Chapter 9

"I know it to be so because Azura has seen it."

"Oh, you commune with Daedric Princes so easily, do you?" Your sword blade sings against the whetstone.

"Azura, when she wills it."

"Do you have her over every Sundas for tea? What a social calendar you must have." The Doctor snickers at your comment.

The Dunmer man gamely smiles. "I cannot help being popular. I make an excellent bowls partner."

"By all means, you must be legendary if gods are making house calls for you."

"Says the Dragonborn," he responds.

You sigh, and let the whetstone plop into the bucket of water between your legs. Setting your weapon on the table, you lean forward. "You cannot be who you claim to be, Telvanni or no. Your face has not seen more than forty summers, and he would have to be the oldest of our people."

"Nonsense! Master Neloth is double my age. Well, nearly. He certainly looks it, does he not?"

"Looks can be deceiving," interjects the Doctor from the corner. He tosses a jazbay grape in the air and catches it in his mouth. He is reclining on the back two legs of a chair, with his feet balanced on the seat of another. There is a book on his lap that he leafed through impossibly fast after picking it up off one of your shelves.

"I thought you were looking for information," you say to him.

"More creation myths." He waves a hand dismissively.

"Azura is no myth," says the Dunmer, turning in his chair to look at the Doctor.

The Doctor wags his eyebrows, but does not respond.

"This has been a most entertaining evening, but I think it is time for you to leave," you say.

The Dunmer returns his attention to you. He throws his hood back and fixes you with an intense gaze. His black hair is to his shoulders, and his beard is neatly short. Now that you can see his face clearer, you notice that though he does appear young, his eyes are impossibly old. "I cannot, Outlander. Not until my mission is complete."

Earlier out in the street, after he appeared next to you so suddenly, you let out a "FUS" to put some distance between you and the surprise intruder. The Dunmer flew back a few yards, but before hitting the ground, he gracefully floated in the air. As he glided down to his feet, you readied your staff. He raised his hand and instantly disarmed you. Your weapon flew right into his grasp. But rather than attacking you, he held up his other hand in supplication. You went for your sword, but came up empty, remembering you had left it in your house.

"Please, sera, I mean you no harm. I greet you warmly." Keeping an eye on you, he bent over slightly and dropped your staff to the ground.

Judging by his abilities and the intricately embroidered robe he was wearing, you had guessed him to be a high-ranking mage. "You do not need my staff to put up a fight," you said.

He laughed, his voice low and slightly raspy. "Indeed, Outlander, I do not. But I am not here to fight."

Despite the fact that you did not invite either of the men to follow you, both the Doctor and the Dunmer ended up inside Breezehome a few minutes later. Your staff safely returned, you had set it on the rack, and went about building a fire. You passed out a few mugs and things, more by habit than by way of genuine welcome.

The Dunmer's pleasant demeanor clouded over as he began to tell of Dwemer spider and sphere incursions in lands elsewhere. Morrowind, Hammerfell, High Rock, and even eastern Cyrodiil were being assaulted by Dwarven constructs rampaging above ground. You took to sharpening your sword, listening incredulously to his story. When you demanded to know how he learned of this, and who exactly he was, you began to think you were dealing with a madman.

"What is your mission, exactly?" you ask.

With a grand voice, he responds, "To find the Dragonborn and her companion…"

"Oi, companion?" says the Doctor.

"…and bid them make haste to the Red Mountain. To find the lost Dwemer and stop the invasion." The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he is ever-so-slightly enjoying himself. "In short, sera, to convince you to save us all one last time."

You lean back in your chair and fold your arms. "Oh is that all?"

"Companion?" repeats the Doctor haughtily.

"If you are who you claim to be, why does this task come to me? Surely issues with the Red Mountain fall on your shoulders?"

"What, and deprive the Dwemer of your winning company? Do I have to put out every fire?" asks the Dunmer.

"Do I?" you counter.

"Azura commands it. It has to be you." He looks over at the Doctor. "Both of you."

"I don't take orders," responds the Doctor. "This Azura hasn't even introduced herself."

The Dunmer closes his eyes and goes still. You and the Doctor share a look, and you shake your head. Picking up the bucket, you rise and walk back towards the kitchen area. "The Doctor has things to do, and so do I. Do not force me to be impolite." You dispose of the water and put away the whetstone.

The Doctor stands, flings his cloak on, and starts for the door. As he passes the table, the Dunmer reaches out and grabs the Doctor's arm. "You are so big. So wide-reaching, even Azura cannot see the edges of you. But it has to be you." The Dunmer opens his eyes, and the Doctor wrenches his arm away. "Time Lord, if you want to save your people, this is your only chance."

"Who are you?" asks the Doctor, his face hardened in vexation.

You walk back towards the table as the Dunmer raises an arm. The fabric of his robe falls, and you can see a glistening ring on his finger. It appears almost to be generating a pale golden light all on its own.

The Doctor shrugs. "All right, neat bit of kit. And?"

"Wait," you say, getting closer. "I think he is trying to tell us who he is." You see a moon and star carved into the ring. Though your knowledge of artifacts is minimal, your people have not forgotten so quickly the significance of that symbol. You look into the eyes of the Dunmer. "You never are."

"Nerevar." The elf smiles. "Yes, it belonged to him. I am the Nerevarine."

The Doctor rolls his eyes. "Another title? Is no one called John anymore?"

"We could have used you, muthsera. When the dragons came."

"And when the empire faltered, and when the gates opened, and when the mountain exploded." The Nerevarine looks at you with unexpected warmth. "Who says I did nothing?"

"Too much ego for one tiny house, I'd reckon," says the Doctor, going towards the door again.

You raise a finger. "Remember how I said the Dwemer disappeared, Doctor? Well, he might know where they went." The Doctor halts and looks at the Nerevarine.

"Ah," he says apologetically, "that is not entirely true. I do not retain the memories of my…predecessor. But, I have been able to piece together the different accounts into something that almost makes sense." He gestures at the chair across from him. "Doctor, this does concern you, and those you seek to protect. I only ask that you listen. And if I cannot convince you, then I will go."

The Doctor hesitates, then relents. You grab a polishing rag off a table and sit in the chair next to him. "Be brief, Nerevarine. Neither of us is blessed with an overabundance of patience."

The Nerevarine feigns surprise. "I never would have guessed! Well then, long ago, in the first era…"

"This is the brief version?" you interrupt. The Doctor shushes you.

As you polish your blade, the Dunmer tells the story of the War of the First Council. Some parts you had heard, most you had not. There was a final skirmish at the Battle of Red Mountain between your ancestors, led by General Nerevar, and the Dwemer.

"Why were they at war?" you ask.

The Nerevarine elaborates – General Nerevar had learned that deep under the mountain, a Dwemer engineer called Kagrenac was working with an artifact of unspeakable power. This object was suspected to be the heart of the god Lorkhan, and Kagrenac was attempting to twist it to his own uses. The plan, as far as anyone could understand, was to make a giant metal man. Called Numidium, scholars claim that the Dwarves were to worship it as a new god, for they had abandoned all the others. Regardless of Kagrenac's intentions for his creation, it was an immensely powerful creature, and could wreak terror on the enemies of the Dwemeri empire.

"Giant metal men," grumbles the Doctor. "Never a good idea."

"Indeed. Something rather sad about golems. I wonder if they are aware. Can they feel?" asks the Nerevarine.

"Depends rather on the metal man in question."

"Can you finish this up?" you interrupt.

The Nerevarine smiles. "Of course." He continues that it has been postulated the Dwemer king Dumac never even knew about Numidium or Kagrenac's activities under the mountain. Regardless, General Nerevar called for war on the Dwemer to stop Numidium from being completed. During the Battle of Red Mountain, General Nerevar journeyed to its depths taking a small band of warriors with him. He fought Dumac here and won. After the king's death, Kagrenac used his specially designed tools on the Heart of Lorkhan. At that instant, the Dwemer across all the lands vanished.

"What is this Heart of Lorkhan?" asks the Doctor.

"I have seen it," says the Nerevarine. "In fact, it was my duty to destroy it a few hundred years ago when someone else tried to use it the same way Kagrenac did. I had to pick up where General Nerevar left off, I suppose."

"What did it look like?" presses the Doctor.

The Nerevarine scratches at his beard. "It looked a bit like the heart of most living creatures on land. There was light, though. A shimmering light that surrounded it and was also a part of it. It was, in a way, beautiful." His voice takes on a slightly bitter note. "It was grotesque, too. The way those Dwemer had it connected to pipes and all manner of machinations. I cannot claim to know it's true purpose, but I know that it had been perverted."

"How did you destroy it?" you ask.

"I used Kagrenac's tools. After which it was consumed by the fires of the mountain."

"I'm sure it's safe to go back to Camp Crystal Lake now," says the Doctor.

"What?" asks the Nerevarine.

"He…he does that," you respond. "Doctor, what do you think made all the Dwemer disappear?"

"Dunno. Would need to know more about this 'Heart of Lorkhan'," he says, rolling the 'r'.

"Some people believe the Dwemer could hear each other's thoughts. Communicate with their minds over great distances," says the Nerevarine.

"Telepathy? Is this common here?"

The Nerevarine shakes his head. "No other Mer race has this ability, thankfully. If you think we like to hear ourselves talk now..."

"What happened to the giant metal man?"

"Also destroyed. Eventually."

"So if everything is so 'destroyed', why are the Dwemer constructs coming above ground and attacking everyone?" you ask.

"I have yet to hear what this has to do with me," says the Doctor.

"The Calling is coming through the Elder Scrolls. To every Dwemer stronghold, orders are being given. Commands to make ready. Something is coming back." The Nerevarine looks at you pointedly. "They cannot be allowed to return."

You feel a chill, and you notice the fire is getting low. You get up to add a piece of wood. "You need me to fetch all the Elder Scrolls? That is impossible."

"Indeed, that would be. It is not known how many there are, and there is nowhere safe to hide them. No, simply 'blocking up the entrance', as it were, is not enough. You must go where the Dwemer have gone and stop them at the source. Only the Doctor and his machine can take you."

"I'm not a taxi," says the Doctor.

"Azura has told me your people live here, yes? They will not go with you. You cannot scoop them up and run away with them."

"No? Watch me."

"Doctor…" you say.

"No." He stands. "I'll talk to them again. Make them see reason. If they would just listen…"

A quiet yet rapid knock at the door interrupts the debate. You quickly rise, sword in hand, and go to answer. "Who beckons?" you ask.

"It's me!" a voice loudly whispers.

Confused but not alarmed, you open the door. Standing on the front step is an adolescent boy, furtively looking up and down the street. "Finn?" you say. Without being asked inside, he pushes through the doorway and into your common room. "Has positively everyone lost their manners?" you ask no one in particular.

"I had to come!" he says, rushing over towards the Doctor.

"I don't think your old gran would like it if she knew you were here," the Doctor responds.

"She won't know. Not yet anyway. But I needed to find you, to see if it is real."

The Doctor shakes his head. "Finn…"

"To see if what is real?" you ask.

"All of it!" The boy excitedly strides around the table. "The stories, are they true? Are we really travelers from another world? Are there ships that can go to the stars? Move through time like waves on the sea?"

The Doctor rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the floor.

"A whole different race, a different species! Thousands of us? Millions?"

"Not anymore," the Doctor responds. He takes a deep breath and quietly continues. "We were, once, a great society. Yes, millions. But they're gone. All of them. Except me." He looks up at the boy. "And now, maybe you."

"I knew it!" The boy rushes over to the seat you abandoned and throws himself in it. "Teacher taught us, you know. The elders, they don't like the young ones knowing the truth. But the Teacher would show us things in the library. In secret. Stuff about other worlds, and where we came from. He thought we should know our history."

"What did he tell you?"

"Incredible tales. My friends all say I'm thick to believe them, that it's horker rot for bairns, but why would the Teacher lie? He told me we lived in great, shining cities unlocking the secrets of the universe. That we were brilliant and noble and wise…"

"Not all of us," responds the Doctor.

"…oh," says Finn, clearly trying not to look disappointed.

A shadow passes over the Doctor's face, but dissolves into enthusiasm. "Aw, but we could be! Sometimes, we really were that brilliant."

"And noble?" asks Finn.

"And noble."

"And wise?"

The Doctor audibly exhales, a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes."

"Why are we on this world, then?" Finn asks.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Finn shakes his head. "The Teacher never told us."

"Maybe he did not know either," you say.

"The elders know. Or at least, I think they do. It's why they…" Finn looks down. "Why I'm not to talk to you."

"You renegade," you say, amused.

The Doctor glances at you, then places a hand on Finn's shoulder. "Lad, you should…"

"Take me with you," Finn implores. The Doctor shakes his head and opens his mouth, but Finn continues. "Please, let me come. The others won't, they will never leave. They hate you. I don't know why." Finn turns to you. "Please Dragonborn, tell him. You know what they're like."

You can tell that the Doctor is wavering. For your part, you are not sure if it is wiser for Finn to go with the Doctor (and all the danger that seemingly entails,) or to stay with the intolerant Siben settlers. "Curious, your people. They never have been exactly friendly to strangers, but to hate their own kind as well? What has made them this way?"

The Doctor continues studying the adolescent and does not answer you.

"Take me with you. Let me be a Time Lord," says Finn.

"You can't." The Doctor sniffs and takes his hand off Finn's shoulder. "The Academy is gone."

"But Doctor…"

"Kaput! Finito, Finn. All of Gallifrey has fallen, and with it, any hope of restoring…" The Doctor looks at the Nerevarine. The Dunmer nods his head ever-so-slightly, pity in his eyes. "The Dragonborn and I have an errand to run. We can discuss this later."

"Let me see your ship then! Before you go."

"I dunno if…"

"Aw, go on," you say. "Let him have a look. We need it for that 'errand' anyway."

The Doctor seems surprised at your willingness to indulge Finn, but gives in. "Fine…" Finn claps a hand on the table with ardor. " Just a look-see. My cab is full-up for the next trip."

Finn and the Doctor make for the door. "I need a moment. I will catch up," you say. The Doctor nods and herds the ecstatic adolescent out of the house. When they have left, you turn to the Dunmer. "Nerevarine, what awaits us at Red Mountain?"

"All is fire and ash, muthsera. It is why you must take his ship. Not even the surliest Orc smith has the capability to build any vessel that can withstand the flame."

"He is no warrior. I do not believe it right to use him as a carriage driver. Surely you are much better equipped to stand by my side."

"Such a compliment!" The grave expression on his face swiftly changes to a disarming grin. "Soon, I have no doubt. I look forward to seeing you in action. For now, my task is to prepare."

"For?"

"For your failure."

"What?"

The Nerevarine looks over his shoulder towards the door and takes a step closer to you. He removes an amulet from his neck. Hanging from a simple leather strap, the strange spindly charm is colored red and blue. "Just a precaution, of course. In case you cannot stop the Dwemeri invasion, I must make ready." He loops the necklace around your neck. "Amulet of Recall. I have set the Mark for here. If you have need, clasp it in your hand and focus your energies upon it. It will transport you here to this very spot."

Your mouth gapes wide. "Does that ancient magic still yet work? Those spells are thought lost to time…"

"Nchow!" he laughs. "Must you always harp upon my age?"

You feel your cheeks redden, and you cast your eyes down sheepishly. "Apologies, sera."

He sighs, and runs a finger over the amulet charm. "Ah, pay no mind. I am that old." Hearing the wistfulness tingeing his voice, you look back up at him. "I just…forget." He steps away from you and clears his throat. "Now we must depart. I will accompany you to his ship. Have you all that you need?"

"How can I know? What will I face?" You buckle on your belt, and slide the sword into its sheathe.

"I cannot be sure. But I would pack for battle."

You hurry over to a chest in the alchemy room, and grab an assortment of potions. Your bag is soon heavy, clanking like in the old dragon-hunting days. From the weapons rack, you retrieve your staff. So prepared, you both exit and lock up.

Outside, you head East. "Come, I know a shortcut." The streets are empty as you head towards Jorrvaskr. The fabled mead hall of the Companions cuts an impressive profile, even at night. After climbing the steps, you turn North. "If anyone is inside, you are my manservant. Understood?"

"You know, I rather like the sound of that."

Before reaching the stone door of the Underforge, you hear dull whacks coming from behind the hall. You glance over and see a figure laying into a training dummy with a sword. He or she is measured with their swings, consistently hitting the straw man in the same spot. You feel a small twinge in your chest, thinking about the last time you stood in the training yard.

It was late summer. The hold was finally starting to cool after weeks of oppressive heat. You had come from Heljarchen to conduct Harbinger business. Vilkas had a contract he needed your assistance with. Athis and Ria were having drinks in the great hall. Aela was breaking in a few wet-ear recruits. An ordinary day.

As you were leaving, you halted in the training yard to watch the young scrappers brawl. Aela was shouting advice to a particularly green Breton who was having trouble with his shield. "You'll break your arm if you keep flailing it like that!" You shared a laugh as he attempted a shield bash against his much larger Nord opponent. The Nord, unmoved, just blinked. Aela turned to you. "Soon it'll be your lad here, training with the Shield-Brothers."

You had sighed, shook your head. "I fear the whelp will never be ready."

"Oh?" she said, surprised.

"Soft, sensitive. No blood in him. More fit to sing songs in the mead hall than drink in it."

There was a pause. The normally blunt Aela seemed to search for the right thing to say. "Perhaps he'll grow out of it. Or train to be a smith. There is much honor fashioning the arrow used in the hunt."

The Nord knocked the Breton down into the dirt. A thin red stream dribbled from his nose, and he reached his hand up to dab at it. "Arkay's ass," he grumbled.

"Ale's on you," said the Nord, and he reached his hand out.

The Breton smirked and took the hand. "Yeah yeah, who's countin?"

The Nord helped him up. You watched them walk towards you. Aela spoke again. "Maybe even work the Skyforge one day."

The pair of recruits walked past. The Breton nodded to you in respect. "Hail Dragonborn," said the Nord.

You had turned to go. "No blood in him at all."

The Nerevarine interrupts your memory. "At this time of night? Bit nocturnal."

You gaze a little longer at the figure in training, realizing you no longer know all the current members of the Circle. "Some Companions are rather dedicated. Come."

The Underforge is empty. The Nerevarine gazes at the stone fountain at the center of the room, but does not comment. You lead him through the back passageway and out into the open countryside.

As you pass Battle-Born Farm, you look up at the dark sky. "Dawn soon."

"Less than an hour," agrees the Nerevarine.

"Tell me, sera, is this the last one I shall ever see in Tamriel?" you ask, startling even yourself with your candid inquiry.

"What makes you think I would know something like that?"

"Azura told you more than you are letting on. Are the Doctor and I going to fail?"

The Nerevarine glances over at you with a mixture of surprise and discomfort. "Are you suddenly putting more faith into Daedric Princes?"

"No more or less than any other powerful creature. 'Wuldsetiid los tahrodiis', as an old friend would say. It would be foolish of me to ignore insights, if Azura offers any, just because I doubt her omnipotence."

"Is that your companion's vessel up ahead?" he changes the subject, pointing at the blue box in the distance.

"Yes, but…"

"Curious, is it not? No sail, no wings…"

You stop walking. "S'wit, I will not have you treat me like one of your Telvanni hirelings, off to do your bidding because you have willed it."

He also halts and turns to you, his face grave. "No, I would not have that either, Dragonborn." He lowers his voice, as if afraid the stars will hear. "You are mortal, though you have the will of immortals in your head. Heed their whispers, Dovah. You bleed just as easily as I."

"Legends say you live forever," you respond.

"But we know better, don't we?" He holds his arm out formally, as if a Duke at a ball. "Shall we?"

You feel tiny stirrings of being charmed. "No, I have my staff, thank you." The rest of the journey to the TARDIS is silent, and you appreciate that fact.

Before you can knock, the door swings open. Golden light cuts through the surrounding darkness, and it takes your eyes a moment to see Finn beckoning you in. "Dragonborn, look! The Teacher was right!" He runs back into the glow.

You hear the hum as before, and this time you step through the threshold. The space is unlike anything you have experienced before – impossibly big to be held in such a confined box. The floor is hard metal, yet the room is warm and inviting. The Doctor's cloak is tossed carelessly on an orange-yellow pillar that seems to be growing out of the floor. You lean your staff and bag against the pillar while looking closer; your brain struggling to decipher organic from mineral. The Doctor stands talking to Finn in front of a round table-like object with buttons and levers of all sorts. There are lights and panels in a dizzying array, noises with unknowable sources, and the surprisingly pleasant smell of a smokeless fire, like a star being perpetually made and unmade. You start to worry that it all might overwhelm you, so you try to concentrate on their conversation.

"A place with colour. Somewhere that isn't just white and gray and boring. Are there worlds like that, Doctor?" asks Finn, running a hand through his ginger hair.

"Course. There are blue ones, orange ones, I've even been to one that changes colour based on the mood of their ruler, the High Empress Thunoraoxipli. Hold that switch there," the Doctor instructs. Finn obliges, and the Doctor continues, his voice animated. "Great parties! You could fit their entire population in your pocket. Which you shouldn't, if you're allergic to pollen…"

"Are there red worlds?"

"Universe is full of red planets. Can't get away from 'em. All right, let go of that now." Finn moves away from the console as the Doctor continues busying himself. His voice lowers almost imperceptibly. "Our world, Gallifrey, is…was…well it looked red from space. All that ruby grass, and the atmosphere."

The Doctor punches another button and glances up at you, his face serious but eyes glad. "All right?" You find that you have no words, so you nod once.

"I think that is where I should like to go. A red plane-it," says Finn as he charges down some stairs and rushes out a doorway that you had not even noticed was there.

"Hey!" shouts the Doctor after him. "No wandering off!" You hear Finn's heavy footsteps clang away. The Doctor mutters to himself, "I do the running around here."

You look behind you to see The Nerevarine still at the entrance, apparently unwilling to come in. You walk over to him. "Do not worry. It is safe." A loud, unworldly squeal emanates from the table in the center of the room. "…I think."

The Nerevarine shakes his head. "It looks to me like an instrument of the Dwemer. The sound of those machines, that green …" He points at the console where the Doctor stands, and you notice that the green light radiating from its surface does resemble the green glass of the oculory. "It is the color of unfettered ambition, of going too far. No, Dragonborn, even with your charms, I shall stay under the sky."

Soft shoes thud towards you. "Funny, I always thought of it as the color of escape. And pistachio pudding." The Nerevarine looks at you, perplexed, and you just sigh. The Doctor adds, as if to help, "Who knew that you could get tired of unlimited rice pudding?"

"Doctor, do you know where we are going?" you ask.

"I have done a scan and found a volcano on an island east of here. I assume this is your Red Mountain?"

The Nerevarine tilts his head. "'Volcano'? What a marvelously evocative word. The mountain of fire is practically a direct shot to the east from here, as the dragon flies."

"So we get to this mountain. Then what?"

"Ah, well, yes. You will need one more thing. An Elder Scroll."

"Doctor, do you have the one from yesterday?" you ask.

The Nerevarine interrupts, "No, you need a specific one. Wait here, I will be back presently."

The Doctor frowns. "What? Where are you…"

The Dunmer mage quickly casts a spell, and disappears.

"What?" repeats the Doctor.

You hold a hand out where the Nerevarine had been standing, and feel nothing but air. "Not an invisibility spell. I believe he cast…"

Before you can finish your sentence, he reappears, his shoulder under your hand. "I am encouraged, sera. Such intimacy!" You pull your hand back, letting out an exasperated breath. The Nerevarine grins. "Rather than carry this heavy thing all over Whiterun, I thought it best to just leave it and fetch when necessary." He holds out a rolled up Elder Scroll, dustier than the one you brought from Blackreach, but otherwise similar in appearance.

"Why this one, specifically?" asks the Doctor, taking it with both hands.

"That is the one called CHIM. While I would thrill at the chance to bestow upon you another history lesson in my dulcet tones, we do not have the time. But it is the one most capable of making the reality you need. Dragonborn, I suspect you know what a Time-Wound is."

"Yes. There is one atop the Throat of the World…"

"And just like before when you used it to travel to the past, you will do similarly again. In the bowels of Red Mountain, where the Heart of Lorkhan once resided, there is another Time-Wound. I believe it was created when Kagrenac vanished the Dwemer. Go to the Citadel of Dagoth Ur, deep under the mountain. Find the Time-Wound and open the Elder Scroll. Beyond that, I can offer no further guidance."

"Right, well, we'll be off then!" says the Doctor briskly. He jogs back to the console and tosses the Elder Scroll on a chair. "Close the door will ya?"

"Lok, Thu'umme." says the Nerevarine, laboring over the Dovahzul pronunciation. ("Sky above, voices within.")

"'Lok, Thu'um' is the customary phrase," you respond, amused. "Singular."

He puts his hood up, shading his face from the light of the TARDIS. "Indeed I am not fluent in Dragon as you are, Dovahkiin. But I am certain about what I meant." He bows slightly, and shuts the door.

Behind you, the noises increase in frequency and loudness. The whole room begins to shake. "He can make himself disappear. Wait till he sees this," mutters the Doctor. Then he shouts, "Hold on!"

You grab a metal bar near you. "How many days will the journey take, Doctor? Where will I sleep?"

"Um," he responds. He pulls a lever, and the light encased in glass begins to move up and down. The room is assaulted by a great wheezing cacophony and you wonder if your ears might burst. You are filled with a sudden longing for home, your characteristic desire for adventure perhaps not a match for this entirely unfamiliar experience. Your staff falls down with a piteous wooden clatter and rolls about on the platform. The Doctor runs around the circular table, pressing this and that.

Then suddenly, it stops.

The Doctor pulls a metal square towards him and looks at it's face. "You could sleep, if you like. But I thought we'd have a look at this volcano. What do you think?" He motions you over.

You release your grip on the bar and take a few tentative steps towards him. Your gait is unsure, as if at any moment the solid floor will turn to waves. When you make it to the table, you hold onto its edge. "I do not know how you can bear…oh." You catch sight of what is 'on' the metal square – an image of fire and rock bubbling away. "What is this? A painting that moves?" You hold your hand out but cannot bring yourself to touch it, afraid the fire will burn.

The Doctor smiles. "Video. This is the viewer – I can see what's outside the TARDIS without having to leave the comfort of my sofa." He grabs the metal square and moves it around. "See? Just a screen. Perfectly safe."

You press two fingers onto the image of the fire and discover it is cool to the touch. It feels like normal glass. You stutter to find your tongue. "Is…is this normal? On your world?"

"Pft," the Doctor puffs. "This is nothing. You should see what we'd do with sock puppets."

"This is incredible Doctor. I mean…"

"Oh sure, one minute you're outside Whiterun talking to old Neverwhatsit, the next you've travelled thousands of miles away to the insides of an active volcano, and it's the telly you're impressed with?"

"Bit of a braggart, are we?" you needle.

He straightens up. "Am not."

"So this fire, this melted rock, is all outside your box right now?"

"Yup," he says, popping the 'p'.

"But it's wood. How are we not dead?"

"Oh, I've put up a…sort of…invisible shield thingy…look just come and see."

He gallops to the front, and you follow as quick as you are able, your legs still apparently unwilling to believe the floor is reliable. The Doctor flings open the door and there it is – a gigantic cavern overrun with fire and smoke. Huge rock formations are eaten and liquefied white hot. Despite all the flame, you feel only a vague warmth emanating from the surroundings. The air is still fresh and breathable.

"The TARDIS is protecting us, of course. The noxious fumes alone would be enough to…" he breathes in sharply, and his voice changes. "Oh hello. What's this?" He points at large tower of rock, far away from the lava in the chamber. It looks different from the other stone, as if it might have once been carved.

"Remnants of the Dwemer citadel, I suppose. Though how it has survived this long…"

"I…no…what?" He shakes his head vehemently.

"Doctor? Something the matter?"

He studies the chiseled pillar with apprehension. "I get the weird feeling…impossible." He rubs his face, as if to clear his thoughts. "Anyway, that is what we have come to find, I wager." He points at another part of the chamber. You can see a place where the fire and smoke warps; an invisible force is keeping them away. "The TARDIS found a crack in reality. A place where the walls of time are weaker. Your Time-Wound I presume?"

You nod. "I think. It looks like the one on the Throat of the World, anyway."

"She doesn't want to get much closer, but we can't exactly walk over there." He bounds back to the control panels. "Let's see what she makes of this." He pulls a long twine-like object out from under the table, its utility unknown to you. The end of it is apparently sharp, as he is able to somehow plunge it into the casing of the Elder Scroll. The TARDIS squeals in response.

You gaze out at the Time Wound. "The Dwemer cannot still be alive, can they Doctor? After all these centuries? Not really."

"Something powerful created that rift. Kagrenac could have sent his people anywhere. Or when."

"But why would he?" There is no response to your question, so you glance over your shoulder. He is studying his viewer with consternation. "Doctor?"

Without taking his eyes off the metal box's glass face, he moves a hand over to a lever. "Power-hungry engineer who is willing to risk the death and destruction of his own people? Hmph." He pushes a button. "I do know this – geniuses can get it wrong. Hell, even Time Lords." He pulls the lever.

Your legs were right not to trust the floor; it has gone all wobbly again. Stumbling towards the center of the room, you notice the loud noise seems even fouler than before. You take a bad step and fall. Your vision blurs…

How the Doctor's red feet scurry, as if carrying out the duties of ten men.