Alik'rian Nights: Volume The First: Of Adamant And Beyond: Part One: In The Fullness Of Time

Thusly prepared, yet uncertain, our Scarab began his pilgrimage to the isle of Adamant. The nearest and most able port was the mighty capital of Hammerfell, the great city of Sentinel. He arrived only to find much strife and turmoil within. After The Mede Empire had released the province from its control, we Redguard of Hammerfell had remained united, for a time, through the first Aldmeri invasion. But once we had repulsed the vile elves, infighting and distrust had left us fractured and fearful.
There were two great alliances between the kings of the realm. The first were the Crowns, who devised plots to conquer and create an empire of their own; the second being the Forebears, who sought for peace and cooperation with the remains of the Mede Empire and the might of the Aldmeri Dominion. This conflict between the two Redguard factions is an old one, harkening back to the earliest days of our coming to Tamriel.
For many centuries, the Forebears had kept control over the Capital; for Tiber Septim Himself had placed them in power at the end of the second era. However, the Crowns had recently taken the city by force, whilst the Forebear fleet sat in blockade against them. Alas, because of the situation, no ship was allowed to leave the port.
I do not know how, for he always spoke of it sheepishly, our Scarab learned of a secret affair between the prince of the Crown’s suzerain and the daughter of the Forebear’s. It was no small task, but our Scarab was able to expose the relationship and despite all odds, the strength of their love was enough to make their families speak peace. The two married shortly thereafter, and the Crowns ceded the city back to the Forebears.

With the blockade now lifted by his interference, our Scarab was finally able to sail to the island of Balfiera, upon which sits the Tower of Adamant, called the Direnni Tower. But as he approached, he found the isle to be at the center of a tremendous cyclonic storm. Lightning struck the monolithic citadel continuously, and the sound of thunder never ceased.
They were met on the sea by a patrol craft warning away all comers. He showed them the Elder Scroll and in holy reverence, they permitted him to land. The guards at the port took him directly to the Castilian, who agreed to hear his tale.

Much danger was in the air at the time, and the elvish monarch was very cautious. After listening to what our Scarab had to say, He gave the task of investigating these claims to his High Mage, a crass wizard called Maoric. He was a boisterous elf, with a tendency to jabber on about powers and forces far beyond the realm of most sensible folk.
It takes much training to read an Elder Scroll, but Maoric had done so before on occasion. What he found when he attempted to read the prophecy contained in the scroll however, was deeper and more mysterious than anything, even he, could fathom.
Off balance but unperturbed, Maoric placed our Scarab in the center of the room and brought out a soul gem with a strange device. It was an Animaometer and would allow him to view our Scarab’s soul directly. Brashly he peered inside and saw what there was to see. Needless to say, the gem shattered from the overwhelming glare.
Defeated, the mage gave his explanation with fear and trembling. The scroll contained a prophecy of the current times, but he could not comprehend its meaning. It would say one thing in one moment, and the contrary in the next, but held both the first and the second as true in the third. Through the maelstrom of discordant counsel, he said there was but one constant. The Scarab who stood before him. Who or what he was was still unknown to the wizard, but of the magnitude of his power and importance, there was no horizon.
Maoric told our Scarab that there was one other person which may be able to unlock these mysteries. He was known as The Loremaster, and he was the leader of the Blades in Hammerfell. Operating out of the hidden keep of Windscour Temple, they, with the battered remains of the imperial army, fought to keep back the impending wave of the Aldmeri Dominion and their Thalmor leaders.
There would be no easy way to contact the Loremaster, but Maoric directed our Scarab to the town of Riverpointe. The Imperials were known to work in the area, and that was the best location to try and meet with them.

With the permission and blessing of the Castilian, our Scarab sailed back to the mainland in search of the forsaken remains of the Blade and Imperial armies. Upon arriving in Riverpointe, he made inquiries of the locals. Soon he found a man in the tavern which claimed to have information. The man offered him a drink, but it seemed to him suspicious. What if the drink was drugged? ‘Of course the drink is drugged’ said the man. ‘Do you want to meet the imperials or not?’
With little recourse, our Scarab downed the drink and fell deeply asleep. When he awoke, he discovered himself in an Aldmeri interrogation chamber. The man had been a spy and it had all been a trap! But as it happened, once they began to interrogate him, a high level official entered the room. It was the same Thalmor as it had been in the Dwarven ruin!
With shock, Cyreitar recognized our Scarab immediately. He had watched him die and seen his corpse disposed of, yet here he was! Enraged, he demanded to know who this Scarab was and how he had survived.
Even if he tried to speak truthfully, the Thalmor would not have believed him. Knowing that this was a person of much import, Cyreitar ordered our Scarab sent back to the Aldmeri Dominion for further investigation.

They placed him in a cage upon a cart; a thick cloak obscuring even the faintest traces of light. As they progressed in secret back to the Dominion, he was awoken from his sleep by the sounds of battle. Without further warning, the cart was hurled into the air. The impact with the ground dazed him, but looking up, he found the cage sufficiently damaged for him to make his escape.
He emerged into the midst of an ambush. Taking up his effects (which were close at hand), he charged his Aldmeri captors. It took a moment before those leading the ambush realized that our Scarab was with them, but his prowess in combat made his allegiance clear.
As the battle subsided, he was able to speak with his ‘rescuers’. They were the imperial remains which he had been seeking! Grateful for his assistance against the Thalmor, the imperials took him to one of their number who they knew to be a member of the Blades. With humility and grace, he beseeched the Blade (Known simply as Blade) for the location of Wind Scour Temple.
Blade was cautious though. He was glad of the help in the ambush, but not so glad as to reveal this most precious secret. It would take further convincing before he could trust him with it. At Blade’s instruction, our Scarab proceeded to Rihad (Which was, of course, before its destruction some months later).
Blade met him outside the city gate and told him of their mission. In the nearby mountains lay a secret Aldmeri encampment hidden in a goblin cave which once held the name of Stonekeep. The Thalmor had captured a number of Imperial fighters, and they needed to enter the base to free the captives.
Legend was, a secret escape route lay hidden in the mountains. The Thalmor thought it unknown to the Imperials, but after searching through the remains of the caravan, they uncovered a log book which would lead them to it. If They could locate the tunnel, they could use it to gain access. From there, they would find the captives and release them. Stealth would give them time, but if possible, they wished to sabotage as much as they could. Little did they know what they would soon find.

Searching the mountains, they soon uncovered a rocky hatch disguised as part of the landscape. Climbing deep inside, the shadows were their ally as they crept through the cavern. It did not take them long to find the dungeon, but to their great surprise, there were not merely a few captured soldiers, but dozens upon dozens of missing civilians from across the province. This was no mere encampment, rather a major Aldmeri fortress deep behind the border of Hammerfell.
The Thalmor’s power and boldness was staggering. They would have to take the information back to the Redguard immediately. But what of the captives? While they may have been able to sneak out a few trained soldiers, the mass of peasants was too large to take quietly. If they abandoned them now, verily, no one would be there upon their return.
The die was thusly cast, and they proceeded onto havoc. Blade and our Scarab killed the guards protecting the captives, sounding an alarm in the process. There would be little time. As Blade picked the lock upon the chains, our Scarab held guard. The Aldmeri soldiers trickled in at first, but soon their numbers grew into a mighty force. Though no single man or mer could stand against our Scarab, the multitude of them soon became overwhelming. Seeing his unshakable vigor, the freed imperials and several of the peasants were moved to take up arms and stand beside him.
Once Blade had freed all the captives, they began moving back to the escape tunnel. It was not an easy endeavor, with so many in such close quarters; the enemy pressed all around them. How they succeeded would be a mystery were it not for the unspeakable power our Scarab wielded.
Such was the force and number of the Aldmeri, that as they reached the tunnel, Blade knew all of them would not live to see their escape. During a brief moment of reprieve as the Thalmor staged their next assault, Blade spoke to our Scarab. He said that while their time together had been brief, he had seen our Scarab’s unspeakable power and determination.
He confessed the location of Wind Scour Temple and gave him a passphrase to use. Clearly Blade did not intend to escape. Our Scarab begged him not to sacrifice himself, but Blade insisted. His tale was now told, but our Scarab’s story was still young. Someone would need to stay behind to hold off the Aldmeri while the other took the peasants back to Rihad. And so with a song of victory on his lips, Blade led a small force back into the waiting arms of the Aldmeri.

Our Scarab led the captives out of their peril and returned them to the city. Once they reached the base of the city walls, the king met them and demanded to know whence these refugees came.
Troubled upon hearing the news, the regent allowed them safe harbor and offered our Scarab many precious things if he would stay to help them. Despite the temptation, his task now was clear; laying elsewhere. Traveling to the edge of the great Alik’r, he sought out Wind Scour Temple along the base of the mountains. It was well hidden, but with Blade’s instructions, he was able to avoid the deceptive passes and locate the forgotten valley.

His arrival shocked the guards high upon the temple walls, but with the phrase Blade had given him, they permitted him to enter. They took him through many gates and past many walls as they entered ever more sacred places. Soon they reached the keep, and in a gentle garden the guards presented him to a frail cyrodiilic elder; hunched and half blind. This was the Loremaster, and none knew more of the secrets of Tamriel and the Aurbis than he. Looking up at the visitor, the Loremaster smiled and said that he had been expecting him.
Surprised that his coming was foreknown, our Scarab asked how the Loremaster had been aware of it. He explained that the Elder Scrolls had prophesied his coming since before the beginning of time. The Loremaster himself had waited a century for his arrival. Fearfully, our Scarab asked what else the scrolls foretold of him.
With a grin, The Loremaster asked for the one in his possession. Taking the artifact into his fragile hands, he peered into its secrets; his eyes becoming alight and his stature that of a young man as the mysteries of the scroll opened to him. The Loremaster became transfixed and prophesied in a strange language. Then, rolling back the scroll, he turned to observe our Scarab, who asked him what he had seen.
To his shock and disappointment, the Loremaster said that he did not know, for it was beyond his ability. Disheartened, the countenance of our Scarab fell. It seemed that none could read the scroll to reveal his destiny. But the Loremaster was not downcast and offered words of encouragement. He explained that while he and no other mortal could read the scroll, there was one who can. A Shezarrine. Perplexed, our Scarab asked where he could find this person. The Loremaster then told him the history of Sep and the creation of the world.
He explained that Shezarr called Shor, Sep and Lorkhan, had betrayed the Divines in the beginning of history, but they retaliated against his treason; slaying him, and casting his heart down to Nirn. Something of Shezarr remained however, and throughout the course of history, several shadows of him had arisen.
These incarnations were called Shezarrine (Author’s Note: HoonDing or Seprine in our tongue; dependent on the speaker’s theology). These had been some of the mightiest warriors ever to walk the face of the planet. They were wanderers, but when great calamity faced the land, they would arise and gather armies of unspeakable strength, shattering empires, and forging new ones in their place. Then after they had done all these mighty acts, they would return to their wanderings, never satisfied to remain in one place. The last confirmed Shezarrine was none other than Tiber Septim himself. Until, that is, our Scarab’s coming.
Staggered, he asked how this could be. The Loremaster said there was a way to test it. Closely connected to Lorkhan were the rare moments of history known as Dragon Breaks. The events the scrolls foretell are of such a Dragon Break, where many possibilities can all occur simultaneously and all be true. The mind of mortal men cannot understand the raw contradictions inherent in all such events; a Shezarrine however is different. Being of Sep, they are able to grasp the events of Dragon Breaks and comprehend them fully. The Loremaster explained that if he was indeed the Shezarrine foretold, he and only he would be able to read the scroll.

Now, Wind Scour Temple was a sacred place, and it carried a holy secret. For deep in the rock at the rear of the valley was a ravine which contained one of the most mystical places in all of Tamriel. An Ancestor Glade! Taking our Scarab into its midst, the Loremaster explained how the moths which resided within the glade could reveal these hidden mysteries. They entered the glade and after performing a ceremony of great depth and spirituality, our Scarab opened the scroll and received a vision.
He saw two vast armies fighting in the sand. What comprised these armies and who obtained the victory changed by the moment. At first, they seemed as light and darkness, then as gods and demons, then as men and mer. The devastation the battle caused was astronomical in scope; the violence shook even the heavens; causing the stars to fall like rain.
He looked up from the fighting to see an impossibly large figure of golden skin, like brass, towering silhouetted against the brilliance of the night. He held his black hands before him, his left releasing a mighty hammer upon the battlefield, and suspended above his right pounded the fierce heart of Lorkhan.
The hammer fell upon the armies and a great storm consumed them. Through the vortex an image of a great city formed; strange and majestic beyond words; filled with the ghosts of the ages. The great figure spoke as it towered above the city. It said “Aldmeris of Old Ehlnofey!” and began to quake and shatter. The figure crumbled as he watched and covered the city in a sea of sand. Yet in the sky still hung the Heart, beating a powerful beat. Above the Heart suddenly shone forth a great blue star, brighter than the sun. The constellation of the serpent uncoiled, moving to consume the pale sapphire light.
The Heart then transformed into an image of our Scarab and blocked the Serpent from his feast. Mighty was the serpent though, and it pierced through the image of our Scarabs chest and swallowed the star. Wounded but not defeated, the image of our Scarab turned and grabbed the serpent by tooth and tail. He tore the serpent into two great pieces, releasing the blue star, and replacing the moons, Masser and Secunda. With his enemy now fallen, the image of our Scarab took the star and placed it in the hole in his bosom (the heart of his heart), and together they became a god.
Our Scarab then flew toward his own image and passed through the wound. Inside he perceived a great map of the wheel of creation, as of canvas but not of canvas, for it contained both depth and mind. The map rolled up and twisted upon itself until it became a line. The line of creation moved from horizontal to vertical; breaking into infinite majesty. It was a tower, like onto the tower of Adamant, but ever more radiant and glorious.
Finally, once the vision passed, our Scarab awoke to find the Loremaster standing nearby with a face of gladness and pride. The Loremaster bowed down before him and named our Scarab, Shezarrine. With his identity now confirmed, our Scarab explained the vision to the Loremaster and asked how he should proceed.
The sage thought for several moments as he considered all these things. While the images had been vivid, they spoke about deep things of great profundity. Despite his many years of learning, history had only left him with the faint traces of secrets whispered in the dark. It would take him some time to search for some references and a little more time while he considered them. Apprehensive over a delay, our Scarab asked how long it would take him to do all this.
The Loremaster chewed on that deep thought for moment. He said that if the Seprine would return to him in forty-two hours, he might have some answers for him. Our Scarab sighed a sigh of relief. As long as it didn’t take seven and a half million years, he’d be alright. A day or two of sabbath's rest would do him some good.

After the allotted time, our Scarab returned and asked what had been discovered. The Loremaster explained that the battle was one which had been, is being, and will be fought throughout the course of time. It is the conflict between creation and destruction; its arena being the gray maybe. It’s an echo, a type, and a foreshadowing which acts as the backdrop of all history. Their current events were yet another expression of this battle.
The great city he saw was of the birthplace of the elves, called Aldmeris. It was lost long before recorded history and many considered it a myth, but it contained immutable secrets which defy the ages. The great figure he took to be figurative and seemed to suggest impending calamity. At least, he hoped it was figurative. How the star and the serpent fit within this framework were a total mystery to him, though The final part of the vision was clear. The tower he saw was the Great Tower of Creation, discovered after the last stage of the Psijic Endeavor. His destiny therefore lay before them. He must find Aldmeris and complete the Endeavor.
A soldier burst suddenly into the room before he could explain further. Through the runner’s gasping breaths they listened to his message. The Aldmeri had invaded Hammerfell. They were moving quickly, for Rihad and several other cities had already fallen into their hand.
The Loremaster was taken aback by the news. They had been keeping track of the Thalmor’s preparations, but he had thought them long from ready.
The Loremaster quickly asked the Seprine where their leader, Blade, was. Our Scarab told him of their actions in saving the people from Stonekeep and how Blade had given his life to aid their escape. The Loremaster was overcome with horror and sadness. Blade had been their fiercest warrior, wisest tactician, and most devote master. His absence would seriously weaken the Blades as a whole.
With little recourse, the Loremaster told the Seprine to return to Sentinel. He would need to unite the fractured Redguard and rally the entire province of Hammerfell together in defense.
The Seprine asked what of the Endeavor, but the Loremaster calmed him and said once he had crafted the province into a force strong enough to hold against the combined strength of the Thalmor, Bosmer, Khajiit, and Dwemer, he should only then returned to Wind Scour Temple to complete his training.
But feeling the heaviness of the burden upon him, the Seprine was doubtful he could complete such an insurmountable task. The Loremaster reminded him of his identity and title. Shezarrines are known for forging mighty armies from the shattered husks of history. Tiber Septim himself was such a man. This was; therefore, his destiny.