Challenges

Chapter 25 Intrigue in the Shadows

Fargoth felt as though he’d aged several decades. The constant fear was taking its toll, he figured, stressing his poor nerves to the point of breaking. As he walked the narrow passageways of the stronghold, he scowled into the darkened hallways, wondering why the slim windows, such as they were, could not be opened. He was feeling stifled in this place!
Making his way further into the citadel, he tried to relax his shoulders and neck. The constant dark corridors unnerved him. Even the square layout of architecture, the tight quarters, and drab furnishings bothered him. It was like living in a cave. The stronghold had been built centuries ago to fend off the Nordic invasion, but had since been abandoned. Only the undead had taken up residence, and thankfully, Valos knew how to handle them. What made matters worse, were the obvious connections to the Sixth House cult that had also called the stronghold ‘home’. Again, Valos cleared out the area as best he could from the creatures. They still had to barricade the lower levels else more of the things would emerge to attack. Only the three levels of the stronghold were being used now.
There was also the matter of new ‘recruits’. Cutthroats more like it, Fargoth told himself. Mercenaries of almost every race joined them…that is, all except Dunmer. Valos hated them with a passion, yet would not say why. He made a point to bring only those of the human races, a few Orcs, and an Argonion, and not one had pointed ears. His hatred encompassed all elves but targeted Dunmer in particular. He only tolerated Fargoth, and even then, the Bosmer had to endure little remarks and veiled threats.
They were a motley bunch, most of which were criminals, bandits, vagabonds and their ilk. Even the women among the ranks were edged and deadly. To what Fargoth could figure, they numbered close to fifty now; a virtual army at Valos’ beck and call. Some, here of late, had disappeared, but when Fargoth asked about them, Valos only smiled inwardly and told him not to worry about it. Perhaps they tried to leave, and Valos killed them. Fargoth shuddered at the thought. The man could just as easily do the same to him!
He headed to one of the lower levels, smelling the oil of several burning lamps and of the two large braziers that lit up the larger of the chambers. The Bosmer had no idea what these rooms might have been used before, but one was now the Subjugator’s lair. Several tables had been set up along the far wall, with chains on the wall and pillars, and even a cage sat to the far corner large enough to hold a man. Was this what was being planned for that Dunmer fellow?
His stomach churned at the thought, his mouth gone dry. Fargoth paused at the doorway, trying to muster some courage before facing Valos, but found what was worse, the Shadow man was also there-
“It will be soon, my lord.” Valos was speaking, busying himself with work at one of the tables. A makeshift alchemy lab had been setup to which he was making any number of vile potions. One could only guess to some of the ingredients he used. Whatever it was smelled horrible. “He can’t stay within the safety of the camp forever.”
The Shadow man stood aside, shrouded in the contrasting shadow near a pillar. Fargoth could only see the silhouette of his form against the fireglow, taking notice of a mane of hair and outline of his dark clothing.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited.” The Shadow man’s voice rasped in anger. “My patience is growing thin, …very thin.”
The Subjugator nodded, pausing only to measure some sort of powder. “If he doesn’t leave the safety of that tribe, I will send men in after him.”
“We can’t afford a war with them, Valos.” The Shadow man warned. “And I certainly do not want the other tribes discovering that we are here. Not yet. We need something more… subtle.”
“I have an idea if you care to hear it…?”
“Such as?”
“While hunting, one uses a lure to bring the prey to the hunter.” Valos smiled wickedly. “We simply need a viable lure.”
“Feryl has want for nothing.” The Shadow grunted. “What he wants, he steals, and he is no fool.”
“Ah but Fargoth had informed me he travels with this young Breton, that they are quiet…charming …together.”
“Charming you say?” The Shadow perked up, turning only slightly to where Fargoth could see the edge of his chin beneath his cowl. Thin lips curled into a smile. “Women were always a weakness of his. In fact, this could be perfect for what I have planned for him.” He paused as Valos waited, and the words were then spoken slowly. “Yes, I must concur with this plan of yours, Valos. Brilliant, as always. Feel free to carry this out, but remember that he must not be harmed, not permanently anyway. I do not want him disfigured or damaged in any way.”
“And the woman, or the swordmaster?”
Fargoth watched as the Shadow man picked up a particularly nasty looking tool meant only for one purpose- to cause pain. “Take them alive if possible, but remember its Feryl that I want.” The Shadow turned slightly, revealing more of his face to Fargoth’s view. The skin was pale, the lips bloodless, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in years. As the chin lifted, a livid scar was worn across his throat, the cause of the ruined voice. Fargoth almost stopped breathing. How could anyone survive an injury like that? “Any harm comes to Feryl, and they answer to me, understood?”
“Yes, my lord.” Valos smiled, inclining his head slightly in a bow. His eyes caught sight of the Bosmer hovering in the doorway and he straightened. “Fargoth, what news?”
“Much the same.” The elf replied, hoping he appeared casual and not frightened half to death. “He hasn’t left yet.”
“We have a new task for you.” Valos told him, motioning for him to approach. “Its simple. All you need do is lure that lovely Breton away from the camp. She knows you, yes?”
Fargoth wet dry lips, trying hard not to stare at the Shadow man now obscured with his back to the brazier. His face was again lost in shadow. “She hates me if that is what you’re asking.”
Valos laughed. “No, I care little of her feelings of you, though at least she seems to have some taste.” He chuckled at his joke as he continued. “We need you to draw her from the camp. You won’t have to go far, just over the hill would suffice.”
For a brief moment, Fargoth felt his body grow rigid enough to snap in two as fists clenched, fingernails bit into his palms. No, this wasn’t right. Spying on others was one thing, leading them to….whatever it was they were planning, was something else. He didn’t particularly like Eiryn, but only because she loathed him. Only now did he realize, despite her opinion of him, he’d always respected her. “What are you going to do to her?” He asked.
“Do to her?” The Imperial rose up brows in feigned surprise. “Ah, now Fargoth, you are so out of your element, aren’t you? I’m not quite sure if you’re cut out for this type of work.”
The Shadow man folded arms. “I’m finding his usefulness fading quickly.”
Fargoth felt his throat nearly close up in rising panic.
“Indeed.” Valos agreed. “Only your willingness to follow orders is keeping you alive.”
The Bosmer’s eyes widened as the mouth stammered, “I- I did as I am told…I do…I do as I am told!” He said, suddenly getting the sense he was being surrounded by Nix hounds. “I…I was just …asking…”
“Don’t ask questions.” Valos advised in a voice too calm. “And don’t worry about the pretty little scout. I’d be more concerned of my own life than hers. Just do as ordered. That’s all we expect from you.”
Fargoth found himself nodding a bit too vigorously. He slowly backed away from the two of them as if they were rabid animals. He silently thanked whatever gods were listening that neither moved towards him. “Yes, I will do as I am told.” He said, bobbing his head. “Lure her from the camp…I will do that.”
The Shadow man spoke in a low tone that echoed across the room. “Take a few of the men with you. No doubt this woman is a fighter and I won’t have her calling for help.”
“Yes, good idea. I will do that.” Fargoth said, nearly spinning on his heels to turn and flee the dungeon. As his footsteps pattered away, Valos sighed long and shook his head.
“I told you he was a bad idea.” He continued to stare at the empty doorway. “I’m not sure he’ll succeed.”
“We can’t afford mistakes” The Shadow man agreed. “You best handle this yourself, Valos. I want Feryl and his friends in short order. Understood?”
The Imperial nodded unable to hide the slight wince against these orders. He usually gave orders, not followed them through.
“And when he returns,” The Shadow man continued, “Do what you want with him. I see no further use for him. The girl and swordmaster can be yours as well, after I’m finished with them.”
Valos smiled broadly in anticipation. “Thank you, my lord. You are very gracious!” He watched as the Shadow man left, “But I do have just one question.”
The Shadow paused, waiting.
“You’ve never told me why you want this Dunmer. I was just curious-“
“Revenge.” The voice rasped. “Mostly revenge.”
“Mostly?”
The voice coughed until Valos realized it was actually a chuckle against a ruined throat. “I was very fond of Feryl at one time. I will have my revenge, but I will have him as well.”
The Imperial nodded, contemplating those words as the Shadow disappeared into the hallway.

---------------
Saber stood and endured the unblinking stare of the tribe’s Ashkhan. He was an imposing figure. The aged face bore scars of many battles, he wore the amulets and colors of many quests. Sat-Matuul was broad in chest and held a strength that was evident in both mind and body, but it was the sheer force of his will that was most impressive.
Despite having to face the dangers of killers and monsters, Saber felt intimidated by him. With effort, he remained stoic, not wishing to show the least amount of fear to this warrior. He had received permission to speak to the tribe’s leader, and now had to wait for the man to speak first.
“Nibani tells me you wish to know the about the Third Trial.” He said, the thick accent almost slurring his words. Saber nodded, letting him continue. “I would first have you apologize to my tribe. Savages we might be, but who are you to judge us?”
Saber was stunned. Apologize? To the whole tribe? He didn’t think Nibani would say anything, but honor was obviously important within the tribe. They had little else in the way of possessions. He also underestimated the value of honor among them. “The tribe hadn’t heard my words, and they were spoken in haste-“
“It matters not that my people heard you or not!” Sat-Matuul’s voice rose sharply. “You are Clanfriend. Could you not know what that means? And you dishonored us by just thinking such things! You will apologize to the tribe for all to hear! You will apologize to our wisewoman-“
“I already told her I was sorry-“ Saber protested, but found the Ashkhan took two quick steps forward to stand inches from his face, red eyes blazing in fury. It took every effort not to draw a weapon or step back from the man, especially in light of seeing the Ashkhan grip the hilt of his own dagger at his belt. The man was furious.
“You will apologize again.” The Dunmer snarled. “And if I am not satisfied, then you will do so again!”
Several moments passed as they locked stares, but it was Saber who finally turned away. He nodded, defeated. The Ashkhan was well within his right to ask him of this. “I will do as you say.”
“Good.” Sat-Matuul lifted his chin and turned to settle himself on a low rug of his yurt. “And I will speak further on this Third Trial, so when you are finished with humbling yourself, you will take your leave.”
Saber nodded again, sitting across the firepit to shut up and listen.
The Ashkhan crossed legs, and took several moments to measure up the younger Dunmer before him. He obviously didn’t like what he saw, but began to tell him what he needed to do. “You have entered the path of the Nerevarine. This is a hard thing to believe.” Sat-Matuul voiced his doubts, “But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test. I do not dispute with the wise women, but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."
His doubts of Saber any attributes of a warrior were clear on his face. The scowl never relaxed as he continued. "Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the Blight have come to dwell there. I myself went there, with some brave hunters, and came back again, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid, for myself and my men. If you would have from me the secret of the Third Trial, the 'caverns dark' where Azura's eye sees, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn."
"The first token is Corprus weepings from a Corprus beast, to show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. The second token is a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, for I have myself seen such cups there, and will know you have seen with your eyes what I have seen with mine. The third token is the Shadow Shield, which lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Test."
Saber opened his mouth, then shut it. The Ashkhan was sending him to prove himself as a warrior, not to undergo the Third Trial. This was to be a test, and he couldn’t help but wonder if also not some form of punishment for his harsh words. Merthisan had often chided him for being hot-headed, of speaking out of turn, and not thinking before taking action. Seems he was right. This wasn’t the first time his mouth had gotten him into trouble.
Overall, however, Saber didn’t think the test that difficult. He could use a Chameleon spell and sneak amid the creatures to find the shield and the cup, and kill a Corprus beast to get…weepings? Saber shuddered at the thought of having to collect that. Regardless, he’d killed Corprus beasts before and didn’t have the worry of catching the disease a second time.
There was more challenge to apologizing to the tribe than to this. To face the tribe and swallow pride was not going to be easy for the cocky thief. “Very well.”
“Now go.” Sat-Matuul said waving his hand as if waving an annoying pest away.
Taking to his feet, Saber left the yurt and stood to look around the huddled array of tents. Most of the tribe were out and about, many of which sat near their tents to work on crafts, fix food, or speak in low tones of various topics. By the narrowed glares that drifted his way, Saber realized the whole tribe knew of his harsh words.
Savages….primitives….why did he even say it? I was angry…stupid….It wasn’t so long ago that he’d been called the same. As a boy he lived on the street, as Nekros’ apprentice he was pathetically devoid of manners. Once free of his master, he realized how others perceived him. He didn’t much like being regarded so low. He’d taken every effort to become civilized because of that, yet he still didn’t have enough manners to keep himself out of trouble. Shame and guilt twisted his gut.
They began to navigate towards him almost as one, circling him as they knew what was expected of him. The men and women carried themselves with silent dignity while most of the children eyed him with mistrust. This was the tribe he was to save from Dagoth Ur, but they were also the tribe that had shown hospitality to an outsider when they normally would kill them outright.
Saber drew in a deep breath, finding it difficult to face them. “Yesterday,” His voice oddly cracked against the weight of what he was to say, and he cleared his throat. This time his voice was steady. “Yesterday I spoke out of turn….out of ignorance.” His gaze flickered across several others, hoping they could hear his sincerity. “I was angry-“ He saw Eiryn now standing next to Merthisan who obviously had no understanding what was going on. “I was also afraid of what I must do. This does not excuse my …insult to your people.” Your people….not mine. “I called you savages, yet I am the one who has the manners of a guar. And for this…I am truly sorry.”
An apology is such as simple thing, he thought to himself, so why is this so hard? Saber found he actually felt the apology, but somehow the words were lacking in relaying that. He felt a strong presence behind him. Sat-Matuul. When Saber dared glance back at him, the warrior’s face was impassive as stone. Was the admission of guilt enough?
“You may go.” The Ashkhan told him, giving a slight nod to encourage him to take his things. Saber did so, moving quickly to the yurt to gather what he had to take on this quest. He also wanted to retreat from the relentless gaze of the tribe.
Eiryn frowned, moved into the yurt with him. “What’s going on?”
“I have to undergo another test.” He said, checking his sword for nick or blemish but never finding any. The Manos blade had never needed repaired, and the edge always stayed sharp. He slipped the weapon into its sheath and hurried to leave. “I’m to go to Kogoruhn, gather some things and return.”
“Do I go with you?” She asked, beginning to follow.
He stopped short, turned on his heel to look back at her. Since their last argument, he’d been too busy to discuss anything with her. He never finished telling her his plans. There was still a very strong need to run, but he’d made his promise and had to finish this quest. Besides, gathering tokens couldn’t be too hard, now could it? “No. I do this alone-“
“And when will you come back?” She asked in a voice that had grown small. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but instead, settled on the number of things he was taking with him. Naturally she assumed he was still leaving.
Angry and feeling on edge, Saber glared. “Maybe I won’t be back.” He snapped, gathered his bow. Even as he spoke, he felt as though he was again, speaking out of anger and stupidity. Embarrassed for this behavior he added, “In fact, I think its best that you guide Merthisan back to Balmora. I don’t think there’s anything left for you to do here.”
Even as he spoke the words, he heard the cruelty in his voice and nearly regretted them. Hardening himself, he reasoned she should leave anyway. This place was dangerous, and only going to get worse. She shouldn’t be with him. Eiryn deserved better than him. It was a kindness in the long run to cut her off now, rather than think he was going to survive this. There would be no future-
Slim brows twitched into a frown, and her brilliant eyes grew brighter with unshed tears. “Are you certain of that?”
The Dunmer heard the final warning of her words, to apologize and make things right. Part of him desperately wanted to grab her into his arms and tell her how sorry he was, despite his anger, despite everything. A greater part drew back, however. There were other things to consider now. He was eternal, and would live forever if he wasn’t outright killed. The years of life ahead of him, alone and without a family felt like a great weight. She was, however, human and mortal. What future could the two of them have?
She could find someone else, have a family of her own and live happily ever after…
“Yes.” He said, feeling his throat tighten against the words. “I am certain. You’re to take Merthisan back to Balmora.”
Before she could reply, he left, not even staying long enough to tell Merthisan good bye. He’d given his orders; they were to return to Balmora without him.