Chapter 1
Winterhold has always been renowned for being one of the coldest holds in Skyrim, but I never thought it could be this cold. The weird thing was though, most of the town's occupants where totally fine with it; they walked around in those threadbare clothes Skyrim was renowned for just the same as any of the nords I'd met in the warmer holds like The Reach or Whiterun. And then there was me; I'd been getting funny looks all day, huddled next to the fire in The Frozen Hearth bundled up beneath five layers of thick fur and leather like I was, I suppose I did look a bit stupid.
I suppressed a shiver, I really did seem to be the only who was cold. I suppose it was because I was Redguard, culture shock's not the only thing you have to worry about if you're moving from the boiling sands of Hammerfell to snowy plains of Skyrim.
It's not like I chose to move here, I was practically kicked onto the streets by mother and told by the kings guards that if any of them ever saw me hanging round again I'd be dead within minutes. I'd fled to the docks thinking that it would be the safest way to get out the quickest, unfortunately for me though, the only outbound ship had been to Skyrim.
At first the mountainous landscape and chilly weather had been a welcome change, if you spend your entire life in a desert, sand starts to get kind of boring, but now I'd been here close to a week and I was starting to forget about the whole untamed-natural-beauty thing and focusing on the fact that I was very, very cold.
I was also running out of money, fast. When I first arrived I'd tried to be a mercenary, but my first job had failed spectacularly; some argonian in Dawnstar had asked me to go into this cave for him to get some sword thingy that'd been stolen by a frost troll, what he'd neglected to mention was the fact that the cave was also home to a rather nasty bunch of frostbite spiders. My flame spell had held them of for about five minutes before I finally succumbed to exhaustion and terror and ended up being dragged out by a group kindly hunters who just so happened to be passing by. The Argonian paid me squat and called me a 'Nord-kissing-air breather', whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, and to top it all off, the hunters demanded I pay them for rescuing me!
So I was a little short on cash, as in, I had twenty septims left in my coin purse, and that number was dwindling fast.
As I was contemplating my poor financial situation, a tall Nord in heavy plate mail sat down next to me. He stank of mead and had to steady himself with a chunky hand so he didn't fall of the wooden bench.
"Might I ask what a fine redguard lady like your self is doing in the frozen north?" he asked in the style of the typical drunken nord. Luckily it wouldn't take long for me to send him on his way.
"I'm heading up to the college to study the dark art of necromancy," I said as I pulled a steel dagger out of a holster strapped to my leg, then grabbed the man and pressed the blade against the soft pink flesh of his neck "unfortunately for you I'm in the market for, how should I put it, test subjects."
"Let me go, please!" he whimpered as he struggled to escape my grip.
"Do you promise to never let me see your face again?" I asked.
"Anything, anything! Please! I have a wife and daughter!" He continued to squirm in a feeble attempt to get loose. The other people in the tavern were beginning to stare, so I decided to wrap this up.
"Leave this place, and if I ever see you again, well… I'm sure your wife would love to hear all about our little encounter." I said, and then pushed him away from me in one fluid motion. He ran straight out into the darkness, not bothering to pick up the sword he'd left leant against the bench.
"That was harsh," a voice behind me said, "Gudlin's a sleazy drunk, but aside from that he's harmless."
"Oh yeah? And how would you know that? The man just tried to cheat on his wife, that doesn't seem so harmless to me." I replied and turned round to face yet another nord.
"The man's all talk, he loves his wife, Grier, more than anything. He'd never hurt her like that on purpose." The nord set down next to me on the wooden bench. He was unusually lanky for one of his race, but the bench still creaked underneath our combined weights.
"You seem to know a lot about him, who are you anyway?" I asked.
"Oh forgive me, I mustn't have introduced myself. The name's Brendr, I word here some nights as a bard." He offered me a heavily calloused hand to shake.
"Sharla." I replied and shook it.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you're not really a necromancer, are you?" He said. I chuckled slightly in response.
"You're right, I'm not. I am a mage though." I reply conversationally.
"Oh really? What school do you practice?" he asked, genuine interest sparking in his eyes.
"Conjuration mostly, but I dabble a little in destruction and illusion" I replied.
"What spells do you use?" His head tilted slightly to one side and he was leaning slightly towards me, he looked really cute!
"Too many to list!" I said, before asking a question of my own, "Say, most of your kind scorns magic, why are you so interested?"
"That's an incredibly long story that would take us straight through to Tirdas if I tried to tell it. Let's just say I'm not really like most nords and leave it at that." He offered.
"Fair enough." I smiled, a gesture he returned.
"I suppose you're wondering if I'm any good on the lute?" he asked, gesturing towards the instrument laid on his lap.
"What can you play?" I asked.
"Oh just the usual, Rorik the red, dragonborn comes, that sort of thing."
"Let's hear it then!" I said enthusiastically. I loved the lute, and loved the songs they sung in Skyrim. I shrugged one of my cloaks off having been warmed up a bit more by the heat of the fire, and I settled down to listen to Brandr's gravelly voice fill the room.
'''
The path leading up to the college of winterhold was treacherous, but I didn't let it spoil my good mood; I was thrilled, I hadn't expected to be accepted because everyone on the ship had said it was difficult to get in, but all I had to do was shoot a firebolt at the ground. I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back; I'd made it, and all on my own as well.
"Be careful on this next section, the great collapse destroyed the sides of the bridge so it is especially dangerous." The mage who let me in, a high elf named Faralda, shouted back to me. I had to strain to hear her voice because of the wind, but I could see quite clearly what she was talking about.
"Okay." I yelled back in acknowledgement, although I doubted I would have any difficulty; I'd been brought up in a culture that prided itself on its physical capabilities, any woman hoping to make a name for herself had to be incredibly strong and agile, and not to mention have good balance!
The densely packed snow was almost as slippery as ice beneath my well-worn boots. A fellow traveller on the boat to Skyrim had suggested covering the soles of my boots in tar or some other similarly sticky substance, it had sounded like a good idea so I'd heeded his advice, unfortunately after the many miles I'd walked the covering was beginning to wear thin. I was okay for the time being though; I just had to focus on the path ahead.
When we reached the most dangerous section of the path, Faralda slowed down considerably.
"Watch your footing." She warned, I slowed my pace to match hers. I risked a glance downwards, and felt my breath catch in my throat. The view was stunning, having grown in the Alik'r desert, I'd never seen anything like it and I couldn't help but be awestruck by its enormity; it was like sheer black chasm had opened up between Winterhold and its college, the only thing joining the two was the string of damaged ancient stone, it was almost as if the tiniest tremor would shatter their bond, leaving behind nothing but the charcoal mountains that stretched down into oblivi-
My foot slipped.
I felt my body crash into the icy stone path; my back slammed into the mound of solid snow and pushed all the air from my lungs with a small 'oomph' sound. I didn't have time to catch my breath though, as my momentum carried me over the edge of the bridge feet first. I quickly grabbed onto the cold stone lip of the path, the jagged rock dug into my hands, slicing into the soft flesh of my palms causing rivulets of red to run down my arm and stain my robe. I tried to scream for help, but the sound caught in my throat and came out as more of a pitiful whining sound.
On the path, I heard Faralda's secure footsteps approaching me. Her face appeared above, framed by the grey sky and towering mountains.
"Hold still child, help will be here shortly. Do not under any circumstances let go." She told me in a calm, measured tone. I nodded in response, still struggling to get my breath back. Faralda disappeared again, presumably to find someone capable of casting a spell to rescue me. I felt the strength in my arms waver, I didn't know if I would be able to hold on long enough for her to bring help.
My fingers began to slip on the crimson stained rock; my arms ached with the effort of holding on. I began to wonder if it would such a bad idea to just … let go.
And then my fingertips slipped, and I fell.
'''
I closed my eyes, this was it, I was going to die. My side slammed into the pillar that supported the bridge, the jagged rock tore through the thin fabric of my robe and ripped open a jagged gash in my arm, I gasped in pain as I continued to fall, hundreds of splinters of rock now making the descent with me.
It was a long way to the ground, but it felt like seconds, my fall was slowed slightly by the billowing fabric of my clothes; they would probably be useless now, soaked in blood and ripped as they were.
And then I stopped feeling the pain, the only sensation being the feeling of the wind against my torn skin. I'd heard people back home talking about this sensation before, seconds before a warrior must face death time seems to slow and the pain of their wounds seems to melt away. My mother said it was a gift from Tu'whacca, to ease the transition of warriors through to the afterlife.
I opened my eyes again, savouring the last few seconds of life I had before I slipped of the mortal plane for good. It was then that I noticed the gold tendrils of magic, wrapping themselves around my body, slowly knitting together the tatters of broken skin on my hands and arm. I was still falling though.
It was then that I hit the ground.
Every fibre of my being screamed in agony, but I found myself unable to utter a sound. I'd instinctively screwed my eyes shut when I hit the ground, but I could still feel the pointed rock digging into my skin, still feel the way my bones had snapped and contorted when I hit the ground, I could still feel the restoration magic seeping inside me and fixing the damage as it occurred. I owed my life to whoever cast that spell.
"Hey, you still with me?" A voice punctured my wavering consciousness. I was alive, but only just.
"Are you the one that-"I managed to mumble through shallow breaths and damaged lungs. I opened my eyes and blinked away the haze. I was face with a wood elf, he was dressed in the uniform that apprentices at the college wore and had beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Yes, that was me. You should save your breath though, my magic was only strong enough to stave off the worst of the damage, you're still gravely injured," He spoke breathlessly as he laid a warm fur cloak over my pain wracked body. "We need to keep you warm until help arrives, okay?"
"Okay." I mumbled.
"Hey, what's your name?" He asked me directly.
"Sharli" I answered quietly, the brief rush of adrenaline brought on by the pain was fading fast, I could feel my eyes closing.
"Nice to meet you. My name's Nalimi, what type of magic to do you practice?" He asked, pausing only to shoot two firebolts into the air, the recognised signal flare for the college.
"Err, conjuration…" I answered hazily.
"Hey, Sharli, stay with me." Nalimi said, barely a hint of nerves in his tone despite the fact he was on a steep mountain with a dying woman.
"But I'm so tired…" I could hardly speak, the pain had faded away and been replaced by an intense wave of lethargy.
"I know you're tired but you can't sleep yet. If you go to sleep now you might never wake up" He said, switching to another restoration spell. He activated the spell and placed his warm hands on my shoulders, allowing the healing magic to flow directly to where it was needed the most. "So what spells can you do?" he asked absently, his brow knit together in concentration. I could see what he was trying to do; he was trying to keep me conscious by holding my attention with questions.
"I can summon a flame atronach." I replied with a little more strength in my voice, the healing spell was working and I felt stronger than I had previously. The same could not be said for Nalimi though, his skin was pallid and his mages robes were drenched with sweat, he looked like he could pass out at any second.
"That's really good; you're a redguard aren't you? What are you doing in Skyrim?" He asked, his question distracting me from the fact that his spell was weakening.
"My mother kicked me out because she caught me practicing magic. She hired a load of soldiers to kill me if I ever came back." I explained.
"That's a shame. Skyrim itself is not short on ignorance, but at least there's the college." He replied, I could see the strain on his face as he forced the last of his magical reserves into the spell. I pushed him away gently.
"Stop. If you channel any more of your magic into that spell you'll kill yourself." I insisted, I was still in a lot of pain but it wasn't as bad as it was.
"If I don't heal you as best I can, you'll die!" He insisted, activating the spell again. But this time the magic wasn't gold, it had barely any colour at all.
"Stop!" I insisted again, "One corpse is always better than two. Wait until the masters from the college get here, they probably won't be long."
"They could be hours away."
"I couldn't live with myself if you died saving me."
"I couldn't live with myself if I don't save you."
"That's an awful lot to give up for a stranger." I said, looking him directly in the eye. He matched my gaze, the bitter wind ruffling his black bedhead. This time he ignored me, activating the spell and placing his hands on my shoulders despite my protests.
Suddenly we were interrupted by a loud shout from on the bridge.
"Are you two alright?" I craned my neck to see who it was; Faralda was there with two other mages I didn't recognise. I glanced at Nalimi, he'd collapsed next to me, he was barely conscious and breathing heavily. It didn't look like he'd noticed the mages on the bridge, and I was in too much pain to shout back to them, so I mustered what little energy I could and shot a firebolt into the sky, before falling back into the deep void of sleep.