Chapter Twenty-Four: Boats and Spells and Pirates, Oh My!
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As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcome!
25th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Turdas
Evelyn blinked in the darkness. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and, after a flick of her wrist, lit up the room with a candlelight spell. She cradled the miniature star in her hand, its light casting long shadows on the walls. They twisted and grew with each rock of the boat. None of the sailors stirred, their snores drowned out by the sound of the creaking ship and the crashing waves.
She breathed out slowly, then released the spell.
Closing her eyes made no difference in the dark.
Time passed, and Evelyn was still awake. She had already counted three-hundred and twenty imaginary sheep and was desperately trying to ignore her nausea as the ship sailed onward. The only problem was that it was getting worse.
She gasped as she felt the floor tilt sideways - her stomach was most definitely not happy with being cooped up in the spazzing box that was the Sea Squall.
So much for sleeping in.
Still swaying in the hammock, she opened her eyes. A deep breath and then she raised a hand to cast candlelight. In a moment the room was filled with a soft glow. Keeping her breathing slow and quiet, she stuck a leg out, hoping to catch the floor.
After half a dozen tries and two stubbed toes, she managed to roll out of her hammock.
I'll count it as a success.
She stubbed another toe while pulling her college gear on.
Once ready, she stumbled to the door, one hand held out to keep a death grip on the wall as the floor shifted underneath her feet.
The moment her hand touched the doorknob, however, her candlelight spell fizzled and died. Its disappearance left the ladder under the trap-door just barely visible in the dim lantern-light.
She grimaced and moved forward, waiting out rough patches of waves whenever they hit.
She maneuvered her way carefully up the swaying ladder and, once she was above deck, the light from Masser and Secunda was more than enough to avoid tripping on loose rope and crates. She took the time for a quick survey of her new situation.
Someone was working the sails, another person was messing with the storage barrel lashings, and the last one was standing silently at the bow.
So the thalmor is already up and being antisocial. Lovely. And, he's one of the only three other people that are up right now... there isn't even a hint of sunlight. ...It's probably best to avoid thinking about how long it'll be until dawn.
She closed the hatch softly behind her and shuffled over to her corner of the deck, settling down for the long wait until dawn. There was only the slow crawl of the moons above her to show the passage of time.
Before she could become comfortably settled, A gust of wind sprayed icy seawater onto the deck, pushing her backward in the process.
With a shiver, she pulled her legs even closer and huddled into the solid railing, keeping her chin down to conserve warmth. She took a slow breath - she would get bored with nothing to do but sit around and freeze. There was nothing to see outside - A glance to the ocean showed dark water rolling below her and even though the wet wood on deck reflected the moonlight, most of the ship was still indiscernible in the shadows.
She took a quick look around what she could she on the deck.
The thalmor was as unmoving and stiff as always, the sailor working the sails was leaning against the mast, and the other sailor was out of sight.
She turned back to the sea, watching the inky waves as they rolled by.
So bored. Nothing to do.
She breathed out slowly, watching as it misted away into nothingness.
Nothing to do but think.
There were more stars above her than she had ever seen before - they shimmered in the calm darkness of the sky.
Evelyn leaned her head backward. Were these stars like the ones back where she came from? Giant burning balls of gas, drifting through empty space, lightyears apart from each other? Or were they portals to Aetherius, like some mages speculated?
She sighed. Would she ever know? Would anyone?
She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.
There isn't any way for me to find out for certain. As far as any pre-space-age civilization goes, a star is a star is a star. Useful for navigation, calendars, and horoscopes.
Evelyn peeked her eyes open.
I may as well try to think about the things that I can figure out - or find something to do with myself. Preferably something productive.
Well... I finished sorting yesterday and my notes are stashed somewhere on this ship. And, my magic only works when it is stupidly late at night because this ship is too tiny to have empty rooms. At least with Gjolrik, I could practice inside my igloo.
She glared at the thalmor's back.
If Sergius was up, then I could ask him about enchanting. But no. Thanks to the thalmor, Sergius is still half-blue and won't leave the room.
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
Looked back at the thalmor.
Her shoulders slumped as she took a deep breath.
She had an idea.
A horrible, terrible, no-good, this-could-very-likely-end-in-social-suicide idea.
But it's either this, or sit and do nothing.
And no one else is available. Captain Wayfinder might be awake, but he isn't a mage. That one imperial all but oozed small talk during the portion of the dinner that I was there, so he will forever be a no go for conversations. And the sailors are in the same boat as Wayfinder in that they'd be terrible for mage-questions. I haven't seen the castaway since he got here, even if he might be awake. And Sergius still refuses to come out into public. Which leaves me with only the thalmor.
He is a mage and is very likely to be older than Sergius (and so more experience as a mage). I saved his life - no matter how much he may be in denial - so the least he can do is humor me a little bit. And, best of all - he is already awake and standing right in front of me. No need to wake sleeping bears!
He also owed her for taking her other source of information, Sergius, out of commission, but she wouldn't bring that up.
She swallowed.
Here goes nothing...
She rolled to her feet and, after a quick mental assertion that yes, I am really going to go poke a brooding thalmor, shuffled her way to the bow of the ship. Before she could think about a mission abort, she plopped herself down right next to the thalmor. No going back.
She breathed out as languidly as possible and opened her mouth, but then paused. In her haste to avoid second thoughts, she had forgotten something rather important.
Wait. What am I going to ask him?
Her mouth shut.
She spared a second for a sideways glance.
The thalmor, thankfully, hadn't budged an inch since she arrived.
Quick! Is there anything that I could learn from a thalmor? What would he know?
Her eyes narrowed.
I doubt that he will explain anything about Sergius partially turning blue - though my guess is a messed up spell. Let's see... The thalmor, from what I can remember, use shock spells, apprentice-level restoration spells, and can conjure atronachs. Ancano uses a paralysis spell at the end of the college questline, but that might be a Magnus thing rather than an Ancano thing.
She leaned forward, her head just barely high enough to see over the railing, and slouched.
But why would he even answer a question of mine? If I bring it up directly, the "I saved your life so you owe me" argument is more likely to end with me getting punted off the ship "accidentally" than succeeding - stupid paranoid thalmor. He'd probably think that it was a blackmail attempt.
So in order to get answers, I'd need to appeal to his sense of superiority without overdoing it.
Or... Set a challenge where his pride will force him to answer?
She narrowed her eyes, smirking.
Yes. I like that idea. So I've got-
"Is there any specific reason why you are here?"
She blinked and looked at the thalmor. His voice sounded nearly as stiff and cold as he looked.
Evelyn kept her face blank as if she was still processing the question, but inside her mind, she floundered. Did she have any questions ready? No, she did not. But she couldn't ignore the thalmor.
I need to stall for time.
Tell the truth, but as confusingly as possible?
It's worth a shot, at least.
She waved her hand dismissively.
"Oh no, not really. I was just getting out of the cabin. This ship is reminding me a bit too much of a rather traumatic cart ride I had a while back. I like keeping my lunch, thank you very much. And, Guthrum said that fresh air helps with that, so I came to the front."
There was silence.
Success! And now to figure out what to ask.
"Why was he wandering around in the middle of Stormcloak territory?" No - The question is too likely to involve sensitive information.
"Why do I black out every time I try to tell people about where I came from?" No - I don't want to black out on a ship in the middle of an ice-cold ocean.
"Why can't I use magic in front of people?" I'll likely be blacklisted from further conversations as a delusional weirdo.
She looked sideways to see the altmer staring at her, frowning. She quirked her head to the side as if in confusion as she ran through all her options.
What about my research? That could work! The Falmer were elves and the Thalmor take pride in their elf-ness.
"Well, since you're out here, do you know anything about the culture of the falmer? I've been doing some research but I hit a wall. Do you, perchance, have any or know of someone with information on them?"
"No. ...Is there any reason why are you researching the falmer?"
It was her turn to frown at him. And channel her inner Colette.
"What do you mean? The falmer are a perfectly valid field of research."
The thalmor blinked, looking genuinely confused.
"Do you not have a school of magic to research?"
And here we are at the topic I wanted to avoid.
"Hmm... I would study a school of magic..." may as well rip off the band-aid now. "...if I was able to reliably cast spells. But, of course, seeing that I can't, I've stuck with the Falmer."
She paused.
"Not that the Falmer are a bad research topic, but I'll admit that the schools of destruction and alteration are much more popular with the mainstream crowd. I, personally, would lean more towards conjuration and illusion if I had the chance. Maybe dabble in alteration, too."
The thalmor was still quiet, so she mumbled a few more comments on her -negative- opinions on the spell distribution amongst the schools before trailing off.
Which of the schools was most likely the cause for her getting dropped in Skyrim? Or was it more than one?
The most-likely theories she had were that she had been brought here using some kind of portal - conjuration - or that all of this was some kind of elaborate illusion. Alteration could be helping it all seem real.
Or maybe my life before now was an illusion?
Her eyes narrowed.
No. I had a life on Earth. And now I'm stranded in this "Nirn" until I can find a way back.
Unless Nirn is reality and I've been tricked into believing Earth was real, then I should not be here.
At the very least, I know things that could utterly wreck the timeline. The future is malleable, and I'm lucky to have avoided the Dragonborn for so long. My avoidance means that, wherever they are, they are progressing the story at its proper pace and making sure to-
"What."
The thalmor had spoken, though not very intelligibly.
She looked at him sideways, waiting.
He took a deep breath. Then let it out slowly.
"You cannot use magic?"
She frowned.
I didn't say that I can't use magic at all. But effectively...
"Well... Sort of. The spells I cast - or at least try to cast - get stage fright."
His eyes narrowed, disbelieving, so she rubbed her hands together to warm them.
"See? Watch."
Once her fingers were loose enough, she began. She took the time to go through every minuscule step of casting the candlelight spell, complete with the slowed-down finger counts that the spell tome recommended for novice casters.
Nothing happened.
She raised an eyebrow at the thalmor and then went through the normal casting version that she had worked her way up to. A flick of the wrist and still no sign of a light anywhere.
"See?"
Just for giggles, she decided to try out the fast version - a fancy snap - that she hadn't quite gotten to work reliably. She was positioning her fingers when the thalmor shook his head.
"Stop. What in Oblivion are you trying to cast?"
"Eh? That was candlelight. Or at least the novice and apprentice level versions of it."
It was silent on the boat for a few seconds, but then the thalmor shifted. He huffed out an indignant breath.
"They are teaching you incorrectly. I find it unsurprising that your spells are not working if that is the kind of education you receive at Winterhold."
She blinked. Then tilted her head sideways as she thought.
What? There is another way to cast candlelight? A thalmor-endorsed version? Does that mean that there are other ways for all the other spells too?
"How is candlelight supposed to be cast, then?"
The thalmor's eyes narrowed.
Come on - it's just a candlelight spell. What am I going to do with it? Blind my enemies and trip them off conveniently placed cliffs?
The thalmor's eye twitched and he turned away, and she had to stop herself from sighing in disappointment.
Too much, too soon.
She took a deep breath, the cold air near-freezing in her lungs for a few seconds.
His version probably wouldn't have worked for me either.
An exhale. She watched the steam from her breath as it drifted away.
Then the thalmor spoke.
"Waving one's hands around does nothing for a spell's casting." He paused briefly, then muttered something under his breath. Immediately, a bright light materialized in his hands. It floated upward, stopping just above his head.
"You must know the words behind each spell - the formula - before you can hope to properly cast them."
She froze, staring at the light. It seemed slightly... off... for some reason. Paler, more uniform, and less of a tiny sun and more of a minuscule pinprick of focused light. Very sharp looking, but it didn't have as much variation in the brightness as her version of candlelight.
Maybe it's because I'm casting it wrong? Or are they different spells?
She narrowed her eyes at the light.
"How is it so focused? Mine is more of a ball that changes in brightness occasionally. Sometimes the color changes, too."
'Cause there is nothing quite like giving yourself a heart attack by casting candlelight while dead-tired and getting a creepy red light. That thing looked like a magical firebomb. I was worried that I had accidentally mixed candlelight up with the heating spell until it changed back to blue-ish white after a few seconds.
She hummed in curiosity.
And mine doesn't float so much as sit in my hand like an omnidirectional flashlight.
"It is likely the unfocused nature of the casting disrupting the spell. With the proper voiced formula, the light will coalesce into a point of pure energy."
The thalmor squinted upward into the light and then turned back toward her. He held a hand out toward the waves. This time, he didn't bother with the mumbling.
"Varla-"
She mentally scrambled to be ready. Crap! I need to memorize this!
"-an. Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy."
'Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy.' I remember that much at least.
The other candlelight fizzled out of existence and a new light appeared above his hand. It drifted above his head, making its way back over to where the previous light had floated.
Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy. ...But what was the first sentence again?
"The spell instructs one of the lesser Magna Ge to bring back a light from Aetherius, orders the light to brighten and shine with white light, and then tells it to stay and serve. It is the simplest of the incantations for candlelight, possible for even novices to complete successfully."
...Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy.
"What was the first sentence again?"
The thalmor looked at her from the corner of his eye. She thought she saw an eye twitch.
"Varla caraeloy silu an."
Ok. Varla caraeloy silu an. And now to practice it all together.
She didn't blink twice when the thalmor silently excused himself. She'd let him brood in peace if he wanted to.
The horizon was a deep red, just beginning to brighten, by the time she felt ready to try casting candlelight verbally.
She held out a hand, taking a deep breath.
"Varla caraeloy silu an. Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy."
She exhaled.
Nothing happened.
She repeated the phrase while imagining the meaning behind the words as she cast, but no light came. She tried both versions of the casting together and, yet again, nothing happened.
Well, actually, a passing sailor asked if she was alright, but she was able to wave him off.
Eyes narrowed, she huffed and decided to wait until nightfall before trying to cast anything. If past experiences were anything to work off of, the spell would work perfectly fine the instant no one was watching.
Maybe I could camp out in the castaway's rowboat in the back? I remember that it was built much nicer than I had expected - even sturdier than the Sea Squall... for some strange reason. Though the Sea Squall didn't look the best when in port with the other ships, either.
The floor beneath her lurched over a wave and she grimaced, and after another, she was mentally signing her last will and testament. The calm waters had been nice while they lasted, at least.
I don't care about whatever deal Sergius made, I am never getting back on this ship. Ever.
She glared at the waves below her.
It was only by chance that she looked up toward the red sunrise. There were dots on the horizon - too far away to make out. As she was squinting, she heard a curse from above. She frowned.
xXxXxXxXxXx
The castaway sat limply on a hammock, nursing a mug. He nodded.
"Yessir, all I want is to go home - to my wife and kids, that is."
Captain Wayfinder sipped his mead. "Think the war is a waste of time, do you?"
The castaway shook his head. "I don't know much about that, but I think I'd need to consult my wife, sir, before I do any other vanishing acts like this one. No matter how noble the cause."
Wayfinder grinned and raised a filled mug. "Aye, I can relate to that."
The castaway looked cautiously up to the captain.
"You have a wife?"
A quick laugh.
"Not yet, I don't. But back when I was a lad, my mother absolutely refused to let me run around the deck unsupervised."
"What was she like?"
"A whirlwind of a woman - you were caught sneaking about? You might find yourself anywhere from the kitchen scrubbing mugs and plates, to climbing the ship sides to scrape off barnacles." He took a deep sip from his mug, a wistful smile on his face. "Too 'instill a proper sense of duty' she'd always say. Strict, my mother was, but I loved her all the same."
The castaway took a sip of his own with a wry smile.
"Sounds like your mother was one hell of a woman."
"Aye."
As he was tipping his head back for another sip, Wayfinder heard shouting from above. Feet thudding around on deck.
"Captain! Captain Wayfinder!"
A man burst into the cabin, red hair blown wild by the wind.
"Sails! There are sails on the horizon - all I could make out was that they're flying a black flag!"
"How many?"
"At least two."
The only sound was that of the waves on the ship's hull and the dim shouting amongst the crew. The captain stood to his full height.
"Double-check our heading and get the men up for extended shifts - Guthrum, notify our passengers."
xXxXxXxXxXx
Translation notes: courtesy of "Hrafnir's languages - Nordic" in the imperial library. That page is awesome, folks. A quick translation of the Aldmeris incantation:
"Varla caraeloy silu an. Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy"
"Star, go and bring back a new light! White light, shine and brighten and gleam! Light, shine! Follow and serve!"