Falcotte's own screams woke him as he sat up in his bed. His pulse was pounding and his breath was coming in gasps even as the nightmare started to fade and become fuzzy. He sat there in the dark, waiting for his heart to slow down and his breathing to return to normal. A pair of students looked into his room to see if he was okay. In the dark, Falcotte could not tell who they were, but he felt a measure of comfort in knowing that they were willing to check on him. They departed quickly when they saw that he was sitting up in his bed, safe, and wasn't lying on the floor. The tower residents with rooms near his must have become use to his screams. There was a bit of shuffling, and the pair that had looked in quickly returned to bed.
Falcotte had been plagued with nightmares since his return to the College, and, more often than not, he would wake up while screaming. He'd brewed a number of different potions designed to inhibit dreaming, and had even consulted with Colette when the effects got so bad they were affecting his ability to function during the day. Some of the potions provided relief for a night or two, but the nightmares always returned.
His breathing and heart rate started to return to normal, but Falcotte knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Once he woke up screaming, Falcotte knew that was the end of sleep for the night.
He got out of bed, moved to a chair beside a small table, and sat down. An energy font outside his room provided enough light that he didn't need to conjure any, and the room was warm enough that he didn't need to use his heating breeze spell. Falcotte stared down at the tabletop and let his mind drift while his body continued to relax.
Falcotte had always felt disdain for physical weapons and armor and felt a touch of smug superiority to those who depended on them. He had also felt disappointment that so much study at the College of Winterhold revolved around violence in some way. He was beginning to think that he'd been very naïve. He was only able to think that way because he lived where civilized behavior was the norm, and there were others willing and able to maintain that behavior, with violence if necessary. The illusion was starting to fray as he considered his experience of what happened when people responsible for maintaining order turned against the rest of the populace. The Thalmor were supposedly there to maintain order and good relations between the Aldmeri Dominion and citizens of Skyrim. The Solitude city watch was there to protect the citizens from criminals. Instead, they were taking people off the streets and turning them over to be tortured until they ended up dead or mad.
Falcotte hadn't been able to defend himself against the group that captured him at the city gate, and he'd been almost useless during the escape. He was reliant on the ability of others to perform violent acts in his defense.
As he thought about it, Falcotte wondered where the balancing point was located. Civilization couldn't survive if unrestricted violence was the norm, but evil had to be confronted, sometimes with violence. In an orderly society, citizens rarely had to resort to violence to protect themselves, but rarely did not mean never. Anyone not prepared to meet evil with violence when necessary would eventually become just another victim of evil doers.
He didn't want to spend his life moving from violent situation to violent situation until he was eventually killed by the violence of others. However, his experience with the Thalmor tortures convinced him that it was unreasonable to think that he could entirely avoid being involved in violent situations. He'd been foolish to think that such a thing was even possible.
As his thoughts focused on the Thalmor, he began to consider why they were torturing the Nords. What possible gain was there to repeatedly torturing and healing people that they had snatched off the streets? There were plenty of other ways the healers could train in their arts. With all of the soldiers wounded in the war with the Stormcloaks, there was probably a shortage of healers to handle all of the healing "opportunities" available. There had to be some purpose in the torture itself, and the healing was only incidental to the actual torture of the individuals.
Time passed as Falcotte tried to imagine why the Thalmor operated the torture chambers. He began to consider the best strategy for informing the general population of Skyrim about the atrocities taking place in secret by the Thalmor and their, possibly unknowing, Nord accomplices. Surely, the Nords would rise up and drive out the Thalmor if there was universal knowledge of what was happening. The people that had escaped with him would undoubtedly try to spread the word, but Falcotte knew the Thalmor would move to recapture and dispose of them.
The other residents of the tower began to awake and move about. Another day of study and research began at the College of Winterhold.
"I want to learn how to fight and defend myself without magic," Falcotte told Urag gro-Shub later that day. "I was helpless when I was trapped in the Thalmor dungeons and I was useless during the breakout because I don't know the first thing about fighting."
"We Orsimer learn to defend ourselves before we can walk. We learn to handle a sword and axe before we learn to read or write. All orcs can fight, but there are relatively few who are literate.
"Even a scholar like me can hold his own in a fight, armed or not. However, our methods rely on brute strength, size, and ferocity. You don't possess any of those qualities, Falcotte. How do you think I can help you?"
Falcotte felt his spirits sink when Urag gro-Shub pointed out his obvious inadequacies. He wasn't certain what sort of response he would receive when he brought up the subject with the Master Librarian, but he had to respect the orc's assessment of his potential abilities as a warrior.
"That is just the Orsimer though. The Nords seem to find delight in bashing each other about on a regular basis, but even there fighting style is focused on brute strength more than anything else," continued Urag gro-Shub.
"The Dunmer can fight, but they seem to prefer to use a poisoned dagger to bloodying their fists."
Falcotte stood by patiently. Sometimes, Urag gro-Shub would go on and on about a subject, almost as if he was talking mostly to himself. He could converse knowledgeably on a wide range of topics, and it was always profitable to listen carefully to what he said. The Master Librarian could, however, take a long time and circuitous route to getting around to answering the original question.
"An Altmer would consider it beneath his dignity to be involved in a fist fight, and the Bosmer are too flighty to stay focused long enough to finish a fist fight."
He was silent for several seconds and then clapped his hands. "Talk to Avik Sendu."
"The Quartermaster?"
"We had a conversation once about a monastery deep in the Alik'r Desert. The monks had developed a very distinct fighting style that might be what you are looking for, Falcotte. It will certainly be more suitable than the skull bashing of the Nords or the throat ripping style of the Orsimer."
"What kind of fighting style do these monks use?"
The Master Librarian waved him off. "Ask the Quartermaster to describe it to you. They actually taught him some of the basics, and he can demonstrate it and teach it to you."
Falcotte felt his mood improve. It was good to think that there was some fighting style suited to his abilities.
"By the way, Falcotte, Avik thought the style was utterly useless and suitable only for the infirm."
The Master Librarian seemed to chuckle. Falcotte felt confused, and he was certain his face was set in an expression of defeat.
"Don't worry, Falcotte. I suspect that his assessment is short sighted and that the fighting style could be very effective for the right person with the proper mindset.
"I just wanted to prepare you for his probable mockery of the style and you for wanting to learn it."
Falcotte nodded, not really certain if he wanted to find the Quartermaster and receive a large helping of mockery.
"Maybe I should just learn to use a sword instead?" he offered hopefully.
"How would that have helped in the dungeon? Sword work still requires strength and stamina that you simply do not possess, Falcotte. Oh, you could build them both up with time and effort, but you will never be as skilled with a sword as you are with magic, and there isn't always a sword nearby when you need one.
"You are an intelligent man and can quickly learn the basics of the style from Avik Sendu. Practice what he shows you, but always think about how to extend it and make it work more effectively with your particular skills and talents.
"Come back a month after you have learned the style and have practiced it. Tell me what you think of it then."
Falcotte nodded again and let the Master Librarian get back to work.
Urag gro-Shub's warning turned out to be accurate. Avik Sendu was initially excited to see Falcotte, thinking that perhaps the young mage had another gold saving idea for employing magic. Instead, Falcotte asked to be taught a system of movements that the Quartermaster considered little better than a dance. The monks who had taught him had insisted that it was suitable for combat. In Avik's opinion, the system was suitable only for combat against the very old and the feeble minded.
"Did the Librarian put you up to this? I knew it was a mistake to tell him about it. He is probably sitting at his desk smirking and laughing at both of us; you for learning this and me for teaching it to you."
Falcotte let the Quartermaster talk on and didn't say anything. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and make the Quartermaster so angry that he would refuse to teach him.
After listing off what he thought were the many deficiencies of the style and calling Falcotte a fool for wasting both of their time, Avik Sendu agreed to teach Falcotte what he knew.
"Those fool monks and their monastery were probably destroyed years ago; life inside the Alik'r Desert is harsh and often short. I might be the only one that knows alive that knows anything about the style, so I guess that it is best that I pass it on to someone."
"Meet me atop the Hall of Achievement one hour before sunset this evening."
"Why then?"
Avik looked up quickly and snorted. "The monks would slap you for asking such a question. Why then? Because that is when the teaching is supposed to happen.
"I will see you an hour before sunset."
Falcotte nodded and then departed. He wasn't feeling any better about learning the fighting style.
He arrived on the Hall of Achievement early and was waiting when Avik Sendu arrived.
"Thank you for being on time," said the Quartermaster.
"I will give you three lessons on what the monks called the Sunset Ritual. After that, we will meet an hour before dawn, and I will give you three lessons on the Sunrise Ritual. You will be on your own after that.
"As a fighting style, I can't see how these will get you anything but killed. However, they are very effective methods of loosening the joints and remaining flexible and limber.
"Now, take off your boots." Avik bent over to remove his own boots.
Falcotte looked at the nearby, snow covered mountains and then at the, undoubtedly, freezing cold stone of the roof.
"Be quick, Falcotte!"
The young mage sat down and pulled off his boots. He winced when he got to his feet and stood on the cold stone.
Avik Sendu went through the 100 positions and poses of the Sunset Ritual. He moved slowly but deliberately, one posture flowing into the next. Falcotte watched intently, trying to memorize the postures and how the Quartermaster moved from one into another. Falcotte found it fascinating, and he felt his own hands and feet moving slightly to follow the Quartermaster's movements.
When Avik finished he took a deep breath and let it out. "It has been too long since I have done this. I forgot how refreshing it is to the body and mind.
"Now, stand over here and try to copy my movements."
They continued to work on the postures as the sun dipped toward the horizon. They worked through the postures with Falcotte following Avik's movements and then again with Falcotte doing them along and Avik correcting him.
Avik kept an eye on the sun and finally said, "Okay, we will go through the entire ritual one more time. The goal is to complete the final posture just as the edge of the sun dips below the horizon.
"The monks could hit it exactly right every time without altering the pace of the ritual. I never figured out exactly how they could accomplish that feat though. We will just do the best that we can."
They started the Sunset Ritual. At the end, they had to slow their pace to make the end of their movements coincide with the exact moment the sun dropped below the horizon.
After taking several deep breaths, Avik said, "Good start. Be back tomorrow night at the same time. Practice the movements between now and then. The more you practice, the more your body will remember them and move without you having to think about and remember them in your mind."
They worked on the Sunset Ritual for the next two days, and then they moved on to the Sunrise Ritual for three days after that. The Sunrise Ritual had many of the same postures but done in different order and combinations. There were also new postures woven in among them.
On the sixth day after finishing the Sunrise Ritual, Avik placed his hand on Falcotte's shoulder and said, "One thing I have to admit about you mages, you learn quickly. What took you six days to learn took me the better part of a month.
"As I said, performing the rituals is great for relaxing the body and mind, but I still don't see how the postures could be used in a life or death fight.
"The monks did these rituals every day and said that there were others that they wouldn't teach me.
"Who knows what you might achieve or create if you show their dedications and work to develop your own postures and rituals? I have taught you everything that I know."
Avik nodded and left Falcotte alone on top of the Hall of Countenance at the start of a new day.
Falcotte faithfully performed the Sunrise and Sunset Rituals in the following days. He overslept one morning and had to start the ritual after the sun had already come up, but he never missed a day.
He began to notice changes, subtle at first but growing more pronounced as he continued performing the rituals. The nightmares began losing intensity almost immediately. Falcotte began to sleep through the night and actually wake up refreshed. He began to notice how his muscles felt and how he moved throughout the day. His mind was more relaxed, and he was able to maintain focus longer with less effort.
During this time, Falcotte was studying and working harder on his magic skills. The restful sleep and improved mental focus was helping those pursuits as well.
Falcotte met with Urag gro-Shub a month after starting the rituals. He admitted to the Master Librarian that performing the rituals had led to improving his skill with magic as well as improving his general health and the restfulness of his nightly sleep. He had to agree with Avik, though, that the ritual postures would be useless in a fight with a determined and skilled foe.
Urag gro-Shub just shrugged and said, "Keep with it, and start considering how the various postures and movements could be used if they were done with more speed and force."
Falcotte was in the middle of the third month of performing the rituals when he learned how the monks were able to complete them at exactly the right moment without altering the pace. He'd begun to notice when he could only describe as a "tug" while preparing for the ritual. The tug grew more intense as the days passed, and one day he started the Sunset Ritual just as the tug occurred. The ritual was complete at exactly the right instant, and he hadn't altered the pace in the slightest. Falcotte suddenly realized that the rituals actually connected his mind and body with some outside power. His next thought was that if performing the rituals led to improving his skill with magic, could he use those magic skills to improve and extend the rituals?
Each school of magic had a different "feel" to it, and Falcotte began to pay close attention to the "feel" produced by the Sunrise and Sunset Rituals. It took a couple of days, but he eventually determined that the rituals produced a feeling most similar to the sensations that occurred when using restoration magic. The ritual feel was a faint echo of the restoration magic feel, but it matched closer than the feeling produced by any of the other schools.
Falcotte began to spend several hours each day, barefoot, atop the Halls of Achievement and Countenance. He worked through the postures of both rituals while trying to cast restoration spells or just focusing on the undirected buildup of magical energy used to cast the spells.
He found that he could be very specific and selective about focusing the energy to produce healing and protection effects. One of his first experiments was using this energy on his bare feet. Initially, spending hours outside on the freezing cold stone was agonizing, but as he became able to create a flow of healing energy directly into his feet, the pain and numbness was relieved and eventually prevented altogether. As another test, he stripped down to his undergarments one morning before starting the Sunrise Ritual. A light, cold rain was falling, and there were patches of ice in the more protected corners of the roof. Falcotte did not feel a bit of discomfort during the ritual and a faint aura of steam enshrouded him by the time he was finished. He extended the experience to the point that he could do the same thing without moving through the ritual postures. He could stand, completely unclothed, in the worst weather and not feel any hint of discomfort.
It was different from casting magic spells or charms. Falcotte thought of it as being a direct conduit for a certain type of magical energy. He started to think about how to incorporate the other schools of magic. The posters for the rituals he knew were ill suited to the other schools, and there was no one to teach him any more appropriate posture and rituals. He would have to make up his own postures and weave them together into new rituals, but that was going to take a lot more work than what he'd done with the restoration magic.
Falcotte decided that he would start with the elemental magic of the school of destruction. First, such a combination had much more promise in terms of martial application. He'd started down this path in order to learn how to protect and defend himself, so coupling destruction magic to ritual postures seemed like a natural way to progress. Falcotte imagined that there were some direct martial applications of alteration and illusion magic, but it was harder to see how to proceed with either of those schools.
He immediately ruled out any coupling of rituals with the school of conjuration magic. There was no telling what sort of evil or malevolent forces might try to use such a direct connection to gain access to the mundane world. He thought that Bjorn the Rock's possession and eventual death was an example of what he might expect from such a combination. Falcotte did not intend to open himself up to possession by some evil being of Oblivion. It made him wince to consider such a nightmare.
Falcotte finished the Sunset Ritual exactly as the edge of the sun dipped below the horizon. He stood still for several seconds, just breathing in the cool evening air.
"Very impressive timing."
Falcotte turned and saw a woman he didn't recognize immediately. Finally, he recognized the design on her cloak as the same one he'd seen on Savos Aren's robes. Falcotte bowed slightly and replied, "Good evening, Arch Mage. My apologies for not recognizing you."
"How could you? We have never been introduced."
Arch Mage, Lyssa Brae, was a young Breton woman. She gave off the impression of being more mature and confident than normal for someone her age. She was slightly taller than Falcotte with shoulder length brown hair.
Lyssa pulled her cloak tighter to keep out the cold air, and she raised an eyebrow when it struck her that Falcotte was wearing only pants and a light shirt and was barefoot. Thin streams of vapor rose from the exposed skin on his arms, and he didn't show any sign of discomfort.
"Aren't you cold?"
"No, Arch Mage."
She waved her hands. "Never mind about that now. Perhaps we can discuss it later.
"I've finally got to the point where I can devote some time to matters beyond just keeping the College open and running. I convinced Tolfdir to take over the duties of Master Wizard, and the other teachers are taking up slack in other areas. However much work you thought Arch Mage Savos Aren did, you were missing most of what he handled.
"I should have told them 'No' when Tolfdir and the others wanted to make me Arch Mage. I suspected that I would regret letting my ego override my common sense, but I had no idea of how unprepared I was for the job of Arch Mage."
Lyssa Brae seemed to be speaking more to herself than to Falcotte; something that Falcotte found many of the College staff did when talking to him. It was as if she was giving voice to the doubts she had been struggling with for some time. Falcotte listened without trying to interject an opinion. Sometimes, people just needed to talk things out, and if he could help by being a silent audience, he didn't have any problem listening.
The Arch Mage stopped talking and looked at Falcotte. "Whatever might have been is gone. I said 'yes' when the choice was given, and there is no going back on my word now.
"I have been meaning to talk to you for a couple of weeks. I heard about your trip to Solitude and the torture facility run by the Thalmor.
"For whatever it is worth to you, Colette Marence has been very concerned about your health and mental well being. At first, you were experiencing horrible nightmares, but they seemed to dissipate as you focused on destruction magic and you became more grim and driven.
"Previously, she thought your skills in restoration magic and alchemy were quite advanced and was hoping you would remain focused on them. Now, she thinks you are giving up on healing and focusing on destruction magic in order to exact revenge on the Thalmor."
She pulled her cloak tight again, and Falcotte noticed that she shuddered slightly.
"Perhaps we should continue this discussion inside and out of this cold wind, Arch Mage?"
"Yes, that would be best. Let's head over to the Hall of the Elements and get inside. I want to include Faralda in the conversation as well, and she is normally there at this time of day."
Lyssa Brae was correct. Faralda was in the Hall of the Elements, sitting on a bench in a quiet corner. "Faralda, can we interrupt your meditations?" she asked the Destruction Master.
"Of course, Arch Mage. How can I help you?"
"Please, Faralda, I was your student and friend long before I let you and the others talk me into accepting the office of Arch Mage."
"Okay, Lyssa, we will keep it informal."
"I wanted to talk with Falcotte about the Thalmor, and I hoped you might fill in some details from time to time or answer questions that we might have."
She turned to look at Falcotte, "Can you drag over another bench, please, Falcotte?" Lyssa Brae sat down beside Faralda while Falcotte brought over another bench and sat down facing the Destruction Master and Arch Mage.
Lyssa began the conversation. "I can't help but think that your experience with the Thalmor in Solitude is somehow related to the most recent visit by a Thalmor Justicar."
"Most recent?" asked Falcotte. "How often have the Thalmor visited the College?"
"Three, twice since your return.
"You hadn't returned yet when the first representative showed up to claim Ancano's body." Lyssa grimaced. "I thought that she was going to attack me when I admitted to killing Ancano. She really wanted to murder me when I told her about another Thalmor corpse I left in Labyrinthian.
"The second one came a couple of weeks after the first. He demanded that we hand over all of Ancano's belongings. I told him that we burned them; which we did, and that they were lucky we let the Justicar take his body.
"The third came a couple of weeks ago, and he asked to speak with you. I told him that no one had seen you since you went to Solitude to deliver some letters. Everyone assumed that you just kept heading west and returned to High Rock.
"I don't think that he believed me, but he couldn't very well fight his way into the College to search for you."
"I guess that it makes sense they would come here looking for me," said Falcotte. "I thought that they would eventually start hunting down the escapees from Solitude."
"Well, as long as I am the Arch Mage, no Thalmor will set foot on the College grounds."
"What are the Thalmor anyway?" asked Falcotte.
Faralda answered. "Technically, the Thalmor are the elites who lead and administer the Aldmeri Dominion. The Nords call the people that captured you 'Thalmor', but that is not correct. Those people are direct representatives of the Aldmeri Dominion here in Skyrim. They are diplomats, advisors, inquisitors, missionaries, and any other role you can imagine. Most are soldiers charged with protecting the more senior members, but even the simple soldiers are tasked with enforcing the Dominion's will and precepts."
"Do they have a charge to torture the citizens of Skyrim?"
"Certainly not directly, but I doubt that they would have trouble justifying their actions under their charter. They would probably claim that the torture is punishment for breaking the law or being a danger to the general peace.
"That assumes anyone would confront them and demand an explanation. Even the Jarls, most of them anyway, and Imperial officers here in Skyrim would be hesitant to confront the Thalmor directly.
"They don't answer to anyone in Skyrim accept those higher in the order. Something like this would come from the highest levels of authority in Skyrim delegation or possibly from Summerset Isle itself."
"But what do they gain? The torturers and healers get to practice their arts, but I can't imagine that is the main reason for the program."
"I have been thinking about that, Falcotte. The torture sessions themselves would generate a tremendous amount of negative psychic energy. There have been rumors circulating for decades about certain high-level members of the Dominion who feed off pain and terror like you and I feed off meat and bread. Maybe they have found a way to store the terror they generate for consumption by those members."
Falcotte was appalled at the thought of living off the pain and suffering of others like some sort of psychic vampire. "That makes my stomach turn just thinking there might be individuals capable of that sort of sadism."
Faralda nodded her head. "Yeah, me too.
"Another possibility is that they are creating a corps of agents. They use the torture to destroy the mind and will of their victims and then program them to act and obey according to Thalmor will and dictates. They could release these agents back into the population as spies who might not even realize that they are acting according to the wishes of the Thalmor instead of their own free will."
Falcotte jumped to his feet in alarm. "Is it possible that they were able to program me without my knowledge?"
Faralda stood up and placed her palms on Falcotte's shoulders. "Based on what you told us about your captivity, I doubt that you were there long enough or had been traumatized enough to permanently affect your mind or will.
"Besides that, the Restoration Master and I have been watching you closely and haven't detected anything out of the ordinary in your actions.
"As a final check, the Illusion Master, who knows more about the brain and consciousness than anyone in Skyrim, has observed and secretly examined you on a number of occasions without your knowledge.
"You are fine, Falcotte."
Falcotte began to calm down. The thought that the Thalmor might have programmed him in some manner sent shivers down his spine and made the skin of his scalp crawl.
The Arch Mage stood and moved over to face Falcotte. "Faralda is correct, Falcotte. We have been observing you since your return and would have intervened if we had noticed anything suspicious. Perhaps we should have Drevis Neloren and Colette Marence do a complete, thorough examination of you. It might make you feel better."
Falcotte nodded. "I would feel better. If the Thalmor had affected my mind, could Drevis Neloren tell how I had been programmed?"
"Probably not in any detail. He would see evidence of the tampering, and then he could work with you to uncover the details. Still, I would be surprised if there was any direct manipulation by the Thalmor.
"Please, let's sit back down and continue our discussion."
They returned to their seats and continued.
Faralda explained the history and hierarchy of the Thalmor and told them about some of her dealings with the Thalmor. The longer she talked, the more suspicious Falcotte became of the Thalmor and Aldmeri Dominion's actions and ultimate goals.
"Divines protect us," said Falcotte. "It sounds like the Aldmeri Dominion is planning on exterminating or enslaving all of humanity."
Faralda and the Arch Mage looked at one another. The Arch Mage replied, "That was the same conclusion we reached, Falcotte."
Faralda followed up, "It is probably not the entire Aldmeri Dominion and certainly not every Altmer and Bosmer. There is probably a small group within the hierarchy that is guiding them to that ultimate goal. Many outside of that group would be sympathetic, and the ones that would find such a goal appalling will be powerless to steer away from it once the program was well underway."
"How do we make people aware of this or stop their plan?" asked Falcotte.
"The awareness part has already started, and right now, it is all we can do. A large scale, direct attack on the Thalmor would bring down the wrath of the full Aldmeri Dominion, and the Empire would side with them to show loyalty to the White-Gold Concordat. Simply killing off all of the Thalmor in Skyrim is not a solution.
"You are very perceptive and resourceful, Falcotte, and this is why we are having this conversation. I would like you to help spread the word about this danger."
"How can I help?"
"By delivering messages and telling others about your experience in Solitude."
"The last time I delivered messages I got taken and tortured." Falcotte could see where the conversation was heading and started to feel nervous.
"Yes, that is true. However, you weren't aware or prepared for the forces working against you. Besides, I will not ask you to travel anywhere the Empire or Thalmor have firm control. If you remain in the eastern portion of Skyrim, say between Riften and Whiterun, you should be reasonably safe since the Stormcloaks have pretty firm control of that area."
Falcotte thought about his encounter with the Stormcloak recruiters months before Winterhold. Wild animals, marauding bandits, drunken Nords, sadistic Thalmor agents, the occasional dragon or two, and even the weather posed dangers to the life of any traveler in Skyrim. It was a miracle of the Divines that anyone survived at all.
"I'm asking you because you have traveled pretty extensively about Skyrim and have survived your journeys," said the Arch Mage.
Falcotte laughed grimly, "It wasn't because of any great skill or power I possess. I can assure you of that."
"Oh, I disagree with that, Falcotte. You can think through and around problems. A powerful warrior would simply bash his way through a problem, and someone like Faralda or I would use our skill in destruction magic to blast our way through. Not possessing either great physical strength or more advanced magical skills and training, you have to be more original and creative.
"I want those who study here at the College to better develop that skill. In addition to spreading the warning about the Thalmor, I will be sending messages asking practitioners of the magical arts to accept students from the College as temporary apprentices. I want our students to spend time traveling Skyrim and learning from people who make their living outside of the College.
"I haven't worked through all of the details yet, but I wanted to see if there was interest in practitioners outside of the College to participate in such a program."
"Are there really that many practitioners outside of the College?" asked Falcotte.
"There are more than you might imagine. There are also quite a number of alchemist and minor enchanters that could provide valuable training and experience to our students."
A thought occurred to Falcotte. "Having students of the College scattered throughout Skyrim would also allow you to keep track of what was occurring in the province. They would be something of an informal spy network."
The Arch Mage smiled. "See, there is that ability to think about a situation and see things that might not be obvious to others.
"Yes, I had thought of that as well. I think some of the events that transpired with the Eye of Magnus and Ancano could have been avoided if Arch Mage Aren and the College had been better informed about what was occurring in Skyrim. Consider your own situation, how would you have acted differently if you were aware that the Thalmor were snatching citizens off the streets?
"The College is too isolated and insular. Faralda and I have spent hours discussing this, and I want to change the situation."
Falcotte thought about what the Arch Mage said and was proposing and then nodded his head. "I will help in any way I can, Arch Mage."
"Thank you, Falcotte. Like I said, I haven't worked out the details, so it will be awhile before anything like a plan of action exists.
"One last thing before I let you and Faralda get back to our day. What were you doing on the roof of the Hall of Achievement when I found you?"
"It is called the Sunset Ritual, and it is a portion of a stylized form of combat that Avik Sendu taught me. I have been practicing it for several weeks, and I have started modifying and extending it to incorporate actual magic from the various schools. I have been making headway with incorporating restoration magic, and I was going to start working on incorporating destruction magic as well."
"What do you mean, incorporating restoration magic?" ask the Arch Mage.
"I have learned to use various movements and stances to heal myself or increase my strength and speed; much like the effects of specific restoration magic spells. It is similar to the use of magic we are all familiar with now, but it is very different in some respects.
"I have just started this work, but I am excited about the possibilities."
The Arch Mage stared at Falcotte for several seconds and then shook her head. She turned to Faralda and said, "You should have made him Arch Mage, Faralda."
Both Faralda and Falcotte shook their heads. Faralda replied, "No, we chose the right person, Lyssa."
"If you say so, Faralda.
"Anyway, Falcotte, we will talk again after there are some solid plans and a framework of actions to take."
The Arch Mage and Faralda stood and walked out of the Hall of the Elements together. Falcotte was left alone to think about what he'd agreed to do for the Arch Mage.
Three months later, Falcotte found himself at the gates of Windhelm once again. During those three months, he'd undergone a thorough examination by the Illusion and Restoration Masters who had found nothing to indicate the torture by the Thalmor had any lasting effect on him. He'd also better refined his incorporation of restoration magic with the ritual movements and had made some progress in adding destruction magic as well. Now, approaching the gates of Windhelm, Falcotte carried messages for Wuunferth the Unliving, Ulfric Stormcloak's court wizard, and Nurelion, an Altmer who made his living in the city as an alchemist. The letters were introductions from Lyssa Brae as the new Arch Mage with an introduction to the idea of sending College students out to work with practitioners of magic living in Skyrim and a second letter detailing the Thalmor torture program.
The guard at the gate barely noticed him as he passed by and entered the city. It was a very different experience then when he had entered with Ilmeni Nelas, a Dunmer fellow student. He felt a twinge of disgust at how Ilmeni was treated, but then he thought about the hatred of Milynea Velothi for the Nords. The Nords and Dunmer had been suspicious of each other and often in open warfare with each other for centuries. At this point, there was no way blame could be assigned to one people or the other for starting the problem. It was an ongoing tragedy that both peoples were stuck in and perpetuating. All he could do, thought Falcotte, was to treat each Nord and Dunmer as an individual and not let himself choose sides or be caught up in the conflict.
Falcotte decided to start with a visit to Nurelion's shop. As an Altmer, he might be sympathetic to the Thalmor or might even be an actual agent for them, but it was probably safer than visiting Wuunferth the Unliving.
As court wizard to Ulfric Stormcloak, Wuunferth would undoubtedly be in the company of many of the rebels. It was entirely possible that the Stormcloak recruiter that assaulted him in Winterhold would be in the Palace of Kings. The man wouldn't hesitate to kill Falcotte if the recruiter recognized him. Therefore, the alchemist shop seemed like a safer place to start.
It was also an easy matter to enter and alchemist's shop, but getting in to see a court wizard of a Jarl leading a rebellion might prove more difficult.
"Best to start with the easiest task where I am least likely to get gutted by an enraged Stormcloak," he said to himself.
The first person he asked told him that he would find Nurelion in the White Phial in the Market Quarter. The Market Quarter was a collection of stalls and shops in the southwest section of Windhelm. Along with the White Phial alchemy shop, a blacksmith did business there as well as sellers of foodstuffs and general goods. Falcotte reached the edge of the Market Quarter after walking about 10 minutes from the area of the city gate. It took another 10 minutes before he located the White Phial.
An argument was in progress when Falcotte entered the shop.
"I told you that fool Nord would get killed or give up before finding the Phial, Quintus. It looks like I am going to have to go after it myself after all." Falcotte guessed that the speaker, a frail looking Altmer, was Nurelion.
A younger man responded, "But master, we have discussed this all before. You are no longer young, even for an Altmer, and you health is failing. You will not survive the dampness and rot of some Nord tomb, and who knows what evil creatures are waiting inside for would be adventurers?"
"Nonsense, I do not fear the shades or corpses of long dead Nords. My magic has not totally failed me, and I can still defend myself."
The apprentice suddenly noticed Falcotte. "Master, we have a customer."
Nurelion looked at Falcotte and scowled. "Are you here to purchase something or are you just trying to get out of the cold wind that never seems to abate?"
Falcotte took a deep breath. His hope that the visit to Nurelion would be easy started to fade.
Before Falcotte could start to explain his reason for being in the White Phial, Nurelion snapped, "Are you deaf or perhaps just soft in the head?"
"Master Nurelion, I come from the College o Winterhold to deliver letters from the Arch Mage." Falcotte kept his voice even and controlled. He didn't want to inadvertently antagonize the alchemist.
Nurelion's mood seemed to improve, and he grinned broadly. "How is Savos Aren these days?"
"Dead these last several months. He was succeeded by Lyssa Brae who wrote this letter." Falcotte held out a letter addressed to "Master Nurelion" from Arch Mage, Lyssa Brae.
"Lyssa Brae? A Breton?"
"Yes, Master Nurelion."
"Never heard of her. What about Mirabelle Ervine or old Tolfdir?"
"Mirabelle is also dead, and Tolfdir accepted the position of Master Wizard after recommending Lyssa Brae be made the Arch Mage."
Nurelion stopped listening halfway through Falcotte's reply and broke the seal on the letter. He read for several seconds and then announced, "Just what I need, another apprentice." The master alchemist shook his head.
"Master Nurelion, there is another letter for you." Falcotte held out another sealed letter.
"What is this? Perhaps the new Arch Mage thinks I should start making contributions to support the College?" He broke the seal and started reading. His expression changed from exasperation to alarm to anger in the time it took him to read the letter.
"Do you know the contents of this letter, or are you just an errand boy?"
"I have not read it, but I have firsthand knowledge of the situation."
"You were tortured by the Thalmor?"
At the mention of the Thalmor, Quintus jerked upright and stared at Nurelion in alarm.
"In Solitude, yes. I was tortured by the Thalmor."
"The letter says you have other deliveries to make."
"Yes, Master Nurelion. I have additional deliveries here in Windhelm, and then I will head to Riften to make deliveries there."
"When you finish in Riften, come back through here on your way back to the College. I will have a letter for Arch Mage Lyssa Brae and the Destruction Master. I need some time to consider these messages, and your journey to Riften and back will provide sufficient time for me to consider the situation and compose a reply."
Falcotte nodded and bowed. "Thank you for your consideration of these matters, Master Nurelion."
"Don't thank me yet, errand boy. This is not an easily settled matter for any Altmer."
"I am certain that the Arch Mage and Destruction Master trust that you will do the right thing, Master Nurelion." Falcotte turned and left the shop before Nurelion could reply.
As he pulled the door closed behind him, Falcotte heard Nurelion say, "Now where do you suppose that damn fool Nord is, Quintus?"
The exchange had gone better than Falcotte thought it would after seeing Nurelion's initial reactions. The old Altmer had been genuinely frightened and disturbed by news of the Thalmor torture program. Hopefully, it wasn't all an act, and he didn't start plotting a way to get word to the Thalmor as soon as Falcotte left the shop.
Falcotte did not fear being betrayed to the Thalmor with his next visit. The court wizard to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had no love for any mer, much less the representatives from the Aldmeri Dominion.
After making his way through the streets of Windhelm, Falcotte found himself at the gates of the Palace of the Kings. The guard refused to allow him inside even after Falcotte explained that he was from the College of Winterhold with letters from Wuunferth the Unliving from the Arch Mage.
"Milk drinker," the surly guard growled, "I don't care if the messages are from Arkay himself. Jarl Ulfric said that no one who is not a sworn Stormcloak is allowed inside the castle."
Falcotte knew that it was useless to argue with the guard. The guard was never going to let him inside the castle. He'd heard the insult, "milk drinker" before, but this was the first time someone directed it at him. The insult didn't bother him in the slightest though since he did enjoy drinking milk. No one who would use an ineffective insult was going to be bright enough to know when to bend the rules.
"Perhaps you could send word to the court mage and ask him to come get the messages since I am not allowed inside."
"Piss off, whelp. The court wizard has more important matters on his mind than a handful of letters from the likes of you at the College."
The man's expression suddenly started to change, and soon he was giving Falcotte a malicious grin.
"I'll tell you what, milk drinker. If you can punch me hard enough to stagger me, I will send word to Wuunferth and ask if he cares enough about your letters to come get them or send a servant."
The guard was almost a foot taller than Falcotte and easily outweighed him by a hundred pounds. He was wearing stiffened leather armor and held a large round shield. The guard's helmet with cheek guards made the idea of hitting him in the face a risky proposition. Falcotte might get lucky and bloody his nose, but he could just as easily break his fingers by hitting the guard in the face.
The guard's grin broadened and he called out, "Hral, get over here, boy! We need a judge to decide if this milk drinker knows how to throw a punch."
Hral was a young guard, younger than Falcotte. He didn't appear frightened or intimidated by the older guard's manner, so Falcotte had some hope that he would get a fair judgment.
Falcotte hadn't gotten too far incorporating elemental destruction magic with the rituals, but he decided that this was the perfect opportunity to test out what he had accomplished thus far.
He relaxed and let his body and mind shift into a more sensitive mode. Regular magic was much like a valve or door. The practitioner opened it more or less depending on their ability to control the flow of energy. The energy itself would flow from the source into the mundane world until the practitioner closed the connection. What Falcotte had worked out was more subtle. His movements would gather the latent power in the world around him, infuse his body with the power, and focus it in a ball of power around his fist.
Falcotte moved his right foot forward slightly and then began a series of waving motions with his hands. The guard started to laugh aloud at what he took to be the movements of a dancer. Falcotte pivoted his weight and slammed his fist into the laughing guard's chest.
The energy he had focused on his fist poured into the guard's body in an instant. The man's eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed to the ground. His arms and legs jerked uncontrollably for several seconds. Hral's eyes went wide as he watched the older guard's arms and legs flap about. After a few seconds, the limbs stopped moving, and a few seconds after that the man's eyes opened.
"I would say that he noticed that hit. What do you think, Hral?" Falcotte asked in a toneless voice. He didn't want to show any surprise at how effective the punch had been.
"Aye, he certainly noticed your strike."
The older guard stood on wobbly legs and looked at Falcotte with suspicion. "A lucky shot or some foul mage's trick that was."
"Undoubtedly," answered Falcotte.
"Hral, run and see if Wuunferth will come or send a servant to fetch the letters."
"It has to be Wuunferth."
"As he says, Hral. Tell the wizard. If he chooses not to come, the messenger will just have to return to Winterhold with the letters."
Hral rushed off to fetch Wuunferth, and Falcotte turned away from the guard and waited for the court wizard.
Only a few minutes passed before Hral returned, followed by an elderly Nord. More accurately, Wuunferth was ancient, and he was one of the oldest Nords Falcotte had ever seen. Even though he was bent and shrunken with age, Wuunferth was still taller than Falcotte. His strength and physique were not comparable to a Nord at the peak of health and vitality, but Wuunferth did not show any of the softening that Falcotte had noticed in many older practitioners of the occult arts. He was a man who still commanded respect even in his advanced years.
"Hral here says that you have messages for me from the College of Winterhold."
His tone was direct, but Falcotte didn't detect any malice or distrust.
"Rumors have been swirling around for months about the catastrophe at the College, but you are the first actual representative I have seen since the rumors started."
Falcotte bowed slightly. "Master Wuunferth, there are from Lyssa Brae, the new Arch Mage," he said while offering the letters.
Wuunferth shook his head and waved his hand. "I am not one of your instructors at the College, so the formality of titles is not necessary.
"New Arch Mage, eh? Then I guess the rumors of Savos Aren's death were true."
Wuunferth broke the seal on the first letter and read it quickly. "Looks like a lot of rumors were true and more than a few are off the mark.
"I don't think Jarl Ulfric is going to be interested in having spies from the College following me around, and he absolutely will not allow Imperials or mer of any sort inside the castle. All I can do is discuss this with him, but I wouldn't count on much support."
Falcotte nodded.
"I will get word back to the College of any decision by Ulfric. The letter says that you are continuing on to Riften."
"Yes, Master Wuunferth."
Wuunferth opened the second letter. After a few seconds, his face turned red, and Falcotte could almost feel the towering rage that built up inside the ancient Nord.
"The bastards will pay for this!"
The exclamation caught the guards by surprise, but Falcotte had been expecting a strong reaction from the court wizard of Ulfric Stormcloak.
"The letter hints that it was you that escaped from one of these Thalmor torture facilities."
Falcotte nodded.
"You must tell your story to Jarl Ulfric. Follow me!"
Falcotte glanced at the older guard; the man was looking straight ahead with a completely neutral expression on his face. Perhaps the man would have tried to stop Arkay from entering the palace, but he wasn't going to disagree with the enraged court wizard.
Falcotte followed Wuunferth who was moving faster than a man of his advanced years should have been able.
"This is more important than whatever you are discussing, Jarl Ulfric," cried Wuunferth when they entered the throne room. The room went silent, and everyone turned to look at the court wizard and Falcotte.
"Wuunferth, what...that man is no Stormcloak loyalist." Even caught off guard and annoyed, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's voice was measured and deeply musical. It was a voice that could command someone to commit great or terrible deeds, and the person would obey.
"Ulfric, I was studying magic when your father's father was bashing skulls. This man brings the most grievous news I have heard in all those years. You will want to hear it directly from him regardless of where his loyalties might lie."
"Very well, Wuunferth. Let's hear your tale, stranger."
Falcotte bowed and introduced himself. "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, my name is Falcotte, and I study magic at the College of Winterhold." He then continued by describing his visit to Solitude and his capture and torture by the Thalmor. He provided as much detail as he could about his fellow prisoners and their conditions. He told about Cyrius the Pick's leadership and Bjorn the Rock's channeling and sacrifice.
Jarl Ulfric remained silent throughout, but he occasionally glared at the outbursts of some of the advisors who stood nearby. When Falcotte finished, Jarl Ulfric held up a finger and addressed the people in the room.
"First, I want the survivors found and brought here. The Thalmor have been hunting them for months, so we are already behind.
"Second, there is a 50 gold septim bounty on the head of any Thalmor. There will be no payment without solid proof that the individual was actually a Thalmor representative. We all have our suspicions, but not every Altmer is in league with the Thalmor, and we may need Altmer insight and assistance before this is all over. If we just start killing them indiscriminately, we will end up with more enemies than we have now.
"Third, get word out through your contacts and channels to search out these torture facilities. Listen for tales and rumors of people going missing. I want Wuunferth made aware of any reports of this type as quickly as practicable."
Jarl Ulfric looked at Wuunferth. "Look for patterns and movements. If there are more places like the one in Solitude, I want to know about them. If we can raid and shut down several at once, that would be preferable to attacking them one at a time. Once the Thalmor realize that we are aware of and targeting these facilities, they will start concealing and protecting them better.
"Finally," Ulfric again addressed the whole group, "start getting this tale out to the people of Skyrim. Hints and rumors at first. Start the people thinking and make them begin to look around with suspicion. Tie the Imperial bureaucrats and garrisons in as the rumors take hold and spread."
The last command alarmed Falcotte, but he didn't show any reaction or voice his concern. Sewing fear and suspicion could easily result in people lashing out at phantoms and the situation becoming complete chaos. As a practitioner of the occult arts, he was very well acquainted with what could happen when fear of the unknown was sanctioned and even fostered.
Ulfric turned his attention to Falcotte. "What about you? What is your next task?"
"I have messages for the court wizard, Wylandriah, and others in Riften. I will book a seat on the next carriage heading to the city."
"Return at sunset and I will have additional letters for Jarl Laila Law-Giver and others that I would ask you to deliver.
"Perhaps you will officially join our rebellion against the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion?"
Falcotte felt a sense of alarm but focused and remained calm. "I am a member of the College of Winterhold, and I answer to Arch Mage Lyssa Brae. I will not betray or divide my loyalties.
"However, Jarl Ulfric, we share a common enemy, and I intend to collect on the Thalmor bounty at every opportunity."
Some of the men in the room gasped and were offended at Falcotte's refusal of Ulfric Stormcloak's offer.
"Besides," Falcotte continued, "what use would I be to such mighty warriors as you and your followers?
"Prowess in battle is not the only useful skill to a revolution, Falcotte," replied Jarl Ulfric.
"Yes, that is true. You can count on me doing everything in my power to defeat the Thalmor. The fight to free Skyrim from the Empire is between you and your fellow Nords. It is not my place to become involved in that decision."
Jarl Ulfric shrugged, "Very well. You are probably right that the Nords would look on your participation, on either side, as unwanted interference."
Falcotte felt relief flood over him but, again, didn't show any reaction. "I will return at sundown to get the letters, Jarl Ulfric."
Jarl Ulfric nodded and waved to Hral. "Hral, escort the College representative to the gate and pass the word that he is allowed entrance at any time, day or night."
Falcotte bowed again to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and followed Hral out of the throne room.
They were five days out from Windhelm. The eastern portions of the kingdom of Skyrim were largely unsettled, wild, and rugged spaces. The region was mostly unpopulated with a population density sparse even compared to the rest of Skyrim. The carriage driver had stopped for the day, and he and the only other passenger, some merchant Falcotte guessed, were preparing the camp for the night. Falcotte had wandered away from the roadside camp to find a secluded spot to perform the Sunset Ritual.
Falcotte was half way through the ritual when the sounds of horses in a panic and screams of pain interrupted the peaceful setting. He stopped and listened for a few seconds. The screams stopped abruptly, and Falcotte guessed that his traveling companions were now incapacitated or dead.
He quickly got his boots and put them back on, and then he grabbed up his cloak and bag. It had been many months since he had traveled with Skar the Hunter, but he tried to recall everything that the veteran woodsman had told Falcotte about moving silently through the forest. He'd wandered off about 100 yards from where the carriage driver had chosen to set up camp. Sounds seemed to be amplified out here though because he could hear voices now and again even if he couldn't make out the actual words.
Falcotte moved as carefully and silently as he could. There wasn't anything like an actual path, but the underbrush wasn't very thick so it was easy to spot and avoid stepping on sticks or small branches. He stopped approaching when he could start to make out actual words in the conversation.
"…they're both dead, I told you!"
"We don't want word getting back to Jarl Ulfric about this. He'll slit our throats and throw our corpses into the White River if he finds out about this."
The conversation continued for several seconds about the advisability of engaging in highway banditry and the meagerness of the take from this particular job.
Suddenly, another voice spoke up. "There was someone else with these two. Look at this."
Falcotte could not see what the speaker was showing his partners, but Falcotte knew that he had to get out of the area.
"Probably went to take a leak and ran off when he heard us doing in his partners here. Spread out and see if he left a trail or is still cowering in the bushed nearby."
Falcotte could hear the men begin to move around, and they seemed to be searching mainly along the road and moving away from him. He started to retreat carefully away from the campsite and road, moving deeper into the surrounding forest. The sound of the searchers and their voices continued to recede, and Falcotte figured that they were intent on staying near the road. He'd been moving away from the camp for several minutes when the land began to slope upward. He could no longer hear the bandits, and the trees were closer than they had been nearer the road, so Falcotte didn't worry about them seeing him as he climbed toward higher ground.
From the direction of the camp, Falcotte heard the howling of several wolves, and he instinctively started moving faster.
Falcotte had no way of knowing, but the howling of the wolves was enough to convince the bandits to abandon the search.
"Let's get back, loot that wagon, and get out of here. Let the wolves have the one that got away."
Falcotte stopped moving about an hour later. The sun was setting and the shadows were lengthening. The forest was getting darker. He found a semi-sheltered area where several trees formed a partially enclosed area. He sat down with his back against one of the trees and considered his situation. He was days from the nearest sizable settlement with no food, water, or adequate shelter.
I'll get some rest and wait for sunrise tomorrow, he thought. The best bet would be to get back to the road and decide to continue toward Riften or head back toward Windhelm. Maybe I will get lucky and another carriage will come along.
The start of winter was several weeks away, so the temperature was cool but not cold. Falcotte easily kept himself warm with the heating breeze spell and his cloak. He could have built a fire but thought that it would be more of a beacon to unwanted visitors than any help in staying comfortable and warm. Falcotte slept easily and passed the night in relative comfort, given his situation.
Falcotte woke before sunrise and completed the Sunrise Ritual to start the day. The mountains to the east blocked his view of the sunrise, and it would be a couple of hours before the sun rose above the mountain peaks. He was hungry, having not eaten since the lunch break of the day before, but he was well rested and felt optimistic. There was plenty of traffic between Windhelm and Riften, so once he got back to the road; it would be only a matter of time until someone came along. He didn't have any supplies, but he still had his bag with the letters for the people in Riften, and he had his travel funds safely stashed in his cloak. Even if a passing carriage driver didn't feel pity for him given the circumstances, Falcotte could pay for transport to wherever the carriage was heading.
After gathering up his few belongings and getting ready to begin the day's journey, Falcotte realized that he wasn't certain which direction he should take. He hadn't marked his path in any way, so he wasn't sure which way was the shortest path back to the road. He'd been travelling generally uphill to the east the night before. The land sloped down gently to the west, so he headed west and hoped that the road wasn't too far away.
At first, the surroundings seemed somewhat familiar, but soon, he was looking around at completely unfamiliar surroundings. None of the more open areas, features like stumps or deadfalls, or groupings of trees looked familiar. A couple hours of hiking brought Falcotte to a small creek trickling through the trees. He welcomed the opportunity to drink the cold, clear water and splash it on his face and neck. Falcotte hadn't crossed any running water while escaping the bandits the day before, so he was completely off the track he had taken away from the carriage.
Since there was no way to carry the water, and the creek was flowing in generally the direction he was heading, Falcotte decided that he would travel along beside it. Maybe it would meet up with some larger river and head toward a settlement of some sort.
He traveled along the creek as the day passed. It didn't head exactly west which would have taken him to the road more quickly. He took occasional breaks to rest and drink from the creek. He didn't have anything to eat, but the water helped keep the hunger pains manageable. There were several types of edible berries and roots that grew in the wilds of Skyrim, but he didn't see any of them as he followed the creek. As the day passed, the creek grew larger as it met up with other small creeks and even a couple of actual springs as well.
Falcotte also noticed that he was passing the remnants of artificial structures, a section of cut-stone wall or a short stretch of paved roadway. He couldn't be certain how long had passed since there were complete or in use, but it had to have been many decades or maybe even centuries. There didn't seem to be in any pattern to what survived, so he would occasionally see lonely sections of wall on the side of a hill with no remnants or even hints that it ever continued on either end. At one point, he spotted the tumbled down remains of a large tower. Civilization had a difficult time taking root in the wilds of Skyrim, he thought.
Falcotte could tell that it was nearing sunset, and he began to look for a suitable place to set up camp for the night. He wanted to find a spot with an open area large enough to move through the Sunset Ritual without feeling cramped for space. Falcotte also wanted a spot more open to the sky, but would forgo that if he couldn't find a suitable spot soon.
He was lost in thought and didn't notice the shadow moving through the nearby trees or feel the wind start to pick up. Falcotte's head jerked up when he heard the dragon scream, and he saw the beast flying low, passing overhead. Falcotte took in the sight of the dragon in an instant. It was around 30 yards from snout to tip of the tail with an outstretched wingspan of about the same distance. Iridescent green scales covered the dragon, and they shifted smoothly with every move. Its armor, rather than being a hindrance like steel plate armor worn by human warriors, did not seem to restrict the creature's movements in the slightest. The dragon had a mouthful of teeth, each the length of a short sword, and claws that could easily tear an ox in half. It was a marvelous and powerful creature.
Unthinking panic gripped Falcotte, and he took off running as fast as he could manage. The dragon screamed again as it arced back toward him, passed by, and sent out a blast of flame. The dragon flame passed a few feet over his head and engulfed a large pine tree ahead, and slightly to the right, of Falcotte. He continued to run along the stream as best he could, swerving to avoid the flaming pine tree. The panicked mage looked for a place to hide or a confined space where the dragon would not be able to follow him.
The dragon screamed again as it made another pass, and the tip of the beast's wing slammed into his back, between his shoulder blades, and knocked Falcotte sprawling to the ground. He got to his feet just in time to see the dragon coming at him again. There was no time to run, so he quickly erected the strongest warding spell that he knew and prayed to the gods that it would be sufficient. The dragon checked its flight, seeming to rear up and hover some yards above and in front of Falcotte. It let loose another blast of flame that slammed into the ward. Falcotte could feel the heat, and the ward turned aside the dragon fire, but Falcotte knew that he would not be able to maintain it for very long. The dragon spread its wings wide and dropped from the sky. The ground shook, and Falcotte staggered when the great beast's claws hit the ground.
The dragon fire stopped, but Falcotte's ward failed a fraction of a second too soon. He screamed in agony as the last dragon flames slammed into his outstretched arms and unprotected face. Falcotte turned and, nearly blind, stumbled into the creek. He turned and staggered downstream, tripping over rocks and branches. Behind him, Falcotte could hear and feel the stomping of the dragon as it followed him down the creek.
The dragon snapped at Falcotte, mouth closing only a foot or so behind the fleeing mage. Falcotte could feel the heat and smell the sulfurous breath of the dragon. It was playing with him; the dragon could easily incinerate him with a blast of dragon fire, or it could reach out and simply bite him in half.
Falcotte was gasping for breath and felt his strength ebbing. He couldn't keep up running much longer, and when he stopped or fell, that would be the end.
He looked over his shoulder just as the dragon let out a blast of flame. It missed Falcotte but hit the creek near him and immediately created a mass of superheated steam that engulfed the fleeing mage.
Falcotte screamed again and tripped on a rock hidden just beneath the surface of the quickly flowing water. He put out his hands to catch himself but instead felt himself falling through the air. He'd gone over the edge of a small cliff where the creek fell into a pool.
Falcotte nearly lost his breath when his body hit the water, but he managed to hold onto it, and he swam into the depths of the pool. The cool water was soothing where the dragon fire and steam had burned him.
Swimming back to the surface would be an invitation to instant death by dragon fire. Falcotte looked around in hopes of finding a way to escape. He spotted a cave to one side and swam toward it. His last breath was not going to last much longer, and he was relieved to discover that the tunnel beyond the entrance immediately turned upward. After a few feet, his head broke above the water surface, and he started taking great gulping breaths.
He was in a cave of some sort, but it must have been above the level of the pond outside or it would have been flooded. It was utterly dark in the cave, but Falcotte could make out the sound of water lapping against rock, and the week echoes of his breathing told him that the cave wasn't very large.
Falcotte cast a light spell and saw that he was indeed in a cave a few yards across. On one side was a rock ledge, and he swam over to it and lifted himself out of the water. He rolled over on to his back and waited for his breathing and heart rate to slow back down to normal. The air did not taste stagnant, so there had to be some inlet for fresh air to enter the cave.
His situation and chance of survival had deteriorated considerably over the last couple of days.
Falcotte eventually passed out and dreamed dark dreams of dragons and the Thalmor.