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Apotheosis I	By : OneMoreAltmer Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 2266 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I didn't create and do not own Elder Scrolls: Oblivion or its characters (except for Tavi, within game format). I make no moneys.

Chapter List
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Five � With Your Brace
of Light

Much of my business around the outlying cities was
ultimately trivial.� Jauffre was right
about the reputation I�d gained, which was a frequent source of perplexity for
me as strangers greeted me as their friend.�
That said, few of the Guild Heads seemed to
have heard of me, which meant I ended up performing menial chores for most of
them to earn their trust.� In Bruma, I
had to save poor, stupid Jeanne from one practical joke by being party to
another.� The only mage I liked there was
the Khajiit J�skar, who I named as the new head of the rebuilt Bruma Guild when
I first became Arch-Mage.� It was so gratifying
to take a liking to someone and not
ever have to find them dead.� I would
miss it later.
In cold, labyrinthine Skingrad I was asked to rescue a
Bosmer member from his own experiments with necromancy.� I had no sympathy for him.� I did meet a Breton woman with an amusing
passion for destructive magic, and persuaded her to teach me some of her
favorites.
When I rode down past the sad ghost of Kvatch, I was
accosted on the road by an Altmer conjurer who shouted a strange slur at me as
his atronach materialized between us.
�You are a traitor to your own kind!�
This when I had only been riding by, mind,
as his summoned daedra capered
merrily toward me in flames.� But
I dispatched them both and moved on, thinking little more of it at the time.
In pretty Anvil I defeated a wizardess who had taken to
robbing and killing people like a common criminal.� The local battlemages took the credit, but I
still got my letter.� In Leyawiin it was
raining all the time I was there, as I did what I must regard as a private
favor for Dagail, their grand old seeress.�
She looked into my future and pronounced herself perplexed by the
mixture of good and evil she saw there.�
Bravil was a miserable wreck of a town, with a drunkard
Count whose heir was a useless skooma addict, but the Guild members were nice
enough.� Mostly women, one of whom I was
asked to rescue from something of a romantic mishap.� And in Cheydinhal, with its lovely
Dunmer-style houses, I found another blasted necromancer, this one the head of
the local chapter.� He set me a task
meant to kill me:� when I survived it, I
found that Deetsan, a sweet dear Argonian, had inherited his position.� She had intervened on my behalf while I was
gone, and he had fled, leaving behind the evidence of his illicit practice of
necromancy.� She wrote the last letter
for me herself.
Being out galavanting all over Cyrodiil anyway, I collected
most of the remaining Ancestors.� I was
gratified to find that those skills had not dulled, and that my improved
swordsmanship served me well.
So, papers in hand, I finally rode back into the Imperial City.�
First I dropped off my shipment to Umbacano, who had feared me lost
(without having brought him all of the Ancestors).� Then I brought my papers to the gated
entrance of the University, where Raminus looked them over, declared them
proper, and welcomed me as an Apprentice.�
I allowed myself the luxury of going inside to investigate, and that was
wondrous.� There was a workshop for
making enchantments, and a wonderful library, and a dormitory, and practice
rooms, and a marvelous herb garden where I was allowed to take as many cuttings
as I liked.
Finally, I came back to the business of looking for
Baurus.� When I found him he was in the Elven Gardens,
and he�d been found out by the man he�d been watching.� We killed him in the basement of the tavern,
and on his body we found the first part of the Mythic Dawn�s manifesto.� I leafed through it.� I suppose to someone unversed in real magic
it would have seemed profound, but by the Nine, it was self-serving, rambling
metaphysical garbage.
Baurus was a handsome young Redguard � according to what
Jauffre had told me, one of the youngest men to be accepted into the
Blades.� He had still been proving
himself when the Emperor died in his care, and the combination of will and
weariness set into his face said that he did not yet understand that no other
Blade would have fared better in his place.�
He did not need me to explain why the book was poorly written:� he needed action.� He suggested that someone at the University
might know more about the book.
And I had access to the University.� Wasn�t that handy?
What we had found was the first volume of a four-part commentary
on a notorious spellbook.� I got the
second from the University�s library and the third from a silly young mer who
was on the verge of joining the cult when I frightened the sense back into
him.� He told me about the meeting he�d
arranged with the cultists, where he would acquire the final volume and gain
full entry into the Mythic Dawn.� Baurus
suggested we go to the meeting in the boy�s stead.� I was skeptical:� even if the correspondence had all been
written, no one was going to look at Baurus and think that a mer name belonged
to him.� But he insisted.� And since the meeting was our only obvious
window into the cult, I agreed.
The meeting was in a room down in the sewers beneath the
city.� I had not missed the sewers, nor their rats.� We
found the appointed place, and then I told Baurus that I was going to be the
one to meet the agent.� He protested, but
I pointed out that I was at least an elf, and he had to agree and retreat into
a hiding place upstairs to watch.
But it all went wrong.�
They grew suspicious and attacked, and we had to kill them all.� At least we had the last volume of the
book.� Baurus considered his part of the
work done and retreated to Cloud
Ruler Temple
to be with his new Emperor, while I remained behind to begin the next
phase.� Bastard.� As likeable as Baurus was, I have always
begrudged him that.
Encoded within the four tedious volumes was the name of a
secret marker within the city, which in turn showed the location of the hole in
which our red vermin nested, and I sought them out.
They were in a cave not far from Cheydinhal � perhaps so as
to be neighbors to so many other of the world�s dens
of iniquity.� They did not expect to be
found there by the uninitiated:� the
doorkeeper approached me with smiles and offers of a robe so that I could join
the ritual about to begin, to be led by no less than Mankar Camoran and his
children.� First I must kindly surrender
all my belongings, as they were now the property of the cult.
I did not kindly surrender anything except fire.
But this is another of those stories that is repeated
everywhere.� I crept through in shadows;
I killed everything I met with two exceptions.�
The happy one was a priest they had planned to sacrifice, and the
unhappy one was Mankar Camoran himself, the cult�s founder and the holder of
all its precious things, all the things of which I had so wanted to deprive
him. He vanished away from the ball of flame I�d aimed at his head, taking the
Amulet with him.�
But, ah, he had left behind his book.� The Mysterium Xarxes.
Once I was clear of the place and every wicked creature I�d
found there was dead, I thought to have a look at the book.� It was Daedric work of a very abstract sort,
and I could make nothing of it except for the feeling of malice that radiated
from the letters and symbols.� I snapped
it shut and wrapped it in a robe in my pack.�
There it could nestle beside the accursed dagger that had again surfaced
among my belongings against my will, which I had taken to calling in my head
the Blade of Woe.
Evil as the book was, and so inferior a prize to the Amulet,
it was still precious to me.� It was a
thing worth reporting back about, worth taking home to Martin.� I hurried north.
It was Jauffre I found first, and speaking to him
was�disappointing.� He had half expected
me to come back with the Amulet, as if it would have been laying about the cave
somewhere for me to take, and not hidden away in some dreadful and perhaps
unworldly place by the master wizard we now knew we faced.� I told him I at least had the book, and he
said that perhaps that was worth something, and told me to take it to Martin as
the person most likely to know what to make of it.
Martin was still insisting on his priestly robes.� His face lit up on seeing me, which only
reminded me how much I�d missed him, and made me wish it would be proper to
kiss him hello.� But then I offered him
the book, and he darkened.
�By the Nine!� he snapped, snatching it away from me.� �Such a thing is dangerous even to
handle!�� He flung it onto the table
behind him as if it were on fire, and turned back to me with a glare that might
have been horror or anger.
I must have looked as shocked as I felt, because his expression
passed quickly and was replaced with what was more clearly remorse.
�I did have some idea of that,� I whispered.� �I am not completely unschooled in my craft.�
�I know.� I�m sorry.� I just�thank you.� I know you took great risks in getting
it.�� He sighed.� �I will study it myself, and perhaps we will
learn something of use.�� A pause, and
then he went on with his voice lowered, as we were not in private space.� �Were you troubled by anything other than
Mythic Dawn agents?�� I shook my head,
and he smiled.� �Good.� Perhaps your fame will frighten them off.�
Perhaps, but that was not what was on my mind at this
point.� Against my better judgment I
voiced my thought. ��The book is
dangerous even to handle.� I agree.� And you�re going to try to read it.�
�I have to.� It�s our
only lead, and I�m the only conjurer available.�� He smirked at me.� �Former conjurer.� And�and you can�t take all the risks for me,
Tavi.�
I looked down at his feet.�
Then realized what he had given me, and looked up again.� �So you were a conjurer.�
He sighed again.� �I
will tell you the story.� I owe you a
secret.� Ask me again when we are alone.�
Because by then we weren�t:�
Jauffre had come to see how our briefing had gone.� And to tell me that there were spies in Bruma, and that I must go and
find them, as if there were no other competent Blade in the place but me.� At least Bruma was local; I would still be
able to sleep at the Temple.
My captain, Steffan, told me that suspicious parties had
been seen near the Rune Stone between us and the city at night, and suggested,
in envious tones, that I simply attack them.�
The Blades were not naturally inclined to stealth.� Instead, I asked for leave to go into Bruma
and see what I could find out.� He
consented, and Baurus and I passed a pleasant evening drinking at the Tap and
Tack, listening to local talk.
The Nords are a bewildering folk:� deadly earnest in their violence, and equally
so in their carousing.� And once they�re
good and drunk, all that mistrust of strangers melts away, and they will tell
anything they know.� What they told me
was that there were strange comings and goings from Jearl�s house.
Naturally I went in to investigate.� It was the first time I broke into an actual
residence, but locked doors and boxes in ruins had trained me to the task well
enough.� In her basement were her copies
of the manifesto, and a note, which I took.�
And an underground passageway, through which she and
her cohort chose that moment to enter and find me there.� I had to kill them both.
The note wished death to Martin, naturally, and also gave a
flattering mention of me as an �Imperial agent.�� The Camorans had figured out that we were at Cloud Ruler
Temple, and promised
Gates to Bruma.
Gates
to Bruma.� My hands were
shaking as I tucked the scroll into my shirt to take back with me.� To convince myself it was not out of fear, I
told myself it was anger at the tone of hatred and derision toward Martin. �It did not make me feel much better.
But it meant that I took the note to Jauffre, because I did
not really want Martin to see it.�
Jauffre looked disquieted and made authoritative-sounding but
meaningless noises.� Terrible news, watch
and wait, at least the spies were gone.�
At the moment, though, Martin needed me.
Those words were prettier in my ears than Jauffre meant them
to be, of course, and I tried to hide my enthusiasm as I was escorted back to
the private quarters.
Martin looked as though he had not slept in the several days
I had spent dealing with the spies.�
Books were scattered everywhere, and the Mysterium Xarxes sat open on the desk, leaking evil into the room.
�I�m�going to close that, if you don�t mind,� I said,
looking down to where he sprawled across the bed with yet another book.
Even his beautiful voice was weary.� �Yes, go ahead.�� He waited for me to do it and turn back
toward him.� �I wish I could look happier
to see you, Tavi, but I just have to send you away again.�
My heart stopped, and I had to give a little cough to make
it start again.� �Why?�
�From what I�ve deciphered so far, Camoran is probably
hiding in a pocket realm he�s been able to create within Oblivion.� He calls it his Paradise.��
He scoffed.� �I am trying to unravel
the spell that opens the way, but it is rather complicated.� I�ve determined that if we�re to break
through against his will, it will take a Daedric artifact.� And that means I have to send you out to find
us one.�
I pulled the chair from against the far wall and brought it
next to the bed, sat, and nodded.� But he
seemed troubled, compelled to explain himself.�
�If I can�t go, it has to be you,� he frowned.� �It takes a particular sort of person to
attract the attention of a Daedric Lord.�
I�m sorry I have to ask it of you.�
I understood that.� Any
competent wizard knew about Daedric artifacts � about their great power, and
the fact that they were only handed out to the favorites of Daedric Lords.� And a Talos-loving Blade with no discernable
talent for magicka was unlikely to join those ranks.� �Of course I�ll go.� Of course it has to be me.� I understand, Martin.�
�Be careful.� Be
careful of the Daedric Lords.� I know how
alluring their power can seem, especially now, when we are in such need of power.� But even the ones who do not hate us can be
dangerous.� None of them are reliable
friends, not in the way the gods are.�
�You say that with some authority.�� I tried to smile.� �You had promised me the story.�
�Ah�yes, I had.� And I
suppose this is the best time, for any number of reasons.�� He leaned back against the headboard, and
turned his gaze the slightest bit away from my eyes.� Defensive.� �I was a conjurer.� I wanted power, the secrets of the
universe.� The things an ambitious wizard
tends to want.� So I courted the Daedric
Lords to gain them.� I began with those
who seemed least terrible.� Azura,
Meridia.�� A pause, a
twitch that might have been a concealed smile.� �Sanguine.�
I blinked at him.� �Sanguine?�
His eyes came back to mine, and had somehow turned deep and
dark, magnetic.� �Do I seem incapable?�
He did not.� My head
was suddenly full of notions of his rich voice purring endearments, his flesh
bared.� I was the one who had to look
away.� �Go on.�
�Actually I fared quite well with him, and it emboldened me
with the others.� That was a terrible
mistake.�� His features hardened.� �People died.�
My friends.�
And I�I only won free myself by the whim of Mephala.�
I gasped, and he looked away.� Hurt, I realized, because he expected judgment.� I touched his hand.� �That far, Martin.�
He smirked and did not face me again.� �Further.�
She was saving me from Molag Bal.�� He let that awful detail sink in for a moment
before he continued.� �I have never known
why.� She laughed at me, said I was lucky
Azura was soft and her brothers imbeciles.�
And then she freed me from my compacts, because that was in her
power.� She said that it would be my
death if I ever dabbled in daedric magic again.�� Another pause.� �So I fled for my life and went back to the
church of my childhood, and flung myself upon the seminary in an act of
penance.� Thus am I a priest.�� He said it staring into the corner, forlorn.
I stroked his fingers, telling myself it was a consoling
gesture.� �There is no stain left on you.� You are high in Auri-El�s favor: it shines
out of you like moonlight.�
He glanced down at my hand in his, squeezed it, did not look up as he said his last to me.� �Be careful of them, Tavi.�
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Apotheosis I