Author's note: Meant to post this one over the weekend, but our cable got knocked out. I also forgot to mention in my note to the first chapter, for fans of my Fallout work - if any ;) - reading this, that my Fallout 3 / Fallout: New Vegas crossover is still on the boards. I'm hoping once I get this story completely up and posted that I can then work on it a lot more. But I haven't forgotten about it, in case anyone cares.
Over the next few weeks, Sofie visited Jehan whenever she could get away from Lakeview — which was easy; the place was still in upheaval, and Sofie wasn't the only one who was making herself scarce. Gunjar the cart man began making daily trips to Falkreath; Rayya seemed to take longer and longer patrolling the boundaries of the settlement, and Lucia was also conspicuous by her absence. Some days Jehan would tell her she should not come down because it would be dangerous; but other than that, she managed to see him almost daily.
Sometimes Jehan was doing alchemy when she found him; other times he would be scribbling things in a book and muttering to himself, or tracing symbols on the ground or the flat stone altar. Usually he would break off his work when he saw her, that shy smile lighting his features, and he would stop to play with Cotton a bit. When he resumed, she would join him in chopping roots, holding calipers for him, or sharpening quill pens. Whenever she asked him what he was doing, he would only frown slightly and say, "It's complicated." Sofie didn't mind though. It was enough just to have a chance to get out of the manor.
"Your parents taught you Alchemy?" he asked one day. She was crushing pearls for him; he had been muttering to himself that he needed to find something that restored both stamina and magicka, and she had suggested pearls as an option.
"My new father did," Sofie said, sliding the mortar and pestle over to him. "My mother doesn't teach me so often, but sometimes she lets me watch when she's making potions. She's really good, even better than my dad. But she's not around very much." She looked away and picked up Cotton, cuddling her rabbit.
"Oh. I'm sorry," Jehan offered.
She shrugged. "It's all right. I know I'm lucky to have them. After I — I lost my first mom and dad — " She couldn't help swallowing at the memory. "I didn't have anyone. I was living on the streets in Windhelm. I'd still be there if my new mom Ingrid hadn't taken me in."
She glanced up at Jehan. His face was shadowed. "I lost my family too," he said. "I know how much that hurts."
"You did? When?"
"It was — " He stopped, and that strange look of confusion came over him. She'd noticed it before, whenever he spoke about his own past. "A very long time ago," he said at last. "I — I'm afraid I don't remember it very well. But I do remember how it felt." And again he looked so sad that Sofie found herself rushing to cheer him up.
"Like I said, it's all right. I have Ingrid and Marcurio now, and a sister, Lucia. And when she took me in, Ingrid said she'd take care of me forever, so now I don't have to worry anymore."
The last sentence didn't sound as confident as she had hoped; Sofie stopped, biting her lip. She thought of Ingrid's long absences, of the coldness that Ingrid seemed to bring with her when she was home. She tried not to let herself think of what could happen if the two of them split up; she hadn't discussed it with Lucia, but she knew her sister was thinking the same thing.
"Ingrid and Marcurio — they're your new parents?" Jehan asked, startling her.
"Yes. Marcurio is a mage from Cyrodiil. He grew up in the Imperial capital. He says it's really beautiful there and the weather is a lot nicer than here. He says maybe he'll take me there one day. Ingrid, my mother, is a Nord. She's really important — she's the Dovahkiin."
"The Dovahkiin," Jehan repeated with polite interest; it was clear the word meant nothing to him.
"Yes. The Jarl appointed her thane of Falkreath and appointed Rayya to be her housecarl. She built Lakeview all by herself."
"I see. I had wondered who was up there," Jehan said. "I noticed the walls going up, but I didn't know anything about who was building it." Sofie noticed he said nothing about having wanted to go and introduce himself.
"Yeah, Ingrid did some kind of service for the Jarl, so he gave her Lakeview. I don't know what," Sofie said. "After she built the house, Ingrid hired Uthgerd the Unbroken to be her steward, and Llewellyn the Nightingale and Gunjar the cart-man, and then she moved us here from Windhelm - "
Suddenly the cold feeling that had been sitting in her stomach for days rose to almost overwhelm her. She swallowed hard, feeling a heaviness behind her eyes. "I just wish she'd be around more," she confessed, hearing the plaintive whine in her voice. "Maybe she and Marcurio wouldn't fight so much if she were. Or maybe they'd fight more. I don't know. And I don't like the new follower she brought back, Teldryn Sero. I wish she'd bring Aunt Borgakh back again, but whenever I talk about her, Ingrid gets mad. I guess she has to travel so much because she's so important, but … I thought when she said she was going to be my new mommy, that she'd be at home like my first mom."
The heaviness behind her eyes was spilling over; Sofie blinked fiercely, trying to fight back the tears. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder; she looked up to see Jehan looking down at her with concern. He stood there, holding her gently, as she swallowed back her tears. In his eyes — shadowed, confused and clouded as they were — she seemed to see an answering pain, a raw empathy that made her realize, He hurts for me!
"At least if you're here you can help me now," he offered, with that shy smile on his lips.
And somehow, when he said that, Sofie didn't feel so alone.
She didn't get a chance to see Jehan for a few days after that. Ingrid left for Windstad Manor, and in her absence, the house settled down to an uncertain peace — complicated by the fact that Teldryn Sero remained behind, and by the knowledge that she would return before too long. With the temporary peace in the house, it became harder for Sofie to get away; once again, the adults started paying attention to her and Lucia, and monitoring their activities. Rayya took the two of them aside for some more lessons in swordplay, and Llewellyn started them on the next portion of the history of Tamriel; they were working on Ysgramor and the Hundred Companions. Tension was added by Teldryn, who sat at the long table in the great hall nursing a flask of that strong-smelling sujamma and making occasional pointed comments until Llewellyn lost his temper and told him in no uncertain terms to leave.
"Ingrid has charged me with educating her daughters and you are interfering," he said. For all his stern words, Sofie could sense he was afraid; after all, Llewellyn was no fighter, and Teldryn was Ingrid's current sworn companion. Yet the Dunmer simply rose gracefully from his seat.
"Very well, I'll go elsewhere," he said coolly. "Go ahead and teach your fairy stories to these innocent children, I certainly won't interfere." And he sauntered out of the hall, leaving the skald glowering after him.
Marcurio also descended from the library tower, where he had been conducting research for the last couple weeks (or so he said; Sofie was astute and perceptive enough to know what he had really been doing was putting space between himself and Ingrid) and once again resumed their magic lessons. They were working on Destruction Magic; Marcurio said it was important to go in sequence, and he had already taught them some Restoration and Alteration.
For lessons, he took them out on the porch on top of the storage addition. The sky was a beautiful blue and the sun was shining brightly; over the edge of the railing, the lake glittered in the sunlight. If Sofie had chosen to look down, she could have gotten a glimpse of the rock platform where Jehan spent his days. Lucia and Sofie took seats on the long bench at the porch table, listening attentively as Marcurio began to speak.
"I know I've been remiss in giving you your magic lessons lately," he said quietly. His eyes were shadowed, and there was a somewhat distracted air about him. "I'm sorry. Consistency is important when it comes to magic instruction and I … I'm afraid I haven't been as consistent as I would like and you deserve. However, now that I have some free time I will try to resume a more regular schedule of instruction."
Sofie and Lucia said nothing but shared a glance. Both of them knew what the other was thinking: the turmoil with Ingrid had been using up most of Marcurio's time and energy. Lucia, bolder or perhaps less tactful than Sofie, actually broached the subject.
"Will Mommy Ingrid come back today?"
Sofie winced to see the expression in Marcurio's eyes. "No. She will be at Windstad a few more days yet. However, she's said she will return soon, as does her hireling." He spoke the word with distaste, glancing involuntarily to the door to the main hall, where Teldryn still lounged inside.
"Oh." Lucia looked openly disappointed. "She promised she would bring us presents from Morthal — "
"Well, she'll be back before too long and I'm sure she'll have something nice for both of you," Marcurio said curtly. Lucia, hearing the strain in his voice, got the message and fell silent.
He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. "I've already shown you Flames and Frostbite. Today I'm going to teach you something a little more difficult: Sparks.
"Sparks is a shock-based spell, and all the shock-based spells are more difficult than the fire and frost spells. Most people have an intuitive understanding of those two substances; after all, fire warms our homes and cooks our food, while — especially in Skyrim — it is easy to see that frost and snow are a part of the natural world. With shock, however," he said, clasping his hands behind his back, "most people only know of its energy through thunderstorms. Terrifying and awe-inspiring, yes, but not something one can easily fit into one's own frame of reference."
His voice was growing more animated as he warmed to his subject; Sofie remembered Ingrid had once said Marcurio's favorite type of magic was lightning, especially Chain Lightning. Now he eyed his two pupils.
"But what if I told you that the same force you see in a bolt of lightning resides within your own body? That same force, the force of shock, lives within you — in your nerves, your spine, your brain. Whenever you move, or speak or even think — that force is at work within you, helping your muscles to move, your mind to form words. There is nothing closer to you, more vital, more — more alive than the shock force."
He paused to let it sink in, his eyes alight with passion. Sofie was speechless. Lightning — in my body? That's horrible!
Lucia, quicker than she, asked with great interest, "Does that mean the shock force is the same as the life force you've been teaching us about with Restoration?"
Marcurio frowned slightly, his fine Imperial brow knitting. Like many Imperials, he was darker-complexioned than the average Nord, with clear olive skin. His nose was aquiline above a full-lipped, sensitive mouth, and his eyes were deep-set, brooding and russet. His gleaming chestnut hair was brushed smoothly back and caught in a tail at the nape of his neck. He was a few inches shorter than Ingrid; side-by-side, they made a strange-looking couple, Sofie had always thought, with Ingrid's classic Nord chiseled profile, alabaster skin, piercing blue eyes, and long blonde hair. Despite the fact that she, Sofie, was a Nord and Lucia an Imperial by heritage, Sofie had often thought that neither she nor Lucia really looked like the offspring of Ingrid and Marcurio.
"Not exactly," Marcurio said at last. "But I suppose you could think of it that way for now if it's helpful to you. Now remember what I told you: how in order to make fire, you must take the magicka and project it outward as heat? Whereas with frost, it's the opposite: you actually create a well of magicka inside yourself and pull heat in from the surrounding world?"
"Yes, and you said that was why frost magic was more difficult than fire magic," Lucia said promptly. Sofie bit her lip, thinking not for the first time that Lucia seemed to understand Marcurio's lessons more readily than she did. Is it because she's an Imperial? Sofie wondered; Imperials were supposed to have greater facility with magic than many other races. She exhaled slowly, trying to pay attention.
"Correct," Marcurio said. "Now with shock magic, it is more difficult still. With shock magic, you must draw on the magicka and separate it into two parts. As you hold the halves separate, energy will pass between the two as they struggle to rejoin. Take that energy — not the magicka itself — and project it outwards. That will become the lightning."
Sofie frowned. "I don't understand," she said.
"I think I get it," Lucia said, so brightly that Sofie wanted to kick her.
"It is difficult at first," Marcurio said, nodding. "It can take months to fully understand shock spells. But they are important to know as the third field of Destruction magic." He motioned the girls to their feet. "Let's begin."
He led them to the line Rayya had traced on the stone floor of the porch for archery, facing the straw targets against the far railing. "Here," he said, taking a place on the line himself. "I'll show you what it looks like. Watch me now." He drew back his hands, and blue-white light suddenly danced around his fingertips; as he dropped forward into a lunge, a crackling bolt of lightning seared across their vision. It struck the straw target, leaving a pinpoint burn; a thin thread of smoke rose from the bullseye.
"Now, you try," he said, straightening from his stance and watching them expectantly.
Sofie swallowed, hard. She enjoyed learning about magic and she liked practicing on her own out in the woods: sending frost against trees and flames into the surface of the small pond near their house. Yet somehow when it came to performing magic under the eye of Marcurio, it made her nervous; she seemed to forget everything he had told her and she felt like she could do nothing right. Now, she drew on the magic, pulling it into her, feeling it sparkling and dancing along her limbs and nerves.
You can do this, she told herself, a little desperately. How hard can it be?
She stared at the straw target at the far end of the patio as the magicka danced within her. What did he tell us to do? Somehow she had to separate the energy? How? Sofie tried channeling the pulses into one side of her body, then the other; the energy surged within her like a sea, but she couldn't figure out how to separate it any more than she could have separated a bowl of water with a knife. She was still struggling when a crackle from Lucia's direction made her jump.
"Got it! Wait — no!" Tiny sparks flared briefly around Lucia's fingertips, then died, leaving fading after-images across Sofie's vision. Lucia's face screwed up into an image of disappointment. "I thought I had it!" she complained, visibly frustrated.
"You managed something at least," Marcurio consoled her. "That was very good for a first try. Keep working on it. Sofie," he said, turning toward her, "how are you coming?"
"It's not working." Especially after Lucia's demonstration, Sofie wanted to cry. Why can't I do it? Lucia could …. "I don't know what to do to separate the energies."
Marcurio studied her, his brow knitting in an all-too-familiar concerned expression that always made Sofie feel even worse. It's like he thinks I'm the stupidest student he's ever taught…. "Try a visualization," he suggested. "Imagine yourself holding the energies as a fountain of water, and as the water bubbles up, it divides into two streams. See if that helps."
For the next few minutes, Sofie did as he had suggested, trying to hold the image in her mind. It didn't seem to do much good. She could have wept in frustration. Marcurio stood over her, still frowning, at times murmuring instructions that were meant to be helpful: suggesting different visualizations for her to try, or telling her to relax and remain calm. He could have been reciting the alphabet for all the good it did her.
She fought, over the course of the afternoon, to summon the lightning: Divide the power into two halves — do not let them reunite — fight against bringing them back together — channel the power from their struggle outward, rather than the power itself — Again and again she tried, only to come up with nothing.
Making it even worse was that after Lucia's first experiment which produced only a few flickers of electricity, Sofie's adopted sister progressed rapidly. By the end of the afternoon, Lucia could produce a full bolt that shot the length of the patio. Sofie, meanwhile, had managed a couple of times to conjure the same tiny flickers as Lucia had gotten at first, but after that, nothing. Her frustration grew as the day wore on until, by the time the sun sank toward the horizon, she was almost in tears.
"All right," Marcurio said at last, glancing at the sun. "I think that's enough. Girls, you both did very well." Sofie knew the words were meaningless. He's just saying that because he doesn't want to make me feel bad. "We'll try again some other day. Probably not tomorrow; I think your mother is due back tomorrow." A shadow crossed his face. "But soon. Well done, both of you."
As they went in to the warmth of the great hall Ingrid had built with no help but her own two hands and her housecarl Rayya, Sofie was miserable. She barely touched her dinner that night, she was so full of frustration. If Lucia had said anything, she could have blown up at her and perhaps felt a little better, but she didn't. Marcurio had said nothing either, but she could see his evident confusion in the frowns he had given her up on the rooftop.
Is it because I'm a Nord? she wondered again. Is that why I can't do it? It must be. After all, Lucia is doing so well, and she's an Imperial. But Ingrid was a Nord, and she was one of the strongest mages ever, according to Marcurio. Maybe I'm just too stupid to learn magic, she thought hopelessly.
Her frustration was so great it almost shielded her from sensing the chilly atmosphere at the dinner table: a chill emanating from Teldryn Sero, who lounged almost insolently at the head of the long table in Ingrid's place. Finally, after they had all suffered in silence for a while, Rayya excused herself to begin her evening patrol. Her leaving seemed to be the signal for the dinner to break up. Marcurio retreated up to the library tower, and Uthgerd went into the greenhouse again, while Gunjar went out to settle the stock in for the night. Lucia and Sofie made their escape upstairs. Sofie's stomach still churned with misery as she crept into bed, put out the candle, and pulled the covers up over her, holding Cotton close. If I could only just figure it out….
Her frustration followed her down into sleep.
It was raining when she got up next morning, but by the time she slipped downstairs for breakfast it had petered out, though the sky still was dim and overcast. The gray sky seemed to fit her mood almost precisely.
Never mind, Sofie told herself staunchly. I'm going to see Jehan today. The mere idea made her feel better.
The main hall was deserted; the adults were all at their chores for the day. Through a cracked door, Sofie saw Lucia in the greenhouse with Uthgerd; with Cotton in her arms, she carefully tiptoed past the door so Uthgerd would not catch her too. A quick peek out the massive front doors and she verified that no one was in the yard, although she heard the chopping sounds of Rayya cutting wood around the side of the house. Still holding Cotton, she darted across the yard in a flash, and was gone down the path to Jehan's altar.
He started when she burst out at the other end, actually jumping, and turned to look at her. "Sofie," he said, and frowned. "I wasn't expecting to see you here today."
"Am I not supposed to be here?" A slight chill came over her; Jehan looked so distant, somehow. As if he's not even there….
"No … no … " Jehan's frown deepened and he glanced at the sky, then seemed to relax. "It's all right. Today at least. Yes," he repeated with more assurance. "Today is all right. But you might be bored — I was planning on doing some Enchanting today, instead of Alchemy." An uncertain look came over him.
"No, that's fine," she said a little too eagerly. "I can just watch if that's all right with you. I've always wanted to learn Enchanting." That was a lie, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the shy smile that bloomed on Jehan's pallid, thin features.
"Good. I'm glad," he said with real warmth. "Actually — there is something you can do. Here." He handed her a journal of parchment leaves bound in red leather. "These are my notes. You can read from them when I ask you."
"Sure." Sofie took the leather and settled onto his broken but comfortable wooden stool, glad to have an excuse to stay.
She sat and watched as Jehan carefully made his preparations. She had seen Ingrid and Marcurio enchant before; however, Jehan went about it in a much more methodical way than either of them. On a table next to the enchanger, he carefully laid out a few Iron Daggers and Iron Swords, several full sets of jewelry, consisting of rings, circlets, and necklaces, and lastly a set of black robes. Next, he set out several potions and then began laying out Soul Gems: most of them Common or Lesser Soul Gems, but a few of them Greater and there were even two Grand Soul Gems there. He worked with a studied, almost laborious concentration as if he were not quite sure of what he was doing.
At last he stepped back and surveyed both the set-up of his equipment and the Grand Enchanter, then seemed to come to the conclusion that all was in readiness. He looked tense and uncertain—afraid of the task ahead of him, perhaps? Then in a rush he seized one of the potion bottles and drank it with one convulsive swallow.
He started with the jewelry first. Whereas Ingrid enchanted with a few muttered words and quick, abbreviated gestures, Jehan intoned long, complex incantations and sketched elaborate patterns in the air above the item he was working on, the whole process lasting many minutes. He would sometimes pause in the middle of an incantation as if to think of the next phrase or gesture, and made several stumbles over words. From time to time, he would ask questions of Sofie in an abrupt, almost impatient manner, and Sofie would have to go scrambling through the pages of notes covered with spidery handwriting to find the answer. It took most of the morning for him to finish the sets of jewelry; when he finished with the last gold and onyx circlet, he straightened and, reeling slightly, stepped away from the enchanter. He was even paler than usual, panting heavily, and his face was lightly sheened with sweat.
"Are you all right?" she asked in some concern as he sank heavily onto a nearby boulder.
"Yes," he replied faintly. "It's just — this much enchanting at once is rather strenuous." Sofie had seen Ingrid do much more enchanting in a much shorter time, but she said nothing. "Could you please bring me some ale?"
Sofie brought him a bottle and he took several swallows, drawing a breath and seeming to steady himself. He gave her that small smile. "Thank you for your help."
"You're welcome," Sofie said. "Is there much more to do?"
"Not too much, at least not at the moment. Just a couple of weapons. But the enchantments on them will be more difficult."
Sofie looked over at the Iron Sword and Iron Dagger resting on the table beside the Enchanter. "Just iron weapons?" she asked.
He nodded, still pale but already seeming a bit stronger. "I prefer to work with cold iron. It's better for my purposes. That or Daedric weapons but they're almost impossible to find, unfortunately."
"Daedric weapons?" Sofie asked, frowning.
Jehan seemed to mistake her meaning. "Yes. Weapons forged by techniques known only to the great demon-smiths of the Daedra. There are a few of them around, but — "
"No, I know what Daedric weapons are," Sofie said. "My new mother makes them. She has lots."
"Your mother — makes them?"
He was looking at her in disbelief. That look stung Sofie; she rushed to justify herself.
"Yes, she makes them. Down in the basement at her forge. I've watched her. She uses Ebony Ingots and Daedra Hearts. She also chants words over them but I don't understand them. When they come out of the fire they're all black and spiky and they glow with red lines all over, like there's fire inside them. She makes armor too, and it looks the same way. Her friend Borgakh used to have a set of Daedric Armor that Ingrid made for her, but Borgakh hasn't been around in a while."
She broke off; Jehan's attention had turned inward, away from her. "Can it be?" he was murmuring to himself. "Yet I'd heard that the techniques to make Daedric weapons had been rediscovered — but still — If it were true — " He frowned again, and ran one hand through his hair distractedly.
"It is true," she insisted. "I promise. I can bring you some, if you want."
That got his attention. "You would — bring me some Daedric artifacts?" he asked her faintly. There was a strange intensity in his eyes; then he shook his head and turned away. "No. No, even if it were true, I couldn't ask you — "
"I'll do it," Sofie promised. "I'll bring you a sword and a dagger if you want me to. My mother has tons of them, she won't even notice."
"If you did," he began, "if you could — you don't know how much of a help it would be to me. It could shorten my work by weeks, maybe even months - "
"I'll bring them the next time I see you," she said staunchly. "It's the least I can do. After all, you're my friend."
She had meant it to come out warmly, but somehow when she said that it reminded her of her struggles the day before. At least Jehan likes me, she thought. At least I'm good at helping him. She looked away, biting her lip.
Jehan seemed to see her unhappiness. "Is something wrong?" he asked her, frowning.
"No. Well … yes," she confessed. Suddenly, under Jehan's frowning, concerned eyes, it was as if a dam had burst; her frustration came pouring out of her.
"My new father — he's a wizard. He's been teaching us some magic. He's taught us Flames and Frostbite so far. Yesterday he was trying to teach me and my sister Lightning magic for the first time — it was Sparks — and, well — I just couldn't get it. I tried all day to do it, and I never got anything but Lucia got it right away. I felt so stupid! I hate feeling stupid, and I tried everything and — " She threw up her hands unhappily. Suddenly and for no reason she felt tears pricking behind her eyes; quickly she scooped up Cotton and hugged her bunny hard enough to make it squeak in distress. "Maybe I'm just no good at magic. Maybe it's because I'm a Nord. Lucia is an Imperial and she got it right away. Maybe Nords are just no good at magic."
She hung her head, lost in her own unhappiness, until Jehan's gentle voice came to her ears. "I don't think Nords are bad at magic," he said. "Some of the best magic-users I've ever known have been Nords. I think, anyway." Again, that uncertain frown that came whenever he spoke of the past. Why does he look like that, I wonder?
"Many Nords are fine magic users," Jehan continued, picking the thread of his thoughts back up. "Saying you can't learn magic because you're a Nord is nonsense. Most likely your father was explaining it in a way you couldn't understand. You said he's an Imperial?"
"Yes, from Cyrodiil."
"That's probably why then. Imperial mages have a very particular way they do things, which is good if you think the way they do. But if you don't — "
A shadow fell over his face, an edge of something dark that Sofie had never seen in him before. It was as if a cloud had passed before the sun. Sofie sidled away from him slightly.
"Why don't you tell me how he explained it to you, and I'll see if I can help?"
Sofie told him what Marcurio had told her the day before, about drawing on energy and separating it into two halves, then using the energy generated by the two portions to form Sparks. Jehan listened patiently, nodding now and then. "Yes," he said when she had finished. "I thought so. That is the standard Imperial method of generating lightning."
Sofie's heart sank. "I'll never be able to do it." She felt her shoulders sag in dejection. "It's hopeless."
She waited for Jehan to speak up and encourage her, but he said nothing. There was a strange, abstracted frown on his face. It's almost as if he's … arguing with himself?
"What?" she asked him.
"Well … it's just …. The Imperial way of magic is not the only way," he said slowly. "There are other ways of practicing magic, ways that might be unfamiliar to your new father." Again, Jehan hesitated, that slight frown marring the smooth skin between his brows. "But I don't know ... "
"What?" she asked again, curiosity piqued, and with it, dawning hope.
"I don't know if I should teach you," he said at last.
"Why not?"
"Well …. " He shifted restlessly and looked uncomfortable. "Your father might not like it."
Sofie scoffed. "Who cares? I won't tell him. I just want to learn so that I can do it as good as Lucia! Please?"
Jehan sighed. "All right. Just don't tell your father where you learned this."
He led Sofie out of the cave to the flat stone surface in the sparkling sunshine. It was still and quiet; the wind was not blowing, and the lake, glittering through the trees, was flat as clear glass.
"Let's start at the beginning: the source of magicka," Jehan said. "Your father probably told you that magicka is what is left behind from the power of the et'Ada, the First Spirit Magnus, after his departure from Mundus, the mortal plane. Is that correct?"
"Ye-es," Sofie said slowly; Marcurio's explanation of what magicka was and just where it came from had always confused her, though Lucia seemed to grasp it perfectly well.
"Well, your father is not wrong," Jehan said. "That is one source of magicka, the most commonly used one, and the only source that Imperial mages are taught to use. However, there is another source."
"Another source?"
"Yes." Jehan nodded. The shadows under his eyes seemed deeper, darker than Sofie remembered. He looks like he hasn't been getting much sleep, she thought again. "Look around you. What do you see?"
He gestured with one black-robed arm. Sofie obediently turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings. "I don't understand — "
"Life," Jehan said with some emphasis. "You see life. All around you. In the trees, in the flowers, the grass under your feet; the insects dancing from blossom to blossom, the fish splashing in the lake. We live in a world that is bursting with energy — with power," he added with soft reverence. "Power — the life force — surrounds us all, every moment of every day; it resides in the food we eat, the water we drink; we breathe it in with every breath. All that power, just waiting for someone to reach out and take it."
"You mean — take the life force from other creatures?" Sofie asked somewhat doubtfully. A faint chill of unease ran down her spine.
Jehan shook his head at once; seeing such a definite denial calmed her. "No. That's not possible. The life force clings very closely to the creatures it animates; it is very, very difficult to separate the two when they don't want to be separated. However, what happens when something alive dies?" he asked. "Where does that life force go?"
"Aetherius?"
"No, that's where the soul goes," he corrected patiently. "Where does the energy go?"
Sofie frowned. "I don't know."
"It doesn't go anywhere," Jehan explained. "It stays, right here, embedded in the world, waiting to be drawn on as new creatures are born. That force, that power, is another source of magic wizards can tap into — if they know how."
There was a strange light in Jehan's eyes; his voice held a deeper resonance than usual. It reminded Sofie of Marcurio when he had been explaining lightning magic earlier; but there was something else there too, something she couldn't quite name. Her unease deepened, and she edged away from him again. He didn't seem to notice though.
"Because this source of energy is from the living, it is much more … hm, volatile, easy to shape, than the energy drawn from Magnus. Instead of having to engage in elaborate manipulations to get the energy to behave as you wish, you need only to instruct it with your mind. Here." He reached out and took her hands. "Let me show you."
Sofie shrank back automatically. "I'm afraid."
"There's nothing to be afraid of. Here."
He drew her into the middle of the circle of stones, close to the large altar. Sofie felt her skin prickle. "The standing stones amplify the power, making it easier to sense," he explained. "That's why I chose this spot for my work. Or … or it chose me … " He trailed off uncertainly, then came back to himself. "Close your eyes and open yourself as if you were trying to draw on the source of magicka. Concentrate."
Still uneasy, Sofie did as he asked, growing still, closing her eyes and trying to find her center, doing one of the mind-drills Marcurio had taught her. She extended her thoughts outward, reaching for the bright source of the magicka that was all she knew. She could feel it, dancing just beyond her range of consciousness, a sparkling, bright energy that seemed to call to her.
"Well?" she heard Jehan ask.
Without opening her eyes, she said, "I feel the magicka Marcurio showed us …. "
"Yes," Jehan said patiently, "but what else?"
"What — else?"
"Reach farther. Look behind it, or beyond it if you will. As I said, it will be easier to find in this place, but once you have found it, you will be able to locate it anywhere. Look beyond. What do you feel?"
"I don't know … " Sofie concentrated as hard as she could, feeling the dancing energy that she was already familiar with. Look beyond it … behind it? She scarcely understood what Jehan was telling her to do, but she strove to obey, exploring the contours of the energy, feeling it sparkling around her, through her … He said the stones amplified it, maybe … ?
She tried to concentrate on the standing stones. They're all around … watching me …. Somehow, unbidden, the image popped into her mind of the first day she had come here: the sense of expectation she had felt, as if the place had been waiting for her; the altar, and the draw she had felt toward it. There was power in this place, she had been able to tell it then …. Was that what I felt?
As she concentrated, slowly another force began to impinge on her mind. As Jehan had said it would be, it was somehow underneath or behind the familiar energy of the magicka she knew so well: she could sense something else, vast, deep, and limitlessly powerful.
Cold, Sofie thought. Ancient. And above all, dead. She didn't know precisely how that word fit, yet somehow it did. Dead, the energy is dead, and yet somehow it lives … watching … waiting …
With a cry, she opened her eyes and jerked away from the altar.
"You felt it?" That strange, almost eager light was still in Jehan's eyes.
"I did," she whimpered, holding herself. "It frightened me … "
She drew back from Jehan, expecting him to scold her, but he only looked at her with compassion. "I know. I was afraid the first time I sensed that energy too." Sofie knew better than to ask him when that had been. "Once you've drawn on it a couple of times, you'll get used to it."
"I don't know … "
He looked at her patiently. "It's just like using the magicka your father taught you. Weren't you afraid the first couple times you did that?"
"I — " But Sofie broke off, because all of a sudden, she remembered she had been: had been afraid of all that power, had been afraid it would crush her. Maybe he's right, she thought, and looked up at Jehan in confusion.
"I guess I was," she said after a moment. "But — "
"Yes?"
"Is it safe?"
"Safe?" Now it was Jehan's turn to look confused.
"Will it hurt me?"
He smiled. "No, not at all. After all, this is the power source I use, and aren't I all right?"
"Ye-es," she said uneasily.
"Go ahead," he told her. "Try it. You'll see."
Sofie did as he told her, reaching out to the power source, drawing from it just as she did when she was casting normal magicka. It flowed easily, much more easily than the magicka Marcurio had taught her and Lucia to draw upon.
"It's more … " She frowned. "More slippery somehow too. I can feel — it'll be a lot easier to work with."
"Yes," Jehan said, nodding. "This is life-energy. Nothing living is foreign to it, unlike the magicka the Arcane University wizards in Cyrodiil would have you use." His face darkened, but Sofie did not see. She was too busy concentrating on the feel of this new energy, her fear fading as she worked with it. Perhaps he is right, she thought. Perhaps it is no different than working with the kind of magicka Marcurio showed us.
"How do I make it do lightning? Do I need to separate it into two halves like Marcurio said?"
"No, nothing so complicated. You know that the force of lightning resides within you, right?"
"Yes," Sofie said, nodding at once. "My new father told me that."
"All you have to do is think of that force within you and convert the energy you hold to become like it. Then project it outward away from you. If you do it correctly it should be as easy as reaching out your hand. Try it," he said.
Convert the energy you hold to become like that force. Sofie closed her eyes, sensing the energy within her, concentrating. She held it with her mind, and with an effort of will, crushed the energy into the shape of lightning. It fought against her, ceaselessly fluctuating within her grip, but she held it relentlessly. Then with another effort of will, she threw all that energy outward, away from her.
The ends of her fingertips crackled and she opened her eyes, stunned to see and hear the white-hot bolt of light dancing across the open space. It struck the altar and she shied away as it threw out sparks.
"I did it!" she cried, elated beyond all measure. "And that was even better than Lucia!"
She turned excitedly to Jehan, who offered her that quiet, shy smile.
"That was very good," he said. "Now try it again."
The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon practicing: Sofie drawing on the new energy Jehan had showed her, and using it to cast lightning again and again, and Jehan watching and offering gentle suggestions. Under his coaching, Sofie also tried to make fire and frost, and found she could do those as well, even better than by following Marcurio's instructions. She was thrilled. Finally, she could do magic even better than Lucia. Marcurio's bound to be pleased with me when he sees what I can do, she thought. She could almost hear his praise for her and it made her feel warm all over.
At last as the sun sank toward the horizon and a chill crept into the air, Sofie realized it was time to stop. She suddenly felt completely exhausted and she was starving — she had been so caught up in her practice that she hadn't eaten anything all day.
"I have to go," she told Jehan with regret, bending to scoop up Cotton, who had been nibbling grass at her feet. Her fingertips still tingled, and she could smell the acrid scent of electricity in the clearing. She glanced toward the cave, where Jehan kept his Enchanter. "I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to finish your enchanting. But thank you for showing me how to do lightning."
"You're welcome," Jehan said, and that small, shy smile crossed his lips again. "Will you come tomorrow?"
"I don't know." Sofie frowned. "It might be hard for me to get away. But if I can, I will. And I'll also bring you those Daedric weapons too, if I can get them."
"Would you?" he asked her hopefully. "It would be such a help to me — "
"I will. I promise. I'll see you tomorrow, if I can," she repeated, and with that, ran up the path toward Lakeview Manor.
Glancing at the darkening sky as she ran up the path, Sofie felt a chill steal over her. I didn't realize it was this late…. She clutched Cotton closely. What if someone notices I'm gone? What if they yell at me — or even worse, ask where I've been? Somehow, she didn't want to tell anyone about her friendship with Jehan. She was pretty sure that if she did, Marcurio and Ingrid would forbid her to visit him at the very least. At the worst —
Sofie didn't even want to think about what might happen. She had seen the members of her mother's household in action when bandits attacked the stedding. If they were to turn that ferocity on Jehan ... Just why they might do that, she didn't know, but the thought of it still filled her with dread.
Surely they wouldn't —
When she reached the house, it was almost full dark. Every window in the vast, black silhouette blazed with light, throwing yellow patterns through the darkness onto the ground outside. Are they all waiting up for me? she wondered with a gulp. But as she skulked along the side of the manor, she saw Ingrid's horse - a strange black beast with eyes that sometimes almost appeared to glow red - and realized with a sinking feeling that her mother was back in residence.
Oh no ….
She reached hesitantly for the handles on the front door, when suddenly the doors slammed open with such force that they crashed back against the walls on either side. Ingrid came storming out, almost knocking Sofie over, clad in her full dragonscale armor and with her blonde braids flying. Teldryn Sero was behind her.
"M-mother?" Sofie faltered. Ingrid's beautiful Nordic profile was frozen in a mask of anger.
The word seemed to penetrate to Ingrid's consciousness. She turned and stared down at Sofie with an almost frightening intensity.
"Sofie," she said, seeming to recollect herself.
"Is something wrong? I'm sorry I wasn't here when you got home — I didn't know you were coming home today. I didn't mean to make you mad — "
Ingrid stared at her a moment more as if trying to make sense of what Sofie said. Teldryn waited in the background, his arms folded sardonically. "It's all right, Sofie," she said at last, seeming to recollect herself. "I'm not mad at you. It's all right that you didn't know I was coming home today, I didn't send word. I'm off to do some hunting — there are some bandits in the Pinewatch Sanctuary that I've got to clear out. Here," she said, and pressed a round coin into Sofie's hand. "Take this for your allowance. You can go with Gunjar into Falkreath tomorrow and spend it. Now go inside and go get dinner. I'll be back later."
She strode with long angry strides across the darkened clearing to that strange black horse, and swung up on its back in one fluid motion. With a harsh cry, she kicked the horse into a gallop and thundered down the worn path away from the stedding. Teldryn watched her go, then tossed Sofie a lazy salute.
"And a pleasant evening to you too, little girl," he said, and then followed after Ingrid on foot, with no sign of hurry.
The moons and stars were out now. Sofie watched Ingrid's form becoming smaller and smaller in the moonlit night before vanishing at last around a curve; then she turned back to the high, dark walls of Lakeview Manor. The house loomed forbiddingly above, and she was suddenly filled with sick dread. She wanted nothing more than to just leave — to take Cotton, turn around, go back down the path — just go away, somewhere she wouldn't have to face all the tension she knew was waiting for her.
You're here now. Everyone inside is expecting you, she told herself sternly. With more strength than she would have suspected she possessed, she took hold of the door handle and pulled it open.
When she peeked into the great hall, the air felt frozen. Everyone was staring in her direction. Marcurio's face was black with rage, and the anger in the air was as loud as a shout. Sofie swallowed, thinking in fear that people were angry at her.
"Is something wrong?" she faltered. She caught Lucia's eye, and Lucia shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry I got back so late — "
Her words fell into the vast silence. No one seemed to even notice she'd spoken. Abruptly, Marcurio shoved back his chair and stood up. Without so much as a word, he crossed the room to the library and disappeared through the double doors with a slam.
"So," Llewellyn the Nightingale said with black humor, breaking the silence. "Dinner?"
The next morning, Lucia filled Sofie in on what had happened. "They had a huge fight," she said, opening her eyes wide. "I've never seen either one of them so mad before. Marcurio yelled at Ingrid that she was hardly ever around and she never paid any attention to us or to him, and Ingrid said she had important things to do that he couldn't possibly understand, and then Marcurio said, 'You spent more time with Borgakh than you ever did with the family!' And Ingrid said that was because Borgakh didn't harp and criticize her all the time and actually let her get some peace and quiet for once. And then Marcurio said, 'Where is Borgakh anyway? Did you get tired of her and ditch her too?' And Ingrid just turned on him with this look, and I really thought she was going to hit him," Lucia confided in hushed tones, as the two of them swept their room on the upper floor.
"And then what happened?" Sofie asked, riveted.
"Nothing, she just stormed out, and that's when you came in," Lucia said. "Who knows when she'll be back. Honestly, I'm glad she's gone. It was really scary. Be glad you missed the whole thing."
"Your mother and I are having some problems," Marcurio told them later that morning at breakfast. He looked exhausted: unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes, and almost as pale as Jehan. Ingrid's place was conspicuously vacant. Neither Sofie nor Lucia said anything in response to Marcurio's revelation, but simply exchanged glances; each could read in the other's eyes, No kidding.
"Things are very complicated between us right now," Marcurio continued. "But know that we are committed to each other, and we care about and are committed to you children also. No matter what happens, we'll see to it that you two are taken care of."
That statement was so obviously untrue, neither Sofie nor Lucia bothered to comment on it. Sofie thought it was blatantly clear that Ingrid simply didn't want to be tied down anymore, and just as clear that Marcurio would not tolerate the situation much longer himself. The only question was how much longer they would drag the whole thing out.
"See, at first they got along great together," Lucia explained; she had been adopted first, so had been observing the two for longer. "Back then they were living in Solitude. Ingrid still wasn't around a lot, but she was around more, and Marcurio liked living in Solitude — he said it felt more Imperial. There were a lot of people around, there was a lot to do, a whole Imperial legion in Castle Dour for him to work with, the library of the Bards' College where he could get books, a Grand Enchanter and a big Alchemy lab for him to conduct his experiments. But things started getting worse when Ingrid made us all move to Windhelm — people there don't like Imperials as much," she said; Sofie said nothing, but knew it was true. "And then she made us move again, out here, and he liked that even less. I think Marcurio would still be willing to put up with it if she just left him alone so he could keep doing his research, but what really makes him mad is that she keeps coming back every now and then and expecting everything to be just like it was before."
"What do you think is going to happen?" Sofie asked.
Lucia looked at Sofie significantly. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked. "Sooner or later, Marcurio is finally going to have had enough and go back to Cyrodiil. The only question will be, will Ingrid notice he's gone. And after that, with Ingrid — who knows? But I don't think she'll come back here again."
"Oh." Sofie knew Lucia was right; she could feel it in her bones. She bit her lip, thinking. "But — what about us?" she asked. She didn't bother to mention that Marcurio had said they would be taken care of; Sofie didn't believe that, and she could see, neither did Lucia.
Lucia shrugged. "I don't know. I'm thinking I might run away," she said coolly.
Sofie nodded; it made perfect sense to her. After all, there would be no house and no household without Ingrid and Marcurio. "Where would you go?" she asked.
"Probably back to Whiterun. Or maybe Solitude. It's only a couple of days, and I bet I could get a ride from a cartman."
"Aren't you afraid it might be dangerous?" Sofie asked.
"No. I'll take the dagger Ingrid gave me, and this time we know how to use some magic like Marcurio taught us. I was taking care of myself fine before, I should be able to now even better."
"I guess that does make sense," Sofie admitted, thinking it over.
"What about you?" Lucia asked. She didn't suggest the two of them might stay together, nor did Sofie expect her to; despite what it pleased Ingrid to say, the two of them were not, and never had been, sisters as much as two girls of the same age, living under the same roof.
"I don't know. Maybe I'll go back to Windhelm," she said. "Or maybe I'll go somewhere south like Ivarstead or Karthwasten. Windhelm gets really cold in the winter." She shivered, remembering.
But even as she said that, an idea was coming to her, one she scarcely dared admit to herself. Maybe — just maybe, she hardly dared to think, maybe Jehan will let me stay with him.