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Sul-Matuul regarded Garyn from within the puff of hackle-lo smoke that billowed around his face. His was a face which seldom betrayed the thoughts behind it, but Garyn could see something glowing behind those eyes. Respect, perhaps. Hope?
"I am impressed. These three tokens you have brought me, and brought them quickly. You may keep them. You have passed the Warrior's Test. And I will give you the secret of the Third Trial."
The ashkhan rose to his feet and strode around the center of the yurt, making his way toward a chest on the other side. Even as he moved, he continued to speak.
"'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees/and makes to shine the moon and star.' This is the Third Vision. And you must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star. The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:
the eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind
the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl
the dream is the door and the star is the key"
Garyn pondered this for a moment, before a flash of recognition shone in his eyes. "This refers to the ring of Nerevar, the Moon and Star - the one that only he could wear."
Sul-Matuul simply turned his eyes to look at him, pausing as he reached into the chest. Then he continued, pulling out an ancient belt in bright, faded colors. He held it out before Garyn.
"This riddle is Wisdom's Test. Take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes, and you shall find the way. Seek the Cavern of the Incarnate. Gain the moon and star, and bring it to Nibani Maesa. Take with you my blessing, and the blessing of our tribe, Malipu-Ataman's Belt."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Garyn's face must have looked very grave indeed as he left the ashkhan's yurt, for it prompted an immediate remark from the first Urshilaku he passed.
"Why, you look troubled, Clanfriend!" the hunter said, smiling. "Is there something I can help you find, perhaps?"
Garyn managed a wry half-smile. "Oh, nothing much, Tussurrudad. Simply the wisdom of the tribes."
"Ah, is that all, sera? How much? All of it?"
Another hunter spoke up, sheathing his spear on his back. "This is no time to make light, Tussurrudad - he wears Malipu-Ataman's Belt! Sul-Matuul has given his blessing to his quest."
The smirk faded from Tussurrudad's face. "So he has, Shabinbael," he says softly. "After all, he is the one who may be the Nerevarine. What knowledge do you seek, then?"
"A riddle. 'The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind / The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl / The dream is the door and the star is the key.' I believe I know what the last line means, but I've no idea about the first two."
Tussurrudad's brow furrowed for a moment. "The eye of the needle...hmmm...perhaps...well. There is a tall rock column in the Valley of the Wind which we call the Needle. I have slept beneath it once or twice. The Valley of the Wind is a valley on the northeast slopes of Red Mountain. The entrance to the valley is marked by Airan’s Teeth, two tall rock spires.”
Then Shabinbael chimed in: "I recall, at the top of that tall spire is — not white, but much lighter than other rocks nearby. The head of the Valley of the Wind sits right under the Needle. In the sun, it gleams a little. It is a good, safe campground, sheltered from wind, with only one approach. That whitish rock at the top of the Needle – that might be the 'skin of the pearl' you’re looking for.”
"But I don't know of any cave, or any mouth of any cave, in that valley," Tussurrudad said. "We stay away from the valley; the winds howl, and the spirits are always awake."
"Perhaps that is why the cave has stayed hidden," Garyn said. "At any rate, I've no other ideas. Could you tell me how to get to the Valley of the Wind?"
"I would not tell most the way there if they asked," Tussurrudad said, "but you have returned alive from lost Kogoruhn, so we know you are strong. East of the Daedric Zergonipal there is a path that goes south from the sea. Go straight south, and you will see the Teeth."
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It was the wisdom of the tribes that would guide Garyn there, but he knew, as did all in the camp, that the journey was for him to walk alone. A lonely journey it was, as most across the Ashlands tend to be. But the thoughts that accompanied him were lonelier still, for they were burdens no one could share.
Supposing the ring didn't kill him - a possibility he couldn't exclude, as much as the incident with corprus seemed to have proved the impossible - what would happen to him then? Would he remember all of his past lives, and cease to call himself Garyn? And what was he supposed to do with that knowledge? How, exactly, was he meant to unite the feuding Great Houses, and kill a god who had bested three other gods?
These questions rolled over and over again in his head like waves against the rocks. They drove him eastward, compelled him to journey further without rest, toward the cavern where the answers lay. There he would find either his death, or the reason he was born.
He could almost hear the Valley before he saw it. Immediately he could see why the Ashlanders steered clear of it - the spirits did seem to be singing through the wind that howled and whistled through Airan's Teeth. There was a mournfulness to it that even Garyn, who thought himself a well-traveled mer, had never heard on any wind before.
Nonetheless, he plowed through the headwind, raising the visor on his helmet. It wasn't far to go, now. Just a ways uphill, toward that white spire he could see in the distance, up that curling path toward the base of where the cavern should be.
It was a hard hike to the base of that spire, the northern side draped in shadow from the late afternoon sun. But there it was - there could be no mistaking it. The entrance was marked by a great arched door, carved with ornate crescent moons and stars, and two large jade handles. This was the Cavern of the Incarnate.
Tentatively, Garyn reached for one of the handles, and a voice rumbled from within:
THE DOOR IS LOCKED, AND WILL NOT OPEN. THE STAR IS THE KEY.
The words were not unexpected - Garyn suspected that the "Star" in Sul-Matuul's riddle referred to Azura's Star, which appears at dawn and dusk. Holamayan could only be opened during these hours.
But the voice these words came from...Garyn knew that voice. He had heard it before in his dreams. Was this Azura? Had she been speaking to him all this time, and he'd never realized? Yet one more thing for him to contemplate as he waited for dusk to come.
Thankfully, he hadn't long to wait. The shadows lengthened, and the light of the setting sun shone upon the cavern door. Garyn roused himself, breathing deeply, and grabbed the handles.
IN THE TWILIGHT HOUR UNDER AZURA'S STAR, THE DOOR IS OPENED.
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Dust billowed from the base of the door as Garyn pushed it. None had been here in a very long time, he could see. But it had not gone wholly unused. As Garyn blinked, he could see, laid out around a monumental statue of Azura with her hands outstretched, was an assortment of mummified bodies, curled and seated beside her. This wasn't simply a cavern...it was a tomb.
These must be the Failed Incarnates, Garyn realized. The Urshilaku had borne witness to every one of them, and interred them here. This was their way to preserve their memory, and keep the prophecy alive. They had been waiting, and waiting, and waiting...and if Garyn were to die, they would keep waiting, keep continuing to believe no matter how many times they had to bury their hopes.
One of the corpses looked a little less dusty than the others - perhaps ten or twenty years old, rather than centuries. This must have been Peakstar - the one that Sul-Matuul had found washed up by the Sea of Ghosts. The one he'd raised himself. The one he'd loved, no doubt, and had to bury.
It occurred now to Garyn that he had spent the first thirteen years of his life raised by priests, and never seen true faith until now.
The sight was enough to distract him a moment from the thing he had come here to retrieve: the Moon-and-Star. He could see it now, floating above the outstretched hands of the statue. In contrast to everything else in this cave, it was bright and glimmering - a spotless gold and ivory-patterned ring in the shape of the star and crescent Masser. He took slow steps toward it, his hands reaching forward like a revenant's.
His fingers reached for it, clumsily fumbling. But then, the ring seemed to know where to go - falling onto his finger as though drawn by a magnet. And then his sight grew dark, and his eyes blazed with visions of all corners of Vvardenfell:
NEREVAR REBORN, INCARNATE:
YOUR FIRST THREE TRIALS ARE FINISHED.
NOW, TWO NEW TRIALS LIE BEFORE YOU.
SEEK THE ASHLANDER ASHKHANS, AND THE GREAT HOUSE COUNCILS.
FOUR TRIBES MUST NAME YOU NEREVARINE.
THREE HOUSES MUST NAME YOU HORTATOR.
MY SERVANT NIBANI MAESA SHALL BE YOUR GUIDE.
AND WHEN YOU ARE HORTATOR AND NEREVARINE,
WHEN YOU’VE STOOD BEFORE THE FALSE GOD
AND FREED THE HEART FROM ITS PRISON,
HEAL MY PEOPLE AND RESTORE MOROWIND.
DO THIS FOR ME AND WITH MY BLESSING.
Garyn gasped as his sight returned to him. And gasped again as he saw what now surrounded him: the spirits of all those interred here, surrounding him, looking to him expectantly.
"I...think I may be in over my head."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The shade at the front was a female Dunmer, youthful, yet with wisdom behind her eyes. She hovered in front of her own mummified body, and regarded Garyn solemnly.
"Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods. I am Peakstar. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me."
A gentle, surprised huff escaped Garyn's throat. "I...should think I need as much wisdom as you can give, and perhaps more."
The spirit did not smile, but her eyes turned gently upward. "I will answer when I can, and with what I know. But the visions of Azura are often obscure, for two reasons. One, because the future cannot be known, and choices may always be made. Two, because truth is not clear or simple. Azura’s riddles warn us to think long and hard. They force us to search carefully for truth and meaning, and not to rely only on impulse and force."
Garyn gazed down at his hand, at the ring that now fit perfectly on his finger. "Though she seems to have made certain things clear today."
"You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar. None may deny; you ARE Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy. Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honor. You will be known. You must prepare, and be ready."
Garyn closed his eyes and exhaled for a moment. He supposed this made sense - as it stood now, his existence was an affront to all the Temple's teachings. By all the laws of this kingdom, he was now an outlaw. He opened his eyes again, his face once again filled with determination.
"Let them come, if they must. I will do what must be done."
Peakstar nodded, clearly pleased. "That you shall, Lord Nerevar. But you must first become what you were in your first life. Dunmer of the Ashlands and Dunmer of the Houses have traditions of a War Leader set over all the tribes in times of need. First, your task is to prove to them their need. Then you must prove that you should be their war leader — the Nerevarine, for Ashlanders; the Hortator, for the Great Houses.
"To show them their need, you must tell them about the Tribunal, how they have adopted the profane tools of the Dwarves, how they have betrayed and misled their people — and give them proofs. You must tell them about Dagoth Ur, and the Sixth House, about their powers and plans, and how the Tribunal no longer has power to contain them."
"Yes," Garyn said, stroking his chin and musing, "this seems like a place to start. Much of what you say is clear to those with eyes to see. And the rest of the proof I now bear upon my finger. It will be a delicate matter, but...it will have to be done."
"You must go before the ashkhans of the Wastes People and satisfy them," Peakstar said, "for only the ashkhans of the Four Tribes can name you ‘Nerevarine.’ Speak first with Sul-Matuul of the Urshilaku, and with Wise Woman Nibani Maesa, for of all the Ashlanders, they are wisest in the lore of the Incarnate, and you have already shown Sul-Matuul proof of your worth."
Garyn marveled to see Peakstar speaking so formally of people she had known so intimately. Whatever she had been before, she was an ancestor now, with no purpose but to guide her kin and kind. Oddly, he felt he could understand this now - that this was the way of a true Dunmer. Thoughts that never would have occurred to him before seem the most natural thing in the world now.
She continued: "You must also go before the Councilors of the Great Houses and satisfy them, for only the Councils of the Great Houses can name you 'Hortator.' I do not know the settled people of the Great Houses, and can offer you no counsel."
"I know at least one of them very well," Garyn said. "So I know what a difficult task has been placed before me. Even before we deal with the lost Great House, the one yet unmourned."
"Pity Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. All they do, all they are is foul and evil, but they began in brightness and honor, and the cause of their fall was their loyal service to you, Lord Nerevar. You told Lord Dagoth to guard the profane tools beneath Red Mountain, and thus he was tempted. He did your bidding when he tried to keep these tools from the Tribunal, and so he hates you, who betrayed him, and the Tribunal, who mocked his honor, attacked him, and stole the profane tools for their own use."
A single, strangled burst of nervous laughter escaped Garyn as she addressed him as "Lord Nerevar." As she spoke of events from thousands of years ago as though they had happened to him yesterday. And yet, he could not deny a single word of it - not that it was in his service that Lord Dagoth had fallen, nor that he could not muster any hatred for them.
"This story...has been long in the telling indeed," Garyn said, stepping forward. "You've been waiting thousands of years for its end."
"I am Peakstar. I was not the one..." Peakstar repeated, bowing her head.
The other spirits joined her:
"I am Conoon Chodala. I was not the one..."
"I am Ane Teria. I was not the one..."
"I am Hort-Ledd. I was not the one..."
"I am Idrenie Nerothan. I was not the one..."
"I am Erur-Dan. I was not the one..."
Now they spoke in unison: "...but we wait and hope."
Garyn breathed in deeply. The weight of four thousand years now rested on his shoulders. He drew his sword from his scabbard and held it to his chest.
"You need wait no longer, spirits. I am the one you have hoped for."
"I am impressed. These three tokens you have brought me, and brought them quickly. You may keep them. You have passed the Warrior's Test. And I will give you the secret of the Third Trial."
The ashkhan rose to his feet and strode around the center of the yurt, making his way toward a chest on the other side. Even as he moved, he continued to speak.
"'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees/and makes to shine the moon and star.' This is the Third Vision. And you must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star. The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:
the eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind
the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl
the dream is the door and the star is the key"
Garyn pondered this for a moment, before a flash of recognition shone in his eyes. "This refers to the ring of Nerevar, the Moon and Star - the one that only he could wear."
Sul-Matuul simply turned his eyes to look at him, pausing as he reached into the chest. Then he continued, pulling out an ancient belt in bright, faded colors. He held it out before Garyn.
"This riddle is Wisdom's Test. Take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes, and you shall find the way. Seek the Cavern of the Incarnate. Gain the moon and star, and bring it to Nibani Maesa. Take with you my blessing, and the blessing of our tribe, Malipu-Ataman's Belt."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Garyn's face must have looked very grave indeed as he left the ashkhan's yurt, for it prompted an immediate remark from the first Urshilaku he passed.
"Why, you look troubled, Clanfriend!" the hunter said, smiling. "Is there something I can help you find, perhaps?"
Garyn managed a wry half-smile. "Oh, nothing much, Tussurrudad. Simply the wisdom of the tribes."
"Ah, is that all, sera? How much? All of it?"
Another hunter spoke up, sheathing his spear on his back. "This is no time to make light, Tussurrudad - he wears Malipu-Ataman's Belt! Sul-Matuul has given his blessing to his quest."
The smirk faded from Tussurrudad's face. "So he has, Shabinbael," he says softly. "After all, he is the one who may be the Nerevarine. What knowledge do you seek, then?"
"A riddle. 'The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind / The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl / The dream is the door and the star is the key.' I believe I know what the last line means, but I've no idea about the first two."
Tussurrudad's brow furrowed for a moment. "The eye of the needle...hmmm...perhaps...well. There is a tall rock column in the Valley of the Wind which we call the Needle. I have slept beneath it once or twice. The Valley of the Wind is a valley on the northeast slopes of Red Mountain. The entrance to the valley is marked by Airan’s Teeth, two tall rock spires.”
Then Shabinbael chimed in: "I recall, at the top of that tall spire is — not white, but much lighter than other rocks nearby. The head of the Valley of the Wind sits right under the Needle. In the sun, it gleams a little. It is a good, safe campground, sheltered from wind, with only one approach. That whitish rock at the top of the Needle – that might be the 'skin of the pearl' you’re looking for.”
"But I don't know of any cave, or any mouth of any cave, in that valley," Tussurrudad said. "We stay away from the valley; the winds howl, and the spirits are always awake."
"Perhaps that is why the cave has stayed hidden," Garyn said. "At any rate, I've no other ideas. Could you tell me how to get to the Valley of the Wind?"
"I would not tell most the way there if they asked," Tussurrudad said, "but you have returned alive from lost Kogoruhn, so we know you are strong. East of the Daedric Zergonipal there is a path that goes south from the sea. Go straight south, and you will see the Teeth."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was the wisdom of the tribes that would guide Garyn there, but he knew, as did all in the camp, that the journey was for him to walk alone. A lonely journey it was, as most across the Ashlands tend to be. But the thoughts that accompanied him were lonelier still, for they were burdens no one could share.
Supposing the ring didn't kill him - a possibility he couldn't exclude, as much as the incident with corprus seemed to have proved the impossible - what would happen to him then? Would he remember all of his past lives, and cease to call himself Garyn? And what was he supposed to do with that knowledge? How, exactly, was he meant to unite the feuding Great Houses, and kill a god who had bested three other gods?
These questions rolled over and over again in his head like waves against the rocks. They drove him eastward, compelled him to journey further without rest, toward the cavern where the answers lay. There he would find either his death, or the reason he was born.
He could almost hear the Valley before he saw it. Immediately he could see why the Ashlanders steered clear of it - the spirits did seem to be singing through the wind that howled and whistled through Airan's Teeth. There was a mournfulness to it that even Garyn, who thought himself a well-traveled mer, had never heard on any wind before.
Nonetheless, he plowed through the headwind, raising the visor on his helmet. It wasn't far to go, now. Just a ways uphill, toward that white spire he could see in the distance, up that curling path toward the base of where the cavern should be.
It was a hard hike to the base of that spire, the northern side draped in shadow from the late afternoon sun. But there it was - there could be no mistaking it. The entrance was marked by a great arched door, carved with ornate crescent moons and stars, and two large jade handles. This was the Cavern of the Incarnate.
Tentatively, Garyn reached for one of the handles, and a voice rumbled from within:
THE DOOR IS LOCKED, AND WILL NOT OPEN. THE STAR IS THE KEY.
The words were not unexpected - Garyn suspected that the "Star" in Sul-Matuul's riddle referred to Azura's Star, which appears at dawn and dusk. Holamayan could only be opened during these hours.
But the voice these words came from...Garyn knew that voice. He had heard it before in his dreams. Was this Azura? Had she been speaking to him all this time, and he'd never realized? Yet one more thing for him to contemplate as he waited for dusk to come.
Thankfully, he hadn't long to wait. The shadows lengthened, and the light of the setting sun shone upon the cavern door. Garyn roused himself, breathing deeply, and grabbed the handles.
IN THE TWILIGHT HOUR UNDER AZURA'S STAR, THE DOOR IS OPENED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dust billowed from the base of the door as Garyn pushed it. None had been here in a very long time, he could see. But it had not gone wholly unused. As Garyn blinked, he could see, laid out around a monumental statue of Azura with her hands outstretched, was an assortment of mummified bodies, curled and seated beside her. This wasn't simply a cavern...it was a tomb.
These must be the Failed Incarnates, Garyn realized. The Urshilaku had borne witness to every one of them, and interred them here. This was their way to preserve their memory, and keep the prophecy alive. They had been waiting, and waiting, and waiting...and if Garyn were to die, they would keep waiting, keep continuing to believe no matter how many times they had to bury their hopes.
One of the corpses looked a little less dusty than the others - perhaps ten or twenty years old, rather than centuries. This must have been Peakstar - the one that Sul-Matuul had found washed up by the Sea of Ghosts. The one he'd raised himself. The one he'd loved, no doubt, and had to bury.
It occurred now to Garyn that he had spent the first thirteen years of his life raised by priests, and never seen true faith until now.
The sight was enough to distract him a moment from the thing he had come here to retrieve: the Moon-and-Star. He could see it now, floating above the outstretched hands of the statue. In contrast to everything else in this cave, it was bright and glimmering - a spotless gold and ivory-patterned ring in the shape of the star and crescent Masser. He took slow steps toward it, his hands reaching forward like a revenant's.
His fingers reached for it, clumsily fumbling. But then, the ring seemed to know where to go - falling onto his finger as though drawn by a magnet. And then his sight grew dark, and his eyes blazed with visions of all corners of Vvardenfell:
NEREVAR REBORN, INCARNATE:
YOUR FIRST THREE TRIALS ARE FINISHED.
NOW, TWO NEW TRIALS LIE BEFORE YOU.
SEEK THE ASHLANDER ASHKHANS, AND THE GREAT HOUSE COUNCILS.
FOUR TRIBES MUST NAME YOU NEREVARINE.
THREE HOUSES MUST NAME YOU HORTATOR.
MY SERVANT NIBANI MAESA SHALL BE YOUR GUIDE.
AND WHEN YOU ARE HORTATOR AND NEREVARINE,
WHEN YOU’VE STOOD BEFORE THE FALSE GOD
AND FREED THE HEART FROM ITS PRISON,
HEAL MY PEOPLE AND RESTORE MOROWIND.
DO THIS FOR ME AND WITH MY BLESSING.
Garyn gasped as his sight returned to him. And gasped again as he saw what now surrounded him: the spirits of all those interred here, surrounding him, looking to him expectantly.
"I...think I may be in over my head."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The shade at the front was a female Dunmer, youthful, yet with wisdom behind her eyes. She hovered in front of her own mummified body, and regarded Garyn solemnly.
"Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods. I am Peakstar. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me."
A gentle, surprised huff escaped Garyn's throat. "I...should think I need as much wisdom as you can give, and perhaps more."
The spirit did not smile, but her eyes turned gently upward. "I will answer when I can, and with what I know. But the visions of Azura are often obscure, for two reasons. One, because the future cannot be known, and choices may always be made. Two, because truth is not clear or simple. Azura’s riddles warn us to think long and hard. They force us to search carefully for truth and meaning, and not to rely only on impulse and force."
Garyn gazed down at his hand, at the ring that now fit perfectly on his finger. "Though she seems to have made certain things clear today."
"You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar. None may deny; you ARE Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy. Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honor. You will be known. You must prepare, and be ready."
Garyn closed his eyes and exhaled for a moment. He supposed this made sense - as it stood now, his existence was an affront to all the Temple's teachings. By all the laws of this kingdom, he was now an outlaw. He opened his eyes again, his face once again filled with determination.
"Let them come, if they must. I will do what must be done."
Peakstar nodded, clearly pleased. "That you shall, Lord Nerevar. But you must first become what you were in your first life. Dunmer of the Ashlands and Dunmer of the Houses have traditions of a War Leader set over all the tribes in times of need. First, your task is to prove to them their need. Then you must prove that you should be their war leader — the Nerevarine, for Ashlanders; the Hortator, for the Great Houses.
"To show them their need, you must tell them about the Tribunal, how they have adopted the profane tools of the Dwarves, how they have betrayed and misled their people — and give them proofs. You must tell them about Dagoth Ur, and the Sixth House, about their powers and plans, and how the Tribunal no longer has power to contain them."
"Yes," Garyn said, stroking his chin and musing, "this seems like a place to start. Much of what you say is clear to those with eyes to see. And the rest of the proof I now bear upon my finger. It will be a delicate matter, but...it will have to be done."
"You must go before the ashkhans of the Wastes People and satisfy them," Peakstar said, "for only the ashkhans of the Four Tribes can name you ‘Nerevarine.’ Speak first with Sul-Matuul of the Urshilaku, and with Wise Woman Nibani Maesa, for of all the Ashlanders, they are wisest in the lore of the Incarnate, and you have already shown Sul-Matuul proof of your worth."
Garyn marveled to see Peakstar speaking so formally of people she had known so intimately. Whatever she had been before, she was an ancestor now, with no purpose but to guide her kin and kind. Oddly, he felt he could understand this now - that this was the way of a true Dunmer. Thoughts that never would have occurred to him before seem the most natural thing in the world now.
She continued: "You must also go before the Councilors of the Great Houses and satisfy them, for only the Councils of the Great Houses can name you 'Hortator.' I do not know the settled people of the Great Houses, and can offer you no counsel."
"I know at least one of them very well," Garyn said. "So I know what a difficult task has been placed before me. Even before we deal with the lost Great House, the one yet unmourned."
"Pity Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. All they do, all they are is foul and evil, but they began in brightness and honor, and the cause of their fall was their loyal service to you, Lord Nerevar. You told Lord Dagoth to guard the profane tools beneath Red Mountain, and thus he was tempted. He did your bidding when he tried to keep these tools from the Tribunal, and so he hates you, who betrayed him, and the Tribunal, who mocked his honor, attacked him, and stole the profane tools for their own use."
A single, strangled burst of nervous laughter escaped Garyn as she addressed him as "Lord Nerevar." As she spoke of events from thousands of years ago as though they had happened to him yesterday. And yet, he could not deny a single word of it - not that it was in his service that Lord Dagoth had fallen, nor that he could not muster any hatred for them.
"This story...has been long in the telling indeed," Garyn said, stepping forward. "You've been waiting thousands of years for its end."
"I am Peakstar. I was not the one..." Peakstar repeated, bowing her head.
The other spirits joined her:
"I am Conoon Chodala. I was not the one..."
"I am Ane Teria. I was not the one..."
"I am Hort-Ledd. I was not the one..."
"I am Idrenie Nerothan. I was not the one..."
"I am Erur-Dan. I was not the one..."
Now they spoke in unison: "...but we wait and hope."
Garyn breathed in deeply. The weight of four thousand years now rested on his shoulders. He drew his sword from his scabbard and held it to his chest.
"You need wait no longer, spirits. I am the one you have hoped for."