Phoenix Burned, Dragon Born
Chapter 1:Conjuration
Rated M for Malekith
Disclaimer: I own naught of these fictional charaters
Malekith gazed at himself in the mirror. The face that was looking back at him hadn't been one that he had seen in millennia. He couldn't help, but run again his hands on his cheeks and pinch himself. The son of Aenarion looked like he had that accursed day when he had stepped forth into the Flames of Asuryan. His skin without a blemish, save the scars he had received during his arduous crusade in expanding the might of Elves. It was as if someone had rewound his time and with it taken all damage to his body, leaving only the benefits Dhar and other magicks of his mother had wrought him. While he knew that the sorceress would survive, he hoped that his temporary disappearance would allow her to once more become more active, instead of remaining indolent as he had left her to her own devices.
This world he was on… Nirn… was bizarre. The sky was akin to a blanket and the moons, planes of gods. The beastmen were completely civil, while humans had conquered the continent due to a walking fortress towering over the mountains. Yet this was only the official history! Who knew what had happened in those so called "Dragon breaks", where reality shifted uncontrollably as time itself collapsed, making multiple realities coexist at once?! His rescuer, the what was called a High Elf of this world or an Altmer- Faralda- had given him some time to regain his bearings, for they thought that he was an ancient species of the native Elves here, which he could understand with little trouble. In the meanwhile, he was given a small room with a dresser, bed and a desk to conduct his business until the Archmage of this institution would be willing to speak with him.
To quote Faralda "Your appearance may reshape the entirety of planar travel from Oblivion! So don't be so impatient and familiarize yourself with the Tamriel of today. I'll come by later and see if I can answer any questions you might have."
At first the Witch King had been very apprehensive in trusting these mages, but seeing Faralda put herself between her fellows had eased his most pressing worries and intrigued him as never he had seen such a society where the beasts mingled openly with elves and men. Perhaps it was due to the races of Tamriel being more equal in their lifespans and ability than his own world, but then again there had almost been none he had seen as his equals atop of the Black Tower of Naggarond.
Another thing he recognized as a strange coincidence was that Tamriel, for there was a worrying lack of knowledge concerning Akavir, had a distinct bias favouring humans, once more unlike his world where the gods favoured their own chosen kin. He had thoroughly researched who might have been the one responsible for his miraculous recovery and he had come close to three possible benefactors. One of them was the chief god of most Tamrielic cultures: Auriel/Auri-El/Akatosh, whose main domain was time, which gave credence to the idea that his own body was rewound before his burning. Then there was Mara- a goddess or a "Divine" who fulfilled the same functions as Isha, albeit less actively and was often associated with healing. Then there was Stendarr- the god of Righteous Might, Malekith had put him on the list solely because he thought that he might have had a reason to interfere in his survival. He discounted the Daedra, because they couldn't influence the mortal realm directly, much like the Ruinous Four.
There were 16 of them, almost 4 times as the ruinous gods in his own plane, but strangely enough despite events happening that could've been Daemon Wars as he had known them, those always were individual Princes acting on their own volition, the rarest occurrence was when a triumvirate of these beings attempted to enact a scheme that was easily undone by a lack of cooperation. This brought some envy, for as tumultuous the warp gods had been in his lifetime, they were always unified in their goal to bring damnation upon all land.
Some had even been seen as benevolent, at least two civilizations adapting these beings as one worthy of worship. For example Meridia, the Daedric Prince of Light was worshipped by Ayleids, a sufficiently advanced Elven civilization and often different cults as the Daedra was a staunch opponent of the undead. Which apparently was an inter-dimensional problem.
Another thing he had noticed was that his hosts often lacked common etiquette, the sorts which was supposed to be elementary even in a multicultural society that was their empire, for example knocking on a door, before entering the room. Not even turning around, the outcast recognized the footfalls of a female elf of this word. There might have been other who disturbed his research, but that annoying little man had ceased his pestering as soon as Malekith had managed to work Qhaysh into a weak Tempest that had engulfed the man, making him flee and not pester him again. the Witch King was not sure about his subspecies as the book Racial Phylogeny painted a strange picture for race relations and one that was unimaginable when approached by the natural laws of the world he had come from. The concept of Half-breeds was not a subject he was not unfamiliar with, especially with the sport and breaking of the slaves his less refined subjects partook often enough to have a sizeable population in the Land of Chill, but the difference was large enough between their species that such offspring were rare. Between the mutations and their general madness that was not rare with half-elves, it was quite unlikely for them to live long enough to propagate.
"May I come in?" came the voice from other side of the door, interrupting his unforeseen ruminations on genealogy and Faralda once again proved to him that manners existed in this world.
"Yes, but I hope that it is only you" Malekith scoffed as he turned around to face the Altmer woman, who walked into the room, at least three tomes tucked underneath her arm.
"How have you been these past two days?"
"Given that my armour and weapons are still not with me and your Archmage has not graced me with an opportunity to have us converse"
The female mage sighed and put down the tomes on the free side of his table, one reading "Doors of Oblivion", "Guide to Skyrim's Holds" and another tome that was hidden from his eyes, currently.
"You must forgive my less tactful members of the faculty; this is something they may experience only once in their lifetimes." Malekith resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead eyed the books with keen interest, something his saviour noticed and let it not be said that the Witch King did not reward those who had served him.
"Given the rate you chewed through the history and religion books, I thought you would appreciate some more magically oriented texts, especially since you almost blew up the training hall when you tried to cast whatever was that were those white flames were"
Scratching his head with embarrassment, the dark-haired elf cursed to himself that he had spent too much time studying Dhar and neglected to use Qhaysh as often as he liked, but this was unprecedented that he could only use High magic, with the individual winds that he could not grasp as cleanly as he could before. This meant that he needed the Circlet back and he would have no impediment in this if he could help it.
"That was High Magic" he explained "and I had been using a different source these past years so attempting this was quite…ardous"
"A whole new way of magic, huh?" Faralda crossed her arms underneath her chest "I guess it's high time that you tell me how you ended up in here, because if you get called to Savos, there might be problems"
"Problems?" the sorcerer raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly was the cause of this
"Yes" the woman retorted "because one foolish apprentice touched your blade and now is a drooling mess, despite Collette's best efforts"
"Oh" was his answer, because he fully well knew what the Destroyer did, after all he had commissioned it exactly according to his specifications. Over five thousand souls had perished to give the weapon it's dark powers and all thing's considered it was a bargain. This fool should have considered himself lucky!
"Oh, indeed" she drawled "So get onto it".
It wasn't as Malekith hadn't experienced such a question. While he could have told her the truth of who he was and why exactly he was carrying around such armaments, but there was nothing noble about revealing the sordid details of his past.
With practiced ease, the King of Dark Elves began "I come from a warrior culture of a different world, where due to an injury in a battle I was interred in that foul suit of armour, made grim to commemorate my sacrifice. Imagine me waking up in my own funeral, ha!" his laughter was humourless and Faralda offered her own small chuckle
"I guess you did not appreciate it"
"You have no clue, Faralda" he shook his head and continued as the sorceress opted to sit down on his bed "Still I continued to fight until one day an enemy wizard cast a spell on me, sending me to a hellish plane of trees with eyes, shifting realities and stink that would melt armor."
"But how did you escape?"
"I honestly don't know. One moment I was fighting for my life and then I was in your cart, clinging to my life" Turning to the blonde Elf, he half expected to ask her if she had any questions, but surprisingly the native elf was quicker than he thought and had already started talking.
"You cannot tell that to the Archmage"
"Why not?" Malekith was quite perplexed at the suggestion. Archmage or no, there was nothing they could do to verify his claims or somehow conjure truth.
"Are you familiar with the Thalmor?"
"Yes, but what does this has to do with my origins?" To him Thalmor were an organization hellbent on returning their race to continental prominence. While their goals were admirable to him, the Witch King would not lower himself to suffer at the hands of these natives. Once more he thanked Ereth-Khial and the unknown god who had healed him for keeping watch on his black soul and not falling into malevolent hands the moment he had appeared in this world.
"There is one of their operatives stationed there and if they find out that you aren't from Nirn-"
"They will capture me and use me for experiments until they have all my knowledge, then promptly dispose of me?"
"So you do understand" Faralda grinned "Now we need to make a convincing backstory, that will make him less interested in you"
"Can I feign head trauma?" the male offered to which she shook her head dejectedly.
"They will use it to ship you off to Summerset and we don't want that".
"Right," Malekith did not enjoy the implications of just how much the Elves could influence the supposedly independent institutions in Skyrim. He always had the option of fleeing, but perhaps this could be solved peacefully. Worst case scenario- there was Hand of Khaine, a spell he had little wish to use.
"I'd suggest you use whatever excuse you can but appear frail in front of the Thalmor-" she looked at the male elf "-no matter how outlandish it appears. After all travel from the planes Oblivion can be very hard on the body and mind"
The Witch King was aware that even without his wargear and returned health, he was still the towering figure who had led the legions of Druchii on countless raids and wars, being weak and feeble, offended his very sensibilities and as on reflex, the former Prince of Naggarythe flexed his arm and while childish, this reassurance of feeling his muscles constrict without pain was comforting after the thousands of years.
"How would I recognize a Thalmor if I saw one?" To answer this question, Faralda didn't even have to think for an answer
"Black robes with golden trims" she warned "but remember that they are vicious and field agents aren't picked just because of their loyalty…"
"Interesting, do they still operate with impunity amidst an uncertain civil war?" To Malekith the Inquisitors as he read of them, reminded him of the Witch Elves, who were little better than religious fanatics, made to counteract the Cults of Pleasure and curtail the more ambitious plans of Morathi, but from what he had read, these Thalmor were different. Instead of a tool to be used, they themselves were the masters who used others. Based on his personal experience religious and cultural fanatics were some of the most obstinate subjects and detractors he had to get rid off or subvert. With them leading an Empire it would be wise not to make enemies out of them readily.
"Some say that they are involved in the Civil War, but that is sedition for me" Faralda winked at him conspirationally, and the taller elf immediately understood what she meant. Quite nasty little bunch of zealots, he thought.
A knock came upon the door and before either of them could answer it, one of the College guards burst in
"The Archmage is ready to see you now."
Malekith shared look with Faralda and he didn't need to attempt telepathy to see that she was worried as they hadn't finished their discussion. Instead of quietly coming with the man, the Elf huffed.
"Three days!" he bellowed at the hapless guard "Had this place not been a hall of learning I would have turned you all into rats!" the dreaded 13 was not a spell he had ever attempted, but it was horrifying enough to take it into consideration.
"All due respect sir, but-"
"But what?!" the hapless guard couldn't finish his sentence as the elf tore into him "I awake without my weapons, weapons who are a calamity in the wrong hands. Then your Archmage does nothing to rectify this and delays the meeting!"
Towering over the Nord, the Witch King relished in the subtle terror, before continuing "Why I ought to-"
"I'll take him to Savos, you are free to resume your patrols" Faralda butted in, rising from the bed as she pretended not to notice the idea of implications of what she was doing there. Yet the male elf's presence coupled with his unnaturally glowing green eyes, made a quick work of whatever resolve was left.
"By y-your leave, Lector Faralda" the man stuttered and almost ran out of the room.
Left alone once more, the unwilling guest of College of Winterhold turned to Serana with a roguish grin.
"And now you will have to escort me to " a sneer came to the princely features "Savos"
"It is as if you did not plan on attacking the poor guard as he entered the room to have me escort you to him"
"Whatever gave you the idea?" the outsider smiled and gestured to her to exit the room first.
As they made their way towards the Archmage's chambers, the Altmer offered various theories to explain his appearance, each more outlandish than the previous. A lost Elven colony from Akavir, lost to Tsaeci Snakemen, a kidnapped Ayleid princeling to participate in the Great Hunt, his least favourite one was that he had been a servant to a powerful wizard of the Dawn Era, who trapped him in Oblivion for some inconsequential sin.
Coming up to the spiral staircase, they were greeted with ornate wooden door and while the King of Druchii preferred black steel and gold for his chambers, he had to admit that the ornate carvings were rather beautiful, if not quaint. Despite it being an Archmages personal study hall, there was precious little magic that the dark haired elf could sense. Even the less talented sorceresses of Naggarond had their lairs with a larger presence!
"Are you ready?" she turned to him, orange eyes looking into emerald.
"Quite" was Malekith's answer and he opened the door.
Savos Aren, the Archmage of College of Winterhold was a Dark Elf apparently, no relation to the Druchii.
A literal dark skinned, red eyed elf. He had read of them, their rather impressive religious leaders and ancestral worship, yet there was a fact that interested him much more then the contemporary history. A Daedric Prince had cursed them to have this form after their leaders had broken a divine covenant and betrayed their king. It was foolish to worship mortals or gods, for despite their airs, all were fallible and the Son of Aenarion knew it best of all.
"Ah Faralda" the Dunmer greeted them as he ordered a flying imp, a minor daedra, to deliver the glowing root to the alchemy table "I see you have brought our new guest."
He took in Malekith's presence as a child looking at a new toy, complete with boundless amazement as he studied the foreign Elf. Towering above him, the object of his interest had different ideas. Channelling his millennia of experience in causing terror and domineering lesser beings, the Witch King spoke.
"It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance Archmage Aren" his voice full of regal might. Even in peasant clothes they had supplied him, the Son of Aenarion looked kingly.
"Indeed, how magnificent to have come from depths of Oblivion unschated" the mage's scratched his ridiculous knotted beard "however, I never managed to get your name, nor where you came from"
"Had you met with me sooner, everything would have been clear to you, Archmage"
"Why yes, but then I would not have had the study the most interesting weapons and armour that you were carrying, if you can excuse me" The small monster sat on the mage's shoulder as he turned away from his visitors, not seeing the tall male's hands clench in absolute fury.
"I am Malekith of Delodiil" he lied convincingly, thanking the single more obscure tome on Ayleid fall "After King Dynar perished and the Planemeld ended, I was sent careening into inhospitable planes of unknown princes. The arms that were recovered alongside me are invaluable to me and I request that they are returned to me. However, I can overlook my armour staying in your possession." Malekith didn't look to Faralda, instead focusing solely on Savos Aren, whose posture remained rigid, and the small creature laughed, which reminded the elf of nails being dragged against metal.
"Quite fascinating indeed" Savos admitted, but the King of Dark Elves sensed that he was going to be obstinate "Alas I cannot allow to do that".
"Pray tell me why not" he snarled and without moving grasped the magic in the room. Slowly the lights dimmed and the once jubilant daedra was instead fidgeting and perhaps afraid at what was currently transpiring.
"You see, the weapons you possessed are indeed a marvel of enchantments unprecedented since the Dawn Era, which makes them too dangerous to be allowed outside of College's halls"
"And if I decide to claim them still?"
"I profess I have no ideas of your character or your powers, but artifacts of such magnitude attracts wrongful attention and could do great harm in they ever fell into wrong hands." To give him credit, this Dunmer had a compelling argument and despite his best efforts, even Malekith knew that alone he wasn't invincible.
"However, I want to offer you an alternative, a payment of sorts for your permission to study your weapons" While this alone did not even begin to satisfy the Elf, nor assure him of his weapons safety it was a tempting offer, especially if this world contained magic that was not in his own and could be harnessed to triumph over his adversaries.
"What exactly do you have in mind?"
"All knowledge the College can offer freely in addition to living expenses and the room you have as your own during your stay here" the Archmage made his proposition and honestly to the Witch King it did not sound half-bad. He just had to learn all he needed before leaving with the Spellshield and Destroyer in tow, if they weren't as foolish to try and spirit his weapons away elsewhere.
"I think that you should accept this opportunity, the College is one of the few apolitical mage organizations left in the world" Faralda chimed in "Also there's a consistent stipend provided for experiments and I'm sure that you will appreciate it"
Loathed as the Witch King was to admit it, he was penniless and rather lacking in knowledge of this world he had arrived in and no amount of reading would make him ready for Tamriel. Naggaroth would not fall in a decade or two, the King was sure of that, because even with Morathi's duplicitousness, the sorceress was fiercely protective of what she considered hers and while often their thoughts of the direction the Druchii should work towards clashed, in a sad way she was his most reliable asset.
Sighing the pale skinned elf nodded "Very well, but before I agree fully to your terms, I wish to see my armaments."
There was no argument to that.
To him, the protections surrounding the vault hidden deep into the Archmage's chambers were not the greatest, considering that only an iron door hidden behind a thin fake wall was what kept them from the Destroyer, Spellshield and the Circlet of Iron. Stepping into the room he was disappointed that his possessions consisted of most relic's gathered in the stone room.
Lighted by another of those magical floating balls and the room was surprisingly spartan, a lone dark skinned elf with horns clad in dark stonelike armour kept watch. As they passed the threshold, the guardian raised an impressive black two handed sword with jagged edges that flared with fire.
"Who passes there?!" it snarled, yet the Archmage merely threw it a crystal in shape of a fist. The creature caught it greedily and grinned maliciously "Another year, I shall guard this vault, mage for your price pleases the Lord of Domination"
So this was a Dremora, Malekith raised an eyebrow and as if sensing his curiosity the creature of Oblivion turned to face him and leered
"Such exquisite weapons, I have yet to taste a cruelty that surpasses their creation".
"Would you like to?" Was the Witch King's counter question as his curiosity vaned, the creature reminding him too much of a daemon, instead he approached the table and reached out to the simple iron Circlet laying on the table. He could hardly recall in thousands of years when he had not donned.
Instead of the tingling sensation or whispers that accompanied the artifact, Malekith felt nothing come from his once invaluable treasure. It was said to be welded in his great helm, but that was another falsehood propagated by the rumours. It was admirable that they had managed to have it removed.
"You mentioned that my armaments were dangerous" he turned his head to the mages "What were the side effects of touching this?" the warrior held up the piece jewellery in his hand for all occupants of the room to see. Savos Aren scratched his head sheepishly, his crimson eyes downcast.
"This was one thing I wanted to ask you, because apart from the other artifacts, this one is…" the Dunmer tried to find the right words "… surprisingly mundane".
"Interesting…" perhaps unlike the weapons he had enchanted himself, the Circlet was an ancient artifact, enchanted by a different method perhaps. Or maybe it was the fact that it worked with the Winds of his world only and could not understand the nature of magic here.
"Um, what was it supposed to do?" Faralda asked as the emerald eyed elf slowly put it upon his brow. "It looks far important than a simple crown for it to be embedded in your helmet".
"Indeed" the response was short for the Son of Aenarion's fears were confirmed that the artifact was mostly useless, yet he felt as he had not taken it off. Perhaps whoever healed him recognized the magic of the Circlet as his own and thus had merged with his healed body?
"Anyhow it is currently useless to me now." The circlet was gently put back down onto the table and the dark sorcerer turned his head to the other three artifacts.
Reaching out for the Destroyer, he felt his blade hiss in his mind with satisfaction as the poor apprentice's knowledge was transferred into his mind. Rudimentary spells, he thought as firebolt was something a novice was expected to know, but the ability to summon a spectral and sentient weapon was something new.
Not hesitating, he stretched out his hand and willed for the creature to appear in his hand. In the Witch King's mind this particular spell was used to summon an ethereal shortsword not unlike the one that creature wielded. His consciousness felt reach into some inky depths and his hand felt grasping at something.
Then he pulled.
Instead of the demure sound of a bell in the human's memories, his weapon burst forth with palpable screech, causing the Dremora, who previously disinterested in the mortal who ignored him, was looking at the transpiring event with wide eyes. Instead of a simple blade, Malekith had manifested a long ornate blade of the same origin as that of Dremora, but instead of a bleak violet blade, this one was muted grey and if Malekith looked closer, the parts of blade were made of small crystals that formed and reformed around its sharp edge. Turning around to his host and Faralda, he found them both staring, Savos Aren particularly reaching out for a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick in his pockets.
"I take this is not normal" he asked and raised the spectral blade over his shoulder and was pleasantly surprised that it rested snugly against his broad shoulders.
"I must be in the Shivering Isles" the Dremora rasped "A Sword of Order!"
"My, in my hundreds of years I have not seen such a blade being summoned." the Archmage spoke with undisguised enthusiasm as he scribbled onto the small square.
"Is this the first time you have attempted this?"
The taller elf nodded and shifted the ethereal weapon over his shoulder and in front of him. It's weight and length were perfectly balanced. It was otherworldly in that aspect and perhaps it could even outperform the Destroyer in such regard.
"Stupendous!" the leader of the College seemed to be lost in his world a little and that was not out of the ordinary even for his own magicians who skirted the line between sanity and genius "I think given your talent of conjuring, Phinis would be most pleased to have a student such as you!"
Behind him, the Altmer woman was cringing and shaking her head so hard he thought that Faralda was attempting to wring her own neck, and this made Malekith try to remember, whether it was someone he had offended during his short stay in the mage academy.
Phinis Gestor was a man felt that ever since Falion had left, his life in the College of Winterhold had become stuck in a rut. None of the apprentices seemed to completely grasp the intricate and dangerous art of Conjuration and the Archmage was vary of using conjured constructs to staff the College as either guardians or caretakers. Of course, the practice had become somewhat more difficult after the Oblivion Crisis, but he and Falion had worked around it. If only Aren had listened to the master wizard.
Alas, it was not meant to be and at the very least Urag was a pleasant conversationalist to the Breton, despite his interest in conjuration laid only in summoning atronaches to do his menial labour. When the leader of the College had approached him personally and told him that there was a promising apprentice in conjuring that was just enrolled, he couldn't believe his luck! At the very least it would take his mind off the rude and unpleasant mer that had resurrected himself. He had just come to make some necessary inquiries about the survivor's experiences in Oblivion and instead was almost ripped to shreds by an impressive show of magic. Sighing, he closed the Book of Daedra and picked up the unfinished report on the outsider. The lessons and essays had been already graded and this report was long overdue a rewrite, especially since the subject of it was very much alive and well.
A knock on the door interrupted his efforts to get back on the rewrite but looking up to the dwemer clock in his room, it was the designated time when the apprentice was about to appear.
"Come in." he spoke simply and dipped the quill into the inkwell. The door to his study opened and the most unlikely person stepped in. The outsider was very tall, he estimated that he would tower over a tall Altmer male at almost eight feet in heigh. Honestly, he looked more of a warrior, but ages past sorcerers and warriors were almost indistinguishable from one another. Instead of the grey commoner's clothes, it was an expert robe of Destruction of all things! How interesting.
"Let us not waste any time" the strange mer began, but was it truly a mer with such differing features from all living examples? "I will forget your intrusive questions and you will forget my response, so we can learn from one another" in his voice there was no room for discussion- an ultimatum. Had it been just an apprentice, he would have debated sicking a Dremora on him during lessons as practice, but he knew that this opportunity should not go to waste as perhaps he might never get a student such as him. However, he needed to see if Aren's talk measured up to his walk.
"I can agree to such demands, but prove it to me that you truly have the talent towards Conjuration." He put aside the quill, earnestly wishing that what the Dunmer had told him was true. The Breton focused his full attention towards the tall mer, whose glowing green eyes lacked concern of being stared at as the magicka built up in his hand. Most apprentices, whoever preferred the summoning of weapons to creatures, usually did it with both hands, conjuring the blade or axe from the realms of Outer Planes, but the second the crystalline blade appeared, he knew that he was far different, for he had seen no wizard he knew summon anything from the reclusive Prince of Order's realm. The blade was sleek, utilitarian, and beautiful. He wanted to touch it, but the problem with bound weapons was that they disappeared once out of their wielder's hands.
"How did you manage it?" he finally asked and the outsider, Malekith, if he remembered correctly, who dispelled the blade."
"When my blade drained that poor magician of his wits, the Destroyer gifted these spells to me."
The Destroyer, huh. How quaint.
"How did the apprentice in question call this spell? For curiosities sake…" the Breton asked, pulling out a sparse sheet of parchment
"Bound Sword" the massive elf answered simply and it amazed how an elf could have such a deep and commanding voice. Sitting across him, he seemed very bored, clearly expecting something else.
"Normally this doesn't happen, as such I need to document this for my research-"
"I came here to learn not to be pestered about your own spells" Malekith interrupted him and Phinis had to agree that he had every right to be discontent, but that mer needed little patience.
"Last question for now: how did you feel your strength missing? Did it tire you somewhat?"
"Answer to both of these questions is "No"." The elf answered and this pointed towards incredible inner reserves that could be achieved by either natural talent or a lifetime of training, of which the latter was the more believable.
How did this mage not know basic spells of conjuration, the Lector for Conjuration sighed, but did not hesitate to pull out another tome from the drawers of his desk.
"Tell me, how familiar are you with the art of summoning guests from Oblivion?" Phinis asked as he pushed forward a the purple tome, emblazoned by a sigil that even Malekith was acquainted with.
"You require a considerable willpower and a summoning circle to beckon the entity" his student explained "the more powerful the entity, the more sacrifices and magic is required to keep it in line."
This was a very ancient and outdated method of summoning Daedra, but he had the basic principles.
"Remember that most Daedra, reflect their princes, so keep in mind when summoning specific Dremora, Xivilai, Xivkyn or Aurorans. Keep the rules of the pact crystal clear and afford no amount of leeway or else, most will gladly sate themselves on your soul"
At this the emerald eyed elf chuckled and nodded with look of reminiscence on his features. As a teacher to such a student, the conjurer only assume that he had experience in such matters.
"Seeing as you're no ordinary student" He tapped the cover of the book "Your first task is to summon a Dremora yourself and bind it to your service for an hour."
"Anything I should know?" the student raised an eyebrow "Limits, etcetera?"
Rubbing his chin the balding man raised a finger.
"If it wants souls or artifacts, dispel it."
Then another
"If it wants to be let out of the circle, dispel it."
Then another
"If it tries to lure you in the circle, dispel it."
Already on his fourth finger, the human mage was about to say that he had to be precise in his contract, when Malekith interrupted him
"Not to leave anything to interpretation?" he smirked "you already said it once."
Cheeky knife ear "You're right. I will check your progress in two days, the summoning circle is either in the Midden or you can try the roof."
"Thank you, I will be sure to learn this" Malekith actually said it with respect and took the book with him as he left the study. To him this elf was far peculiar than the most.
The two days had passed and Phinis decided that first he would check the roof for his 'apprentice', before making the trek to the Midden, after all he needed some fresh air once in a while as despite being stuck indoors for most of the time due to the cold, he liked the view from the College, that was one small thing he had kept with himself since his apprenticeship days. Climbing the stairs he heard clamouring and chatter that most definitely belonged to more than one of the younger apprentices and novices who had joined the College.
Coming up the roof, he saw a wide circle of at least thirty College personnel, including Faralda surprisingly and Nirya unsurprisingly were standing around, while the clash of weapons could be heard clashing.
"What in Julianos' name is happening there?!" he bellowed and strode towards the crowd, who noticed the irate Lector and stepped back, revealing the true extent of this misadventure. He could still hear cheers egging on Malekith and he hoped that it wasn't what he thought it was.
If Malekith was duelling a Dremora, ancient warrior or no, Phinis would lock him in a pocket realm for a month for such disregard!
"I will use your skin to wipe my ass!" something that most certainly was no mere Dremora or Xivkyn shouted as it tried to cleave Malekith's head from his shoulders. In an amazing feat of speed and skill, the elven warrior brushed the blade aside and kicked the creature away from him. Amazingly the Dremora was sporting minor cuts, while the dark-haired elf was unschathed.
"Now you are getting more original" man who was supposed to be a novice in modern conjuring jeered as he brought his bound blade in front of him "Maybe you are indeed a Valkynaz!"
An Akatosh damned Valkynaz?!
Struck with the fury of Stendarr himself, Phinis was about to approach the bastard, but the Altmer stood in front of him with her hands on her hips.
"Do not even try it, Phinis" she chided "It's all in good fun."
Looking past her, the battle was becoming one-sided with the warrior easily parrying the blows of the general of Oblivion, who was becoming more and more incensed at his inability to harm the elf.
"Why did you neglect to inform me of this?!" he hissed to Faralda, who smirked "I just came here today because some apprentices said that some mad elf was fighting Dremora every day since yesterday at a certain time." She explained "So I came here yesterday to see if he needed my help and much to my surprise, Malekith is more than capable to deal with this one, which makes me wonder how powerful he is really."
"That still doesn't excuse the carelessness!" The balding man was still furious, but he couldn't help, but be amazed as Malekith evaded the sword blows and struck back, knocking the barbed weapon out of the Valkynaz's hand, which clattered as it hit the stone floor beside it.
"And that is 3 times for me and none for you" he pointed the blade at the disarmed Dremora, while the sword crackled with white lightning. It was clear now that the battle was over.
"Outsider, dispel me or you will earn the attention of Prince Dagon himself" the horned creature threatened and Malekith offered him a merciless smile
"The sigil stone first." Demanding his prize, the elf let the energy crackle some more
"I will forever remember this insult towards me" snarling, the Dremora vanished in a purple portal and the crowd awaited together with Malekith.
"How. Does. He. Know. About. A . Sigil. Stone. Faralda?!" Phinis struggled to stay reasonable after seeing the scene before him.
"Liminal Bridges by Camilonwe of Alinor, if I'm correct" the blonde she-mer scratched her chin "I can't believe that he was so quick in his reading. I really should have gotten him more books, but Urag was on verge of kicking me out."
The Valkynaz was back, disgust evident in both his eyes as he placed down the shimmering black orb.
Standing up, the Dremora looked at Malekith and spat at him "I hope your fate will eclipse my punishment."
"You know nothing" the smile had vanished from the Elf's face and the unwilling summon was gone, leaving a faint smell of sulphur in the air and a rather solemn elf, who dispelled his blade and picked up the Sigil stone from the ground.
Faralda stepped aside to allow the mage to finally deal with his troublesome charge inside the summoning circle, but the gathered apprentices could no longer contain themselves and swarmed the Elf, who did very little to avoid this attention. However, his green eyes looked towards Phinis and the spellsword knew that there would be reckoning indeed.
Perhaps he could convince Savos for a field trip to Coldharbour…
A.N: That's all for now as I have to defend my thesis on the 01.07 and after that it's army for me. I didn't expect this to get so long, but hey, better for you guys, right? Malekith has grown slowly accustomed to the College life, but the plot must move on! Leave a review if you have any criticisms or suggestions for me. Have a nice day!
-Spook