55: Storm Shrine

Something clicked in my brain, and the Dark One supported the connection. “Winds don’t pick up this fast, not naturally.” His words slipped into my mind like a cliff racer taking to the sky. “Should we tell Kael?” I thought, gripping the smooth metal of the staff uneasily. “No,” the Dark One said, “Let him watch over Darkasha and the wounded. I rather think it should be this way.” I nodded and returned to Darkasha’s side to determine his status.

He was still sleeping fitfully. I healed him lightly before proceeding to the unboarded doorway. I thanked the Nine that I did not see Kael as I made for the exit. A guard would not let me out at first. “Too dangerous!” He said, barring my way “You’ll get lost, or suffocate in the ash.”

I briefly explained my case to him, telling him of my ability to handle myself quite nicely. After he would not budge, I tried some of the Dark One’s suggestions. After he had been sufficiently intimidated (he began to look rather pale after I explained how I would kill him, per the Dark One’s imagination), he allowed me to push past him and out into the howling winds.

The world was gray. I took one step away from the hastily shut doorway and was nearly knocked to the ground by the force of the wind. The staff was all that kept me standing, and even it was shaking in my hands. The storm blocked the sun, and visibility dropped to just a few inches. I proceeded through the shattered portcullises that guarded the entrance to Red Mountain. I stumbled into the gray mist, and Ghostgate was soon lost behind me.

“This is madness!” I thought. “Why did I come out here? I’m going to get lost… never mind, I AM lost!” The staff glowed, but I could hardly see it through the ash that flowed through the air. It had begun to settle in my robes, and I shook myself briefly to dislodge it, but it was soon replaced by even more ash. “Why did I do this?” I thought again.

“You know as well as I do.” said the Dark One. “This storm isn’t natural, and the only being powerful enough to conjure winds this strong is the Nerevarine.” I grunted, though the noise was lost in the roar of the wind. It was true; the storm had very magical elements about it. Indeed, I could see the occasional spark of energy discharge around me. I trudged on through the storm, my robes heavy with ash.

The flares of energy became more and more frequent as I continued. They flashed around me malevolently, some even forming into angry spirits before dissipating. Soon my way was illuminated by the energy, and the ash storm had begun to die down. I was soon blinded by the light of the energy, and I closed and shielded my eyes from the maelstrom. Being blind, I soon ran into a short pillar and felt the wind knocked out of me. I fell and coughed, dislodging the ash from my lungs and nose. After a fit of coughing, I realized that the world had gone silent. I cautiously opened my eyes and looked around.

The bolts of energy had stopped flashing, though they hovered in the air nearby, as if waiting. The ash storm raged around me, though not in my immediate vicinity. I was sitting in a bubble of calm, and the energy bolts were floating patiently at the very edge of this bubble, with ash flying around beyond. I looked briefly at the pillar that had knocked me down. It was ashen grey and not different from the rest of the bleak landscape.

But then, it was different. Other volcanic spires were irregular and bulbous, whereas this one was angular and symmetric. I brushed at it carefully, and ash fell off of it in chunks. Beneath the layer of gray powder was a dull orange and tan wooden pillar. It took me a moment to recognize it as a shrine to the Tribunal. I brushed even more of the ash off and sat staring at it. It pulsed very faintly with magic, and I knew it would bestow a blessing on me if I said a prayer to the Tribunal.

“Sad, isn’t it.” said an unfamiliar voice. It seemed to resonate from the very ash at my feet, and the flares of energy around the bubble pulsed with the voice. “Three usurpers cut down by their own ambition.”

I squinted out into the ash storm, trying to see where the voice was coming from. The energy around the dome drained down into the ground, though the ash storm raged on. I turned back to the shrine and found the source of the voice. He was sitting cross-legged on the top of the shrine and staring directly at me. He was covered in a thick layer of ash, and even his hair was covered by a skullcap of ash. He smiled faintly, his hands supporting his chin. His right hand was clad in a thick gauntlet, and on his left index finger a very distinctive ring shimmered even in the darkness.

I gasped with realization, “Nerevar!”