Chapter 84: Delays

With my warmest robe bundled into my pack, along with a supply of food suitable for travel, I set out in the early morning for Solstheim. Even reaching the shore of the frigid island would take most of the day. It was truly a remote place. Khuul, on the north-western coast of Vvardenfell, was the closest settlement to the Imperial Legion's Frostmoth Fort on the south coast of Solstheim; and I had heard that one could take a boat from Khuul - so that was my destination.

My plan was to ask Folms to teleport me to the Berandas Velothi stronghold, just south of Gnisis. From Gnisis I could take a silt strider to the fishing village of Khuul. As was becoming usual, I scouted the stronghold for Folms first, before carrying on my way.

Berandas was in a severe state of disrepair - compared to the other Velothi strongholds I had seen. Many of its twisting underground passages had collapsed, long ago giving in to the pressure of the soil and stone above. The place was also home to some... less than benevolent creatures. This was made plain by the pair of skeletal corpses (of man or mer) propped up unceremoniously on wooden stakes, just inside the stronghold entrance.


I soon discovered the culprits: goblins! Squat, muscular, green-skinned and warlike creatures. Fortunately for me, the band I met was a ragged bunch of individuals that had taken shelter in the ruined structure, and did not pose much of a threat. Every one of them flew at me, and every one fell to a couple of solid strokes of my heavy longsword.

As I mentioned, much of Berandas was closed off by collapsed passageways and chambers - and I soon found the probable reason for this: the stronghold was built on a place of heavy volcanic activity. In one of the lower rooms, part of the wall and floor had fallen away to reveal a tunnel burnt out of the solid ground by flows of molten rock. Mindful of my pressing engagement on Solstheim, and having no idea how deep the lava-tunnels went, I jogged down the tunnel to quickly assess the situation. If the tunnels carried on too far, I would leave them for another time.

The tunnels actually came to an end quite soon; terminating in a massive organic chamber, lit red by pools of fitfully-bubbling lava. At the far side of the cavern I could make out a pair of large Winged Twilights, who appeared to be bent low over a dead body; as if smelling it. With each deep inhalation, their wings shivered slightly.

Rapping my shield against the cave wall to gain their attention and draw them away from the body, I proceeded to smother the Daedric creatures with magical ice and poison, using my area-effect spells. One of the creatures fell before it could reach me, and the other was seriously wounded; one of its wings seared right off by the acidic poison. It dealt me a nasty kick to the stomach, half-winding me, but I was in no real danger as I dispatched it.

The only thing I could really tell about the corpse that had so distracted the Winged Twilights was that it had once belonged to a Redguard. He appeared to have been dead for several days, but carried nothing that provided any indication as to who he might have been. He was wearing an interesting pair of leather boots, though, that fairly pulsed with powerful levitation magic. Boots that were enchanted to allow the wearer to fly about at will.

It was powerful magic, but I left the boots where they were. I had my own levitation magic, and I was not in the mood to disrespect the dead.


Across the River Samsi, in Gnisis, I sat on the silt strider platform for nearly an hour before one of the giant insects showed up. Needless to say, perhaps, I was becoming quite peeved. I had almost set out on foot on numerous occasions, only to decide to wait "just a few more minutes".


It was mid-afternoon when I stepped off the strider at Khuul, feeling anxious at the delays. If Louis Beauchamp's crew were really stranded somewhere in Solstheim's uninhabited, blizzard-plagued north, time was at a premium.

For a small handful of drakes, I persuaded a Khajiiti fisherman to ferry me across the rough stretch of sea to Solstheim in his boat. The trip took hours: much longer than I would have thought. I don't know much about sea travel, but I think it was because we were 'tacking' against the icy wind for much of the voyage.

The last two hours on the boat were in darkness, the sun having set behind a veil of grey mist during the trip. In the dark, we were assaulted by a numbing cold the likes of which I had never felt before. The Khajiiti fisherman had his thick fur, plus some very warm-looking clothes - but all I had was my armour and the 'warm' robe I had brought. Usually, wearing a full suit of armour is an exercise in sweating and overheating: I had thought I would be warm enough - but even with the robe I was shivering violently. I put both Denstagmer's Ring and my Elementward ring on (both protect against extreme elements), and felt a little better - but the temperature continued to drop.


"Gods, it's cold!" I exclaimed to no-one in particular as I disembarked from the boat. The Argonian securing the fishing vessel to the stone dock gave me a withering look. I suspect he felt the cold much more than I, being cold-blooded. Solstheim would be a truly miserable place for one of the lizard-folk.

I watched the (bare-footed!) Argonian exchange a few words with the Khajiiti fisherman. He slowly hopped from one scaly foot to the other as he spoke, pressing the raised foot against his leg in a (probably vain) attempt to keep it warm. I could see why he did it, too: the dock was slick with ice from the drifting sea-mist.

My breath emerged in great plumes of steam, and I was shivering again. The Denstagmer and Elementward rings took the bite out of the cold, but I could still feel a creeping numbness in my extremities. And this was the 'warmest' place on the island! I knew from talking to the Khajiiti fisherman that Solstheim only got colder the further north one went. I needed warmer clothes - ideally something that would provide some physical protection at the same time. Fur armour: that was what I needed. Such armour was difficult to come by in a warm place like Vvardenfell - or at least I had not seen much of it in the armouries I had visited.

The Imperial Legion's outpost on Solstheim, Fort Frostmoth, was just up a short slope from the dock. The forbidding stone structure was only illuminated by the dim moonlight that filtered through the thin cover of clouds: it was closed and shuttered against the cold of the night. I would return in the morning and seek out their armoury: surely an outpost in a place like that would have supplies of warm armour?

I breathed in deep as I looked about for an out-of-the-way place to cast my magical Mark. The air there on Solstheim made me realise just how stale and suffocating the atmosphere is on most of Vvardenfell, with its lack of trees and hot, dusty winds. I could not see them in the blackness, but I caught the invigorating scent of pine trees on the breeze. The air was fresh - and quite bracing, of course.

Having found a spot down beside the dock, a few strides up from the shore, I cast Mark, and then used the Wolfen ring to return home for the night. The search for the airship crew would have to wait until the morning - and until I was better equipped.

Chapter 83: Revelation

"As you know, the Emperor himself ordered that you be released from prison and sent here, to me."

Caius tapped the sheet of paper he had just given me. I was holding it up, as if to read it, but at that moment I could not take my eyes off the old spymaster.

"That is a decoded copy of the message you delivered to me when we first met." Caius leaned up against the rear wall of his single-room shack. "I must say, I had a hard time taking it completely seriously when I first read it... but, it says that the Emperor and his advisors believe that you have the appearance of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies."

I blinked. I heard his words - clearly. But their significance did not quite penetrate.

"What?" I glanced down at the words on the document I held. "What do you mean?" I looked back at Caius.

The old Imperial motioned that I should keep reading the document.

"As you'll see in the decoded message, Emperor Septim believes you have the appearance of satisfying the conditions of the prophecy. I can't say that I know whether he really believes that you could be the Nerevarine..." Caius looked bemused.

"The Nerevarine?" I exclaimed, feeling much more than bemused. "You think that I'm the Nerevarine? How in the world..."

The spymaster raised his hands, in a placating gesture.

"Personally I don't know what to think." He replied. "It wouldn't be the first time a prophecy has come true... and of course no-one ever believes that they themselves could be the central figure in a prophecy of ... historical proportions. Who's to say? You are 'born on a certain day to uncertain parents', after all..."

That much was true. I actually knew the exact date of my birth; even though I had been left anonymously on the steps of the Imperial Cult orphanage as a newborn baby. From a relatively early age, my impressive magical ability - coupled with a susceptibility to fall foul of the harmful effects of my own amateur spell-weaving attempts - made it apparent that I had been born under the celestial sign of 'The Apprentice'. Those born under this sign were known to feel the flows of magicka more keenly through their bodies: for better and for worse. It gave people like me greater stores of magicka, but it also meant that we were more susceptible to harmful magic.

I sometimes wondered whether being born under the sign of The Apprentice had somehow contributed to - or even caused - the violent effect the moon emblem had had on me. Perhaps a 'normal' person would not have ended up like me: dying from an internal magicka leak.

In any case, to return to my original point, the Imperial Cult Priests had looked up their calendars upon surmising that I had been born under the sign of The Apprentice, and somehow calculated that there was only one possible day on which I could have been born. (Apparently they had been fairly sure of my birth-date already, since when they found me, it was obvious I could not have been out of the womb for more than a day or so).

Caius was still speaking:

"My original understanding of my orders was that we were supposed to create - in you - a persuasive impostor. Such an important figure as the Nerevarine, under our control... I'm sure you can understand the appeal of such a thing to the Imperial government." The spymaster rubbed his eyes fitfully. "But as I said - who am I to dismiss the possibility that you really could be the..."

"But the details of the prophecy are so ridiculous!" I interrupted. "If I was the Nerevarine, you could expect me to drive the 'outlanders' from Morrowind. Every last one - and the Empire! The Imperial Legion! You'll pardon me for saying so, Caius, but it sounds just a little far-fetched."

Caius gazed at me levelly.

"Perhaps if there is - or will be - a Nerevarine," Caius said, "he will not do everything exactly as it is laid out in the prophecy we've heard..."

I shook my head, and rubbed my temples. I could feel a headache coming on.

"Could someone like that still be said to meet the conditions of a prophecy, though?" I asked.

"I should think, Frost, that the varying accounts you've heard of the history of the Nerevarine cult would have told you something: the exact truth - of anything - can be lost over time. It could be that the original prophecy did not state that the Nerevarine will drive the 'outlanders' from Morrowind."

This made me think. One of the accounts of the prophecy I had heard did not in fact say that the Nerevarine would drive all foreigners from Morrowind: it merely said that he would 'honour the promises Indoril Nerevar made to the Ashlander people'. In that account, these promises were open to interpretation.

My mind was in turmoil. I could not really make myself believe that I could be the reincarnation of an ancient Dunmer General - a hero of prophecy. It was just too unreal. Caius had a point when he said that we couldn't really know for sure - one way or the other. I, of course, was leaning towards the opinion that the idea was ludicrous.

"In any case, Frost, I'm going to send you to talk to the leaders of the cult, now that we know who they are. Ask them to test you against the prophecies. I'll give you another two hundred drakes for expenses - though I'm sure you hardly need it with the kind of money you have now." He added with a grin. "You said you know where the Urshilaku camp is, correct? Now..."

"Wait, wait!" I exclaimed, head in my hands. "This is insane! The Nerevarine is obviously a figure of huge importance to these people. People to whom honour is a 'matter of life and death', apparently. How do you think they will react to a pale Breton arriving at their doorstep, claiming to be their reincarnated hero?"

Caius, looking exasperated, opened his mouth to interject, but I continued:

"I cannot go right now anyway. I made a promise to search for some missing people in the north of Solstheim. They could be in a lot of trouble if I don't go straight away."

The spymaster raised his eyebrows. He was actually starting to look a little concerned.

"Solstheim!" He pushed away from the wall, to stand up straight. "Listen Edward, while this business with the Urshilaku is not absolutely urgent, I can't say that we have all the time in the world. And Solstheim! Do you know what you're getting yourself into? If you think the Ashlands are bad..."

I shook my head, making for the door.

"I'm sorry, Caius. I... need some time to think about this. I'll come see you again when I return from Solstheim."

He called out to me, but I pushed through the door and out into the streets; leaving him behind.

Chapter 82: Compulsion

There was a man loitering outside the Mages Guild hall when I was on my way in to make use of the guild guide service. I was coming from the Ald Skar Inn after speaking with Hassour Zainsubani, and was lost in my mind, composing my thoughts so as to give Caius a proper report on what I had learned. Initially I walked right by the man, hardly registering his presence. As I pushed my way through the door, though, I absent-mindedly held the door open for him, thinking he too meant to enter the guild.

When he took a small step towards the open door, but then stopped, looking indecisive, I shook myself from my reverie and frowned at him quizzically.

"Are you coming in?" I asked, more puzzled than anything.

He was a Breton, perhaps a few years older than me; though his hair seemed too shot-through with silver to properly match the apparent age of his face. He seemed to wear a permanently concerned expression.

"Well - yes. I mean... I was going to, I should say." He appeared quite nervous, for some reason. "I don't know if they could - er - help me, though. I... didn't want to waste anyone's time, if they can't ... help me." His voice became quieter and quieter as he went on, until I could scarcely hear him.

"You wish to employ the guild for something?" I asked, trying to make eye contact with the man.

He merely frowned, biting his lip and looking over his shoulder. He was either very shy generally, or very nervous about this 'help' he needed; perhaps both.

"Look," I said, leading him to the shady side of the guild hall, and choosing a seat on an empty water-barrel, " I'm a member of the guild. Why don't you tell just me what it is you need, and I'll tell you whether I think my superiors would assign someone to help you. I'm Edward Frost, by the way." I held out my hand.

"Nice to meet you." The Breton nodded, shaking my hand briefly. "Oh - L-Louis Beauchamp." He patted his chest.

There was a pregnant pause. We looked at each other, both expecting the other to do something, I think. I motioned for him to tell me his story.

"Oh! Yes, alright." There was another extended pause, in which Louis squeezed his eyes shut, apparently deciding where to begin. "It's a rescue mission." He said suddenly. "And... a search - for an... artefact... of sorts. But yes - mainly a rescue mission. It's a long story." He sighed.

I resisted the urge to take out my pocketwatch. The words 'rescue mission' had piqued my interest, in any case. I again motioned for him to continue. His words came out in a stilted jumble, but I caught the gist of it - at least I think so:

"I made an airship, you see... a beautiful craft, if I may say so! Powerful levitation magic, Dwemer parts... Because Solstheim is so very far away. Oh - Solstheim, in the north: that's where I sent my crew. I hired a crew, you see: to man the airship, and steer it all the way to ... H-Hrothmund's Bane, over the Moesring Mountains. They were to enter the crypt - Hrothmund's crypt - and fetch me the Amulet of - ahem - Infectious Charm."

I remained silent, but by the name of the amulet, I thought I could see why a man like Louis would want such a thing. He seemed in sore need of some extra charm... He was obviously an accomplished mage if he could make some kind of ship fly through the air with levitation magic... Perhaps he was poor at the Illusion College of magic, and couldn't cast an effective Charm spell on his own... At any rate, he shortly confirmed my suspicions:

"L-Legends say that Hrothmund was ugly - and - and - brutish, but he had plenty of... lady friends. It was the amulet - the one in the crypt..." Louis paused, and swallowed; before finally making eye contact with me - if only for an instant. "I need that amulet. I must... I can't go on like this, you see. I should say - don't get me wrong - there was one girl - lady - not too long ago; she was quite special... but..."

He trailed off. I cleared my throat, and changed the subject. I understood perfectly well what he wanted the amulet for...

"You said it was a rescue mission?" I prompted.

"Oh, yes. My crew, you see - they haven't come back! They've been gone for so long!" Louis wrung his hands. "The stories they tell ... of Solstheim, I mean - dreadfully inhospitable place... freezing, don't you know. The airship may have ... though I built it well! It is the first of its kind - that I know of... at least. What if it fell? What if ... a mountain - a cliff! What if they flew into something? And they would come back! I told them the airship would... convey them to Hrothmund's Bane and back again - nowhere else. Where could they go without the ship - in such... in a place like that?"

I began to feel a sense of urgency.

"Are you saying, Louis, that if they tried to ... fly off-course - for whatever reason - your airship would fall from the sky?" I frowned at the man. What if the crew had needed to change course for some reason? Would they have still crashed to the ground for this Breton's paranoia?

Louis obviously realised what I was getting at.

"Oh, no! They would have to go a long - very long - way off-course for the magic to fail!" He gulped. "I just... such a large investment you see - couldn't risk it..." There was another long pause. "Are you for hire, Mister... Mister Frost? I must know if they - my crew - can be - need to be - helped... and ... the amulet..." He looked at me hopefully.

Really, it didn't require much deliberation on my part. Even from the man's somewhat garbled speech, it was clear that people were in danger (more likely than not). I could not abandon them to their fate, stranded in a place as (apparently) desolate and unforgiving as Solstheim. Especially when to do so would mean that their survival might very well rest on whether or not Louis could strike up the courage to actually ask someone else for help.

I accepted, noting down the proposed route of the airship on my map of Vvardenfell (which included a rough approximation of the smaller island of Solstheim, to its north-west), and clarifying a few points with Louis. He told me that Hrothmund's Barrow could be located by the 'Hrothmund's Bane' formation: rock and ice that, when viewed from the sky, took on the shape of a wolf. The Barrow was at the 'eye of the wolf'. This was one of the reasons for the airship's construction, apparently; identifying that rock formation. Intriguingly, one must say the wolf's name ('Ondjage') to enter the Barrow - otherwise it would remain closed forever. This was all according to Louis, at any rate.

I had decided. I would depart for Solstheim the very next morning, and see if anyone indeed needed to be saved. I left Louis Beauchamp outside the guild hall, with the arrangement that we would leave word for each other with Guild Steward Edwinna - should such a thing become necessary.

Teleportation directly to Solstheim was not within my means: there were no strongholds with propylon chambers there, nor were there any convenient branches of the Mages Guild, with their guild guides. No, reaching the island would take some preparation... I had heard that one could book passage to Solstheim aboard a ship from the village of Khuul - and I would likely need to take a silt strider from Ald'ruhn or Maar Gan to reach the fishing village more quickly. Khuul was quite remote. I would also need warm clothes (which were sometimes difficult to find in such a warm place as Vvardenfell), food, water, and supplies.


I teleported back to Wolfen castle for a few minutes before continuing on to see Caius; mainly to ask Ancois (the castle cook) if she could prepare plenty of food for me that would keep well on a long journey.

The spymaster seemed preoccupied as I gave my report, absent-mindedly rubbing a piece of paper between his fingers as I spoke. Once I had finished recounting the names of the Nerevarine cult members Zainsubani had given me, Caius nodded slowly and cleared his throat.

"Yes - good, good." He said, almost automatically. "I'll need you to continue on with this line of investigation, of course... And... since this business is fast moving beyond my own personal experience, I'll need to promote you again. No, don't thank me: it's necessary, and you're doing fine work in any case."

At that, the old man paused, his brow crinkling into a slight frown as he skimmed through whatever was written on the piece of paper that was so distracting him. After a moment, he seemed to reach a decision, and handed the sheet over to me.

"It's time to let you know what's really going on, Frost. Why I've had you chasing cults, and... something you've wanted to know for some time..."

I leant forward. Could he mean?

"... I can tell you why you are here - and not still in prison."