Taming the Master Wizard
By Daedric Scribe
As the woman approached the impressive College of Winterhold she rubbed her hands together.
"I smell it too," her Argonian companion said. "Gold and all manner of sweet rolls." His bifurcated tongue licked his own scaly chops.
The icy wind whipped through her short, blonde hair as she turned to look at him. "Keep it down," she hissed, nodding at the back of the wizard's head who was leading them into the courtyard. "This could be our biggest heist yet for Brynjolf."
"Or Astrid," he whispered.
Mage Faralda's brown pony tails swayed as she lumbered toward the imposing fortress across a dilapidated bridge. She was droning on about how the locals have a growing resentment for the College, a fact she did not understand. The Argonian smiled knowingly.
At the top, Master Wizard Mirabelle Ervine visually assessed the new apprentices from head to toe. Her eyes lingered on the patched-and-repatched knees of the leather jerkin belonging to the Nord and the old Nordic sword whose blade was nicked at several points. "Years ago, we had more would-be apprentices than rooms at the College," she said. "But now, I suppose we'll just have to take what we can get."
The Argonian took the Wizard's hand, kissed the back of it and bowed with a genteel flourish. "I am Weaves-in-Magic of Hissmir," he said. "Perhaps you've heard of my clan?"
Mirabelle pulled her own hand away. "No," she said quickly. "I don't believe I know any Magics from Hissmir."
"Well, one must always encounter the first egg, as my mother used to say."
"Indeed," Mirabelle replied, turning to meet the other companion.
The Nord placed a hand on her heart. "Well met, great mage. I am…," she tipped her head to the side coyly. "Charms-with-a-smile." Then the Nord smiled broadly, revealing straight, white teeth.
Mirabelle's eyes narrowed. "Now that's odd," she replied. "I don't feel charmed. I feel…irritated. Yes, that's it. Irritated. Have you considered a name change?"
Weaves snorted and the Nord's handsome face fell. He elbowed his companion. "Ha! She boiled you hard, egg-sister!"
Mirabelle looked between the pair. "Are you siblings? Are you also of clan Magic from the Hissmir?"
"I know this will be hard to believe, but I'm adopted but raised in Hissmir with my egg-brothers and sisters," she said.
Mirabelle became serious. "Where were you born? Also in Black Marsh."
"Her nest was presumably in Windhelm," Weaves answered.
"Ah, well, that explains it," Mirabelle said looking down at some paperwork.
"What does that mean?" the Nord asked.
Mirabelle looked up, innocently. "You're a Nord and so you must have a name."
"I do! It's really Quivers-with-women," she said with a wink.
Mirabelle's brown eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you should get a healer to look at you then," she said.
Quivers looked confused at the reaction. Most women blushed with her innuendos. "Wha…?"
"With your allergic reaction to women, it may be something as simple as sensitivity to perfume. You wouldn't want to develop a nasty rash."
Weaves opened his yapper and tipped his head back, letting out a long snarl of a laugh.
Quivers glared at her egg-brother. "That's enough," she barked.
Mirabelle pointedly ignored Weaves' squelched laughter by turning her back on the pair and pointing to the large building at the focal point of the College. "That is the Hall of Elements where your first lesson is scheduled to begin any moment with the Mage Tolfdir," she said. "Afterward, you may come and find me and I'll show you to your quarters in the Hall of Attainment."
*(
Tolfdir aimed a fire spell at one of the three other apprentices and the Khajit managed to raise a lesser warding spell in time. But it wasn't intense enough to counteract it and the smell of singed fur filled the hall.
Tolfdir nodded to the two new apprentices. "Perhaps you can do better with this weak spell," he said. He didn't give much time and aimed it squarely at Quivers.
She raised a greater ward spell to block his, unsheathing her nicked old Nordic sword as she did. Then she tucked and rolled, unfurling a fire damage spell followed quickly by a chain lightning spell. Tolfdir managed to easily sidestep the fire spell with a steadfast ward, but was clearly surprised by the chain lightning spell.
"That's enough," he called out.
Quivers looked around, her eyes wide with excitement. Only after she'd assured herself no more attacks would come did she sheath her sword and lower her warding spell.
"That was most unusual," Tolfdir said.
Quivers braced herself for the expected criticism. "How so?"
"Have you ever been instructed in magic?"
She shook her head. "What does that have to do with anything?" she looked around and saw the other apprentices. They were watching her intently and she did not fail to notice they wore finer clothes than her own. "I thought we were all here to learn."
"Indeed," Tolfdir said. "But that is precisely my point. Your use of adept level spells was exemplary. It's as if you have been instructed by others—in Cyrodiil perhaps?"
Quivers relaxed and shook her head. "Never been there. We are newly arrived from Black Marsh."
Tolfdir studied the two. "Curious," he said. "But we can discuss this further tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" the other apprentices objected. "We've hardly learned anything today."
"Nonsense," he replied. "You've learned about lesser ward spells, which only three of you knew." He finally turned to Quivers' egg-brother. "Am I to assume you also may use adept spells?"
"Adept or not, I am unaware," he said. "But I have been known to defeat Quivers a time or two."
"Very good," Tolfdir said. "Very good. I look forward to more lessons. In the meantime, I want you to meet me at the Saarthal excavation site not far from here. As some of you may know, Saarthal was one of the earliest Nord settlements in Skyrim. It was also the largest. Sacked by the elves in the infamous "Night of Tears," not much is known about what happened to Saarthal. This is an exciting opportunity for us. To be able to study such an early civilization, and the magics they used..."
*(
Quivers watched Tolfdir and the other sheep leave for Saarthal, while she nonchalantly lingered at the College.
"Aren't we going? Imagine the loot," Weaves said.
"First, we're looking for Enthir."
Weaves groaned. "I do not like that Bosmer wizard," he said. "He appears to want to sell empty eggs. It's unnerving."
"I don't trust him either," Quivers added. "But I've a few things to fence."
*(
"This is a waste of time," Weaves complained as he and Quivers poked around the Saarthal excavation. "We are highly skilled assassins. We take what we want."
"Well, right now, I want to learn a little bit, if that's all right with you, egg-brother."
His eyes rolled in opposite directions, a signal of his extreme frustration. "Oh, all right," he heaved.
Weaves followed her through the maze of tunnels as she collected two ring artifacts. "I wonder if those are worth anything," he said, holding them to the light. He bumped his way around the maze of the excavation site, trying to keep pace with his persistent and annoying companion.
They found themselves near the northern end of the passageways when she happened upon an Ancient Amulet. "Oh," she said. "This is…" As soon as she'd retrieved it, iron spears shot up from the floor at the only entrance, locking her into the tight space.
Tolfdir came to stand by Weaves. "What in the world?" he asked.
Quivers showed him the Ancient Amulet, dangling it by a gloved finger. "All I did was take this."
"See if the amulet has any effect on your spells."
She slipped it around her neck and casted a fireball spell where she found the amulet. The wall collapsed, allowing them to push through to an entirely new excavation.
"This is most exciting," Tolfdir said. "Let's see where it goes."
*(
Tolfdir ordered Quivers to relay news of the important discovery under Saarthal excavation to Arch-Mage Savos Aron. The Arch-Mage himself wasn't an imposing figure. But Quivers soon learned that his quarters was a virtual treasure trove. When she entered the large chamber, it was hard not to look at the potions, sought-after tomes, soul gems and other treasures. She'd make a point of returning with Weaves later.
She found the Arch-Mage in unremarkable robes beside an enchanter. She smiled when Mirabelle Ervine, who stood beside the Arch-Mage, looked up at her. But Mirabelle's expression was neutral.
As Quivers related the incident, she found herself talking more with Mirabelle, whose face was lighting up with excitement. The sheer joy of such a discovery seemed to brighten Mirabelle into a being brighter than the sun of Nirn itself. It sparked something in Quivers that she thought had died long ago.
"What should I do?" Quivers finally asked.
Savos spoke, but Quivers and Mirabelle's eyes held each other's. It was so intense that Quivers wanted it to last forever. But instead of banding together with Mirabelle, as she'd hoped, Quivers was sent to speak to the cantankerous Orc who managed the College's Arcaneum. She knew her normally unreadable expression had failed her when Mirabelle chuckled as she left.
*(
A week later, Quivers and Weaves emerged from Fellglow Keep with the "Night of Tears" and other tomes that she hastily packed into her bags. Weaves was continuing to eye suspiciously the door they'd just emerged from.
"Those vampires," he shivered.
"Yeah," Quivers replied, patting the bag where she felt the books. "I thought the caller was creepier."
"Why didn't you just come to arrangement with her?"
"I didn't like her."
"You mean you weren't attracted to her."
Quivers spared her the Argonian a sneer. "You know I hate slavery, brother."
"Ah, yes, the vampires."
"Among others," she said, mounting her workhorse. "Let's go to Whiterun. My coin purse is heavy."
"I've never heard you say that before."
"Because it's never happened before!"
*(
After a quick drink and dinner at the Bannered Mare Inn in Whiterun and a mention by the Hulda, innkeeper, about a dragon, Weaves tried to discourage Quivers every step up to Dragonreach Hall.
"There's no coin in death, my sister," he said.
Quivers eyed the tallest peaks of Dragonreach Hall as she purposefully made her way up the winding stairs. "What of fame, Weaves?"
"Fame? Blech! It brings bad eggs from every direction. I prefer a quiet corner."
When she kept walking, Weaves finally ran ahead of her and blocked her path up. She tried to walk around him, but he hopped back and forth.
"Quivers, I sense danger in meeting a fire-breathing dragon. If the tales are true…."
"Don't you want to see for yourself? Imagine the tales you can tell in Hissmir."
"Imagine the tales that will be told of me as I rot in my grave! 'Oh, he was a brave Argonian. Too bad he wasn't a smart Argonian! He'd still be here!'"
She gave him a sad look. Quivers placed her hand on a necklace she kept under her armor. "I'm compelled to see, Weaves."
He noticed that her hand was more scarred than he'd ever seen it and he knew the pendant that her palm covered. She'd stare at it for hours back home when they were both hatchlings. It was the only possession she carried from her parents.
He watched her as she moved past him. "I'm going to regret this," he said. "I always do."
She clapped his shoulder, steering him upward. "You never regret my decisions. We joined the guilds and we have more coin now and you know it."
"I never regret my decisions," he said.
"Argues-with-guar. What about her?"
The Argonian shivered. "Ugh, I do regret her. But she's just one—"
"Eats-many-hearts—"
"That wasn't her name!"
"No, but she did."
"That's just two."
"Two of two, Weaves. Two of two."
Inside Dragonsreach was imposing and Quivers found herself a little awed. She brushed a hand against the fine detail scroll work of the massive columns that held up the high roof, as she took the stairs up. The Jarl's housecarl Irileth seemed to be impatient with them until Quivers mentioned the dragon they'd seen.
*(
At the Western Watchtower, the company of Nords and a reluctant Argonian searched the camp for signs of a dragon.
"I sense dark waters running in this river," Weaves hissed to Quivers.
Before he could complain more, a large shadow passed over the pair to draw their eyes skyward. A dragon sailed high above them. It spread its wings over the group in nearly no time, alarming even Housecarl Irileth. "Kill it!" she shouted.
Its fiery breath reigned down brimstone. Sometimes, the dragon would bring its great talons to the ground and just spew its blaze all around it. Some of the men were singed while others were charred where they stood. Quivers had climbed the tower and stood at a parapet, shooting arrow after bloody arrow.
Between the entire company, with swords and bows, they'd managed to down it. It came crashing to the ground with a thud. As Quivers approached it, she saw the light escaping from the creature. It began to rush toward her and then she felt the heat of it.
She knew it wasn't her imagination when all of the others, including her egg-brother Weaves stared at her in silence.
"You just absorbed that dragon's soul," one of the Jarl's men said.
"You're dragonborn," said another.
She shook her head. "I don't even know what that means."
"It means you can shout," said the first. "Like the brave fighters of old."
"Not just old," said the second. "They say Ulfric Stormcloak shouted High King Torygg to death. You will save Skyrim."
They turned to Quivers in unison. "Try to shout."
She turned to a few baskets near the camp and swallowed. Then she inhaled and to her surprise she touched something powerful deep inside that she'd never known before. Quivers couldn't contain the burst of energy and it came out with a Nirn-shattering shout and a powerful blast, sending the baskets flying in the air.
But what reverberated in Quivers' heart were the words "you will save Skyrim."
*(
The return to the College of Winterhold was met with swirling snowflakes. Weaves pulled his new purple cloak close to his scales. "I erect the spine of regret," he said.
"Why?" Quivers asked, riding a new, white steed beside his own.
"This wind dries my scales and our new wealth will not come from here." He gestured to the small town of Winterhold. "It is rightly named and poorer than Hissmir."
"I've got these tomes to return and we need to help them find out what that thing is."
"You mean we must help her," he whispered.
Quivers leaned an arm against the pommel of her saddle. "How many females have we helped for you?" she asked.
Weaves held up a clawed hand. "I erect the spine of apology."
She nodded once and spurred her horse, leaving him to trot far behind her.
*(
Urag accepted the tomes gratefully. "I'm surprised you both look…" The Orc looked over the pair. "Better than expected."
Quivers tipped her head. "What did you expected?"
"Frankly, that you'd both be Draugr vittles."
Quivers made a face at the repellent thought while Weaves let his tongue dart out in a low hiss of disapproval. The Orc was still chuckling when Mirabelle Ervine strolled into the room.
Quivers turned at the sound of her name and watched her cross the room. She was a study in grace. She knew she could not keep the pleased expression off of her face. It was confirmed when Weaves whispered that she should replace her tongue in her mouth.
Mirabelle looked at the tomes and singled out "Night of Tears."
Urag nodded. "That's the one, I believe. I'll see what I can come up with." He took it from her and left the room.
Mirabelle looked at each in turn. "It's been nearly 5 weeks," she said. "You've both missed quite a few lessons. In fact, I'd say that J'zargo can now cast a rune spell without singing his own tail."
Weaves was laughing until the end of that comment. Involuntarily, his own tail curled toward his torso in defense.
"It took us a bit of time to locate and then retrieve the books from a mad mage," Quivers said, meeting Mirabelle's stare.
"Mad mage?" Mirabelle said with a hint of eye crinkles. "That's a bit redundant wouldn't you say?"
Quivers was about to say something but the humor in Mirabelle's blue eyes only allowed her to nod. Then she felt suddenly warm as Mirabelle began to openly inspect her from head to toe. As Mirabelle's gaze came to the middle, Quivers raised a gloved palm and opened it in invitation.
"Do you like what you see?" Quivers whispered low.
Weaves rolled his eyes and turned to go. "I'll see you back at the hall."
Mirabelle called back to Weaves. "It's not that, Weave-in-Magic. It's…" She frowned as his scaly back disappeared down the stairs and a loud slam of the door echoed up. "I certainly meant nothing untoward," she finally said.
"Oh, I'm not offended, Mirabelle. I'd rather enjoyed the perusal."
Mirabelle frowned again. "I was not looking at your bod—I was looking at your armor, adept." She emphasized the last word, like punctuation mark on a command.
Quivers raised her arm and one gloved hand glided down the tan brown sleeve. The leather was tanned a deep brown and the buckles gleamed. "It's new," she said.
"I can see that and I'm sure it set someone back a few coins."
"Someone?"
"Did you steal it?"
Quivers gasped. "Certainly not. It was earned doing other errands."
"Errands for whom?"
"If you must know, the Jarl of Whiterun."
Mirabelle raised her eyebrows in question.
"He needed us to kill a dragon."
"A dragon, did you say?"
Quivers nodded once.
"They haven't been seen in centuries."
"And we retrieved some things for him from Bleak Falls Barrow."
"Bleak Falls Barrow? Dragons? It's really quite fantastical."
Quivers studied Mirabelle for a long moment. "I'm not the type of person to hide inside of a fortress."
Mirabelle's face changed instantly from one of casual interest to piqued fury. "This is not a fortress and I am most definitely not hiding. From anyone. No—let me finish," she said when Quivers opened her mouth. "You are an adept here and as such you have responsibilities to keep up your studies. I expect you to make up for five weeks post haste. Is that understood?"
"I was doing an errand for the Arch-mage himself."
"I am fully aware of that, adept. But you still are required to make up the term." She nodded for emphasis.
Quivers lifted a hand and snapped her fingers together. A blue flame danced on her fingertip, causing Mirabelle to gasp. "It's all sun on my scales, as my egg-brother would say."
"That's a nice little trick," Mirabelle said. "But our spells are much more demanding. I would recommend you spend some time in the Arcaneum to catch up with your studies."
"Perhaps, Master Mage, you would be interested to help me study?"
"I'd be happy to help, adept."
*(
The portal that Mirabelle opened led to a grassy knoll sprinkled with sunlight and shade. Quivers stood in the sunlight and removed the hood of her adept robes, lifting her face to the sun. "It feels wonderful here," she said to Mirabelle, who was watching her intently. "Where are we?"
"High Rock," she said quietly. "Here, help me spread this blanket."
Dutifully, Quivers did as she was told. She was surprised to see that Mirabelle had brought a basket of bread, cheese and wine. "You've gone all out," Quivers said.
Mirabelle shrugged. "I didn't get the chance for breakfast and…." Mirabelle let her voice trail off as she curled her legs under her on a corner of the blue blanket. The spot gave her a look out to the ocean.
Quivers followed Mirabelle's look and smiled at a few seagulls that sailed high above the shore line down below. "It's lovely here," she said. "How did you…?"
"I'm a Breton," she stated matter-of-factly. "I grew up not far from here."
"Oh, do you visit your family often?"
"No, my family did not approve of my choice to stay at the College of Winterhold," she said.
Quivers could see Mirabelle's face turn to stone. "Did they want you closer to home?"
"Yes, and they wanted me to marry a guard captain, a merchant and a visiting Altmer noble—in that order."
Quivers sat crossed legged from Mirabelle, putting the gorgeous view to her back in favor of the magnificent view in front. "You didn't like these…people?"
"No, I wanted to devout myself to magicka and the College."
Quivers watched as Mirabelle offered a glass of wine, thanking her as she took it. She sipped it and began to cough.
"Are you all right?"
Quivers pounded her own chest. "Yes," she coughed. "I'm not accustomed to the good stuff."
Mirabelle's eyes crinkled. "It's Firebrand wine from—"
"Solitude," Quivers added. "Yes, I'm familiar with it. I've moved quite a bit of the product but I've never sampled it."
"So you're a merchant as well."
Quivers opened her mouth and closed it without answering. She'd stolen quite a few cases of the stuff. "No, I—"
"You've stolen it then?"
Quivers grimaced painfully. This was worse than being caught skimming money from the local healer in Hissmir. "I was going to say I just don't sample my own merchandise because—"
"Because sampling your own illegal merchandise shrinks profits."
"You must have a very low opinion of me, Mirabelle."
"Not at all," she said, swirling the wine in her glass. "I make no judgements about the adepts at the College. You are what you are." Mirabelle adjusted herself to mirror Quivers' cross-legged pose. "Shall we get started?"
After about 30 minutes of listening to Mirabelle extol the virtues of Restoration Magic, she finally showed Quivers how to cast the Healing Hands and Turn Lesser Undead. When Quivers matched the moves precisely and cast them perfectly, Mirabelle openly studied her again. "Most mages, particularly adepts, usually don't concentrate in this branch of Magic, which is why I thought we would focus here. But it seems you are quite familiar with it."
When Quivers stood up, Mirabelle followed suit. She watched Quivers with fascination as the adept waved her hands in large circular motions, weaving a powerful spell that cast a yellow-orange glow around the two of two of them. When she had finished, they were standing inside a circle of power where not even the surf or the seagulls' cries could penetrate.
Mirabelle looked at the power swirling around them and then at the Adept, lifting a brow in question.
"Guardian Circle," Quivers said.
"That's a master-level spell," Mirabelle said incredulously.
"It saved Weaves and I in Dustman's Cairn."
Mirabelle tipped her head to one side. "I thought you said you went to Bleak Falls Barrow?"
Quivers stepped closer to Mirabelle and squeezed both her shoulders. The Guardian Circle always made her feel cold and she guessed from Mirabelle's shiver that she felt the same. Quivers rubbed her arms up and down in an attempt to transfer heat.
She smiled as she tipped Mirabelle's chin up and with the lightest possible touch, Quivers brought their lips together. Mirabelle gasped slightly before closing her mouth. Quivers felt Mirabelle's pliant lips against her own. She felt some of Mirabelle's tension just sluice away. This gave her more confidence and she let her lips wander along the woman's jawline toward an ear. She felt Mirabelle lift her chin, as if offering herself.
Quivers began to nibble on her ear. When she heard Mirabelle sigh, she let a hand cup the woman's breast. Before she could register that the Master Wizard had stiffened up again, she felt a burning in her hand. She looked up in time to see a small, narrowed spell of shock targeting her wayward hand. It felt like pin-pricks of fire with each charge of the lightning and Quivers yanked her hand away and jumped back, falling to her backside.
"Why did you do that?" Quivers shrieked.
"A lesson," she growled. Mirabelle opened a portal and stepped through it.
Quivers scurried up and launched herself at the closing portal. But it was too late. She landed with a hard thud on jagged rocks behind the portal. She groaned and touched her cheek with a finger. Drawing it back, she rubbed the blood between the finger and a thumb. "That's going to leave a scar," she said to no one. She looked up and gathered the things. She made a mental note of learning how to create a portal. She'd have about a week's hard ride back to the College.
*(
It was nearly dawn when Quivers arrived at the College. To her surprise, there was a gathering of the master wizards outside, including Tolfdir. "Quivers!" shouted the old mage. "I'm so glad to see you."
Quivers dismounted, throwing Onmund the reins. He looked down at them in his hands with a bit of disgust. But Quivers was already being steered by Tolfdir to the door of the Hall of Elements.
"Savos Aron and Mirabelle are confronting Ancano," he said. "You must help them."
Quivers summoned a spell of incinerate, it swirled an orange swirl in both hand. Mirabelle looked relieved when she saw Quivers entered. The Eye of Magnus was rotating wildly and was surrounded by a furious blue swirl of energy.
"Ancano has done something," Mirabelle shouted. The pair watched Savos Aron confronted Ancano. Both expected that the Arch-Mage of Winterhold could best the arrogant Altmer in a duel of magicka. But a blazing boom that knocked them both unconscious told them otherwise.
When Quivers came to, Mirabelle was kneeling over her. "Darling, are you all right?"
Quivers was lifted her head, but felt the room swirling. It fell back and she closed her eyes. Mirabelle drew closer. She felt rather than saw Mirabelle affect a grand healing spell around them. When she looked up again, to her disappointment, Mirabelle was already standing up and offered her hand up. She took it and tried to keep it, but Mirabelle worked her hand out of the vise-like grip.
"You must find Savos," she said. "The terrible explosion that knocked you out, sent him who knows where. I don't see him and Ancano appears to be unaffected by the confrontation."
Ancano was directing a blue like energy beam toward the Eye of Magnus.
"He has done something and you must find out what."
"I don't want to leave you here, Mirabelle."
"I'll be fine, adept," she said sharply. "Someone has to keep an eye on him. You've got to find Savos."
Quivers glanced again at Ancano. "Ancano is dangerous—"
"Quivers, listen to me. I can handle this. I need you to follow my direction."
Quivers studied Mirabelle's face. The hair part from the far left these smaller strands of dark hair across her forward and Quivers found those small wisps utterly adorable. On impulse, she kissed the woman's part and left.
*(
Quivers returned with Faralda, Arniel Gane and Weaves in hand. Her eyes with wild from trying to save Winterhold when all she could think about was saving Mirabelle. When she returned to the Hall of Elements, she found Mirabelle still watching the Eye of Magnus and an apparently tireless Ancano.
"Did you save Winterhold?"
Quivers nodded.
"Then it's time for you to find the Staff of Magnus."
"It's in Labyrinthian."
"What? It can't be a coincidence."
"What?"
She handed Quivers a torc. "Savos Aron gave me this artifact from Labyrinthian and said I'd know what to do with it when the time came."
Quivers looked down at it and then at Mirabelle. "Come with me," she said, thinking of no other way to keep the woman safe.
She shook her head emphatically. "No, I can't just leave Ancano here with the Eye of Magnus. I'm the only one standing between the College and total destruction."
Quivers' eyes pooled with unspent tears. "That's what I'm afraid of," she said.
Mirabelle gave her a sad smile, patted her cheek. The friendly gesture was painful because Quivers felt more for her than she'd felt for anyone. "We're depending on you to get the staff of Magnus. Now go!"
*(
From Winterhold, Quivers could see the swirling maelstrom of energy engulfing nearly the entire College. She gripped the Staff of Magnus and spurred the horse on. Toward the middle of the pathway to the College entrance, she encountered Tolfdir.
"Oh, thank the nine!" Tolfdir said when he saw Quivers and Weaves. "It's much, much worse."
Quivers used the Staff of Magnus on the maelstrom of energy and it receded. The wizards followed close behind and she soon realized that Mirabelle wasn't among them. "Tolfdir, where is Mirabelle."
He gave a sad look. "She made sure others escaped but…." He left his voice trail off.
She gritted her teeth and charged into the Hall of Elements. The Eye of Magnus was an angry ball with a halo of blue swirling energy. Under its gaze, Ancano was casting some sort of spell. His features were intent.
Quivers looked around while Weaves watched her intently. "He is right here, Quivers," the Argonian said. "Kill him and let us be done with this place."
"Find Mirabelle!" she ordered. The maelstrom was gaining more intensity and expanding again. But Quivers would not relent.
The Argonian with his eyes that could move independently found her in a corner. Her legs were bent at unnatural angles. He leaned over and touched her forehead.
"She lives?" Quivers asked with a squeak.
"Yes, sister, barely."
Quivers directed a grand healing spell at her and then fumbled for a potion in her backpack. "Give this to her," she ordered.
"I think I should help you with the mad—"
"No! I'll kill him myself. You make sure she makes it."
Ancano sneered when he saw her. "Oh, the 'Nargonian,' " he said, snickering at his own private joke. "There is nothing a little adept like you can do now!"
She pointed the staff of Magnus at him and send wave after shocking wave into him. But it was like she'd just pummeled him with sweet rolls.
Tolfdir was there too she finally noticed. "Focus the staff on the eye!" he said.
So she pointed it at the Eye of Magnus and slowly the plates began to slip away from each other. She knew she was on to something when Ancano began to verbally assault her. "You pathetic excuse for a mage! I'll show you true power!"
He cast a Flame Atronach and began to hit her with a lightning storm. She was agile enough to roll out of the way and hit him with a firebolt spell. Then he saw Weaves and Mirabelle and began to target them. He laughed when this threw Quivers off balance. She was hit by a lightning storm and a fireball from the Flame Atronach in quick succession.
"Oblivion!" she growled as she pulled out a staff she told herself she'd never use at the College. It looked like a long, over-sized rose bud and stem. But aimed it at Ancano and it conjured a Dremora Caitiff, who began to pummel Ancano with his two-handed sword. She was still dodging the Atronach when she found the body of Brelyna Maryon. She suppressed a pang of sadness and reanimated her corpse.
She recognized Tolfdir's disapproval for what she'd just done. But the only thing that mattered was Mirabelle's survival and Ancano's complete annihilation. Afterward, she was exhausted but most pleased with her efforts.
*(
"Is she awake yet?" Tolfdir asked as he entered the Arch-Mage's chambers.
Quivers looked down at the woman sleeping in the Arch-Mage's large bed. "Not yet, but I think she's stirring."
The old wizard was the first one greeted with wide-open blue eyes. "Good morning, my dear," he said. "How do you feel?"
"I feel…tired and a little hungry, but otherwise, I'm fine."
"You should feel hungry. After all, you've been unconscious for a better part of three days."
She looked around and seemed to blush at the smiling Quivers, who hastily offered her goblet of wine from beside the bed. "Thank you," she said, drinking a bit. She looked up and blinked. "Where am I?"
"In the Arch-Mage's quarters."
Mirabelle's face lit up. "Is Savos here?" She sat up and looked around. It was exactly as she remembered it every day for the past 8 years as his assistant.
"No, Mirabelle, I'm afraid that Savos Aron succumbed to his wounds after his confrontation with Ancano."
"Is Ancano—?"
"He's quite dead," Tolfdir replied. "And you may have been too if not for the quick actions of the new Arch-Mage."
Mirabelle tried to sit up but she swayed and fell back into the bed. She looked up at Tolfdir. "Who is the new Arch-Mage? Drevis? Is he the new Arch-Mage?"
Tolfdir frowned. "No, not Drevis. If you'll—"
"Sergius then?"
Tolfdir shook his head. "No, but if—"
"Please not Phinis."
He finally smiled. "No, oblivion take us if he ever became the Arch-Mage. The new Arch-Mage is—"
"On second thought, Tolfdir, I'd rather not know just yet."
"But why not?" Both Tolfdir and Quivers asked.
Mirabelle looked surprised, as if she'd forgotten that Quivers was in the room with them. She rubbed her head and closed her eyes. "I just hardly have the energy to deal with any of it. It's going to be a long, sordid miasma of paperwork," she said, punctuating each of the key words with a yawn.
All at once, her eyes snapped open. "You don't think he'll mind me staying here for one more night?"
Tolfdir and Quivers shared an amused expression before the old mage responded. "Oh, I think the Arch-Mage would be pleased to have you here."
When she closed her eyes, Quivers winked at Tolfdir. She walked him to the hallway and did not trust herself to speak until they were well away from the slumbering Master Wizard. "How did you know?"
"I've got eyes, haven't I? I'd say you were smitten from the first day. But I think Mirabelle isn't quite there yet."
Quivers frowned. "Do you think she could… I mean, someone like me…?" She shrugged, looking down at her favorite leather armor.
"Someone who risks her own life to save others? Yes, I think Mirabelle most definitely could fall in love. But you'll have to give her time. She's only ever known life at the College and you've seen who she's had to deal with."
"I'm surprised she seems to despise Phinis so much."
Tolfdir shrugged. "Phinis dabbles in the arcane of abominations and no, I haven't forgotten that you reanimated poor Brelyna. It was an act of desperation, I'm sure that won't be repeated."
"No, of course not," Quivers hedged. "I would never dream of reanimating a corpse here at the college."
He caught the slippery answer but only smiled. He patted her on the back. "Oh, apologies, Arch-Mage. I will have to remember you aren't an adept anymore."
"Tell Weaves good night for me."
"You don't think he'll be by?"
"No, I think he found someone he's interested in Winterhold."
"Ah, youth," Tolfdir said. "Mara is hard at work here at the College. Good night."
*(
After washing herself, Quivers followed her usual routine and jumped into the other side of her new bed. She liked to sleep on the right side, but evidently, Mirabelle had migrated there. So she shed her armor down to her small clothes and climbed into bed. After she made sure Mirabelle was covered, Quivers slipped into a deep sleep.
Quivers was awakened when she felt something thrashing against her. She awoke to find Mirabelle holding out her arms, her hands balled into fists and batting the air. "No, I will not!" Mirabelle mumbled.
Quivers rose to an elbow, the magelights cast a blue light onto Mirabelle's face. "Mirabelle, you're having a nightmare! Wake up!"
By this time, Mirabelle's hands were pressing against Quivers' chest, trying to push her away. When her eyes snapped open, they were wild and she seemed to not know where she was.
"Mirabelle, you're here with me."
"Quivers?"
"Yes, you were having a nightmare."
Mirabelle wrapped her arms around Quivers and brought her close. "I dreamed that Ancano killed you and was going to hurt me."
Quivers scooted closer and returned the embrace. "You're going to be fine. Ancano is gone. He'll never hurt you."
"I'm so glad you're safe," Mirabelle whispered into her ear. The sensuous voice made Quivers shiver.
Quivers kissed the shell of Mirabelle's ear and then murmured, "So glad you're here with me."
Mirabelle made a growl in her throat before her open mouth found Quivers' own. Their tongues swirled together. Quivers moaned and began to peel off Mirabelle's small clothes. Her lips were everywhere, jawline and then ear to throat and downward.
Mirabelle cried out when she found Quivers was topless. She palmed a breast and mewled. Her opened mouth was about to descend on the coral tip when Quivers pushed her on her back. She sat up, straddling the woman and clawing at her bottom clothing. "Off," she rasped. "Off off off!"
Mirabelle shimmied out of them slowly, making Quivers grown impatient. Finally, she ripped them off, ignoring the woman's protest. But she was focused on the dark triangle of down between her legs and the scent of excitement. She inhaled deeply. "Oh, Mirabelle," she said, tossing the discarded clothing to the ground.
Quivers spread Mirabelle's legs and reverently kissed the triangle. "By the nine, you are so beautiful!"
Quivers brushed a finger along her center, teasing moisture and making Mirabelle's hips buck.
Mirabelle sat up and tried to remove the remainder of Quivers bottom clothes, but the younger woman batted her hands. "Later," she said.
"Now," Mirabelle insisted. "I want to feel all of you against me."
The look in her eyes melted Quivers so she jumped out of bed, under the intense scrutiny of the Master Wizard and she dropped her drawers. As she climbed back up, Mirabelle laid back down, her hands gently coaxing Quivers' back. Mirabelle's legs opened as Quivers slowly crawled up to face her. When they were breast to breast, Quivers smiled and Mirabelle slipped her hands into the woman's hair. She gyrated her hips and Quivers wiggled her bottom.
Quivers slowly leaned down and kissed her. It was a sweet touch of the lips that lasted only a second. Mirabelle then lightly bit at Quivers' lower lip and tugged playfully at it.
"You want more?" Quivers whispered.
"I want it all, darling."
Quivers' open mouth descended and they were engulfed in a sensuous play of tongues. But it wasn't enough. They both moaned and Quivers shifted to rub her knee into the woman. She could feel the moisture pooling there. She slipped a hand between them to lightly touch her center and was rewarded with a cry of delight that ripped from Mirabelle's soul. "Is this the right place?"
Quivers watched the woman's throat as her scream tore from her lips and corded a vein there. "By Mara…."
Quivers took a nipple in her mouth as two fingers entered her. "Yes…" The last word was much deeper. "Oh, Quivers…"
Mirabelle held a hand at Quivers' head to pin her at her breast. But with help from Quivers, her own hand found Quivers' soaking sex. When her fingers entered her, Quivers stopped sucking. "Don't stop…" Mirabelle pleaded.
"I'm coming…." Quivers whispered against the swollen breast.
Mirabelle wrapped her legs around Quivers and rumbled, "I am too!"
The explosion of pleasure was that much sweeter because of its mutuality. They trembled together for a few more moments, each twitching their fingers to milk the pleasure for just an instant longer. Finally, Mirabelle withdrew, followed by Quivers, but she remained on top of the Master Mage for a little longer.
When she heard the labored breathing Quivers slipped to the side, but remained close. She propped up her elbow and watched the woman. Mirabelle's eyes were closed and she was breathing through her mouth.
"I didn't want you to move," Mirabelle whispered.
Quivers let her fingers circle Mirabelle's breast and then her belly. "I'm too heavy," she whispered before kissing the side of the woman's mouth. Mirabelle received the kiss but puckered too late. So Quivers bestowed another and another. On fourth, Mirabelle's hand reached up and held Quivers' head in place and the sweet kisses turned deeper.
Mirabelle urged her on top again. When Quivers was in place, Mirabelle wrapped her legs around her and they rocked together. "Nonsense," she said.
"You're feeling all right for another go?" Quivers said.
Mirabelle smoothed the worry lines from Quivers brow with a thumb. "Your real question is how am I not completely exhausted after the Nirn-shattering orgasm you just gave me?"
Quivers colored slightly. "Well, yeah."
Mirabelle wasn't expecting that bravado and laughed into Quivers' neck, her legs not relinquishing her and hips not stilling for an instant.
Quivers smiled then and brushed Mirabelle's hair from her temple with her thumbs. "What I mean is you were just in a life or death battle not three days ago—"
"So were you—"
"But I wasn't wounded," Quivers said. Then she kissed the woman as tenderly as she could. "But you were, my darling."
"Very well," Mirabelle said with an exaggerated sigh. "We shall go very slow this time. Is that acceptable?"
Quivers kissed her temple and then her lips. "Yes, Master Wizard."