was summoned. Would have, but did not. Instead its life force was channeled by the spell surrounding it, channeled into the soul gem glowing hot in my hand.

My clan marveled at the Daedric axe. It is a great prize. A prize that can be made all the greater if enchanted with the powerful soul of the creature that wielded it.

25: Another test, another quest

Today I did hunt alone. The other hunters of the clan have apparently seen enough to accept me among them. Hunting today was a joy. I returned to the camp with meat, hides, and racer plumes. There is a comfort in this primitive life; a comfort that is now over for me. Accepted as a hunter and clan member is far short of accepted as the Nerevarine.

When I returned to the camp I was immediately summoned to the Ashkahn's yurt. Sul-Matuul bid me welcome. The wise woman Nibani Maesa was already there. I sat and listened as these guardians of the Cult of the Nerevarine explored my future.

Nibani has studied the portents of her dreams. "I am to be your guide. You are to complete the Seven Trials to fulfill the prophecy. That which is done shall be done, that which is undone shall also be done."

The three of us discussed my date of birth, the mystery of my parents, and my experience with the corprus disease. Nibani agrees that I have passed the first two trials, and seemed to be pressing Sul-Matuul.

"I do not doubt or dispute the Wise Woman," said the Ashkahn. "The ancestors give their favor, and the first two trials are her province. She shall be your guide. But the cavern where Azura's eye sees is my province. My warriors are impressed with what they have seen from you. You passed my test, and I called you clanfriend. They opened their hearths on my order, now you are welcomed freely. But there is more that I know to being the Nerevarine than the hunters or even the Wise Woman. I will keep my own council, and assign my own challenge to test your strength, courage, and cunning."

There was no argument. Sul-Matuul's word was final. "As you direct. Name this challenge Ashkahn."

"Here is your task," said Sul-Matuul. "There is a place of trial for our people. It is an ancient Dunmer stronghold, a hall of the lost house, House Dagoth. Corridors wind deep into the heart of the mountain below, only ending their ever deepening quest when they reach pools of molten lava. The fortress has become the home of all sorts of blighted and otherwise cursed creatures, including men. You may be safe from the ravages of their disease, but you still could fall prey to its victims. I have faced these creatures myself, and I admit that I was afraid."

"I will face them, and my fears Ashkahn."

"Good. As a token bring me the weepings that ooze from the flesh of a corprus stalker," he said. "Of course, in these dark days there are many places to find a corprus stalker besides Kogoruhn." Nibani did not gasp at the name of the cursed place, but she was definitely shocked. "The second token I require is a cup, marked with the mark of House Dagoth. I have seen them myself. These cups are rare, but again they may be found somewhere else that I do not know."

I thought of the collections of artifacts that I have seen, particularly in Mournhold, and nodded. "I will bring these tokens from Kogoruhn Ashkahn, nowhere else."

"I do not doubt your word. Azura would not welcome you if you falsely passed this test. But to be sure, you will bring a third token, a token which has no duplicate. Deep beneath the ruins is the ancient tomb of Dagoth Morin. There you will find the Shadow Shield."

The Ashkahn marked my map and gave me directions to the ruin. I took my leave. The rest of the clan eyed me curiously as I left the Ashkahn's tent. I ate dinner quietly, enjoying their company, ignoring their curiosity. After dinner I said good-byes, emotional good-byes to the clan that has taken me as one of their own in such a short time. I showed great confidence that I will return. Perhaps more than I was sure that I felt.

I teleported to Pelagiad. I do not want to carry the weight of the Daedric axe and some other items I've collected. Also, the light armor appropriate for traveling and hunting in the wilderness is not what I would choose for delving the ruins of Kogoruhn. Most importantly, it is not yet certain that I will be the Nerevarine, and there is grave danger in this quest. Before I embark I will enjoy this night; this reunion with Ahnassi.