Hey guys! This is the first fic that I've done in a very long time, and something just inspired me to write this, so I did!
If you couldn't tell, this is a sort of crossover fic between Morganville and The Elder Scrolls—however, if you know nothing about TES, it shouldn't affect your understanding of this work, as the characters explain everything.
Plot line is mine, although I'll try to stay as canon as possible.
I hope you enjoy!
"This is impossible. Entirely impossible."
Claire stood, a startled look gaping across her face, at the base of a magnificent structure, towering into the clouds above her.
The White Gold Tower.
The name came to her parted lips, coming from a distant part of her brain that kept track of all fantastical places she wished to go, places you couldn't go. Couldn't go because they didn't exist. She whispered the name, and whispered it again, this time her fingers covering her mouth and she gasped, tears forming in her eyes. It couldn't possibly be real.
"You know where we are?"
Claire turned to look at her companions, the three lucky or, unlucky, depending how you looked at it, people, cough vampires cough, that had been in the room with her. "What?"
She somehow managed to tear her gaze away from the gleaming tower that glowed in the starlight and looked in the general direction of the voice with a dazed look.
Amelie's glare bored hard into her eyes at sub-zero temperatures, "Do you know where we are, child?"
"The White-Gold Tower?" Claire asked. She knew what she was seeing, but that didn't mean anything. It wasn't real, one couldn't go there. Claire had no idea where they were or what had happened. Not really anyway, not definitely. Claire liked things that were definite, things that could be proven and explained. This was definitely not in the definable territory.
A brief flash of anger crossed through Amelie's eyes, "You have already said that, thrice now. Where is this White-Gold Tower?" She pushed past Myrnin and stood directly in front of Claire, blocking her view and forcing her eyes to return to her face. They kept wandering back towards the tower. The Impossible Tower. That was Claire's new name for it, the Impossible Tower in the Impossible Place. Claire smiled and then quickly frowned again when she saw Amelie's murderous look.
"Oh, well it's in the Imperial City, the capital."
"The capital of?" One frosted eyebrow raised half an inch.
"Cyrodiil."
"What? There is no such place. I have walked this land for almost two thousand years! That has never been a place!" Amelie looked frustrated and ready to slap Claire, "You have no idea where we are!"
Claire smirked, "Well, why don't we just ask someone where we are? That would solve things pretty quickly."
"It's about six miles to the lake, but there doesn't appear to be a way across," Oliver said, staring sort of intently toward the fire-lit city in a way that reminded Claire of how a general surveys an army, ignoring her statement completely. She shuddered a bit.
These times were not modern times. No cars with bright flashing lights will zoom around any paved bends, no fluorescent lighting will line the streets, no power lines will mar the skyline, there will be no sounds of shrill-ringing cell phones, and there certainly will not be large packs of angsty hipsters in overly tight, colored jeans with printed scarves and square glasses they don't need. These times were… medieval. She was sure that Oliver would enjoy that. She shuddered again.
"It's on the other side," Claire said quietly, avoiding eye contact with the others. Why couldn't Eve or Michael have come through with her? Or even better, Shane. Shane. Claire pushed back the need to scream and cry and the punch everything around her. She would get back soon. This was all just a dream or maybe Myrnin had created some sort of chemical cloud that had gotten her high on accident and she was just tripping really hard.
The bright, fresh smell of the cleanest air of the woods, untouched by any sort of pollution of coal made smoke or exhaust, told her otherwise.
Myrnin stepped forward, ignoring the glare from Amelie and reaching out to touch Claire's arm in a comforting, gentle sort of way. "Claire, you have to tell us more. How do you know this place? Where is it? You must explain."
"Right, sorry. This just freaks me out a bit, okay?" Claire asked meeting his gaze and giving him the shut-up-I'm-fine look. He nodded. She took a deep breath. "It's not even real, like this is going to sound crazy because it's legit like not even real."
"What isn't real?" Amelie spit out, her patience was wearing thin.
"This place, it's… it's from a video game called Oblivion. And the setting is in this magical, make-believe empire called Tamriel which is on the planet Nirn and it's split into countries, er, providences, like High Rock and Skyrim and Valenwood and the Summerset Isles and Cyrodiil and Cyrodiil is like the ruling country, like it's home to the race of the Imperials and the emperor is an Imperial, always has been since Tiber Septim united this place into one country, and the capital is the Imperial City and that's where we are and I have no idea how we got here because it isn't real and I'm really kind of confused right now and the bridge is just over there and yeah…" She trailed off at the end then took a gulping breath because that was quite a long sentence to say all at once.
It was Oliver's turn to say what.
Amelie rolled her eyes. "Obviously, you've taken something, child. We can't possibly be in some video game." Claire saw past the façade, Amelie was nervous.
Oliver rolled his eyes too, his dubious what turned into a sneer and he walked away, muttering about travel tactics and where about how much Claire was going to slow them down.
Myrnin just nodded his head. Great the crazy person believe me, Claire thought. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Pretty sure by the tower alone, but look. Two moons. Masser and Secunda. We aren't on planet Earth anymore, or maybe we've just gone too far back, like the history that was pre-history, like in those theories on vast and powerful empires that contained magic and got all trace destroyed, like Atlantis."
"No, I don't think this is like Atlantis. Feel the air, little bird. Close your eyes and just feel. It hums with energy. This is a different place, a different world." Myrnin closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, held it for a moment much too long and then breathed out again, eyes sliding open and lips curling into a smile of pleasure, excitement flashing across his eyes. Of course he'd be looking at it from an alchemist's perspective and a place of throbbing energy and magic would certainly be like hitting the jackpot. Claire managed a half smile in his direction. No matter how amazing the prospect of actual magic was she was more afraid then eager.
"Well, regardless of where we are, we've got to go back. Sooner rather than later, preferably," Amelie said briskly, averting her gaze from the moons and the tower and looking off toward the fields and the horizon. "Dawn is coming."
"Then we'd best move. The girl will only slow us down, we should dispose of her." Oliver said this as if Claire wasn't standing there to hear every single word, or as if she was too stupid to comprehend their conversation. She knew Oliver wasn't one to care, but that was kind of a whole new level.
Claire gulped a bit. No one was saying anything. Amelie had raised her eyebrows slightly in response, but remained still. Claire turned to Myrnin, surely he would say something in her defense.
One second.
Three seconds.
Ten.
Nothing.
Amelie gave that tiniest of a nod in Oliver's direction.
Two blurring flashes slammed together in front of her. Her heart stopped. More blurs.
"Enough." Amelie's clear voice rang out through the trees.
The blurs stopped, Myrnin had Oliver's arm twisted behind his back, clearly popped out of place and on the point of ripping while his free hand was clutching a ripped off tree branch pressed against Myrnin's chest and breaking the skin by at least an inch. "Coward," Myrnin spat out, "Attempting to slaughter an innocent, little girl just because you're scared and confused. Coward." Myrnins eyes flashed, burning red and he glared at Amelie. No one looked very happy at the moment and Claire knew that if Myrnin continued to act so defiantly (even though he had every right to) Amelie was going to pull the I-have-stronger-compulsion-than-you-so-you-must-do-what-I-say card—she could practically feel the air thickening already.
Claire took a deep breath. "Guys stop. Seriously. We need to work together in order to get back, and at the moment we all have skills that are enormously needed." They all turned in her direction looking surprised.
"I still don't see what skills a young, ignorant human child could posses," Oliver growled. Myrnin yanked back on his arm harder and Oliver's eyes clouded red with the pain.
Claire rolled her eyes, trying to keep a cool demeanor that Amelie and Oliver wouldn't be able to see through, "Look, I'm the only one who has any clue about this land, about the religion, the government, the geography, the culture. Without me you're just playing a huge ass guessing game and let me tell you, there are other vampires here, powerful ones who will be able to sense you all from a hundred miles away. You need me."
"Other vampires?" Amelie looked as if this hadn't even occurred to her.
"Yes, like the Count of Skingrad and there's a vampire hangout somewhere on this side of the lake, I'm not sure exactly where because obviously the distances are a bit different than a video game. Umm, we're near the Heartlands, in the Nibenay Basin and just north of the Yellow Road. If we take that road west it leads to one, I forget what it's called, that circles around Lake Rumare and leads to the bridge that crosses into the capital, at least I think from the current view we have of the city."
"You think? You had better be damned sure, girl," Oliver said.
"Then I'm sure. The bridge is huge and if we were north or south of the capital, or west for that matter, we would be able see the bridge, but we can't. We have to be east and unless you want to swim, that's the fastest way to get there." Oliver glared, but shut up and glowered silently. Claire just hoped her memory served her right; this had been her favorite game out of all the games Shane had coerced her into playing, but any game—no matter how amazing—was just a game and not school, and therefore didn't exactly become her top priority.
"This is excellent news, but there is one problem with this plan of simply just heading in that general direction. That journey although not too far is still far, a full day's ride at least from what I am able to see, and we are without means of travel. And look, the sun rises quickly, we have very little time," Amelie returned her gaze to the sky. "Myrnin let go of him, and we shall be off to find shelter. That and more appropriate attire will be our first concerns. You will carry the girl as you insist upon her survival, although I would greatly regret her death as well."
Myrnin reluctantly let go of Oliver and gave him a little shove as he turned away. Amelie rolled her eyes.
"Um, just a side question here, but would it really be so hard for you all to stop talking like I'm not standing right here and clearly able to hear everything you say?" Claire said, stepping away from Myrnin's arms as he went to scoop her up.
"You understood what we just said?" Amelie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I can kind of speak English, you know," Claire answered with an incredulous look.
Amelie's eyes narrowed, "My dear child, I was not speaking English."
"Um, well, English is the only language that I speak, so…" Claire said giving her most polite "you are being marginally stupid" expression.
"Can you understand what I'm saying right now?" Myrnin jumped in. He had that feverish, manic tint to eyes that implied his mind was going a mile-a-minute trying to figure out what was going on.
"Yes, of course. You're speaking English." Claire crossed her arms and looked annoyed, "What is going on with you guys?"
Myrnin grinned, "No, my dear. I am very much speaking Welsh. Yet you appear to be able to understand me perfectly. Oliver?"
"Yes—that's just English to me," Oliver replied now looking as perplexed as Claire felt.
"Amelie?" Myrnin asked practically bouncing up and down.
"Welsh," Amelie responded with a nod.
"Well then it's quite obvious, isn't it?" Myrnin rapidly looked between the three and them and began pacing in an excited, frantic manner that Claire associated with his creative-idea phase. Claire shook her head—she didn't understand. And guessing from Amelie's and Oliver's expressions they weren't entirely sure what was going on either. "This land, this new, magical place is translating for us! It's taking whatever we hear and putting it back into a language that we can understand. Automatically. It is as if the very planet knows we are foreigners in it, and is responding in a way that is attempting to make everything fit together. Like it's compensating for a thing that doesn't belong here—our Earthen languages!" That practically bouncing became very definite bouncing. "That or what ever door brought us here has some residual energy in it that is doing this. Maybe the portal can think for itself?"
"Or maybe someone purposefully brought you here, and she is in fact the one that is so courteously translating for her future champions?"
Claire spun around to the source of the sweet voice, feeling the others tense behind her.
A woman stood beneath the branches of the oak trees, creating an edge to the sort of copse in which they were currently standing. She was the most beautiful woman Claire had every seen. Her features were elfin, and her pupil-less eyes were fierce, but held a cordial warmth in their silvery depths, and looking into them was almost like looking into a pool of water, reflecting back moonlight on a clear, summer's night. Her hair was gorgeous and flowing in long waves that shimmered, appearing silver in some places and almost black in others, as if shadows were constantly passing overhead. In fact her whole body just shimmered, and her soft blue skin had a shine to it as if covered in glitter, but something far more subtle. This was matched by the sheer gossamer of her gown and the crown of deep purple flowers that circled her head. Stars seemed to blur through the gown like little glittering lights being chased by bluish clouds filled with rays of light—there and then not there, and then always so faint that they weren't there to begin with and could only be glimpsed. She looked magical.
Azura.