Coping with the splitting pain in his head, CLovis took in his surroundings. Clearly, he was no longer in Whiterun Hold, or any part of Skyrim for that matter. The rolling plains and vast grasslands for as far as the eye could see reminded him of nowhere he had ever been.
'This must be the other side of the Oblivion Gate.' he thought, 'Nothing at all like how Dagon's tortured hellscape was described in the histories.'
The cage that Clovis had been shoved into contained several other people besides himself; unfortunately, they were the Nord bandits who had attacked him, not his people.
"What are you looking at elf?" one of them said, "You're lucky we're shackled to the bars, otherwise I'd have strangled you with these chains."
"And there is the Nords' famed hospitality." Clovis replied, rolling his eyes at the man's belligerance while looking at the scenery, "It's enough to make a mer feel unwelcome."
"Skyrim is no place for your kind elf. Skyrim belongs to its true sons and daughters, not to invaders."
'Quite the rhetoric this one is spewing. An ex-Stormcloak rebel perhaps? It is hard to tell, considering that it seems even non-Stormcloak Nords are simple-minded bigots.'
"Well, if that is the case, then when are your people leaving?" Clovis asked, "I'm sure the Falmer would love to know."
He was expecting an angry retort, only to be surprised when no response came at all. It was then that the carriage stopped moving, and the air took on a blue glow. Clovis turned his gaze back to the center of the cage, and saw Olquen sitting there.
"Master." he said, nodding his head, "I'd bow, but as you can see, I'm presently… well, indisposed."
Clovis rattled his manacles to prove his point.
"You and I both know that no chains can hold you Agent. I assume that you are waiting for an opportunity to escape?"
"You are correct. Just need to wait until nightfall, when the big idiots driving this wagon fall asleep, then I will make my escape."
"Good. You have work to do."
"Excellent; would you mind telling me what this work entails, or are you going to give me the customary Psijic vagueness?"
"I never withhold information from you Agent; if I do not tell you something, it is because I do not know myself. In any case, the Order has discovered a prophecy concerning this Gate."
"Speaking of which, where exactly am I? A place of Oblivion?"
"Not one of the planes, but a Nirn-like world, connected to ours through the Gate that opened in Whiterun Hold. Even as we speak, an army over a hundred-thousand strong has marched through the Gate, and has occupied the surrounding countryside. We fear they will move on Whiterun itself soon."
"Did you say over a hundred-thousand?" Clovis asked, "The Empire hasn't had that many troops since the Septim Dynasty, and even if the Jarls all pooled their own private forces together, that wouldn't nearly be enough. Only the Aldmeri Dominion has a force around that size, but they're… well… the Thalmor. That just goes without saying."
"Indeed. In any case, the Conclave is meeting to discuss future strategy. You will be part of that strategy Agent; a very important part of it."
Clovis' eyes narrowed. Ever since he had started his "relationship" with the Psijics more than twenty years ago, they had asked him to complete missions in the lands he and the Lions traveled to, usually against the Thalmor, undermining their operations. Still, he knew that he was but one of an unknown number of agents that the Psijics employed, and the tasks assigned to him were never at the level of importance that Olquen seemed to be implying.
"One of our agents has come across an Elder Scroll." she explained, paying no mind to Clovis' bulging eyes.
An Elder Scroll. A piece of the divine, with power above that of the holy Aedra and the damnable Daedra.
"And has taken it to a Moth Priest associate, who read what was contained within. It spoke of a Gate to another world being opened, of an army stepping through to conqueror."
"I'd say that the Scroll has been accurate so far." Clovis said.
"There is more I am afraid; there is always more when a Scroll is involved. The prophecy also speaks of a growing power that will come from this world, which shall drown both ours and theirs in a sea of blood and destruction."
"Does the scroll go into specifics?"
"No."
"Typical."
"There is a second part to the prophecy however, recorded on another Scroll."
"I do not suppose you know where this Scroll is, do you?"
"It is in this world,that much we do know."
"How is that possible?" Clovis asked, "How does an Elder Scroll end up outside of Nirn?"
"None can truly understand the Scrolls." Olquen answered, "Many have tried over the years, even in the Order; none have succeeded."
"So don't question it?"
"Essentially."
"So, then I assume my task is to find this second Elder Scroll, find out a way to decipher the second half of the prophecy, and then report back to the Order. Am I missing anything?"
"Learn as much as you can about this world in the process Agent; who rules here, the people, if they have more soldiers, and so on. I have every confidence that you will succeed."
Clovis nodded. Then his eyes widened as he remembered something; something important.
"Did any of my Lions survive?" he asked, "Did they manage to escape?"
Olquen lowered his eyes, and at the sight of that, Clovis felt his stomach turn.
"Many of your companions were slain." she said, "Others were taken prisoner. Only a handful were able to flee."
"Who? Please Master, tell me who it was."
"The Khajiit matriarch, and her grandchildren."
Clovis let out a sigh of relief. The loss of so many friends all at once was hard enough, but the thought that Dra-Jarna and her grandchildren were still alive lifted his spirits.
"Could you tell them that I'm still alive, and that they shouldn't worry about me?" he asked, "I'm not asking you to reveal yourself to them, just… find a way to let them know. Please?"
"I shall Agent." Olquen said, a ghost of a smile on her face, "Your friends will receive your message. Now I must leave; you know what you must do."
Clovis nodded, and the the Psijic disappeared, the world returned to normal, and time flowed once more.
Clovis felt a glob of spit hit his face. Scowling, her turned to the Nord who he shared a cage with.
Oh, that was right; he had insulted the Nord before Olquen stopped time.
"That's what I think of you and your jokes elf." he said, "If Ulfric was still alive…"
Clovis tuned out the man ramblings, and began looking over the guards; two sitting at the front of the wagon, six on horseback surrounding them. He could handle that many right now if he chose, but he'd wait till nightfall, for the maximum advantage.
Till then, he would internally debate if, when he made good his escape, if he was going to kill his obnoxious cagemates, or simply leave them behind for the wolves… or whatever the equivalent to wolves this world had.
"Open." Clovis whispered, and the manacles that bound his wrists and ankles came undone. Silently, he crawled over to the cage door, laid his hands on the lock, and whispered again, "Open."
Slowly, he swung open the door, and stepped out of the cage, letting his feet fall on the ground lightly.
The 'Open Lock" spell was simple, yet effective, and had contributed to many successful missions in the past; it was not as common as it was two hundred years ago, so the majority of mages did not know of it; thankfully, he did, another benefit of the ten years of tutelage under a Psijic Monk, and then another ten serving as her agent.
It was dark now, and only two guards were still awake, sitting next to one another, and chatting in front of their campfire; the others were scattered about, sleeping in their bedrolls. So far, neither of the guards had noticed him, and neither had his fellow prisoners. Good, that made one part of this easy.
In normal circumstances, he would have snuck up on them, and then used a knife to kill them. He had no knife at the moment, nor did he know the spell to conjure one from Oblivion; the Psijics had a low opinion of Conjuration spells, and he never bothered to learn from that school back home in Cloudrest either.
He had other methods at his disposal however…
First he casted muffle on himself, followed by a simple invisibility spell. As quiet as the breeze, he made his way over to the guards, we were still chatting to one another in a language he could not understand. When he was directly behind the guard on the right, he sprang into action.
He grabbed the man's head with both hands, and broke his neck with a quick snap. When the other man, shocked by his comrade's sudden death, began to stand up, Clovis quickly drew the dead man's knife, and quickly slashed the other guard's throat, silencing him forever.
With the two now dead, Clovis cast his gaze to the others; still asleep, unaware of what he had just done.
With a grim look on his face, he readied his new dagger; he was not done with killing tonight.
"To be truthful, I actually like elves." a Nord said from the cage to Clovis, who was doing his best to ignore him, "I've always thought your pointed ears were very attractive, which was why I was sweet on this Dunmer girl back in Windhelm; Suvaris… something."
"Oh shut up Rolff, you're just embarrassing yourself now."
Clovis paid no attention to the now awake Nords, one of whom, a Rolff Stone-Fist, was doing his best to try and convince the Altmer to free him and his companions.
Instead, Clovis was busy going through the now dead guards' supplies, discovering, much to his surprise, that they had several chests filled with weapons taken from the fallen Nords, and his own Lions. To his sadness, he recognized the steel short-sword of a Uthard, a Breton and a friend, the flame staff of Nerias, a Dunmer, and a former lover, and the silver bow of Green-Scales, the Argonian scout.
Wordlessly, he selected these weapons to take with him, along with a quiver full of arrows, and a pair of steel daggers. He lamented the loss of his custom made elven plate armor, which now only the Eight and One knew the location of, but there was no use crying over spilled Skooma, as the Khajiit would say. So, he pulled the armor off one of the dead guards, and put it on himself.
It was an ill fit, clearly made for someone not as tall as Clovis was, but it would do; he had worked with worse in the past.
"Look elf." another Nord said, "I don't like you, and you don't like us; but it would not be right to leave us chained in here to starve to death. If you don't intend to free us, then at least kill us quick, it would be kinder that way."
"Skaldi, what the hell are you saying? Don't encourage him to kill us!"
"Quiet Rolff! Have some dignity for once in your life, and show some of the backbone that your brother had! I for one do not wish to die, starved to death while chained like a wild animal. If we are for Sovngarde, then I'd rather it come for me now, when I still have dignity, then days from now, when I am a wreck."
Clovis turned his head towards the cage, and considered his options. It would be cruel to leave them in the cage; to starve, and to wither away till the crows picked out their eyes. He was no Thalmor after all. Still, if he let them go, they could potentially attack him, or otherwise endanger his mission. It would be safer to kill them.
To say nothing of the fact that they were the same bandits who attacked his Lions, and may have even killed several of them…
Clovis stood up, and allowed a flame to engulf his hands. Slowly, he made his way over to the cage, the fire in his hands waiting to be unleashed.
"Do what you need to do High Elf." Skaldi said, closing his eyes, "I am unafraid."
Clovis raised his hands, ready to cast… but did nothing.
He was no murderer, and this, no matter how smart and pragmatic it seemed, was simply murder.
Instead, he let out a sigh, and the fire disappeared, replaced by a soft glowing light.
"Open."
The Nords' chains all unlocked, freeing them from imprisonment. Rolff let out a whoop of excitement, hugging one of his fellow Nords, while Skaldi rubbed his wrists, then looked at Clovis in confusion.
"There's weapons and other supplies in those crates over there." Clovis said, "Gather what you need, and then get out of here.
He did not need to tell them twice. The Nords eagerly left the cage, and began arming themselves. One of them looked over at the campfire, and noticed something odd.
"Why's that one still alive?" he said, pointing at the bound and gagged guard, who squirmed on the ground, grunting every few seconds.
"I need him for later." Clovis explained, noticing the Nord's confused stare, "For… magical reasons."
"Right, magic." Rolff said, "Best leave that to mages. Come on boys, let's finish arming ourselves and get out of here. I'd rather not stick around in this place any longer than I have to."
"What about you elf?" Skaldi asked, "Where will you be going?"
"I have things I must do here." Clovis replied, "We will probably never meet again."
"Well then in that case, I bid you farewell." Skaldi held out his hand to Clovis, who, despite reservations, took it.
"I am Skaldi, of Clan Ebonmace." the Nord said.
"I am Clovis." the Altmer responded.
"Clovis? That's not a common name among High Elves."
"No, it isn't."
"Well, I don't make it a habit of prying into the secrets of another man - or mer in this case. In any case, you have my gratitude. Divines smile on you Clovis the High Elf."
"May the Eight and One do the same to you Skaldi Ebonmace."
The Nord nodded, turned, and left, his countrymen following close behind, disappearing into the darkness, and headed south, towards the Gate, and through that, Skyrim.
Clovis narrowed his eyes, and turned towards his prisoner, who whimpered at his approach. As he knelt down, Clovis placed a hand on the left side of the man's head.
"There is much that I do not know about your world." Clovis said, aware that the man understood nothing, "I don't know places, your kings, or your history; I do not even know your language."
Clovis then placed his other hand on the right side of the man's head. He then began channeling magicka, and began casting a special spell, learned under his years as Olquen's agent.
"Let us fix that, shall we?"
