The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 7
Furious he had been thwarted, Estormo was most grateful that it was not he who suffered the brunt of Ancano's wrath. What little remained of a large frostbite spider made Estormo swallow fearfully. The arachnid had made its way into the Midden, the College's underbelly, and thought to sneak up on the two elves. Ancano was far too powerful and competent to be a mere operative. Yet here they were, working together with only Ancano's presence known at the College.
"Every time I feel like I'm on to something, that blasted Breton somehow manages to thwart me!" Ancano was seething. "So I hope for you, that you have new information."
"I don't. Not a word from First Emissary Elenwen yet either, save that we are to maintain our post and progress until further notice. You mentioned Saarthal?" Estormo asked.
"Yes, the Arch Mage has left to see what this great discovery is." Ancano replied, still pacing back and forth. "Though I have yet to verify this, the Lady Valanocke managed to corner me with the claim she is the betrothed of the young Lord Highal. Yet, she arrived here on foot with that Ashlander cur in tow. They looked like they were on the run from something."
There was a flicker in Estormo's eyes. "If she travelled from Falkreath, she must have passed Helgen…"
"What's that to do with anything?" Ancano snapped.
"Did you not read the last report? It was burnt to the ground by a dragon," he explained.
"Don't be preposterous." Ancano growled. "Dragons don't exist and are long extinct."
"I would've shared that sentiment if it wasn't for the rumour about the Greybeards. Some ancient Nordic order of monks who summoned this 'Dragonborn' to High Hrothgar shortly after a dragon was slain near Whiterun." Estormo said. This caught Ancano's attention and it certainly made sense now as to why Cirilonde's robes had been singed while she had no clue about Destruction magic.
His lips curled into a wicked smirk. So much for the upper hand she thought to have. After all, this Lord Highal would also want to know what sort of company his 'betrothed' would keep. This was definitely a card he could use when the time was right. It was only a matter of time, but first, he had to deal with this discovery at Saarthal.
"You know where to go?" Ancano asked his lesser.
Estormo scowled. Of course, he was to do the grunt work. "Yes, I'll be on my way."
While he waited for the right moment to strike, Ancano figured he now had the time to place some well-deserved wards and hexes on the door to his chambers. As far as one could call it that.
He'd been furious to find that upon arrival at the College, he was not only received by Mirabelle instead of the Arch Mage, but he was most displeased about the manner he was treated.
Right from the start, the elderly Breton had known exactly how to antagonize and thwart him, making sure he knew he was not welcome. This was particularly made clear when he was shown his appointed 'chambers', which had previously been an old storage room. The worst mess had been cleared out to make space for a bed, desk and wardrobe.
Not that Ancano had cared. He'd slept in worse places. From ditched filled with mud and corpses, flea-ridden cots stained with blood and other bodily fluids to the open night sky in various climates with varying degrees of safety. And even then he would've been lucky to get any sleep as his wounded comrades would lie writhing near him in agony while battles in the distance raged on.
Compared to all that, this was heaven and whenever the cold kept him awake late at night, he spent time clearing his room from spiders and other vermin. Of course, he made sure no one was around to see or hear it. He wouldn't give any of the faculty the satisfaction of watching an elf of his stature do something as measly as cleaning. Nor did he want to waste his energy on arguing with Mirabelle, who would certainly object to the fashion he disposed of the mess that'd been left in his room. He'd found a hatch in the stairwell of the Hall of Countenance which proved to be the perfect dumping ground for the crates and its contents. Upon further exploring, he discovered that the College's underbelly held many interesting things…
Damned Breton hag…Ancano still scowled at the idea of Mirabelle, who now doubt would have had quite the laugh to see his fine, Thalmor uniform dripping and stained with the remnants of old magicka residue, rotten ingredients and old potions. But in the end, he'd succeeded in making his quarters proper enough for a somewhat pleasant and comfortable stay. Let's make sure it stays that way…
Not only did he cast an invisibility spell on himself, he also cast a spell to detect life before emerging from the Midden. He had to make sure that no one would spot him and was content to find that everyone was in their room or studying elsewhere. He immediately set to work when a sudden movement in the corner of his eyes sprang the static to life in his hands. Nirya immediately raised her hands, but remained standing, clearly in awe of him and his prowess. "Have you something to say?"
"I just might," she said with a purr.
He'd noticed her obnoxious attempts to get his attention. If she didn't have anything useful for him, he would make sure she'd regret it. "Nirya, was it not?" He peered down at her. "You had best not be wasting my time."
"Yes, Nirya, indeed and I wouldn't dream of it," she smiled at him. "I believe we never got the chance to introduce ourselves to one another properly." The blue light from the central font made her hair shine and her eyes had been lined with coal to emphasize her eyes. "I'm sure you're mighty curious about what we found at Saarthal."
"The Arch Mage will no doubt inform me, but I'll humour you. Do tell, and make it quick." Ancano said to her.
"Best we are discrete, don't you think?" Nirya's eyes shot to his room.
He had to resist the urge to scoff, but figured that the muffling wards he'd placed on his chambers would prove useful if she did turn out to be wasting his time. She'd be far too humiliated to tattle on him for giving her a good thrashing. He played along nevertheless. "Hoping to catch a glimpse of some kind of Thalmor grandeur?" he purred, satisfied he still had it in him when the blood rose to the young High Elf's cheeks.
With the flick of his wrist, the door to his chambers opened and the two elves entered the Thalmor's room. "It's not only that, but you've no doubt noticed how my peers and even the faculty is incompetent. The College is ready for a change of leadership if you ask me. And if the College's relation with the Dominion is to be promoted, I do feel it's inappropriate to keep secrets from one another."
Ancano crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow at her, wondering what she was getting at. "I was there at Saarthal when Cirilonde discovered the passage. Quite the odd figure, that one, 'an enigma'. Thinks quite highly of herself for someone who can't even cast a Destruction spell." She rolled her eyes. Of course, he too had found it strange and suspicious, but Ancano had also seen Cirilonde's other credentials. Some of the details were missing, though, but that would just take some time. Ancano stared her down and Nirya cleared her throat to get to the point. "They found an…orb of some sort deep below Saarthal. I've seen it. From what I understood, this artefact is most ancient and powerful." She inched closer to him and he could smell the sweet perfume she wore. "They believe it to be the Eye of Magnus. Or that's what they've taken to calling it-,"
Ancano watched the excited shimmer in Nirya's eyes when he cupped her chin, but her expression changed to one of pure terror when he suddenly grabbed a firm hold of her throat. Before she could even think of anything to do, he had already broken her connection to the arcane with a swift incantation and the High Elf ceased her struggle instantly. She could sense that the lightning crackling at the Thalmor's fingertips was but a warning sign and it already hurt, singing her hair, skin and the collar of her robe. "And I am certain you are about to tell me more…"
"Yes, yes! I am!" Nirya's whole demeanour had been reduced to that of a cornered rat. "There's more! Cirilonde, she's left with that Dark Elf, Ganir. They're on an assignment for the Arch Mage!"
This definitely piqued his interest as he had not seen either of the two for the past days, so Nirya was definitely not spewing nonsense. It infuriated him, however, to have his suspicions were being confirmed now that he was being kept out of the loop on purpose.
He released Nirya, who reached for her sore throat right away, but she was still too frightened to move. "Get out." Was all he said, and Nirya needn't be told twice.
If a cave or any sort of building had been abandoned for ages or lay in ruins, one could safely bet that it was used by all kinds of unsavoury folk to go about their practices undisturbed. Any commoner or merchant with half a brain would make sure to give such a place a wide berth at all costs.
Fellglow Keep was no exception and was located to the North-East of Whiterun in the mountain side above the White River. It was the perfect location because it was nowhere near the travelled roads, but provided a wide, open view of the surroundings.
Water dripped down the fortress' interior slimy, mould-covered walls. Piles of debris and other garbage lay strewn around. Most of it was broken and rotten furniture, pots and empty bottles. Much to Mavus' dismay, it didn't stop the rats from scurrying all over the place in search of food.
"Ellias." The old Dark Elf raised his lantern. He squinted his pale eyes to peer beyond the darkness at the torch lit near a doorway to the left. When no response came, Mavus' face grew even uglier as he scowled. "City boy!"
Again. No response. If that damn idiot fell asleep…Mavus swore under his breath. His knees weren't what they used to be and the cold made his joints ache. The last thing he wanted to do right now was descend the treacherous steps, but She had been clear and She was not to be disobeyed. "Whip your arse…" the Dark Elf muttered, placing a hand on the wall for support as he carefully made his way down.
After catching his breath, Mavus walked through the doorway to his left. "Ellias, you wretched fetcher, I ought to rip your ears off since you don't use them anyways. Where the-,"
When he stepped into something wet, Mavus furrowed his brow and looked down. Had they not solved the flooding is…sue? Mavus' heart began to race when he moved the lantern to get a better look. He hadn't stepped into a puddle of water, but blood. The lantern rattled in his shaking hand as Mavus followed the trail of blood to find Ellias who sat hunched over in a chair. The Breton's expression was frozen in one of pain and horror. His throat had been ripped out. This could only mean one thing and Mavus turned to run as fast as his legs would allow but when he turned to flee, he froze as the torch on the nearby wall was extinguished without warning and with a loud hiss.
The lantern fell from his hand to the ground. The glass shattered to pieces and for a brief moment, it was the only source of light. Mavus trembled in fear, standing alone in the dark and staring at the red eyes before him. "G-Get away from me!" Mavus warned. "I'll blast you to Oblivion if I have too!"
When the pair of red eyes disappeared, Mavus spun around and jets of fire spat forth from the palms of his hands. For a moment, there was nothing but silence and complete darkness. For a moment Mavus thought he'd scared the vampire off or it had its fill. But then, his eyes widened in shock and his mouth shot open wide in a soundless scream. Two, jagged blades pierced his lungs from behind and he helplessly stared up at the vampire who sank his teeth into his throat.
There was a sudden, blue light that illuminated this gruesome scenario. "Ganir!" The vampire's eyes went wide and Mavus' lifeless body fell to the ground. In the doorway stood two High Elves; one was a woman and the other a miserable-looking younger fellow.
Ganir was suddenly afraid, "Ciri, please, I won't hurt you. I can explain!"
"Auri-El…" Cirilonde gagged and turned her eyes away from the hunched over, dead Breton. "I know you won't hurt me but for the love of Mara could you not think with your stomach for a moment? We need to get out of here!"
Both the men's expressions were one of complete bewilderment and disbelief. "Wait, so you knew he-?!"
"Not here, or now, for that matter, Orthorn," Cirilonde said. "We're here to get those books. The tower's this way, right?"
Orthorn couldn't tear his eyes away from the two corpses or the vampire before him. Just how had he gotten in from one mess into another?! "I…yes. Upstairs. Tower hatch. Yes, this way, quick. She'll be furious! We need to get out of here!"
The odd trio ran up the stairs as fast as they could. "I'm sorry, but I had to take them out, Ciri. But I swear, I would never-,"
"Not now, Ganir." Cirilonde snapped. Back at home and during her time at the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, she had dealt with plenty of renegade mages and necromancers. But she would be accompanied by experienced battlemages and conjurers who would clean out the worst mess while she dispelled and healed. Now, she only had the company of Ganir and Orthorn. Not that Ganir had proven to be an unreliable hassle like the latter, who had been the culprit to cause all this trouble to begin with.
Orthorn was a less-than-competent mage and he had realized the error of his ways the moment he got here to Fellglow Keep. The renegade summoners had betrayed and imprisoned him with the intent to use him for their wicked experiments. Orthorn had told them this and pleaded for their help. But what really worried Cirilonde, was this Caller. Right now, her priority was to get the books and make their escape as fast as possible. She wanted to avoid any and all confrontation with this Caller or the Summoners who served her.
The Elves were out of breath by the time they made it all the way up the tower. To her frustration, the door was locked. Ganir made to pick the lock, but Cirilonde pulled him back and out of the way. "Shield your faces." A powerful but concentrated, telekinetic blast to the lock was enough and the door flung open.
"They'll have heard that." Ganir was clearly annoyed by her impulsive choice, but she ignored him completely, running inside. The top of the tower was the central focal point of the whole operation and this whole room served as a summoning circle. The walls were stripped bare and chalk markings were all over the room. Candles and soul gems were placed in specific spots and the books were laid out on standards.
Cirilonde walked over to the stand with one of the books. "The Last King of the Ayleids…" she then looked at Orthorn and Ganir. "These are the books. Let's get them and out of here!"
She made to run across the room to get the other books but a beam of black and blue light made her jump back and raise a ward with such speed and expertise even Ganir was impressed. When the light faded, he saw that Orthorn had fallen to his knees and tried to shield himself with his arms from harm. Pathetic…He looked at the woman, a High Elf, who had appeared before Cirilonde in the middle of the room. This had to be the Caller.
He could not distinguish further details of her appearance as she was clad in hooded robes, but he could tell the woman was seething with silent rage. Cirilonde's eyes not once left the other woman's. Unbeknownst to Ganir, Cirilonde was on high alert, ready to fight and in her field of expertise.
"So, you're the ones who barged into my home and laid waste to my projects..." Cirilonde saw no movement in her pupils but she could tell that the woman was completely aware of her surroundings. There would be no surprising her. The Caller's lips curled into the typical, disdainful smile. "How nice to meet you. Now care to tell me what you think you're doing?"
"I assure you that we seek no quarrel with you," Cirilonde said as calm as she could, but she did not lower her ward. "We came here to retrieve the books that belong to the College of Winterhold."
"So you're just one of Aren's lackeys? And that while you show such promise!" " The Caller sounded downright disappointed and gestured at the tower as a whole. "You come here, kill my assistants, disrupt my work…For some books?"
"Believe me, if your 'assistants' had not been so hostile to begin with, we wouldn't have resorted to such measures." I swear, Mirabelle is going to kill me. This is my third pair of robes by now? The sleeves of her robes had been singed and there was a hole where a shard of ice had missed her by a hair's thickness. Orthorn had shot to her aid by strangling the mage from behind, reaching through the bars of his cage with his belt. "If you just give us the books…"
"Idon't think I'll be giving you anything after the trouble you've caused." The Caller had not raised her voice but it held such sudden strength it made Cirilonde tense up. "But perhaps, even after destroying so much, we can come to an arrangement. Leave me the elf and you may go with your books."
Orthorn froze at Ganir's side, fearfully glancing up at the Dark Elf who did not look back. "Y-You wouldn't…?"
The young High Elf shrieked in horror, fearing the Dark Elf was going to sink his claws and teeth into his neck, but instead found that Ganir shielded him from harm's way as the room filled with a bright flash of light.
Cirilonde had cast a blinding spell in the hopes of disorienting the Caller long enough to gather the books and make a run for it, but she was slammed against the wall by a frost Atronach. The Caller laughed as the candles around the room were swallowed by bright-red flames.
"Ganir! Orthorn!" Cirilonde shrieked, her eyes wide in horror. "RUN!"
But as much as Ganir and Orthorn willed their bodies to move, they couldn't. They had been thrown against the wall by the sheer might of the Caller's will. Her maniacal laughter filled the room. Cirilonde's ears rang and with great difficulty, she managed to find her focus for long enough to dispel the Frost Atronach that was charging towards her. She fell to the ground and to her knees, grasping her head with both hands.
"Did you honestly think that you could stand against the power I wield?!" The whole tower shook around the Caller, whose eyes gleamed with madness. "I'll have them rape and tear away at you until you'll beg for death!"
Cirilonde felt the blood pour from her nostrils and ears as the intense pressure and whirl of magicka under the Caller's control beat down on her. She couldn't even tell if Ganir and Orthorn were still alive and it took every bit of her willpower to focus.
"Pray all you like, girl!" The Caller laughed. Behind her, a black mass began to crackle with fire and brimstone. A portal to Oblivion.
But rather than gasp or look on in horror, Cirilonde staggered to her feet. She raised a ward and began to incant. Rather than melodious, her voice grew strong and fierce, the words commanding and powerful. The magical storm that engulfed the tower trembled as its energy grew distorted.
The Caller laughed and an unseen battle of magical will and control ensued, but even though she stood on shaking feet, Cirilonde held and pressed on until the Caller fell to her knees and all went silent.
The portal behind the Caller rippled menacingly in the brief moment of silence and the two High Elf women met eyes for a brief moment. Cirilonde looked like a right mess with the blood staining her face and robes but in spite of all that, there was a most satisfied grin on her face.
The Caller's eyes went wide and terrified, she slowly looked behind her, over her shoulder. A deep, menacing and cold growl emanated from the portal. She then looked back at Cirilonde, who then finished the incantation without hesitation. The Caller dove forward, shrieking and crying out her curses, but wicked, dark and clawed tendrils shot forth from the portal and she was dragged inside.
Cirilonde remained on her feet until she was certain the portal was closed. Ganir was just in time to catch her. He looked behind him when he heard another thud. Orthorn had passed out as well. "Great…"
By the time Cirilonde woke, it was dawn and she sat up. Orthorn was still sound asleep, snoring so loud it was a surprise she had not woken sooner. Ganir sat nearby on a rock, carving animals from a piece of wood. He'd kept a watchful eye on her and perked up when she stirred. There was a moment of silence as the High Elf got her bearings and looked around after rubbing her sore head. I reckon I've had worse…
They had made a camp near a shrine of Talos that was particularly well-hidden behind the rock formations and bushes to the east of Whiterun. She sat up and felt safe, huddling closer to the small fire after downing one of the potions they'd taken along. "When did you figure it out?" Ganir had been eager to ask and now was as good as a time as any.
"From the moment we met. It wasn't just your eyes. You conceal that well enough, but it was the discolouration of your blood." Cirilonde explained. "And you rarely eat, drink or sleep."
"Why didn't you kill me, like the Thalmor?" Ganir asked.
"You're different. You could've taken me hostage or killed me along with them, but you didn't. You stuck by me. No matter what. I trust you, Ganir. How could I not after all we've been through?" She looked him straight in the eyes. "You're my friend, living impaired or not."
Another moment of silence followed as the Dark Elf wasn't certain of what to say. The both of them looked over to Orthorn, who was still sound asleep. "I didn't have the heart to leave the s'wit wandering off and about by himself. He'd get himself killed in no time by poking his nose in a mudcrab nest or something."
Ganir relaxed when Cirilonde chuckled and gave him a smile. "That's still a better fate compared to what Urag would do to him. He got livid by the mere mention of the whole theft incident."
"Speaking of incidents…" Ganir reached into the bag next to him on the ground. "While you were out, I had a look at the books. Didn't get why they were so important until I started reading this one…"
Cirilonde took the copy of Night of Tears from him and opened the book where he'd left a branch between the pages. Her eyes scanned the page and read aloud, "Saarthal holds a prominent place in Skyrim history, even if most do not remember it by name. It is, of course the site of one of the first major Nord settlements…" Cirilonde's eyes were glued to the pages as her memory soaked in each and every, single word. "It was also the sight of terrible bloodshed, when the elves attempted to drive the Nords out of Skyrim, to succeed only in incurring their wrath in the form of Ysgramor and his fabled Five Hundred Companions, who swept the elves from Skyrim and firmly established it as the home of the Nords….What happened on that Night of Tears, when Saarthal was razed to the ground. What provoked the elves to such a deliberate, vicious attack, and what prompted such a severe response from the Nords? Vingalmo's Treatise on the Altmer Antecedent suggest that the elves of the Merethic Era….The Nords found something when they built their city, buried deep in the ground. They attempted to keep it buried, but the Elves learned of it and coveted it for themselves.."
When Orthorn stirred, Ganir and Cirilonde met eyes, completely understanding one another. Without saying a word, Cirilonde got up and walked over to the nearby river to wash herself while Ganir packed. When she returned, Orthorn was awake and he looked rather miserable.
"I don't suppose you want me to go back to the College with you either?" he asked defeatedly. "I know I was wrong, I really do and I'm sorry, but…"
"I don't doubt you're sorry for a moment," Cirilonde's voice held a gentle tone. "But I suggest you lie low elsewhere for the time being until all this has blown over. I'll make sure to put in a good word for you with Urag."
"I owe you my life. Divines know what they would've done to me if you hadn't come." Orthorn looked over to Fellglow Keep. Only its tower was visible from their current vantage point. "Just how did you do it? I thought we were done for."
Cirilonde smiled. "I suggest you study to find out. You'll have plenty of time for that." She climbed onto the back of her horse. She'd decided to name the mare from Whiterun Fiona and patted the equine's neck affectionately. Ganir had named his horse, a black and grey stallion, Tormagg. "But we must return to the College now. Perhaps we'll meet again."
"Thank you, again. Stendarr be with you and farewell," said Orthorn and with that, they parted ways.
Renewed with energy and the desire to return to what they now knew to be their home, Ganir and Cirilonde rode for as long and as fast as they and their mounts could manage. By nightfall, they were close to Windhelm and Ganir took Fiona's reins so Cirilonde could rest. But for some reason, as tired and sore as she was, she would open her eyes again almost as soon as she'd closed them.
"Is something bothering you?" Ganir asked, having noticed.
"I don't know…" Cirilonde let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. She really wanted to sleep. "It just doesn't sit well with me. How is it that Saarthal wasn't unearthed sooner given the history surrounding it?"
"Give it a few centuries and they'll say the same of Vivec." Ganir shrugged. "Locations get lost over time. You know what the books said. The Merethic Era. Any idea how long ago that was?"
"Yes, but Vivec didn't house what could possibly be a powerful artefact." Cirilonde argued. "And Vivec didn't have to worry about a prying, Thalmor agent."
"I get why you're worried," Ganir assured her. "But I'm sure that the College will keep that Orb far out of that Thalmor's grimy claws."
By the break of dawn, the pair approached the broken walls and gate of Winterhold. The streets were quiet and deserted, which wasn't that unusual given that Winterhold was more of a ghost town. It was when they approached the bridge to the College that the horses bristled and refused to continue. Cirilonde and Ganir tensed the very moment the icy sensation gripped them by their guts. "What…is that?" Ganir asked.
"They brought it here…Auri-El why have they brought it here?" Cirilonde's mind reeled to comprehend the Arch-Mage's reasoning to allow the Orb to be taken to the College. It just simply couldn't bode well. Because the horses refused to carry on, the two of them had to dismount and walk ahead of the horses and coax them across the bridge.
Once they made it to the courtyard, they secured the horses in the small stable and ran into the Hall of Elements. Rather than completely empty and abandoned this early in the morning, Cirilonde and Ganir were surprised to find that a majority of the student body had gathered here to behold the much discussed discovery from Saarthal.
The massive orb floated in the centre of the Hall of Elements above the central font. Now that it wasn't surrounded by the chaotic, whirling energy, it was more clear to distinguish its appearance. The Eye's multi-facetted and smooth surface showed the night sky. Glowing, circular lines ran in patterns along its surface along with intricate markings that held an ominous, teal glow.
Another freezing, cold chill ran down Cirilonde's spine and she turned to Ganir. "Stay on the lookout for Ancano. I'll find Master Urag and return the books to him. He'll know more."
Ganir stowed himself away in an alcove from where he had a good vantage point over both the Hall of Elements and the Entry Hall. His eyes scanned the many heads and faces in the hopes of finding Ancano amongst them, but after a small half hour or so, Ancano entered the Hall of Elements. The Dark Elf narrowed his eyes when the Thalmor didn't even pay the orb any heed and headed straight towards the steps leading to the Arcaneum.
Ganir swept from the shadows and followed Ancano's footsteps without hesitation. The Thalmor had barely made his way up the steps when Ganir grabbed him from behind. Ancano must have had eyes in the back of his head as he retaliated. He spun on his heel and had Ganir not been so fast, Ancano's spell would've struck. The Dark Elf ducked and punched the High Elf in his gut, knocking the wind out of him before shoving him hard against the wall. Ganir's face was set into a menacing snarl and the Dark Elf pressed one of his daggers against the Thalmor's throat while his other hand held one of the Thalmor's arms twisted behind his back.
"How dare you!" Ancano hissed, ceasing his struggle not because the dagger's blade menacingly pricked his skin, but because he smelled the blood in the Dark Elf's breath. Though his expression bore one of seething fury, Ganir could tell he was also afraid. "What do you want from me, you cur?"
"Don't worry, I think you know very well that if I wanted you dead, you would've been so already." Ganir confirmed Ancano's reasoning. The Thalmor glared at the Dark Elf over his shoulder as far as he was permitted. "So tell me where you think you're going?"
"When I get my hands on the both of you-!" Ancano failed to suppress a hiss of pain when Ganir dug his claws into the Thalmor's arm. The High Elf conceded with a growl, knowing it was best to cooperate...For now. "Not that it's any of your business but I was to retrieve your friend and if she doesn't make things too difficult-,"
Ancano howled when Ganir pressed the High Elf against the wall while pulling his arm back and up even further. One tug or wrong move and Ganir would dislocate the Thalmor's shoulder. Lightning instinctively crackled from Ancano's fingertips as a warning that he would retaliate. "I have no intention of hurting her. You CUR!" he snarled, furious that he was at Ganir's mercy, who was physically stronger than him by a manifold due his vampirism.
"If you don't want to hurt her, then what is it you want from her?" Ganir growled, glaring back at the Thalmor with equal, burning hatred.
"Not that it is any of your business, but the Arch-Mage wishes to see her." Ancano answered.
As much as Ganir wanted to believe otherwise, he could tell by his heartbeat that Ancano was telling the truth. With a violent jerk, he tore away from Ancano, throwing him to the ground, up the steps. The High Elf recovered with surprising grace, holding on to his sore arm. "I'm warning you, mongrel…" Ancano snarled at the shadows ahead of him, ready to strike in case Ganir reconsidered. "If any harm befalls me the College will answer for it. So if you value your precious little friends here, you watch your step."
As the Thalmor made his way up the stairs, his lips curled into a smug smirk when he heard a frustrated, beast-like snarl emit from the shadows. That's right, you cur, remember who you are dealing with. But the High Elf would keep glancing over his shoulder every few steps or so…just to be sure.
That's right, scum. Ganir balled his hands into fists, hoping he'd scared the Thalmor well enough. He doubted Ancano would want to admit he'd been caught off guard by anyone. You watch your back.
Cirilonde was completely unaware of the skirmish between the two elves in the stairwell. She had rushed up the stairs to the Arcaneum and kept her eyes peeled and on the lookout for Ancano. But he was nowhere to be seen.
"Urag!" she called out in a whisper. The Orc was notorious for his morning mood and she preferred not to antagonize him by being too loud. She found the Orc standing on a ladder, sorting rare tomes in alphabetical order on the dusted shelves of an antique bookcase. "Oh it's so good to see you." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Is Ancano anywhere around? I've got the books."
"Not since I threatened to have my Atronachs escort him out," Urag looked around just to make sure and climbed down. "But very nice. Do you have the books for me?"
"Yes, I have, yet, I was hoping you'd perhaps know…" She handed him the Night of Tears last, opening it on the same page as Ganir had shown her. The old Orc placed a pair of spectacles on his large, wide and flat nose to read what she had pointed out to him. "Don't you think it's odd that whatever happened at Saarthal, or whatever was found, was never specified? That no one looked into this at all?"
"Well, it takes no Arch-Mage to figure out what 'it' was." Urag replied dryly, but not as disturbed or worried as Cirilonde was. He handed her Night of Tears again and gave her a look. "I suggest you take this up with Master Tolfdir. I'm sure he can enlighten you further. He's in the Hall of Elements with the Eye…like the rest of the students."
"Just what were they even thinking bringing that thing here?!" Cirilonde exclaimed. "That thing is dangerous and with Ancano on the prowl-,"
"Look, girl, I'm thankful that you returned the books for me, but don't go about disrespecting Savos in my presence. He knows what he's doing." Urag said in a stern tone. "Yes, he's not perfect, but he has that big-nosed bat under control."
"I…I meant no disrespect," Cirilonde couldn't believe what she was hearing, though. No one was going to listen to her, were they? "Thank you for your help, Master Urag. I'll be on my way."
Cirilonde stowed the book away in her bag and as she passed a bookcase, she missed Ancano by just. He had entered and passed by the same bookcase as she did, but was on the other side of it. Neither of them saw each other, far too occupied with what was on their minds.
Just why is no one listening to me? Has everyone gone mad?! Surely this can't end well! But then, her conscience reasoned. Maybe I am fretting and overthinking this way too much…
When she made her way down to the Hall of Elements, she walked up to Ganir, who seemed rather surprised to see her. Had Ancano even gotten a hold of her? He wondered, but decided not to ask. She looked stressed out enough as it was. Having spent some time down here, studying this 'Eye', he understood Cirilonde's concerns. The Eye was an amazing, strange object, but even he could tell it was dangerous. And he certainly didn't like the impression he got of those near it. They seemed enthralled.
"No sign of Ancano?" Cirilonde asked. When Ganir shook his head, she seemed a bit more at ease. "Have you seen Tolfdir anywhere? Urag said he's in there somewhere." Cirilonde tip-toed to glance over the many heads in the hopes of spotting the old Nord.
"He should be in the back somewhere, I saw him there earlier," Ganir replied. "I'll wait here to stay on the lookout."
She nodded and went off, initially only pushing her way through the small of students in search of Tolfdir, but the closer she got to the orb, the harder it got for her to focus. She looked up at the Orb that seemed to gaze back at her. Its invasive energy seemed intent to probe her mind and she noticed how anyone nearby was unable to tear their eyes or minds off the Eye. Or was she just imagining things?
"Ah, Cirilonde, child, it is so good to see you!" The old Nord tore the High Elf from her ruminations. "I was wondering when you would come to have a look. I've not seen you a few days. Mirabelle said you were indisposed, but it's good to see you're back."
"Why thank you, Master Tolfdir I'm terribly sorry for missing out on some of your seminars." Cirilonde wasn't sure if the Nord knew anything of her mission at all, but decided not to press it for now. "If you don't mind, however, would you happen to have a moment for me, perhaps?"
"But of course!" the old Nord smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, students, I believe I've answered plenty of questions for now. I suggest you all get back to your regular schedules again."
She didn't notice how most students were reluctant to leave and it took some of them longer than usual to tear their gazes from the Eye. Not only that, they were also curious about this new student, who had made this grand discovery with Master Tolfdir, who now led her away from prying eyes and ears. "I recommend discretion, child. Eyes and ears are everywhere. The Arch Mage has informed me. I hope you've not run into Ancano?"
"No, I haven't," Cirilonde shook her head. "And I've been successful. Does this book perhaps ring you a bell?" The High Elf handed Tolfdir the book and then glared up at the Eye. The energy it emanated was giving her a headache. "Master Tolfdir…this Eye…" Cirilonde refrained from voicing her concerns, fearing it would warrant the same response as Urag had given her. And, her conscience reasoned. Maybe you should just leave it be. "Would you…happen to have discovered anything yet about it? I know you must have had tons of questions already, but…"
"It is no problem at all, dear." Tolfdir was practically beaming. "I was so relieved when the Arch Mage gave permission to let us take it here. The journey back and forth would have just been too much. But I'll gladly share my observations with you. After all, you and I were the ones to discover it!"
"I'd gladly hear all about your observations, Master Tolfdir," she said, deciding that if something truly were wrong, the Arch Mage would've intervened already.
"Now, you weren't here when we transported it here, but we've decided to call this 'The Eye of Magnus'. It is unlike anything I have ever seen in my lifetime, nor has anything like it ever been unearthed or recorded in history as far as we know." Tolfdir could barely contain his excitement as he spoke. "Aside from the mysterious nature of its material, which we have yet to figure out how to analyse, there's the writings. We've compared them to Elven, Ayleid, Dwemer, Daedric and even Falmer, but no match, which is most puzzling and intriguing at the same time. The Arch-Mage-,"
Cirilonde's whole body went rigid, scared witless when she saw it had been Ancano who had taken a firm hold of her shoulder. Her eyes shot towards the Entry Hall, wondering why Ganir had not warned her. He wasn't anywhere to be seen and judging by the smug smirk on the Thalmor's lips, he had something to do with it. He tightened his grip as a warning. Tolfdir had turned around as he'd no longer heard Cirilonde's footsteps behind him, but also noticed there was a sudden tension in the room.
"Ancano. What exactly is the meaning of this sudden intrusion?" Tolfdir asked as polite as he could manage.
"It is urgent that I speak with the Lady Valanocke immediately," Ancano replied haughtily as he disdainfully stared the Nord down.
"Well I never-! Can't this wait, Ancano? We are involved in serious research here!" Tolfdir protested. "Has Mirabelle not been clear enough with you the last time?"
"I don't believe I answer to her, or you, for that matter." Ancano sneered. "But I'll have you know the request came from the Arch-Mage. When this matter is resolved, you can return to the non-stop prattling you call 'research'."
Cirilonde grew angry he'd be so disrespectful of the old Nord but she also didn't like the way his eyes had shot to the Eye of Magnus as he spoke.
Tolfdir ground his teeth, just as angry at Ancano, but was wise enough to not antagonize the Thalmor. "I'm sure we can continue at a later time, child, when we are not interrupted."
The arrogant Altmer completely ignored the Nord's pointed glare and guided Cirilonde away and out of the Hall of Elements. For a moment, she feared Ancano was going to take her elsewhere, but once they walked down the hallway towards the Arch-Mage's tower, she felt reassured and confident enough to speak up.
"If you're quite done…" she tore his hand off her shoulder. "What have you done to Ganir? Where is he? And what is this all about that you're taking me to the Arch-Mage?"
"Your 'friend' is fine. I merely taught him a lesson in manners and respect and I suggest you start showing me some. I doubt someone as esteemed as your betrothed would be pleased to hear what sort of folks you've associated yourself with. And of course, there's your less than becoming attitude towards a member of the Thalmor." Ancano's lips curled into a smile when she averted his gaze. Now I have you right where I want you. "Now, let me clarify that the Arch-Mage and I would love to knowwhy someone is here at the College, claiming to be from the Psijic Order, asking for you specifically. So, we're going to have a little chat with him and find out what it is he wants."
"The Psijic Order?" Cirilonde's expression of surprise and confusion was a genuine one even if it did confirm that the man who had appeared before her in Saarthal had been real. "Why would this matter to you, though? The College is a neutral organization."
"And by the grace of the Dominion, it remains so for now..." Ancano replied haughtily. "It concerns me and my superiors because the Psijic Order is nothing more than a rogue organisation that's clashed with the Aldmeri Dominion before and I won't tolerate any of that happening here. So if there is reason for us to suspect that the College collaborates with them…"
Ancano wasn't lying or bluffing. The Psijic Order had made their home on the Isle of Artaeum of the Summerset Isles. After openly opposing the Thalmor, the Psijic and their island had disappeared well over a hundred years ago without a trace. Just why would they risk coming all the way here for her? Did these people even realize that they weren't just endangering her, but also the College? She'd have to figure out how to deal with this and Ancano as she went.
"Good, it seems I've made myself clear." Ancano indeed looked rather pleased with himself. "You can return to your 'research' afterwards. For now, I want you to speak to this monk and find out why he is here and what he wants. I might just even forget and forgive some of your transgressions for the time being."
"How considerate of you." Cirilonde hissed at him and she marched up the steps to the Arch-Mage's Quarters. This bought her enough time to calm herself down some. This was not going to end well. This was going to spiral out of control and there was not going to be anything she could do about it, was there? But Ancano caught up with her soon enough and she had to compose herself. Before she could even knock on the door, the door opened and she made her way in, followed shortly by Ancano.
Savos Aren stood waiting near his desk with another man, a High Elf, who was clad in the same style of robes like she'd seen on the young Altmer in Saarthal. This Psijic monk was older, though and looked different.
Ancano's eyes narrowed at the monk. "Now, here she is. I want you to-,"
The surge came without warning and was just as unpleasant as it had been the first time. Time froze all over and for the first time, the thought crossed Cirilonde's mind that perhaps even the Psijic could be as dangerous as Ancano had made them out to be. Capable of making an island disappear and freezing time was no magic to make or think light of.
And they had some serious explaining to do for involving her in this whole mess. "It's good to see you in person, Lady Valanocke," said the monk with a pleasant, sincere smile. "As you no doubt know, of course, we mean you no harm. My name is Quaranir and wish to talk to you." He pulled his hood back along with the sleeves of his robe to show his face and that he was unarmed.
Most of Quaranir's head was shaven and what remained in the middle had been bound together in a long braid. He had a trimmed beard and moustache.
"I understand why you may be upset, but I've given us a chance to speak privately for as long as I can manage. We must be brief. The situation here at your College is of dire importance, and attempts to contact you as we have previously, have failed. I believe it is due the very source of our concerns. This object...The Eye of Magnus as your people have taken to calling it. The longer it remains here, the more dangerous the situation becomes. And so I have come here personally to tell you it must be dealt with."
"You have some nerve coming here to warn me of a danger I'm already aware of." Cirilonde spat at him, furious. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're getting me into? What exactly do you expect me to do while you're clearly more qualified and able to handle this?"
The monk had not expected her to lash out and looked rather uncomfortable. "My apologies. It was my associate, Nerien, who warned you in Saarthal. In regards to handling this whole matter, it is not that simple." Quaranir began to pace back and forth and she saw that sweat dripped from his brow. The effects of maintaining this rift in time no doubt was wearing down on him the hardest as he had to focus to maintain it while talking to her at the same time. "My presence alone is already seen as an affront to some within the Order as we do not typically…intervene directly in events. As soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College with haste. I'm all too aware my arrival has aroused suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate here."
She watched him pace around Ancano, who stood helplessly frozen in time, completely unaware of this whole conversation.
"I hope that answers your question that the Psijic Order cannot, and will not act directly. You must take it upon yourself to do so."
Cirilonde wasn't about to admit that Ancano was right, but none of it sat well with her that they were now dumping all of this responsibility on her. "What exactly is the problem you keep mentioning?"
"As you may have learned, this object...The Eye...is immensely powerful. The world is not ready for it. If it remains here, it will be misused. Indeed, many in the Order believe it has already...Rather, something will happen soon, something that cannot be avoided."
"What do you expect from me then?" Cirilonde's eyes began to tear up and her head was pounding. The pressure of this time freeze was starting to take a toll on her. Just how did Quaranir manage to do this?
"Unfortunately, the future is as obscured to us as it is to you. The overwhelming power of the Eye makes it difficult for us to see. I fear I have already overstepped the bounds of my Order, but I will offer this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain here in your College. His perception may be more coherent than ours."
"The Augur of Dunlain?" Cirilonde had never heard of anything or anyone like this.
"I cannot hold for much longer, so listen." Quaranir said. "He was once a student here. He still is. Of sorts. He is somewhere here in the College. One of your colleagues must know of his whereabouts. I'm sorry I cannot help you any further but this…" He gestured at their surroundings in reference to the rift. "It requires a great deal of effort on my part…So I'm afraid I must leave you now. We will continue to watch over you and guide you as best we can but it is within you to succeed. Never forget that."
Without warning, Quaranir released his hold on time and the moment Cirilonde felt the ripple, she fell to her knees. She had hoped she was mentally and physically prepared enough but Quaranir had held her longer than Nerien had. Quaranir on the other hand had regained his composure unnoticed and Ancano stormed past her, not noticing she'd collapsed in his vicious pursuit of this monk.
"-to tell me this instant what business you have here." Ancano halted and blinked. Savos looked just as confused, completely unaware they'd just returned to the flow of time again. Both he and Ancano were overwhelmed by a most strange sensation. Something had happened, but what? "Well...?!" Ancano's nostrils flared as he glared at the monk. "What is the meaning of this?"
"I'm sorry...I'm afraid I don't understand." Quaranir feigned ignorance.
Ancano glared at Cirilonde over his shoulder to see she was just as distraught as Savos was. He had definitely felt something, but he refused to give the monk the satisfaction of letting any of it slip. "Don't play coy," he warned. "You asked to see a specific member of the College. Here she is. Now what is it that you want?"
"As I've come to understand, I clearly should not be here," Quaranir apologized. "This is all a great misunderstanding and I shall simply take my leave."
"What? What trickery is this? You're not going anywhere until I find out what you're up too. You-,"
"Ancano. Just let it be…Please…" The Arch-Mage had gotten pale as snow and Cirilonde hurried to his side to help him sit down in a chair. "Let him be on his way…Escort him off the grounds."
There was a thick, static tension in the air between the Psijic Monk and the Thalmor agent. "I assure you, I will get to the bottom of this…" he threatened in a barely audible whisper. "This way…"
Cirilonde was thankful that Ancano seemed to have completely forgotten about her.
Just when she thought she was out of one situation, she got herself into another and this one seemed to surpass everything on the scale of severity. She pushed all of her inner turmoil aside and focused her attention on the Arch Mage who required her care. "Are you all right, Arch-Mage?" she asked. The impact of the rift in time could've very well had worse after effects on him. The Dark Elf looked nauseous and dizzy. "Can I get you anything?"
"Water...Please." The old Dunmer was still shaking when she handed him a goblet of water. He drank with trembling hands was grateful for the young Altmer's gentle care. "I…I'm not even sure what happened. He came here and asked for you. Ancano went to retrieve you, and in you came, but the next thing I know…I just don't remember. Just what happened?"
Cirilonde hesitated and finally let out a defeated sigh. She told him everything that had happened in Saarthal. She fell silent midway because while he had been listening, she could tell that the time-freeze and all this information had a huge impact on the old Dark Elf. "You must be tired, I'll leave you be in a moment. I'll tell you everything you want, later, but before I leave you alone, I need to ask you something. It's about this thing, or person. The Augur of Dunlain."
She feared she'd crossed a line when the Dunmer heaved an agitated sigh, but then he waved a dismissive hand. "I wish Tolfdir knew better by now than let these subjects be brought to the attention of students. I repeatedly made it clear to him that it was inappropriate for casual conversation, especially with, no offence, such young students such as yourself." The Arch-Mage got to his feet. "Please remind him of this. If you don't mind, I have some matters to attend too."
"Yes, of course, Arch-Mage. I'm sorry for disturbing you, but thank you for your help." Much to her frustration, Cirilonde concluded from this that she was on her own with Ganir and anyone who didn't seem to be completely be losing their minds.
