Challenges

“Not much to look at, is it?” Saber asked his scout as they arrived in the small village known as Gnaar Mok. It was a tiny fishing village, modest in size and bearing very little in the way of supplies or a place to stay. A handful of square huts with thatched roofs huddled near the shoreline, and a short dock was built for the scant few fishing boats. Atop a near hill, an impressive manor stood tall and proud watching over those below.
Eiryn found the lush wetland surrounding the area to be a direct contrast to the drab Ashland region they had just arrived from. The air with thick with the smell of growing things, being the area was pretty much shoreline and marsh. “Plenty of fish though.” She grinned, hoping to remain optimistic.
“That would just as soon eat you.” Saber retorted in disgust. He hated the horrid Slaughterfish known to swim close to shores. They were all scales and teeth, with ferocious demeanors and attacked anyone on sight. Some were the length of a man’s leg, and could just as easily snap a limb off. Being that Saber enjoyed at least an attempt at staying clean on his journeys, he could hardly bathe in any the rivers or shorelines in the lands of Morrowind for fear of losing an appendage, perhaps even important appendages.
As they made their way down a sloping hill into the heart of the tiny village, Saber paused to ask a local wood elf of this Ilunibi shrine. The Bosmer paused, startled at being stopped and asked of such a thing.
“Ilunibi, by the graces, why would you want to know where that was?” He gasped, dark eyes blinking in panic. The ragged shirt and pants indicated he was a commoner, perhaps one of the fishermen in the village. Hair was tied back from his heart-shaped face, with what seemed to be permanent grime worked into his face.
“Do you know where it is?” Saber asked, pretending to pull three gold coins out of the elf’s pointed left ear. The dark eyes sparkled in greed. Tiny hands moved to snatch the shiny coins, only to have them pulled out of reach by the much taller Dunmer. “Ilunibi…where is it?”
“That’s a neat trick.” The Bosmer grinned, “Ilunibi Caverns. That's what they call the old sea cave up on the north end of the island, right on Khartag Point. Don't poke around in there. It's a convenient smuggler's hole, and they might not welcome visitors.” He hopped again, eager to catch the coins from being dangled so close and yet so far from his nose.
Saber tossed them, not at all surprised to see the agile elf snatch them out of the air. “We go North.” He smiled at Eiryn, heading outside of the small hamlet into the ‘wilds’.
She shook her head in disbelief, “Nothing is ever simple with you, is it?”
The Dunmer grinned boyishly, “Oh that was the simple enough.” He assured her, easily finding the road to which would lead them to their destination. “But I don’t have so many coins now.” He shook his coin pouch to illustrate how low on resources he’d become.
“Well I suppose you can always pull them out of people ears if we get desperate.” She teased, wanting to learn that slight-of-hand trick. Somehow she doubted her short fingers could tackle the graceful movements. Almost throwing his skill at her face, the Dark Elf pulled another coin out of her ‘ear’, and then easily flipped the gold between the fingers of one hand.
She watched the coin dance between knuckles, mesmerized at his dexterity. “Maybe perform for crowds for coin?” She offered with a laugh.
He tossed the coin up, now showing off, catching it again in the air to show now two coins in the palm of his hand. With a flourish of fingers, they literally ‘disappeared’ before her eyes. He winked. “And steal their gold from their pockets when no one is watching.” His other hand lifted up a familiar coin pouch, tossing it back to her.
Recognizing the purse as her own, Eiryn gaped in amazement wondering how he managed to pull it off her belt without her even feeling it. “Hey! How did-“ She never got to finish the sentence. In mere moments, she realized Saber lost all mischief in his face, and stared looking behind her in with an odd expression of surprise and confusion.
Turning slightly to see what he was staring at, she felt Saber’s hand reach out, and forcibly shove her to the side, just as some crazed Dunmer came up from behind with a spiked club in hand. She’d never even heard the man coming, and knew immediately it was a Dreamer, one of the demented Sixth House cultists known to kill any and all foreigners they encountered.
The club swung from above, braising her arm as pain exploded on her shoulder, and Eiryn fell to the side. Saber managed to grab the man’s attacking wrist to use the aggressive force of the man’s body against him, to spin in low, and flat on his back with a foot to assist in the fall. The Dark Elf looked stunned, red eyes white rimmed and staring in surprise at the other Dunmer. His hair had once been tied neatly behind his head, stained red and coifed with leather at the end of two braids. Now the hair had worked lose, tangled and unkempt with bracken snarled in his hair from sleeping on the ground, with dirt crusting his skin bare to the waist.
“The Hour of Awakening is at hand!” The Dunmer cried, yanking the spiked club to charge another assault. Saber refused to relent his grip on the man’s wrist. The Dreamer bared teeth, “He comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust.”
Saber frowned, unsettled by his madness. “Who?”
“Lord Dagoth!” The dreamer shrieked back in answer, and kicking with full force, sending Saber back away from him. He gripped his club, returning to head straight for Eiryn still on the ground. She clutched her wounded shoulder, sick and dizzy in pain and saw the madman bearing down on her.
Bracing for another blow, she closed her eyes and cringed, but the blow never came. A horrible gargling sound caused her to open eyes, to find Saber had since grabbed the man from behind, slitting his throat open with a dagger. The Dreamer stared out with wild eyes, the mouth agape and spitting blood.
Slumping forward, he dropped to his knees, before falling forward to die.
“Eiryn…” Saber rushed to her side, inspecting the wound to her shoulder. The gaping wound would require stitches, and he feared something might have been broken. “Are you alright?”
She swallowed hard against bile, sickened by the severity of the wound, and the fact it could’ve just as well been her head. “Cursed Dreamers.” She muttered angrily. The pain was nothing compared to the knowledge this was a setback. She’d need healing, and quickly. Even the potion Saber brought to her lips would not be enough if a bone were shattered.
Saber touched her hand, fingering the ring on her finger. “I’ve set this for the Temple in Balmora.” He told her grimly.
All the way back to Balmora? Gnaar Mok would offer nothing in healing or help. She winced feeling sick, and also cold. Damn, she thought, recognizing it was from blood loss. Eiryn felt her companion brush her cheek with a warm hand. “You don’t have much time.”
No, she didn’t. She’d faint soon if not bleed to death. He’d have to walk all the way back to Balmora…Tears filled her eyes from frustration. “Go then.” She muttered, furious with her rotten luck. She squeezed his hand. “Finish with Gares, and come back to Balmora.”
The Dunmer was startled. “Are you sure?”
She paused, almost sobbing with the thought he’d actually consider waiting for her. He already put off this quest for a week, had her trained, and now was willing to put his mission off for a longer time. “Just kiss me, and go.” She told him, feeling his warm mouth on hers and the gentlest of touches to her cheek.
Gathering her focus, she tuned into the magicked ring, and with a whoosh of air, and sensation of tiny feathers covering her skin, she found herself on the floor of the Balmora Temple. A priest was startled seeing someone appear from nowhere, but only seconds realized her dire need of help.
“Quickly! Someone get a Healer!” He cried, rushing to her side.

**********************
Saber still knelt on the road, feeling alone as Eiryn disappeared in a puff. He took solace she would get the best help and rest she’d need for the wounds. She’ll be fine, he told himself. The wound was bad, but not severe now that she’d get the best healing at the Temple. That was the very reason why he gave her the ring. He knew as long as she was conscious she’d get help or even escape trouble.
Steadying his nerve, he continued his way northward to the island at Khartag Point. The sooner he found this cult base, the sooner he would head back to Balmora. Keeping senses sharp, he avoided several wild guar, and found the entrance to this Sixth House base off the coast on a small obscure island. Now facing what Caius considered a true challenge, the Dunmer double checked his armor and sword out of habit, making certain that nothing jingled when he moved, and drew up his focus to cast a spell that would provide a bit more protection than the light leather armor he wore.
With all the skills of a thief, he took knowledge that he was the assassin for this mission as well. Ironic, was it not? Caius hated him for being trained to do this very thing. The spymaster ordered him to kill this priest, Dagoth Gares. So the noble Blades’ guild needed an assassin after all…? He’d have to remember to throw that in Caius face next time he saw the man.
Not that Saber particularly found the task distasteful. A priest of the Sixth House cult would hardly be innocent of wrongdoing. Everything about the Sixth House was an abomination against all of mankind. The Sixth House had created so many of the undead, the crazed Dreamers, and that horrid Corpus disease.
Some dark memory stirred within the Dark Elf as he entered the cave, memories of what Nekros had taught him as a boy.
Darkness is both friend and enemy…Nekros had told him once. Within the shadows one can find the prey but also other predators. So true this was. Other sometimes even more deadly creatures than an assassin might be waiting at any corner. Here was no different. Saber felt senses sharpen in the lightless cavern, surprised at the vast size of the underground. He slipped past a scamp gnawing on something that looked like a bone, and used levitation to glide above an unknowing Dreamer muttering prayers at a makeshift altar. Lost in his rantings, the man barely felt the dagger slip into the brain from behind. Silent the man slumped over dead.
A guilty thought prodded Saber as he realized this particular quest was best Eiryn had returned to Balmora after all. If he had to fight his way through the number of beasts he was discovering, they might not have made it out alive. Not that he’d tell her that! Perhaps training her in stealth might not be such a bad idea. He would ask Arathor from the Thieves’ guild next time he met him…
Using the shadows to his best advantage, the thief moved slowly but steadily through the maze of caverns, glad to have the night vision of his race. More than the undead resided here in the caves. A torch would be nothing more than a beacon to any of these creatures, leaving him exposed to too many opponents.
Saber held his breath as something grunted, shuffling feet and emitting a bone-chilling groan. A corpus beast- Saber simply slid aside the wide cavern, hoping to not alert the creature to his location until the right time. It was a ghastly atrocity of what was once a man, with pallid flesh abnormally misshapen into growths. The head no longer had anything of a neck, with the face nothing more than deep sockets and a torn mouth with jagged teeth.
Hair had long since fallen off, as had ears, the nose, and some of the fingers and toes. Saber felt bile rise up in the back of his throat, sickened at being so close to the thing, and also found the smell of rotting meat overwhelming. He pushed thoughts away that perhaps this horrid creature might have eaten part itself, and by its crazed look in the almost non-existent eyes, told the Dark Elf that it would feed on anything- alive or dead- to supply its wild hunger.
Drawing out his sword with nothing more than a whisper of steel, Saber waited until the beast was almost upon him. He knew to strike at what he could find as the brain, to kill it as quickly as possible or risk catching Corpus himself.
Almost,….He thought…his body was tense ready to pounce…the creature drew closer. Exploding into action, Saber jabbed as hard and fast as muscles would allow, striking to where the brain would be located at the ‘head’ which appeared to be mostly shoulders drawn up about the skull. It grunted, uncaring of the attack, only concerned with the smell of blood and fresh meat. It swung a heavy arm no longer bearing any fingers, and moved with clumsy thrashing. Slow or not, the brute strength was very clear as it missed, sending splintering rock to scatter on the floor. Saber ducked, spun, and landing the point of his sword straight into the things face.
It paused, an eye blinking in surprise at it stared back at him, and the ragged bloody lips drew back from teeth in a parody of a smile.
Oh gods…Saber grimaced, ready for retaliation, but it thankfully never came. The beast simply toppled over to expire. Only then, did Saber turn to empty the contents of his stomach.
Gods help me if I ever get Corpus- He thought …just kill me.

****************************

Eiryn was finally relieved of pain, but now lay in a stupor on the small cot the Temple provided her. Her shoulder was wrapped in bandages to keep the bones set, and the priest had told her on no uncertain terms she was remain very still to let the potions and spells do their work at repairing the damage.
Bored, the young Breton stared at the ceiling, seeing the same drab brown adobe as the rest of the Temple was built. Their décor was simple, having neither frescos nor paintings on the colorless walls. Even blankets and the handful of tapestries were nothing more than varying shades of dull brown. Apparently, the Temple focused more on dedicated their time to the Almsivi, than anything for vanity.
The Almsivi were the three gods of the Tribunal known as Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil. They were literally ‘living gods’ who once were mortal, but now ruled with immortal divinity. Eiryn never considered herself very religious to any of the religion of the Empire let alone Morrowind. Worshipping those who were once mortals seemed pointless. Her reverence proved nothing of their blessing or of their wrath for that matter. Vivec lived in the holy city named after him, also known as the Poet and Patron of the Arts. Almalexia lived in the city of Mournhold with Sotha Sil, so here in Morrowind, Lord Vivec ruled with the High Council.
For all that, the Temple provided many services. You never found beggars or starving, for they could always turn to the Temple for help. Priests and priestesses also served by providing healing, education, and good acts to anyone who asked for it. Even her healing she received was all in service of the Almsivi.
“Eiryn?” A soft voice interrupted her thoughts, and when the young Breton looked to the open doorway, she saw Caius standing with a concerned look on his weathered face.
Shocked to see him, she tried to move but remembered what the priest had told her. Her father moved forward, shaking his head. “Don’t trouble yourself.” He said softly, “I’ve been warned to not upset you, and I know you need your rest-“
”Why are you here?” Eiryn asked, fearing another lecture or reprimand.
“Only to talk.” The spymaster said. Moving closer, he motioned to a nearby chair, asking permission to sit with her. She nodded, still wary. “So I hear you were attacked by a Dreamer.”
Eiryn looked away, feeling sullen and pouty. Her father was right. She was useless on quests. For all the training she’d received and the weapons given to her, she hadn’t fought back did she? “Didn’t even go near the Sixth House base, so you should be happy with that.”
“Saber was taking you to the Sixth Base?” Caius scowled, who had pointedly told him not to.
Eiryn said nothing, letting the silence remain thick with tension. Go ahead…say it, lecture me on Saber now...She thought.
“Hasphat tells me you’re pretty good with a quarter staff.” Her father switched the topic away from the Dunmer. Was that pride in his voice now? The creases around his eyes deepened as the old man smiled at her. “He even admitted to me you gave him a run for his money. That’s no easy thing for Hasphat to confess.”
“I beat Saber as well.” She murmured, looking away. It was a petty method of provoking him, trying to get him to do his lecture and leave.
“You beat Saber?” His doubt was thick in his voice. “So Hasphat told me, though I was led to believe it was more of a draw.”
“He cheated.”
”Who?”
”Saber. I had him pinned and he flipped me.” She told him.
Despite himself, Caius laughed. “Eiryn, most fights are not going to be fair.”
My father is taking his side? She stared at him. “If it had been a real fight, I would’ve choked the life out of him.”
A warm hand patted her own, tentative at first. “Please don’t think I am not impressed.” He told her with all seriousness. “Saber is very well trained. The very fact you took him off his feet says quite a bit about your skill.”
“It was his idea.”
“What was?”
“It was Saber’s idea I take training with Hasphat.” She told him. Now feeling a bit cocky, she decided it best to lay her cards on the table. “He waited a week for me to finish some training before we left.”
His gray eyes shifted away, and the thin lips pursed together. “He seems to care more about you than I thought.” He murmured, clearly not happy about it.
“He gave me this.” Eiryn said, lifting her hand to show him the ring. She knew exactly the thoughts passing through her father’s mind at seeing the trinket, and quickly added. “It’s a ring of recall. That’s how I got to the Temple.”
The eyes brightened, widening in surprise. “He gave you that? To protect you?”
“To protect myself.” She corrected, feeling old defenses beginning to build back up around her. “As he’d supplied me with armor, new weapons, even an enchanted sword.” All of which, she refused to add, proved futile in regard to the sneak attack of the Dreamer. “And he was the one that pushed me out of the way of the Dreamer, of which I would have been clubbed in the head, instead of the shoulder.”
He took notice of her reaction, sighed heavily in defeat. For several long moments he contemplated her words. “Saber told me you were capable…that you didn’t need to be kept safe. He called me a fool, and he was right.”
Eiryn was too taken aback to speak. Did she hear him correctly? Was he under the influence of his ‘sugar’? What else did Saber tell her father?
The spymaster rubbed his face, scratching stubble. “He told me if I was going to be stubborn…I might lose you.” Something choked off the last part of his sentence, and his face suddenly twisted into one of anguish. Only then, Eiryn realized he’d been trying very hard to hold it together as he visited her. “And I shudder at the thought. Considering you nearly got killed-“ His voice choked again until he gathered his pride once more. “I’ve been so stupid, Eiryn-“ He took her hand, held it as if were the most precious thing in the world. “With all my efforts of keeping you safe, I became negligent of my duty to you as your guildmaster. I should’ve made sure you had everything to take care of yourself, not shelter you from danger. Saber was right, I am an old fool.”
Eiryn felt a powerful surge of emotion threaten to strangle her, but she coughed lightly, gripped the hand that held hers. How difficult it must be for this proud man to come here and tell her all this! “And Saber?”
His eyes were moist, and his throat worked when he swallowed. “Perhaps I was wrong about him too.”
Perhaps?! Eiryn held back a smart aleck response, knowing she already got far more than the man could handle. Uncertain to what to say to his admission, she let several long minutes of silence fall between them. He thought I was going to die… she discovered, realizing how it must be like for him each time she went off on a quest. No wonder he tried to protect her!
“Can I still be in the Blades then?” She asked, her voice was small, and too late she realized she was using the same ‘little girl’ voice she’d used in the past to ask her father for something.
Caius laughed despite himself, also recognizing the familiar voice. “Saber will need all the help he can get, don’t you agree?” He smiled. The spymaster straightened, shaking off his mood, and patted her lightly on the hand. “You get your rest. Saber will be back soon I hope, and we’ll see what is next for us, alright?”
Nodding, Eiryn smiled, relieved and close to overwhelmed that after a lifetime of wanting his approval and also understanding, she finally received both in one day. She had Saber that she loved dearly, and things were looking as though all of Morrowind could be seeing a brighter future.
*****

The maze of caverns and tunnels was disheartening to the Dunmer, who paused to get his bearings, and listen to the darkness ahead. Bodies of ghouls and vile creatures littered the tunnels behind him. His arm ached from his efforts, and in the near pitch black, Saber could not even tell if the wetness he felt clinging to his clothes was blood of his opponents or his own.
Taking a vial of healing potion, he felt his limbs tingle as if waking and strengthening for any battles ahead. Hopefully he was nearing the end of this wretched mission. Maybe he could talk Eiryn in giving him a back massage upon his return to Balmora…
He set his ear to the door before him, listening again and finding that of course the chamber ahead had more in store for him. Mutterings of Dreamers could be heard beyond the portal, though he couldn’t tell how many. Playtime… he smiled to himself.
As night vision adjusted to the eerie gloom of the next chamber, Saber discovered he’d finally reached what must be the center of the Sixth House Base. Here he could make out the sinister chantry bearing the small red statues with Daedric writing, and incense smelling of brimstone and ash. The wreaking smoke wisped above several altars in the widening chamber, and Saber could make the outlines of several Dreamers knelt in prayer.
Gripping a dagger’s hilt, Saber was able to throw with precise accuracy to the back of one, releasing another dagger to end the life of the second even before he turned.
I haven’t lost my touch…. Saber smirked. The smile soon faded as something dark moved into the red-glow of the room, and the putrid face of Dagoth Gares bore down on him. That is, what he thought was the face, being the creature seemed to not have eyes, or nose, or even mouth. Instead, where the face might have been once, a bizarre proboscis extended out, twitching and sniffing the air. Was this what Dagoth Ur created as one of his followers? Saber found he couldn’t forgive an immortal that could so twist a creature as what he saw before him now. The instinct to simply kill the creature to end its misery bore to mind, and Saber gripped his sword in defense.
A wheezing chuckle emitted from the odd creature, as it shuffled forward to greet him. “The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar.” It said, giving a mocking bow towards Saber. He stared in horror; even more stunned how he was being addressed by an identity he was supposed to be faking. Lord Neverar…? Perhaps this was only mocking him. It gargled again another laugh. “Or Saber, as you call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants.”
The being was not attacking, and Saber was left standing to feel the full shock of hearing himself be addressed by name. “How do you know me?” he asked.
The horror gave an exaggerated bow, and when it spoke, the voice raked across nerves for it sounded half gargling on mucus or spitting. “My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming. I wish that this time you had come to honor your Lord's friendship, not to betray it." The being was relaxed, not attacking but wishing to exchange words…for now. “Forgive the rude welcome, but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. The Sleepers and Dreamers are newly come to Lord Dagoth, and not yet blessed with his power. But the Children of His Flesh, they are deep in the heart of his mysteries. Their bodies swell to contain his glory, and to yield the rich sacraments of our Lord's feasts. And we are the least of his servants, for Ash Poets, Ascended Sleepers, and Ash Vampires stand high above us in the Lord's bountiful grace."
"Dagoth Ur is the Awakened Lord of the Sixth House,” Dagoth Gares continued to rant. “Come to cast down false gods, drive foreigners from the land, and restore the ancient glory of Morrowind. He bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. The path to Red Mountain is long, and filled with danger, but if you are worthy, you will find there wisdom, a firm friend, and all the power you need to set the world aright."
An offer to join them? This was unexpected. Saber paused, uncertain if this not some trick to deter him. Saber refused to speak as he considered the priests words. Gares persisted with his discourse. ”Lord Dagoth would far rather have you as a friend than as an enemy. But until you submit to him, Sixth House servants will treat you as an enemy, and try to destroy you. If you wish to be our friend, first you must go to Lord Dagoth in his citadel on Red Mountain, and make your submission."
Submit…? To Dagoth? He must be joking. It was bad enough he was wrapped up into this mess with the Emperor and the Blades. Now the Sixth House offered him a position of power? For only the briefest of moments, Saber considered possibilities. Dagoth had once been a loyal friend to Lord Neverar, given the tools of Kragnanc for safekeeping but fell to their temptation and made himself into a god. Saber could hardly blame him for feeling betrayed, or even wanting to drive out the Imperials from the Dunmer homeland. But what stood before him now went against everything Saber could want from a god. The followers of House Dagoth were cursed beings, most of which hardly bore any semblance of who they were in former lives. This was what Dagoth had to offer? Revolted, the Dunmer took a step forward, but the priest lifted a hand to stay his advance.
"Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought.” Dagoth Gares spoke with authority now, repeating the message as he’d been instructed. “'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"
Saber looked down at his bloodied sword, then back to the priest. “You want my answer?” He smiled suddenly advancing quickly. There was no doubt of his reply as the blade swung high, and all the disgust in meeting the Sixth House creatures, Saber wanted nothing more to destroy them all, to end their misery, and more importantly, to end the horrors the Sixth House was promising for all of Morrowind.
Naturally the priest recoiled, lifting claw-like hands to throw a blast of fire towards the Dunmer who easily jumped up with the added lift of levitation to avoid the spellwoven flames, flipping in the air to land behind the priest. Another swing of the enchanted sword, and the slice cut through the robe and pallid flesh.
Gares shrieked, falling to his knees, coughing…no, he was laughing. Saber stepped back, unsettled by such a reaction of one facing his demise. The priest clutched its chest where blood spilled out too quickly before slumping forward, still writhing in what remained of his life. “Even as my Master wills, you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh.' The priest wheezed, coughing again his odd laugh, and suddenly Saber felt a wave of something horrid hitting him square knocking him back three feet to lay stunned on his back.
What in the name of Oblivion…?
At first Saber felt he might have had his breath knocked out, but as air filled lungs, and limbs tingled with the sensation of a thousand spiders nipping upon flesh, he simply knew….Dagoth Gares cursed him with his dying breath with Corpus!