Challenges

Ch 21 Lost Prophecies

Saber returned to the room of the Black Shaulk Inn to prepare for the impending rescue attempt. The plan was actually quite simple; deliver a magical scroll of teleportation known as Divine Intervention, to Mehra, then teleport himself out. The real trick would be getting into the Ministry of Truth.
Changing clothes to the darker silks and leather he preferred, the Dunmer shrouded himself in shadow. Lock picks easily slipped into the taut cloth gauntlets at wrists, with only a few throwing knives strapped onto legs and forearms for ‘just in case’. A quick double-check made sure nothing on his person would make a sound when he moved.
Fingerless gloves of soft leather helped in completing the garb to leave sensitive fingertips open for the use of a skillful touch, as well as working for magic. He’d prepared mostly stealth-based spells, such as chameleon and invisibility. It took a clear mind, focused and intent, which is exactly what he felt right now. His mind never felt more clear.
A chill went up his spine in anticipation, a shiver of thrilling exhilaration. Moments such as these, he truly felt alive. Everything he was, all the skills he’d mastered over the years, came to a head when faced with such a challenge. The Harrowing for the Urshilaku tribe or retrieving that damnable Puzzle Box for Hasphat in Balmora was exactly the type of work he loved to do. Now he had to find Mehres and help her escape.
The Dissident Priests disputed the Temple, challenging their divinity by stating they had somehow used magical means to gain their godhood, and not by Divine blessing. They also recorded the Ashlanders’ verse and vision concerning the Nerevarine prophecy, writing them down for posterity. Considered heretics, the Tribunal Temple declared the priests outlawed. The Temple openly prosecuted them, even torturing members in their method of ‘re-educating’ the malcontents.
Saber could’ve cared less about religion and anything remotely having to do with faith, but now things were taking on a different meaning for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if his last visit to the city of Vivec had brought the arrest of Mehra. If the Ordinators had seen them talk, had heard even a whispered mention of the Nerevarine prophecy, then he’d placed her into danger. Touched by guilt, he felt obligated to help her now.
Pulling a homespun robe over his head, he tucked hands within the large sleeves of the costume. Nothing but a pious pilgrim, he smiled inwardly. He looked every bit the part of a simple man seeking enlightenment.
Showtime….

*************************************
Fargoth tucked his cloak tighter around his small frame as he huddled in the lee of the silt strider port. From this vantage point, few would take notice of him, and he could see everyone who came and went into the city. His only hope was this Merthisan Kendari fellow would use the strider and not consider the long walk between the settlements.
The night seemed to have grown chilly, or was it fear that caused him to shiver so? The wood elf scowled, blowing warmth breath on icy cold fingers. He wanted a warm wine with a pretty girl on his knee, not shivering in the dark doing the bidding of some madman.
The memory of that shrouded man made fear pinch his belly. He still didn’t know his name, or had seen his face clearly. He was from the Imperial City by the accent, though the voice sounded horribly damaged. Perhaps the man had been mangled in some way, scarred to a monstrosity, or even afflicted with sickness. Another shudder passed through the Bosmer.
He wasn’t likely to even find out. The man was insane. When he threatened Fargoth to an inch of his life, he meant every word, every detail of what manner of pain and torture that would befall him should he fail. Fargoth, not being a stupid man, knew to follow orders. It was a simple thing, wasn’t it? To find a man? No harm in doing a simple task, right?
A sound made him jump. He did a great deal of jumping from shadows and unexpected noises as of late. This time, the sound was the approach of another silt strider. The large insect like creature gave a haunting call as it stopped to let off passengers on the towering ramp.
From the underway, Fargoth heard the footsteps of several passengers disembark. Voices carried down to him, and a quick glimpse above him finally gave him the lead he so desperately needed. Relief nearly choked him.
“We’ll stay here in Balmora tonight, and head out for Ald Ruhn in the morning.” A woman said, hoisting a backpack to her shoulder.
“And then to Maar Gan?” An older man replied. Fargoth recognized this one. This was Merthisan Kendari, from the Imperial City. “How long then before we meet Saber in the camp?”
Fargoth felt his heart nearly stop.
“He said it might take a week or so.” The woman replied, leading her companion to the nearest inn. “Maar Gan is a long walk to the Urshilaku, and its dangerous. I want to be sure we have the necessary potions in case we encounter Blight.”
Merthisan smiled gently to her, giving a polite bow of respect. “I am in your capable hands, dear lady.” He said. “Until the morning then.”
“Good night, master Kendari.”
Fargoth watched from the shadows their leave taking, and finally released the breath of air he held in his lungs. Finally! A lead to this elusive Saber fellow! Skittering off into the darker end of the city, he sought out the shadow man.

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

Saber stood very still to the side of the wide tunnel in the recesses of the Ministry of Truth. The structure hung precariously over the High Temple in the city of Vivec. Believed to be a celestial body Lord Vivec had suspended, the Ministry of Truth had been hollowed out to provide a prison and re-education facility for the correction of heretics. Their methods were rather brutal, it was rumored.
Once stripped of the pilgrim robe, Saber levitated to the ‘rock in the sky’ to reach the narrow walkway snaking around the formation. The guard keeper, apparently a friend of Mehra, provided a key, and a promise to not divulge where he got it. No problem, being he did not intend to let anyone know he was even there!
Under a veil of a Chameleon spell, Saber felt the magical affects cause shivers across his skin, like cold tiny spiders crawling all over him. The first time he’d cast such a spell had him nearly rolling on the floor from the sensation. He’d since grown accustomed, and could ignore the feeling for a short period.
The trick with the Chameleon spell was to remain motionless when someone looked in your direction. Such magic was rarely 100% effective, so there was often a vague outline of the form left. The eyes might catch movement otherwise, and Saber had mastered utilizing the shadows, and of patience as an effective tool when it came to being surreptitious.
An Ordinator strolled by, unknowing of the presence of another in the hall. The guard wore the flamboyant uniform of the Temple. Flared pauldrons matched the gold and silver cuirass and greaves, enhanced by the silk and brocade purples of the shirts and pants. The priest warriors also bore helmets with silver crests that completely obscured the face into an expressionless visage. He hummed an off-key tune, pausing briefly as he thought he heard something. As Saber kept his breathing inaudible, and kept out of the way, he could pass by undetected.
None the wiser of Saber’s presence, the guard continued down the hall as he made his rounds. Saber watched as he disappeared behind a bend in the tunnel before moving, ever keeping his attention to any sounds that would tell him at another’s approach. He was also timing their path of duty, finding it took about thirty seconds before this guard would come around again.
Moving silently, Saber felt the spell begin to fade and cast another. This was the trick; to remain aware of his surroundings as well as maintain the spells affects. Mentally juggling between alertness and concentration, sweat beaded on his brow. The true skill was also to pick any locks he encountered, while maintaining this level of focus.
Once he passed the third guard, he found the door he was looking for. He then had to wait for the Ordinator to disappear down the tunnel. Pausing only briefly, he slipped out one of the lock picks and listened as the tumblers fell into place. Once the door was unlocked, he strengthened the spell once again, and had to wait patiently before the guard went by one more time.
“What’s that?” A voice murmured close behind him. Saber remained motionless, even holding his breath as the guard looked straight at him. “Hmm, must be the long hours.” The guard moved away.
Once Saber found the area clear, he ever so gently nudged the door open. No point in letting any guards on the other side take notice. Luck was with him, for a change, as he noticed all the guards on the other side were looking the other way. Slipping inside, he shut the door with a barely audible click.
He almost sighed in relief. He found the prison area without incident and none the wiser he was even here. The prison keep was nothing more than a spacious cavern carved into the Ministry of Truth, with a wooden walkway twisting through the area that allowed guards to keep a stern eye on the prisoners. A handful of convicts roamed under the walkways. Along the lower east wall, a line of locked prison cells kept the more ‘dangerous’ prisoners.
Being Saber couldn’t see Mehres Milo among the wandering captives, he could assume she was in the cells along the wall. Great, he scowled. Now he had to pick more locks, and remain under the Chameleon spell a bit longer. His skin crawled as he strengthened his nerve.
Moving among both prisoners and guards also served to be more difficult, being the Ordinators were paranoid. They seemed to sense him, perhaps even felt him brush past, yet saw nothing but air. A few of the men even muttered comments of feeling unnerved, but fortunately for the thief among them, they did nothing but complain of being on edge.
Saber reached the farthest door to the right, and paused before slipping his pick into the keyhole. He would have to do this quietly and quickly, Fortune remained on his side as the door opened unnoticed.
Even more fortunate was finding a startled Mehres standing in the dim torch glow of her cell. The Dunmer woman frowned, seeing her door open and shut by itself. Eyes the color of opulent pink shifted to orange red as she sought the shadows for intruders.
She was as many Dunmer women appeared; slim and slight framed. She bore skin the hue of slate, with black hair pulled up into a severe bun on her head. The thin brows pinched together as she sensed him near, and the equally thin lips pulled down at the corners. Some men might not think her as beautiful, but Saber could see beyond the subtle nuances and recognize Mehra as very beautiful. Her mind was keen, her sense of morals high, and whatever she lacked in primping was more than made up in intellect.
“Its me.” Saber whispered, hoping not to startle her.
She jumped anyways as he appeared five feet from her, and nearly fainted. Clutching her throat, she laughed nervously. The smile transformed her into something more soft and feminine. “I remember you.” She smiled with relief. “You’re the one Caius sent to me before. You must have found my message. Have you brought the scrolls?”
He handed them to her, only to have her pick one. “The other is for you.” She nodded to him. Her tone turned serious. “And escape is simple. This scroll will take you to the nearest Imperial Shrine, which is in Ebonheart. From there, go down to the docks and speak with an Imperial woman named Blatta Hateria. Ask her to take you fishing.” Saber frowned, not following her train of thought. Mehra laughed softly. “She will take you to Holamayan. There, you will meet Gilvas Barelo, who is leader of the dissident priests.”
He looked down at the scroll, but felt her hand on his forearm to gain his notice. Gratitude filled her livid eyes of pink, but words spoke further on the matter of meeting the dissident priesthood. “Holamayan is magically protected. Speak to the monk at the docks of Holamayan to find out the secret entrance.” She paused, squeezing his forearm gently. “Farewell and good luck.”
In a single breath, she was gone, leaving only a light swirl of magical sparkles in her wake. Saber soon followed.

******************
After casting the Divine Intervention, Saber found himself outside the Imperial Shrine in Ebonheart. Set atop the battlements of Ebonheart castle, the impressive fortress nearly set Saber into a panic. He just helped a prisoner escape from the Ministry of Truth and now stood at the very seat of government of Morrowind!
Ebonheart was where the Grand Council members, the Duke of Morrowind, and the Emperor’s representatives convened. The castle itself comprised of two forts of gray stone linked by a bridge. Teaming with industry, this was where one might find the East Empire Company. The mercantile industry managed the importing and exporting of goods from the mainland, set regulations of said goods, and kept a sharp eye on ancient Dweemer artifacts.
The thief shook out of his fear, and focusing on ‘acting normal’ as an Imperial guard strolled past. These were not Ordinators, nor did any of the Imperial guards here know of his crime, not yet anyway. Saber also took comfort in knowing they were not the formidable opponents as the holy priest warriors were. He could even outrun most of them if he had to.
The Imperial settlement comprised of a fortress of considerable size and an impressive waterfront for the larger ships traveling along the Ascadian Isle coastline. The hoisted sails of two ships moored along the dock, and Saber hoped that one of them was the ship that would take him to Holamayan.
One ship he recognized as being the Windswept, which ran along the coastline to take cargo and passengers to the other settlements. A second ship bore no sail at all, but mastered by a rudder to catch the heavy currents off the shore. This would be for a local fisherman by the looks of it. A third ship he hadn’t noticed before, and was smaller than the Windswept, with no cabin or cargo hold to speak of. Weathered paint formed words on its bow, The Lucky Gem. An odd name for a ship, Saber mused, curious to its history. All ships bore names for some purpose. Mostly, sailors were a superstitious lot, having to depend on the mood of weather and tides, and yet neither having any consistency. Perhaps the captain kept a luck jewel on their person, or it was possible, the ship encompassed the winnings of a gambling game.
“I know you.” A voice startled the thief as he spied the ship’s captain. She was an older woman with silver hair tied back from her weathered face. Eyes the shade of a restless sea hadn’t lost their sparkle as she appraised him. “My friend said you might want to go fishing.”
This must be Blatta. “I’m Saber.” He admitted, surprised she motioned him to settle on board her ship. It wasn’t a large vessel. The Lucky Gem had no cabin to shield from the elements, or even a cargo hold. Definitely, a shipping boat of some sort, or one accustomed to short trips.
Blatta moved with lithe grace as she hopped off her boat to greet him with a firm handshake. “Pleased to meet you. I’m captain and crew of the Lucky Gem. The trip will take a few hours, so whenever you’re ready to go, let me know.”
“Now is a good as time as any.” Saber told her, moving to the bow. A few crates and sacks of foodstuffs lay beneath an oiled tarp. “Will the weather hold, do you think?”
The sky was clear for now, but storms were a constant threat. Blatta didn’t seem concerned. “Settle yourself amid the sacks of Saltrice. The clouds tell me we’re clear for the next few days.” A grin flashed. “A fine day to go fishing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed.” Fishing for answers, or more poetically, my destiny, he mused to himself.