Chapter 117: Rules, regulations - and ancient rites

The Urshilaku burial caverns were a thing of wonder. While not as deep as the sunken passages and forgotten ruins beneath Mournhold, just how extensive the natural caverns were was astonishing. The sheer presence I felt as I wound my way deeper and deeper was quite something, too. I felt like I was in a place heavy with the history of every person interred there - a place that was likely very rarely seen by 'outlanders' such as myself.

The feeling of sadness I mentioned - the emotion that the very walls seemed to exude - extended to the mummified bodies of the people laid to rest there. Almost every one was sitting with their legs drawn up to their chest, and had their head resting on their raised knees; as if curled up and crying. Some had a few belongings gathered around them, and were huddled, as if trying to shelter from the cold and damp, beneath what looked to be shells of the large, scuttling 'shalk' beetles of the Ashlands.

Sul-Matuul had intended that my visit to the caverns be a 'Harrowing', and I was set upon by many skeletal guardians and angry spirits during my search, but the atmosphere of sadness there was more distressing than the resistance I met along the way.


I eventually found a cavernous central chamber, much taller than it was round, which played host to a roughly monolithic pillar of stone in the centre. On the various small ledges and hollows that covered the monolithic stone were more of the mummified bodies of the Ashlanders. A great waterfall ran down the monolith, split into foaming rivulets by the uneven rock. Many of the shalk-shells had been carefully arranged to deflect this flow of water, and keep its mummified owner dry.

A path that had been hacked from the dirt and stone wound up the walls, opening at various places into more and more burial chambers for me to search. All I knew was that I was to find the 'Bonebiter' bonemold bow, and that it was guarded by the spirit of Sul-Matuul's father. The burial caverns were huge. Trading favours could become a bit of a trial, sometimes.

I eventually found the spirit of Sul-Senipul, though (at least I hoped it was him): a luminescent wraith whose skeletal hand shone brightly where it grasped a very real bonemold bow.

He - it - was banished by my otherworldly blade just as easily as every other spirit that roamed those caverns - and with the bonemold bow (which was enchanted to make its victims clumsy and easier to hit with an arrow) slung over my shoulder, I set about finding my way back to the surface.


By the time I emerged from that dark, sad place and rejoined Sirilonwe, the sun was about to crest the eastern horizon. I could see the glow down low in the sky, and I could smell the morning before it came. It was time for us to teleport home; we would have to return to the Urshilaku camp in the evening.

I fed from Sirilonwe as soon as we were back at the castle: I had been down in the burial caverns for most of the night, and I was starving. I made the comment that once she became a vampire herself, we would both need mortal blood to survive. My point was that we would need to get the blood from somewhere...

But Sirilonwe had been fairly quiet since becoming 'infected' with the vampiric disease - especially when it came to that very topic. She made a noncommittal reply and retired to bed. She was tired - she had been up all night.

I, on the other hand, did not need to sleep anymore; and matters relating to my recent surprise ascension to the rank of Arch-Mage required my attention that day.


It was all down to rules, regulations, and laws. I was only Arch-Mage because Trebonius' infatuation over Sirilonwe had driven him into such a paranoid and bullish state of mind that he had wanted me destroyed; and he had seen a legal duel as the best way to achieve that. It would be the path with the least consequence, at least; especially from a legal point of view. He might have just killed me outright and claimed that I had attacked him; and not suffer too much scrutiny by the Ordinators of Vivec - I was a vampire, after all. Regarded by most to be a simple monster.

However, the generally tolerant attitude the Mages Guild held towards vampires was well-known, and the by-laws of the guild specifically forbade the harm or murder of another guild-member. A legal duel would allow Trebonius to neatly sidestep that particular law - but in the end, of course, it had the result that I - being of Master-Wizard rank - was saddled with the position of Arch-Mage upon defeating Artorius in the duel.

It was all perfectly legal and by-the-book... the unusual factor was that I had not known it was coming. I was not really prepared to be Arch-Mage of Vvardenfell. At the same time, such power created too great an opportunity to overlook; so I was not about to abdicate my new position. No - what I needed was a number of assistants to take care of the everyday operations of the guild: the system that was already in place with the Stewards of the various halls, in other words. They could run the guild halls, and just come to me when any big decisions needed to be made.

It would hopefully not provide too great an inconvenience to me: I was in and out of the guild halls every day anyway. The matter of just who was going to be the Steward of the Vivec and Caldera halls needed some attention, though. The Sadrith Mora hall had Skink-in-Tree's-Shade; Balmora had Ranis Athrys, and Ald'ruhn had Edwinna Elbert. Vivec and Caldera, however...

Following the advice of several members of the guild, I had always steered clear of Trebonius and not paid much attention to the way he ran the guild, so I was not exactly sure why the Caldera hall did not have its own Steward... but it simply did not.

I spent quite some time with Folms in the Caldera guild hall that day (as besides Sirilonwe, he was about the only person in the guild I felt I could call a true friend), and he said that their lack of a Steward had never been properly explained, but it was generally assumed that it was because the Balmora hall was so close, and Ranis Athrys was overbearing enough to be Steward enough for both halls. This last part was obviously not voiced out loud when Ranis was in earshot. In any case, it was true that in an unofficial capacity, Ranis took care of Steward duties for both the Balmora and Caldera halls.

Thinking that the Caldera hall should really have its own Steward - and of course holding no great love for Ranis - I made Folms Steward of the Caldera Mages Guild. He was easily the most capable mage there, and I knew I could trust him, so the decision was simple. Who I should make Steward of the Vivec hall was more difficult. The hall had not needed a Steward for quite a while because Trebonius had spent most of his time there; but I certainly had no intention of doing that.

In the end, Folms suggested Sirilonwe, pointing out that (thanks to Ranis' promotion) she was the highest-ranking member there. I was glad (for obvious reasons) that Folms had been the one to put forth Sirilonwe as a candidate, and promise to go on record with his suggestion. For my part, I wanted Sirilonwe to be the Steward for the simple reason that I could trust her. My obvious self-interest in the matter made Folms' nomination of Sirilonwe very welcome indeed. I agreed and signed the appropriate papers to make her Steward. (I would tell her later: she could turn the position down, if she wanted).

She did accept, though (however distracted she may have been when we discussed it that evening - during the trip back to the Urshilaku camp), only expressing the concern that she may have to delegate many of her tasks if she was to continue travelling and working with me.


Sul-Matuul met us outside his yurt, and this time there was no nimbus of magical light surrounding him. He accepted the Bonebiter bow and proclaimed me a Clanfriend of the Ashlander people:

"These are serious words, vampire Frost; words of life and death. I can see that you are no ordinary monster of a vampire, and am proud to name you Clanfriend... But I want to speak plainly, now that you are a Clanfriend. I cannot believe that you are the Nerevarine. The prophecies say that the Nerevarine will drive out the outlanders - but you yourself are an outlander! The Great Houses stole our land. The outlanders steal our land - and our dignity. The Incarnate is the last hope of the Ashlanders. And if you were to take that away..." The wiry Ashlander shook his head gravely.

There was a note of warning in his voice, but he still showed us to the yurt of Nibani Maesa, the 'wise-woman'. I was burning with the desire to say that I agreed with him - that I thought the whole business was one great coincidence - but my desire to learn more about the cult and the prophecies was equally as powerful. Sirilonwe, too, had to bite her tongue, I think. She tended to agree with me that the notion that I was somehow possessed by the ages-dead spirit of an ancient Dunmer general was quite absurd.

Nibani Maesa, who I had actually glimpsed once before when I cut a hole in her yurt to steal a particular small stone (one of the propylon indices for Folms), was a relatively young-looking woman; despite what her title may have suggested. Sul-Matuul let the flap over the entrance to the yurt fall closed behind us, and we were left alone with the Dunmer woman - and her penetrating red eyes.

"Ah, the vampire who would be our saviour." The wise-woman said, her tone suggesting that she did not fancy my chances at becoming something so noble. "Sit. There; sit over there. Good - now, I will tell you your fate..."