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vosh-rakh · 9 months

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madstone: chapter 4

-previous part-

The Archmagister looked up through the parted fingers of the brass gauntlet clutching her head. When she saw who it was she removed the gauntlet from her face. “Aryon. What are you doing here?” She glanced over at Kassur, who suddenly felt very small. “Oh. Right. Forgot about him.”

“You seem to have a lot going on,” Aryon said, observing the scorch marks all around the small office.

“Just leftover business from dealing with Galmis.” She stopped to gaze at the scorch marks herself. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Aryon said. Kassur was confused but couldn’t tear his attention from the Archmagister.

The Archmagister stretched her digitigrade Argonian legs and then stood. She approached Kassur and held out her brass hand.

Kassur slowly took it, his small hand engulfed in the massive ornate gauntlet. She gave his hand a tight squeeze that hurt for a second before relaxing her grip. “What was your name, again?”

“Kassur, Archmagister. Uh. Nerevarine. Uh…”

She laughed, a deep, throaty laugh. “Call me Ku-vastei.”

“Okay,” Kassur said. He didn’t know what kind of name that was, but it didn’t sound like Velothi to him. Of course it didn’t, she was an Argonian. For some reason he expected the Nerevarine to have at least a Dunmeri name.

“What was your complaint?” Ku-vastei asked. “Something about your tribe? Erabenimsun? Your scouts didn’t report anything the other day.”

“No,” Kassur said, shaking his head. “Ahemmusa.”

“Did someone take Ald Daedroth again?”

Something about the question irked Kassur, but he couldn’t place a finger on why. Besides, he was too wrapped in awe to display any displeasure. “No, Ku-vastei,” he said. “They’ve gone mad. They’re holed up in Ald Daedroth.”

“And they might be building an army,” Aryon interjected politely after Kassur paused to look for words.

“An army. The Ahemmusa? Are you sure?”

Aryon smiled. “That’s why I said might, Ku-vastei. Kassur left months ago, but indications seem to suggest they could be. Which would put Vos and Tel Vos at risk, potentially even the rest of the eastern coast.”

Ku-vastei glanced at Kassur. “Is that so?” Kassur nodded solemnly. “Explain what you mean by ‘gone mad,’ Kassur. Do you think this is the doing of Sheogorath, perhaps?”

Kassur nodded again. “Yes, Ku-vastei. He has long antagonized our people. His presence is strongest in Ald Daedroth. And without the Madstone…” Kassur again struggled to find words.

“The Madstone?” Ku-vastei asked, tilting her head. “The trinket the Wise Woman gave me when she declared me Nerevarine?”

“No mere trinket, it seems,” said Aryon. “It appears to hold back Sheogorath’s influence.”

“We need it back,” said Kassur.

“Hm,” said Ku-vastei, rubbing her chin in thought.

“Please,” Kassur said, not well hiding the desperation in his voice.

“Oh, no,” Ku-vastei said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’ll give it back. I’m trying to remember where I left it.”

Aryon groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “In a Mage’s Guild Hall, perhaps?”

“Yessssss,” hissed Ku-vastei. “Balmora, I think. Let’s go.” She briskly set off past Aryon and Kassur, and the Ordinator at the door.

“Bye, then,” said Llethym, who had seemed to meld into the shadows as the others conversed. The sudden reminder of his presence made Kassur jump. Aryon pulled on Kassur’s hand as he followed swiftly behind Ku-vastei. Kassur found it nearly impossible to keep up without almost running.

- - - - -

Ku-vastei was fast. She pushed her way through the crowd in the Hlaalu plaza like she owned the place, and nobody seemed to mind. Once they slipped through the open plaza doors, they squinted in the morning light as they identified their destination canton. Again they skywalked across the air to the Foreign Quarter, Kassur a little more confident this time, but still holding Aryon’s hand. Inside the Foreign Quarter plaza Ku-vastei was just as to-the-point and forceful, like a hammer on the anvil that is her destination: the Mage’s Guild.

They descended into the structure until they returned to the Guild Guide. “Flacassia,” Ku-vastei said abruptly as she nearly bumped into her. “Take us to Balmora, please.”

“Where is Balmora?” Kassur asked Aryon as they stepped onto the platform.

“Northwest of here, southwest corner of the island,” Aryon said. “Big Hlaalu town. I’m not looking forward to this.”

Before Kassur could interrogate Aryon further, Flacassia’s casting completed, sending them through Oblivion to the Balmora Mage’s Guild.

This time the sudden jolt nearly took Kassur down, but Ku-vastei caught him in her surprisingly strong arms, hidden under the folds of her robes. “Alright?” she asked him as she set him on his feet.

“A-alright,” Kassur mumbled, blushing again.

“Mhm,” Ku-vastei muttered before letting go. “Ajira,” she said with a quick wave, and a Khajiit - or so Kassur has heard the cat-men are called - in the corner waved back with what Kassur guessed was a smile.

“Have you had a chance to search for the ring this one mentioned to you, Archmagister?” the Khajiit - apparently Ajira - asked.

“No,” Ku-vastei said. “I’ve been busy.”

“Ah,” Ajira replied. “No rush. Artifacts don’t tend to wander too much.”

Ku-vastei nodded and swiftly went into the next room. In the far corner by the opposite corridor was a small screened-off section. When Kassur approached he saw benches laden with hundreds of glowing, shining objects - rings, amulets, weapons, pieces of armor, rare books, and more.

Ku-vastei perused the items on display, searching bench by bench from one end to the other. Then she started over from the beginning and searched again. Then another time. Finally she gave up and stuck her head out of the enclosed space. “Sharn?”

“Yes?” A robed figure in the far corner opposite the corridor turned around, revealing a rough green face, sprouting two white tusks from the corners of its mouth. “Ah, Archmagister, hello.” Her voice was as aggressive as her visage.

“Sharn, where are my artifacts?” Ku-vastei asked calmly. But Kassur noticed a twitch in her tail, and some instinct told him this was not a good sign.

“They’re all right there, aren’t they?” Sharn asked, clutching a book to her chest tightly.

“No,” Ku-vastei insisted, her voice raised slightly. “I’m missing an important amulet, and several other things besides. What happened to them?”

Sharn seemed to look around nervously before settling her gaze on the Archmage’s bare reptilian feet. “I…let Galbedir borrow them. For experiments.”

Ku-vastei ran a hand down the side of her face in ill-hidden exasperation. She spoke again, her composure barely maintained, and patience fading, as indicated by the erratic movements of her tail: “Why, exactly?”

“Well, you see…” Sharn began to explain, “She kind of just came up, took them, saw that I saw her taking them, and told me they were for experiments. And not to tell you.”

“You’ve done well to tell me anyway,” Ku-vastei said, “albeit a bit late.” She glanced around the room. “Where is Galbedir?”

“She took them to some ruins nearby, I think. Dwemer if I recall. Ark…Arkung…”

“Arkngthand?” Ku-vastei groaned.

“Yes!” Sharn said, excited. “Precisely the place.”

“Well,” Ku-vastei said, turning to Aryon. “I suppose we have another detour to make.” She turned back again towards the adjacent corridor, but stopped for a moment. She looked around the room again before spotting someone, a Dunmer in an opposite alcove. She swiftly approached him, nearly startling a book out of his hands. “Marayn?” she inquired forcefully.

After regaining his composure, Marayn answered, “Yes, Archmage?”

“You’re a Dren, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Marayn, offering a shy smile. “Marayn Dren, at your service.”

“Do you know of a Galmis Dren? Distant relative, perhaps?”

“Not so distant,” Marayn said. “He’s my older brother.”

“Were you aware your older brother was a slave smuggler?”

Kassur felt a bit left out of the loop, here. This conversation wasn’t for him to observe, it seemed. He glanced at Aryon, who smiled and shook his head pointedly. Let it happen, that gesture seemed to suggest.

“Well,” Marayn said, looking away. “If you know who our father was, then it shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

“I hope you won’t give me any problems, either, Marayn,” Ku-vastei said, the young Dunmer’s name passing almost like a curse from her lips.

“I was…disowned long ago, you could say,” Marayn replied. “It’s won’t be an issue, Archmage.” He looked back up at her. “But what of Galmis?”

“He’s dead,” Ku-vastei answered. “Executed for the crime of slave trafficking in Telvanni territory. And for trying to assassinate me and the Grandmaster of House Hlaalu.”

“O-oh.” Marayn seemed to look through Ku-vastei for a moment. Finally his eyes snapped back to reality. “I suppose it’s for the best.”

“Quite,” Ku-vastei said. “Good day.” She turned to leave, and Aryon and Kassur followed her out of the Mage’s Guild.

Just as they had descended into the Mage’s Guild in Vivec, they ascended out of Balmora’s. Kassur expected them to arrive at the top of a towering canton again. But when they emerged from its front door they were at street level, under a stone awning lit by a blue lantern.

Balmora seemed to be a city of smooth rectangular mudbrick structures, an architectural style wholly unfamiliar to Kassur. His people used simple yurts made from wood, corkbulb, and guarhides; the Telvanni used fungal pods and towers, and at Tel Vos adopted the stone-wrought architecture of the Imperials. He supposed these buildings were most similar to the smaller houses of Vos proper, although the corners of these were notably curved so as to avoid true angles. These Hlaalu must be a superstitious lot, fearful of their Four Corners. Many of these buildings rose into the air two or three stories, and if the rest were anything like the Mage’s Guild, they likely descended into the earth a few levels, as well.

Before he could investigate the city any more, Kassur was swept swiftly along by Ku-vastei and Aryon down a main street to the city’s gates. Outside he was faced with a high-cliffed canyon with a mighty river flowing through it, which the city seemed to straddle as it flowed out to the coast to the south. This land was similar to the land he’d glimpsed from afar from the dizzying heights of Vivec’s Foreign Quarter, green and dotted with trees and Emperor Parasols, littered with corkbulb shrubs and flowering bushes of golds and purples and blues. It felt so different from the Grazelands of his home somehow, although that place had almost all the same things. The colors were all darker, more vibrant here; the sky felt bluer and the grass greener. It almost felt like too much for his unadjusted eyes, so he narrowed them to limit his sensory intake.

They crossed the river via two bridges meeting on a small island in the middle, and then they carried on into a darker place. The foliage seemed scarcer and scarcer as they delved into the mountains, and the color faded into a myriad of grays and blacks. In the distance Kassur could see what looked like the Imperial part of Tel Vos, a gray-stone fortress wreathed with red banners. But before they arrived, they took a left, and the dismal environment swallowed them up.

“What is this place?” Kassur asked.

“Foyada,” Ku-vastei said before Aryon could answer. “Mamaea, to be precise. Old lava flow from Red Mountain. You’ve never seen one?”

“This is the first time I’ve come this far from the Grazelands,” Kassur admitted shyly.

“Hm,” Ku-vastei said, never once stopping her advance.

They climbed a steep hill until they reached the top, where an ancient-seeming bridge of stone and brass railings crossed a terrifying gap. On the far side emerged from the earth a series of spires of the same brass, which had been obfuscated by cloud cover along the way. Now that they had risen above the cloudline, they could see it in all its abandoned glory: Arkngthand.

The main structure didn’t seem to have a door; there was just a brass sphere jutting out from where the door might have been. Nearby was a brass post rising from the ground. There was a strangle semi-circular handle of some sort hanging from it.

“Kassur,” Aryon said, “if you would be so kind as to turn the crank for us.”

Kassur obliged, approaching the strange post. He tentatively reached for the horizontal protruding rod of the crank, and looked to Aryon for affirmation. Aryon simply nodded, and gestured vaguely to continue. Kassur expected the crank to turn slowly, based on its apparent age, but its movement was smooth, as if well-oiled. As the crank turned, the sphere on the wall opened up from a vertical seam in its center, revealing a pair of matching doors within its recesses.

“Very good,” said Aryon. “Let’s go.”

Kassur let go of the crank, which earned him a scathing glance from Ku-vastei as the sphere began to close again. “No,” she said. “You can’t come.”

“The Dwemer had door-guards, you see,” Aryon explained, “whose job was to open the doors to strongholds when people needed to enter or exit. You’re going to be our door-guard.”

“Plus,” Ku-vastei added, “it’s for your safety. We don’t know what’s in there.”

Sighing, Kassur grabbed the crank again and turned it back to its fully open position.

“We’ll be back with the Madstone shortly,” Aryon said. Then he and Ku-vastei disappeared into the tower, the stone doors closing behind them with a loud thud.

Thankfully the crank wasn’t difficult to hold open, but Kassur couldn’t sit down while keeping it turned. Even if he could, he didn’t want to get the pretty robes Aryon had given him dirty on the ashy stone ground. So he stood there, awkwardly, bored, for several minutes.

Then he heard a sound. It was a low, rumbling sound, very distant. But it began to grow louder. And louder. Until it was almost deafening - and that was when he felt the wind pick up. And with the wind came ash, brushing against his skin roughly, like a thousand tiny pumices. Visibility began to diminish until he could barely see the open sphere in front of him.

That’s when he abandoned the crank and ran for the doors.

He barely made it inside before the sphere closed shut behind him. There was barely enough space in the sphere for two people to be squeezed up against the stone doors. He pushed one open and slid inside, glad to be free of the ashstorm.

Inside was dimly lit by giant but guttering Dwemeri torches ensconced on the walls; Kassur’s eyes had to strain to see. He was on a brass platform that seemed to end not far from the doors, but as he approached he noticed a crumbling stone ramp that led down into the depths of this massive chamber. He stumbled through the shadows at the edges of the pathway, taking each tentative step down until he trusted the walkway would be stable enough.

About halfway down he found a small outcropping which opened up onto the scene below. On the left were two more brass platforms stacked on top of the other, the upper story accessible only by another stone ramp. At this top platform was a short woman, some foreign kind of mer, standing in front of a table laden with arcane implements Kassur didn’t recognize at all. She was surrounded by men of various races, all heavily armored and armed to the teeth. She shouted across the way at Ku-vastei and Aryon, who stood at the base of the semi-circular stone ramp Kassur found himself on.

“You always favored that nasty cat, Ajira,” the short woman yelled. “Helped her to advance, even though I was more qualified! Nepotism, pure nepotism.”

“Irrelevant, Galbedir” Ku-vastei called back. “Give me back my artifacts and I won’t kill you.”

“No!” screamed the woman, evidently Galbedir. “This is how I’ll make my mark on the Guild, earn my rank as Wizard! You’ll all see how powerful I truly am!” She raised a wicked curved dagger into the air - Kassur faintly recognized it as one of the feared Daedric weapons.

“You’re a fool of an enchanter,” Ku-vastei said. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Galbedir whispered something to the nearest guard, who nodded, shouting something to the others which prompted them all to advance on Ku-vastei and Aryon. Ku-vastei readied her spear and snarled.

“This is a mistake, Galbedir,” said Aryon, raising his own hands, preparing to cast. “You can still get out of this clean. We can help you work on your advancement another way.”

“Oh, and now I’m supposed to take the advice of some Telvanni?” Galbedir scoffed, before screaming, “I need more time! Kill them!”

The guards charged at her command; Kassur guessed there were six of them. There was no way his companions could -

It all happened in a blur, before Kassur could even finish the thought. Aryon lobbed a fireball, taking out two of the guards instantly. Ku-vastei lunged forward with a yell, skewering straight through the heavy armor of another. Lightning burst forth from Aryon’s fingertips, chaining between the remaining three; two of them fell, but the last persisted. Ku-vastei slashed from a distance, extending her spear as far as it would go, slicing the final man’s throat. He fell to the ground, clutching his neck and spasming.

Just then, a gray hand covered Kassur’s mouth, smelling of ashyams. A gruff voice whispered into his ear, “Scream and I’ll cut your throat.”

Kassur felt the sound rising, but he killed it in his throat before it cost him his life.

Something sharp at his back prodded Kassur forward, down the shadows of the stone ramp and behind Ku-vastei and Aryon, who were still negotiating with Galbedir. Kassur stumbled a few times, both on juts of rock and with his captor’s feet kicking into his heels from behind, but they still didn’t seem to make a sound.

Galbedir saw all this and smiled. After coaxing Ku-vastei and Aryon closer to her with her words, she inquired, “And is this a pet of yours? Perhaps a slave?”

The two turned around to see Kassur emerge from the shadows, the dagger now at his neck.

“N’chow,” swore Ku-vastei. “We told you -”

“A slave then,” said Galbedir, laughing. “Those hardliners were right, weren’t they? All this ‘abolition’ business was just so you could turn the tables on the Dunmer.”

Ku-vastei turned her head to glare at Galbedir, but quickly returned her gaze to captured Kassur. She took a step forward, but the Dunmer holding the dagger wagged a finger and dug the blade closer to Kassur’s skin, almost drawing blood.

But Aryon reached out his glowing gloved left hand to stop her, twitching his fingers in a strange way. “You’ll let him go now, won’t you?”

Something changed in the captor’s stance, and his eyes seemed to flicker yellow. His head twitched slightly, and then he let go of Kassur. Kassur ran towards Aryon and nearly fell down at his feet.

“Very good,” said Aryon, grabbing Kassur by the shoulders. “Now, cut your own throat.”

The captor’s dagger-hand shakily rose to his neck, and in one swift motion, he sliced open his neck, sputtering blood everywhere. He fell to his knees, then all the way to the floor, motionless.

Ku-vastei looked impressed. “I thought you couldn’t Command someone to hurt themselves.”

Aryon smiled as he inspected Kassur’s neck for wounds. “I went above and beyond with my Dominator, all those years ago.”

Galbedir screamed incoherently from behind them. “No, no, no! It will not end this way!”

The three turned to face her, just as she stabbed her Daedric dagger into her own hand. Daedric runes formed out of the blood, floating in the air, and an ominous shrieking filled the chamber. Her body began to stretch and mutate, her arms becoming wings, her feet becoming talons, and her form becoming massive. Kassur knew this monster could be only one thing: some sort of gigantic Winged Twilight.

What was once Galbedir screeched, splitting Kassur’s ears. It lunged forwards, clawing with one its wings, straight for Kassur -

When he looked up from bracing for impact, he found he was safe and sound. Her claws had collided with some purple barrier that Ku-vastei put up, protecting him from harm.

Then Aryon raised his gloved right hand, which glowed brilliantly gold. A cloud of smoke appeared between the Twilight and the three, and from the mist appeared three figures: a Flame Atronach, feminine form burning bright; a Frost Atronach, an ice-spiked soldier; and a Storm Atronach, bundle of rocks held together by lightning. At once they assaulted Galbedir, their elements colliding and fusing into pure magic, a concentrated attack of unrelenting power.

She shrieked from the burns, the freezes, and the shocks, and her Daedric form was ripped apart until nothing remained but ash.

Ku-vastei slapped Aryon on the back. “Very well done, Master Aryon. Those gloves sure do come in handy.” She began to climb the stone ramp to where Galbedir had stood to collect her artifacts.

“Quite,” Aryon said, before turning back to a stunned Kassur. “Now, why exactly did you abandon your post outside?”

“Ashstorm,” Kassur said, forgetting to speak Dunmeris for a moment.

“Ah,” replied Aryon, stroking his chin. “Very well, I suppose.”

“Found it!” Ku-vastei shouted from above, raising an amulet over her head in triumph.

“The Madstone?” Kassur asked.

“Yes,” Ku-vastei answered after she returned to the two. “We’ll have to teleport out since we’ve no one to open the door. Almsivi, Aryon?”

“Seems appropriate enough,” Aryon said.

“Here,” Ku-vastei said, offering Kassur one of her rescued artifacts, some kind of necklace. “Enchanted with Almsivi Intervention. It’ll take you where we’re going, too.”

“How do I use it?” Kassur asked, accepting the amulet.

“Rub the stone and think of a Tribunal Temple,” Ku-vastei said. “Doesn’t have to be a specific one; it’ll take us to the same place regardless. Works on proximity.”

“Okay,” Kassur said.

Ku-vastei popped out first with a spell, then Aryon. Kassur rubbed the amulet, closed his eyes, and thought as hard as he could of the chapel in Vos. Which reminded him: he still had his Dunmeris lessons to think about. But before he could think any more on that topic, he was whisked away through Oblivion.

- - - - -

Before he opened his eyes again, he was immediately hit by the smell of the sea. But it was different from that of the northern coast by his home. It was almost like -

“Aryon,” Ku-vastei asked, “Why are we in Vivec?”

Kassur opened his eyes, and sure enough, they were on one of the many floating cantons of the great city of Vivec.

Aryon looked around and scratched his head. “I’m not sure. We were closer to Balmora’s temple. Maybe the ashstorm sent us off course?”

“Can they do that?” asked Ku-vastei.

“Theoretically,” Aryon said, “if the storm contains some residual Blight. The Blight is known to affect magic in strange ways.”

“It is a byproduct of the Divine Disease, after all.”

Ku-vastei, Aryon, and Kassur turned to see who had spoken. Kassur had never met him before, but he knew from his skin that he was -

The name escaped his lips before he could control it.

“Vivec.”

#tes #tesblr #my writing #dunmer #argonian #oc: ku-vastei #oc: kassur #master aryon #vivec #balmora #oc: hlaalu llethym hlaarothan

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