Part 2: Preparations

i.

He was floating in a black void, surrounded by swirling lights and sounds. He tried to focus on the lights but they blurred and moved away, so he gave up after a while. The sounds came and went and returned until he recognised the voice.

"He's out cold," Lark said. "Shadow? Can you hear me?"

A moment passed during which Shadow tried to respond but could not find the energy.

"I'd better heal him," Lark continued.

The thought of being healed galvanised him from his stupor. "No!" he exclaimed, clutching at Lark's shirt. "Please, don't!"

"What? Why not?"

Shadow struggled to sit up, and Lark helped him after a moment's hesitation.

"The torture," Shadow gasped. "It was... much worse, this time."

"I can see that," Lark said, looking at Shadow's myriad wounds. "Which is why you need healing so urgently."

"No!" Shadow could feel his limbs trembling at the thought. "Don't you see? You healed me this morning, and it made them angry. It was worse because you healed me!"

"But..." Lark hesitated. "They can't see you, can they?"

"They see the dragon," Shadow said weakly, wanting to lie back down.

"Oh my..." Lume said, walking into view. "Lark, when you heal Shadow you heal the dragon too! What happens to the one, happens to the other!"

Lark was shaking his head. "That should be impossible. There isn't enough energy in my spell to heal both Shadow and a dragon."

Shadow suddenly knew something about that. "It's the energy potential caused by the difference between the planes of existence," he explained.

Lark and Lume regarded him curiously. "What do you mean?" Lark asked.

"The realms of Oblivion are on a lower plane of existence than this one," Shadow said. "So a spell that goes through a conduit from here to there gains power about ten-fold."

"That makes sense," Lume said, but Lark was frowning.

"How do you know this?"

"I just..." Shadow was at a loss. The knowledge had just come to him. "I just know, all of a sudden."

Lark gave Lume a significant look. "Martin would know such things," he said. "Do you suppose the dragon can hear us through you, Shadow?"

Shadow tried shrugging but he hurt too much. "I don't know... Yes, Lark," he continued in another tone of voice.

"Martin?!" Lark exclaimed. "Is this for real?"

There was a moment's pause. "I can't do this for long, Lark. It is unfortunately very real, my friend. And I hate to involve you in my problem but it is important to more than just me that I escape."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lark said. "Of course I want to help you; I don't care why."

"Thank you," Martin/Shadow said simply. "Lark, you need to find the Key of Akatosh. It is the only thing that can free me."

"Alright," Lark said. "Tell me quickly: Is Shadow dangerous?"

"Shadow is not what he appears to be," Martin/Shadow said. "He doesn't come from the realms of Oblivion at all, but from a dimension far removed from here. He responded to my call for help. The dream you had, Lark – he had it too. But he stayed to help me. You could say he is still in the dream."

"I would have stayed if I could," Lark said, feeling guilty.

"I know, my friend," Martin/Shadow said. "I have to stop now... Find the Key. Shadow will guide you to me when you have it."

"Martin!" Lark cried when the voice stopped.

Shadow sighed. "He's gone," he said softly. "I understand a lot of things now."

"So do I," Lark said bitterly. "I can just look at you to see how my friend must look – yet I can do nothing to help either of you without making it worse." He turned and walked out, unable to stand it any longer.

Shadow lay back, feeling sorry for Lark.

"Shadow?"

He looked up at Lume. "Yes?"

"Is there anything I can do to help, that won't make things worse?" she asked.

"Anything that isn't a magic spell," he said. "I want to help the dragon too, but healing us both just isn't worth it."

"I understand," she said. "I can clean up your wounds and give you something for the pain if you want..."

"I'd appreciate that," he said softly.

"Don't go anywhere," she said, making for the door. "I'll be right back."

ii.

Lark sat in his office, torn between going back and talking with Shadow in the hopes that Martin will come through again, or finding out everything he could about the Key of Akatosh. Logic won out in the end: If he found the Key and freed Martin, there would be no problem. And Martin had told him what to do.

He picked up the phone and made a call to an old acquaintance, getting his secretary as usual. "Hello, may I speak to Mr. Hassildor?" he asked.

"Who may I say is calling?"

"Tell him it's Lark," Lark said patiently. Hassildor was even more reclusive than himself. After a few moments the erstwhile Count of Skingrad spoke.

"Good day, Lark. What can I do for you?"

"Janus, I have need of your inestimable knowledge of ancient artefacts and magic," he plunged straight in.

"You say that every time," Hassildor complained.

"I've said it once before. Once!" Lark said. "Come on, old friend. Aren't you curious?"

"I don't know, old chap," the vampire Count said. "I find everything very tedious these days. Curiosity has no meaning when one knows everything that can possibly happen given the circumstances."

Still as arrogant as ever, Lark thought. "Alright, you can tell me what I'm calling about. If you're right, perhaps you'll still help me. If you're wrong, you'll have the pleasure of encountering something new."

"It's obvious, dear Lark," Hassildor said. "You want to find out what the Akaviri are up to. I've told you before it's no use to try and infiltrate an agent there. You'll just have to pay for information."

Lark shook his head. Politics seemed so shallow and far removed from the reality of his life right now. "No," he said a little smugly. "That's not why I called."

"Indeed?" Hassildor affected polite surprise. "Pray tell, then."

"I have need of two things," Lark said. "First, I am looking for an artefact known as the Key of Akatosh. And I also need something that can cast a constant shield around the bearer. Something quite strong, if possible."

"Interesting," Hassildor said. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you need these things?"

Lark sighed. "I'm not telling you over the phone. If you want to find out, you'd better come and see."

"I may just do that," Hassildor said.

"So, can you help me find these artefacts?"

"Yes, to the second, but I'll have to find out about the first," the vampire said.

"You have a shield?" Lark could not keep the excitement from his voice. "How soon can you get here?"

"Oh, in a few hours," came the reply.

"Wonderful," Lark said. "Thanks Janus. I'll tell the guards to expect you."

"Yes, do that," Hassildor chuckled. "I wouldn't want to hurt them." He broke the connection before Lark could come up with a response to that.

Lark sat back, feeling better. His idea might not work, but at least he was trying. And Hassildor was an old and very powerful mage; one of the handful left in Tamriel. His advice could be very useful. Pity it was such a chore to drag it out of him at times.

iii.

You're lucky," Lume said, cleaning Shadow's wounds. "None of these are serious."

"They're not meant to be," Shadow said tolerantly, feeling a bit mellow after drinking the pain medication. "They are meant to hurt, not kill."

"Oh," she said. "I can't imagine anyone doing something like this on purpose."

"That's because you're a nice person," he smiled.

She looked down, embarrassed. "So... have you remembered anything of where you came from?"

"Sort of," he replied, frowning. "It's like a dream, and I'm awake now and can't quite remember the details. But it's a cool and dark place with lots of water and trees. I like to think it's a peaceful place, but I have the feeling there are dangers in the darkness."

"Is that why your skin is so dark?" she wondered. "To hide from the dangers?"

He smiled, showing white teeth. "Perhaps... or maybe I am one of the dangers."

"I don't think so," she said staunchly. "You chose to help Martin; that means you're a nice person too."

"Lume," he chuckled. "You're such an optimist. But that's a good thing, I think... What does your name mean?" he asked, going off on a tangent.

"It means 'glowing light' or something," she said. "My parents were a bit too lyrical at my birth."

"No," he said. "I can see it. They chose a very apt name for you."

"Oh sure," she said a bit sarcastically.

"I mean it," Shadow insisted, reaching out and taking her hand. "Will you light my way through darkness?"

"Um, that depends on what you mean," she said, extracting her hand.

He shook his head. "I've offended you. I'm sorry!"

"No, I'm not offended," she denied. "But what did you mean?"

"I simply asked if you would be my friend," he said softly.

She smiled at him. "That, I would do gladly, friend."

He sighed as if in relief. "Then, can I ask you to stay with me as I sleep? Perhaps you will keep away the nightmares..."

She nodded. "Rest easy, Shadow. I'll be here."

iv.

In the early evening the sound of a landing helicopter heralded the arrival of Janus Hassildor, vampire and legitimate Count of Skingrad. Lark watched from his window as Hassildor disembarked and ducked away from the 'copter to avoid the still turning blades.

He stopped to speak with Lark's security guard, and Lark grinned to notice that he still carried himself with an attitude of nobility, expecting respect and instant obedience hundreds of years after Tamriel's feudal system had been replaced by a democracy.

Lark sometimes wondered if Hassildor did it on purpose to disconcert people or if the attitude was so ingrained that he was not even aware of it. In any case, Hassildor still lived in style, and apart from not actually living in Castle Skingrad, might as well still be the Count of the place, since he had never been much for socializing and his staff had run Skingrad in his name.

Lark went down to the entrance hall to meet him. "Janus, nice to see you," he greeted, shooing away security guards.

"I see you've finally converted the place to use electricity," Hassildor said, looking around disdainfully.

Lark sighed. So it was like that again, was it. Every time he had to go through a mock battle of wits with the man, before they could move on to the true purpose of their meetings. Lark supposed Hassildor did it to provide his unquestionably sharp intellect with some entertainment, but it could be annoying to put up with. Still, Hassildor could call the shots while he held the information that Lark needed.

"Not any old electricity," Lark therefore enthused. "I've got a nuclear power station in the basement. Want to see?"

Hassildor stared at him. "Don't you know that radioactivity makes vampire teeth fall out?"

"Of course," Lark said. "That's the final stage in my treatment, or so my doctor tells me. Speaking of treatment, how's yours coming along?"

Hassildor sniffed. "Your doctor is a quack, Lark, to prescribe such ridiculous treatments. Mine is a genius – did I tell you he had me soaking in a mud bath for days to cure the skin condition?"

Lark grinned at him. "You're as crazy as ever, I'm glad to see."

Hassildor chuckled. "You're the only one who still plays along, Lark. Old vampires are such a bore in most cases."

"That they are," Lark agreed. "Can I get you something? Wine, milk, blood?"

"I'm trying to quit," Hassildor said, smiling. "Some wine would be nice."

As they walked to the study, Lark quickly told Hassildor about his dreams and his unusual visitor.

"You never met Martin, did you?" he asked as they sat down with their glasses.

"No," Hassildor said. "I did meet his footpad... the Champion. Useful chap."

Lark smiled. Trust Hassildor not to be impressed with the heroics of the Champion of Cyrodiil. "Anyway, Martin is trapped in Oblivion, and we need the Key of Akatosh to free him. Do you have any information about it?"

Hassildor shook his head. "I left some messages but I have nothing concrete yet. You might want this now, though." He stood up and unbuckled his belt, removing it and handing it to Lark. "I made it myself, long ago."

Lark took the belt. It tingled beneath his fingers, betraying the presence of enchantment. "What exactly does it do?" he asked, fingering the finely tooled leather.

"It casts a constant shield effect of about 20," Hassildor said. "Enough to deflect arrows, punches and most blades."

"Excellent," Lark said with satisfaction. "How long will it last?"

"It's fully charged," Hassildor said. "A couple of months. It's the least I could do for my old friend Lark. Will you give it to Shadow?"

"Yes," Lark said. "If Martin is right and spells gain power ten-fold through the conduit, then he should have a constant effect shield of about 200 while Shadow wears it."

"A formidable obstacle," Hassildor agreed. "This is actually a very good idea, Lark. If all goes to plan, that is. Theoretically the dragon should be completely safe within that shield, because they will not be able to to dispel it without access to the belt itself."

"That's what I'm hoping," Lark said. "So I can heal Shadow and keep both of them safe from then onwards."

"Impressive," Hassildor grinned. "You are at least not slowing down in old age."

"Meaning you are?" Lark teased. "Perhaps you should go lie in that mud bath again for a while..."

v.

Lume sat beside the sleeping Shadow, watching him breathe. Every now and then his breathing would get agitated and he would start tossing on his bed. Lume would then reach out and place her hand on his forehead, whispering "You're safe, it's just a dream," and he would subside and sleep quietly again.

She pondered the strange things that had suddenly intruded into her previously routine life. She had found out that her boss was a vampire; that magic was real and actually worked; that in a horrible place called Oblivion, a noble man was trapped in the form of a dragon and tortured daily; that this aptly named Shadow was suffering to help the dragon.

She wondered what it was that she felt for Shadow. Compassion, certainly, but also admiration. She thought that he was incredibly brave, but she was realistic enough to understand that he was just dealing with a situation he had no control over. Still, he was handling it with quiet dignity despite the terrible pain he was enduring. A dignity that was worthy of admiration.

She was not quite ready to admit to herself that she thought he was very handsome, despite being scarred and so unusual-looking.

She was so engrossed in this train of thought that she was startled when the door opened. She quickly snatched her hand off Shadow's arm and turned to face Lark, who was showing another man into the room. The newcomer was a tall, dark-haired gentleman, elegantly dressed. He looked at her and smiled knowingly, as if he knew what she had been thinking about.

She blushed. "Ah, he's sleeping now," she stammered.

Lark smiled at her. "You're doing great, thanks Lume." He gestured to his guest. "This is Janus Hassildor. Janus, my personal aide, Lume."

Hassildor executed a courtly bow. "Charmed."

Lume nodded in confusion.

"Just so there are no surprises later," Lark said. "Janus is a vampire too, Lume. But he's almost civilized these days," he grinned. "You have nothing to fear."

Hassildor snorted. "I was civilized and well-respected long before you were born, whelp," he said absently, looking at Shadow's sleeping form. "Most remarkable. You say he's not from Oblivion?"

"Apparently not," Lark said, dropping the teasing. "But he bears a striking resemblance to the Dremora race."

"Apart from that black skin," Hassildor agreed. "Are you going to wake him?"

"He's been struggling to sleep!" Lume protested.

"I know," Lark said. "But I want to help him as soon as possible." He gently shook Shadow's arm. "Shadow? I'm sorry to wake you..."

Shadow groaned, covering his face with an arm. "What is it?" he asked finally.

"I have something that may help," Lark said.

Shadow heaved a deep breath and struggled to sit upright. With Lume and Lark helping him, he managed it and noticed Hassildor standing there. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Janus Hassildor, at your service," Hassildor said.

Shadow merely blinked at him.

"Janus brought you this, Shadow," Lark said, holding out the belt. "It casts a constant shield on the wearer."

"A shield," Shadow said. "Do you think that will help?"

"It should," Lark replied. "It will be a very strong shield for Martin; he should be perfectly safe if you wear it."

"I don't know about this," Shadow said. "Won't the presence of a shield just motivate them to use stronger weapons and magic to torture him?"

"I'm hoping a 200 shield will keep anything they have off him," Lark said. "Do you know what he thinks about this? Can you tell?"

Shadow tried to reach for the presence of the dragon, but could sense nothing but exhaustion. "I think he's sleeping," he said finally.

Lark sighed. "Look, I certainly don't want to expose either you or Martin to even more pain and suffering, but if I do nothing, the pain will surely continue. If the shield works, you'll be spared that, and you'll be able to function while we look for the Key. What do you say?"

After a long moment, Shadow nodded. "Alright, I'll try it."

"Good," Lark smiled in relief. "Let me help you put it on."

With a few grunts of pain they got the belt strapped around Shadow's waist.

"How can you tell if it's working?" Lume asked when nothing seemed to happen.

"Try to hit him," Hassildor suggested.

"I'll do no such thing!" she exclaimed, shocked.

"It's alright," Shadow said. "You don't have to hit hard, just try it."

"If you say so," she said dubiously, taking a mild swing at him. Before her hand reached him, it seemed to slip off something in the air and she missed hitting him. "Wow," she breathed. "It works!"

"Of course," Hassildor said. "I made it myself."

"It's perfect," Lark said sincerely. "How can I repay you?"

"I'll think of something," Hassildor grinned. "Something suitably expensive."

Lark rolled his eyes. "Of course." He turned back to Shadow. "Can I heal you now? The shield should prevent further injury to either of you."

Shadow nodded. "You might as well complete the experiment."

"Very well," Lark said and invoked the spell.

When the bright light had faded, all Shadow's wounds were merely scars, and he sighed in relief. "Thank you," he said. "I hope you won't have to do this again soon."

"You and me both, my friend," Lark smiled. "Now, let's all get some proper rest. We'll be back in the morning to see how it goes."

vi.

Lark rose early the next morning. He was anxious to see if his plan would work, and would not even contemplate the consequences if it did not. Before he left his room he quickly grabbed some spare clothes, and then went to the room where they had put Shadow the previous day. Carefully opening the door, he was amused to find Lume already there, watching Shadow sleep.

"Were you here all night?" he whispered.

She nodded. "I promised I would stay with him."

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked, concerned.

"A bit," she said and yawned.

He shook his head at this. "Go on, go get some rest. We've a few hours before we'll know." Noticing her reluctance, he added, "I'll stay with him, don't worry."

"Alright," she yawned again. "I'll see you later."

Lark took her place at Shadow's side as she left. He studied Shadow closely, noting the strong, chiselled features and the crooked, clever lips. No wonder Lume was so fascinated, he thought. Looking past the superficial similarities, there was no way one could mistake Shadow's noble visage for that of a Dremora. He wondered what Shadow's race was called, and where they made their home.

Shadow stirred and woke up.

"Good morning," Lark said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

Shadow stood up and stretched. "Well enough, for now," he said wryly. "Let's hope it remains that way."

"Yes," Lark agreed. "Would you like to get clean?"

Shadow looked at himself and was obviously shocked at the state he was in. Lark's spell had healed him but dried streaks of blood remained where the wounds had been. "I'd like that," he said in reply.

"Come on," Lark said. "I'll show you the bathing room." Leading the way, he told Shadow that in addition to the normal facilities in all the quarters, Cloud Ruler also had a special bathing room consisting of a heated swimming pool and a number of mineral baths fed by hot springs. "It's kind of funny to think of these hot springs existing in the coldest part of Cyrodiil," he chatted as they made their way into the basement.

"You must really love bathing," Shadow said, looking with awe at the pools of steaming water.

"It seemed like a waste to let the water just run down the mountain to cool off along the way," Lark said. "Here, I brought you some swimming trunks, spare clothing and towels. I'll get your own stuff cleaned. Meanwhile, enjoy. I'll be back in half an hour."

Shadow nodded in thanks. "I really appreciate this, Lark."

"You're welcome," Lark smiled. "If you need anything, use the phone over there." He pointed to a wall-mounted phone. "Just pick it up and talk, someone will let me know." With that, he left Shadow to bathe in privacy.

vii.

Shadow plunged into the pool, revelling in the feeling of water moving over his skin without causing him pain. He came up for air and smoothed the water and wet strands of hair from his face. At that moment the door opened and Hassildor walked in, stopping short when he saw Shadow in the pool.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I didn't know someone was in here."

Shadow noticed Hassildor was carrying a towel. Since it was not a private bathroom he did not feel it was right for him to monopolize the place. "No, come in," he invited. "I don't mind."

Hassildor looked surprised but came in. "I always visit Lark's 'nuclear power station' when I'm here," he said as he removed his dressing gown and slippers and got into the water.

"His what?" Shadow asked, confused.

Hassildor laughed. "Just a private joke," he explained. "Lark and I play these silly little games to keep ourselves amused. The latest is that he has a nuclear power station in the basement, so this must be it."

"What's a nuclear power station?" Shadow asked, as confused as ever.

"Of course, you wouldn't know," Hassildor apologized. "A power station is something that generates the energy we use to create light," he gestured to the lighting fixtures, "and to power all our technological gadgets."

Shadow nodded. He had noticed the lights but circumstances had not been optimal to inquire about them. "I expect there are a lot of things I don't know about."

"Well, you have no need to," Hassildor said. "What is it like, where you come from?"

"I can't seem to remember much," Shadow said. "As I told Lume, it's like I'm trying to remember a dream, and the best I can get are impressions. But I don't think it's even remotely similar to your world."

Hassildor frowned thoughtfully. "Didn't Martin say you were still in the dream?"

"Yes," Shadow said. "But I'm not sure what he meant. Am I sleeping in my world and none of this is real?"

Hassildor smiled. "It's real enough, I'll wager. But the debate is always about the nature of reality."

Shadow shrugged. "I'll leave the debate to the philosophers," he said, hauling himself from the pool. "I'd rather get some breakfast and face whatever may come on a full stomach, dream or not." He started towelling himself dry.

"You have an admirable positive attitude," Hassildor remarked, joining him.

"Well, if it's a dream, what can I do about it?" Shadow asked. "Nothing. And if it's real, it must be important, so I will hold out and complete whatever I'm meant to do."

"Admirable," Hassildor nodded. "As I said."

viii.

"How long has Martin been trapped?" Lark wondered as they were eating breakfast. "I mean, I can't believe it's been five and a half centuries."

"Why not?" Hassildor asked, buttering toast.

"Well, I had a strange experience when I visited his statue, very long ago," Lark said. "When I touched the statue I was filled with a feeling of joy and contentment. At the time, I hoped it signified that Martin was in a better place. I can't believe that would have been the case had he been in this situation." He looked inquiringly at Shadow. "Any ideas?"

Shadow 'reached' for the dragon. It was a matter of imagining himself next to the dragon and once again hearing him speak in his mind. "He's only been there since you've been getting the dreams," he said after a moment.

"About a month," Lark said. "Where was he before?"

"I just get the impression of some place bright," Shadow said. "I don't think he wants to talk, the torture session must be about to begin."

They all regarded him seriously. Lume sat up straight from where she had been lying over the table with her head propped up on her arm. Hassildor rested his chin on his clasped hands and waited patiently to see what would happen. Lark unexpectedly extended his hand to Shadow, who grasped it gratefully and braced himself for the pain.

Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. All of a sudden, Shadow could 'see' through the dragon's eyes. A throng of Daedric creatures were bombarding the dragon with spells and physical weapons. All of them missed. Every so often a deflected fireball or lightning strike would hit amongst the creatures, causing carnage and confusion.

"They can't get through!" he laughed in triumph. He was on his feet; Lark was clapping him on his back and laughing; Hassildor was pumping his hand up and down and somehow, he was embracing Lume and swinging her up into the air. When all had settled down, he made a point of congratulating Hassildor. "It's amazing how the shield just deflects everything!"

Hassildor cleared his throat modestly. "It's a spell of my own design," he said. "In stead of trying to absorb and dissipate the energy of the offensive spell or attack, the enchantment simply ensures that it never actually connects. It works on the principle of quantum mechanics..." He laughed. "Never mind, it's too technical!"

"So it's not really a shield at all," Lume realized. "You should call it a deflector."

Hassildor smiled broadly. "For you, dear lady, anything."

Lume blushed, saw that she was still hugging Shadow's arm and blushed even more as she extricated herself. "So what's next?" she asked to change the unspoken subject.

"The Key," Lark answered and Shadow emphatically agreed.

"I'd better check in with my secretary," Hassildor said.

"I'll get some agents working on it," Lark said.

"I'll go see what I can find, too," Lume said. "Shadow, do you want to see my computer?"

Lark and Hassildor laughed at her, but as Shadow eagerly agreed, she did not mind a bit.

ix.

"This is the seat of power," Lume joked as she rolled her chair up to her desk. Shadow gingerly sat down on a second chair, grabbing for safety when it rolled on the tiled floor.

"Really?" he asked after he had achieved stability.

"No," she replied with a mischievous grin. "But I like to pretend it is."

Shadow smiled absently as he looked at the strange contraption on the desk. "So what's this?"

"Well," she hesitated. "It's like a huge library..."

He indicated that he knew what a library was.

Encouraged, she continued. "This computer allows me to access all the information in the library without having to go to the physical books."

He did not really understand but nodded anyway because she was so earnest. "Show me?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "See, I type in my query here..." The word 'Dremora' appeared on the screen as she tapped knobs with letters on them. "See, there it is on the screen. Now I just run the query..." She did something with another device. "And there we go, lots of results."

The screen was indeed now filled with text. "Why Dremora?" he asked.

"Oh," she shrugged. "Just curious because Lark said you look like one."

"Do I?" he wondered. "What do they look like?"

She did something on the computer. "Let's see."

A picture appeared on the screen, obviously a hand-drawn sketch. It portrayed a vicious-looking creature with dark, purplish-brown skin. Long black horns curled through its hair and over its head. Its face was twisted into a hateful snarl. It was wearing fearsome red-and-black armour and was wielding a cruel sword.

They looked at the picture for a long, quiet moment. Shadow, recognizing the torturers from Oblivion, felt horrified to realize that these people associated him with the Dremora. Lume just thought the creature looked terrifying.

"Please say I don't look like that to you," Shadow said softly.

"No!" she said vehemently. "No, not at all," she continued more calmly. "You are gentle and noble and..." She broke off and tapped a key. The picture disappeared. "It's obvious you are nothing like that," she said finally.

"Thank you," he said, touched. "You and Lark have been wonderful, trusting me the way you do."

"I knew I could, the first time I saw you," she said confidently. "And Lark, well, he's very quick with people."

"Yes," Shadow agreed. He felt like hugging her for that vote of confidence but was not sure what her reaction would be, so he changed the subject. "Can you find the Key?"

"Just a moment," she said, working quickly. But although she tried various queries and different phrases, she got no results. Finally she sighed in frustration. "Does it have another name?"

"I don't know," Shadow said. "Martin didn't say anything else, you were there."

"Can't you ask him?"

"I'll try," he said, concentrating. After a while he could 'see' the dragon was still safe within the shield - a fact of which he was well aware - and he also suddenly 'knew' more about the Key. "It's also known as the Key of Time," he said.

"Alright," she said. "I'll try that." But even with the new information she was unable to find anything. "I give up," she said at last. "Perhaps those old vampire guys can come up with something. After all, they actually lived when this Key was a common item or something."

Shadow, who had become increasingly despondent at the lack of results, perked up. "I hope you're right," he said. "Let's go ask them."

"In a minute," she said. "I just want to check my messages." What she read had her staring in wide-eyed shock at the screen. "Oh dear," she murmured. "This is bad." She stood up abruptly and tugged on Shadow's arm. "Come on, I need to speak with Lark."

Shadow followed meekly as she pulled him along at a near run. He did not know what was going on but suspected that it concerned himself and Martin somehow.

x.

Lark looked up, surprised when Lume walked into his office without knocking.

"Have you seen the news?" she asked without preamble. Behind her, Shadow lifted his hands in bewilderment.

"No," Lark said calmly, wondering what could have agitated his normally placid aide. "What's going on?"

Something very strange is happening all over Nirn," she said. "They're describing 'pockets' where people seem to get caught in time."

"What do you mean?" Larked asked as her statement could be understood in at least two ways. "Caught in time for what?"

She made a sound of disgust, mostly at her inability to express herself clearly. "They are getting stuck where they are and can't move on," she tried to explain. "Hundreds of cases have been reported and more are appearing as we speak."

Lark frowned, trying to comprehend the strange concept. "Physically stuck?"

"Yes," she said. "Like they're frozen or petrified in amber or something."

"And you think... what?" Lark wondered.

"I don't know what to think," she threw her hands into the air. "All of this is completely impossible. Vampires, dragons, magic... all of it!" She heard the hysteria in her voice and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. What's more is, I can't find a single thing to tell us where this Key of Akatosh or Time could possibly be!"

"Time?" Lark asked, his attention caught.

"Yes, Shadow asked Martin if it had another name," she replied.

Lark met Shadow's eyes over her head. "And he said it's called the Key of Time? Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

Shadow shook his head. "No coincidence, I'd say."

Lume twisted around to look at him. "What are you... oh, time!" she realized. "Could it be?"

"Martin did say that more was at stake than just his own liberty," Lark mused. "I'm beginning to think this is much bigger than we thought."

"Then the Key should provide the solution to both Martin's problem as well as whatever is happening to Nirn," Lume said.

"But you couldn't find it," Shadow said, depressed.

"No clue?" Lark asked, raising an eyebrow.

She sighed dejectedly. "Nothing at all. I had hoped that you or your friend might have found something."

"If anyone can, it's Hassildor," Lark smiled. "Let's not despair just yet."

xi.

"Yes, sir," Lark said, holding the telephone away from his ear as the voice on the other end took on an even shriller tone. "No sir, I have no idea what the cause of these effects is. My best people are working on it right now." He listened patiently for a while. "Am I to understand I can commandeer any resources needed... yes, sir... global emergency... Of course, sir, you'll be the first to know. Thank you... yes... goodbye, sir." He put down the phone and gave a long-suffering sigh. "That was the President," he told his fascinated audience.

xii.

"Nothing," Hassildor said, his face uncharacteristically drawn with worry.

The reports of the strange phenomena kept coming in from all over Nirn, and it was becoming apparent that, for all that it was a slow and quiet invasion, it was an invasion nonetheless. More and more people were getting stuck in time (or space). People around them could interact with them; they could even communicate, but they could not move from where they were. It was only a matter of time before everyone on the planet was affected.

"I have tried all of my contacts," he continued. "None of them has even heard of an artefact called the Key of Akatosh or the Key of Time. If it once existed, the knowledge is now lost." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Lark."

"It's not your fault," Lark said, feeling Hassildor's disappointment all too keenly himself. "Thank you for trying."

Lume took a cheese stick from the bowl in front of her and nibbled on the end. "The problem is that we don't even know what kind of artefact it is," she said after swallowing. "I mean, you can call anything a key, and it might not be something that opens an actual lock, right?"

Lark nodded slowly. "You're right, it could be anything."

Beside Lume, Shadow stirred. "Perhaps..."

Everyone looked expectantly at him.

"It might not be an artefact at all," he said slowly.

"What else could it be?" Hassildor asked testily. He had already spent days trying to track down the Key and did not relish the prospect of starting again.

Shadow understood Hassildor's frustration, but he felt a growing urgency to be moving somewhere or doing something. The imposed waiting while Hassildor, Lark and Lume plied their sources of knowledge was wearing his nerves thin, thinking that one of them might get caught at any time.

"What about a spell?" Lume asked while Shadow was still contemplating Hassildor's question.

"I don't think..." Hassildor began but Shadow got a shaft of excitement from Martin at that moment.

"Martin agrees," Shadow interrupted.

"Really?" Lark regarded him with bright eyes. "I wish Martin would speak to us directly."

"You know how hard it is for him," Shadow started, but sensed that Martin was willing. "But he'll try." He held himself passive and a few moments later had the strange experience again of hearing someone speaking with his mouth. Even his voice sounded different.

"Hello Lark."

Lark smiled involuntarily. "Hello Martin." He leaned forward as if that could bring him closer to Martin. "I'll be quick. Do you know what's going on with the world?"

Martin gave a mirthless chuckle. "Only that I'm stuck in one of those things," he said. "I was sent to investigate the phenomenon and got caught."

Lark, Lume and Hassildor stared at each other in astonishment.

"I thought the Daedra had captured you," Lark said finally.

"No," Martin said. "They found me and made the most of my helplessness. By the way, thank you for the shield," he said in heartfelt tones.

"You're welcome," Lark said. "So this Key we have to find might be a spell?"

"I'm not sure," Martin replied after a moment. "But it's the only remaining option."

"But where will we find it?" Hassildor demanded.

"I think you might already know, Count Hassildor," Martin said.

"Martin," Lark protested. "Can't you just tell us?"

It took a long moment before Martin responded, and then his voice was noticeably weaker. "I don't know where to look NOW," he said. "But the Imperial Library held much information..."

"It was destroyed!" Lark said. "Martin?" But there was no response.

Shadow took a deep breath. "Sorry, that's all." He felt lightheaded after the exchange. "I think he's unconscious."

Lark banged his hand on the table in frustration, then hung his head in apology as it made Lume jump. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how we're going to find the way to learn a spell from a library that's been destroyed for over four hundred years! The place doesn't even exist anymore!"

"Well," Hassildor said reluctantly. "Not everything was destroyed."

Lark turned to look at him. "You know something," he said, beginning to relax.

"I know an awful lot!" Hassildor snapped. Lark just grinned at him until he smiled and shook his head. "I do know this: Before the Imperial City was sacked, an Elder Scroll was stolen from the Imperial Library."

"Impossible," Lark said. "Isn't it?"

"It was a daring feat of utmost skill," Hassildor said. "Someone from the Thieves Guild got in, and out again with an Elder Scroll."

"Alright," Lark said. "So an Elder Scroll might have survived. But where do we find it now?"

"Ah, but I know who had it stolen," Hassildor said.

"Who?"

"My esteemed colleague, Count Umbranox," Hassildor revealed.

"The Count of Anvil? My father used to work for him," Lark said, surprised. "Why would he steal an Elder Scroll?"

Hassildor grinned. "Funny you should say that." He kept on chuckling for a while. "No, it's not important," he said finally. "What is important is that I inherited his library."

"You're joking!" Lark said. "You've had it all this time?"

Hassildor shrugged ruefully. "I didn't know it was relevant to our current problems. Besides, we still don't know if it will be of any help."

"It must be," Lark said. "It's our last hope, in my opinion. How soon can you get it?"

"I can leave right now if you have a helicopter and a pilot available," Hassildor said agreeably.

"I'll go arrange it," Lume said and quickly left.

Lark stood up. "Wonderful! I'm glad we're getting somewhere at last!"

Shadow heartily agreed.

xiii.

"Now wait a minute," Lark said as Hassildor prepared to unroll the antique scroll. "Weren't these things supposed to turn you blind when you looked at them?"

"Only with prolonged study," Hassildor assured him. "I've been taking short looks for centuries and there is nothing wrong with my eyesight."

"Are you sure?" Lark asked, a devilish gleam in his own eyes as he pointed to Hassildor's feet so that Lume and Shadow could notice the mismatched socks.

Hassildor aimed a mock blow at him. "You insisted on utmost haste," he said with exasperation. "Stop wasting time now."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Lark said. "Go on, unroll it."

Hassildor carefully unrolled the scroll, which was creaking with age. As he spread it gently open on the table, everyone leaned forward eagerly.

After a moment Lume spoke. "I can't read a single thing."

"Neither can I," Lark muttered, looking at the strange diagrams and incomprehensible script. "Shadow, does anything look familiar?"

Shadow had to reply in the negative. "I also sense only confusion from Martin," he added.

Lark nodded. "He never had the opportunity to study the Elder Scrolls." He looked at Hassildor who was patiently waiting. "I hope you can make sense of it."

"Perhaps a bit more than you can," Hassildor said. "The Elder Scrolls are very magical. With study, one can access levels upon levels of information on this one scroll."

"Can you see anything about the Key?" Lark asked.

"Give me a minute," Hassildor said as he started to read.

As time passed the others drifted away. Lume and Shadow went to sit at a corner table where Lume showed him a map of modern Tamriel. Lark left to report their progress to his TBI colleagues. Later he came back, followed by his kitchen staff carrying trays of food for lunch.

They ate, talking together in low voices so as not to disturb Hassildor who had not so much as budged from the table with the scroll since he had started.

Sunset had deepened into dusk by the time that he finally stopped. He got up, stretched and came over to where Lark sat, grabbing some snacks along the way. "I think I have it," he said between bites. "There is a spell called 'Master of Time' which seems to deal with managing or influencing time." He accepted a glass of juice that Lume handed him. "Thank you, my dear. The spell is quite complex, Lark. Do you want to try and learn it yourself?"

Lark shook his head regretfully. "I never was much good with any but the normal spells," he said. "You've been a great help, my friend, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to become even more involved. You're the only one who can learn the spell and cast it."

Hassildor rolled his eyes. "I thought I was involved already."

"I wasn't planning on making you go to Oblivion," Lark said. "But it looks as if we'll have no other choice."

"It will be an interesting experience," Hassildor said. "Don't fret, Lark. I was going to insist on going with you anyway."

"It just proves you're crazy," Lark smiled. "So it will be you, me and Shadow."

"And me!" Lume said indignantly.

The two vampires immediately began protesting but Shadow was strangely quiet, she noticed. When she could get a word in edgewise, she made the most of it. "I am going with you, you can't stop me," she said implacably.

"What will you do there?" Lark asked reasonably. "Shadow is the guide, Janus is the mage with the spell..."

"And what about you?" she interrupted impudently.

"And Martin specifically asked for me," Lark completed his sentence. "You were never mentioned."

"It's not fair!" she said. "I have a right to go, I was in from the start!"

"It will be too dangerous, Lume," Lark maintained. "I can't allow it."

"I would like her along," Shadow said suddenly.

Lark gave him a piercing stare. "Why?"

"I don't know," Shadow said. "But I have a feeling that she should go."

"Did Martin say so?"

"Yes," Shadow lied, knowing that Lark would never believe his own feelings but would unquestioningly accept Martin's. "She could be important."

"Oh, very well," Lark sighed. "You can go, Lume."

She flashed him a brilliant smile. "You won't regret it."

Lark scowled at her. "Janus will need a day or so to master the spell. You have that much time to master self defence and some kind of weapon, otherwise I'm leaving you behind, no matter what anyone says."

"Yes sir," she said meekly.

"I'll teach her self defence," Shadow volunteered unexpectedly. "If I can also get some weapons training at the same time."

Lark referred them to Rufus, the captain of his security team, and watched bemused as they left side by side. "What a time for budding romance," he sighed, turning back to watch Hassildor studying.