The Magician's Shout

Time seemed to slow for a moment as Tiren gazed into the dark, cold eyes of the large brown beast that stood before him. They were ancient, emotionless, and had a depth that baffled Tiren. Then he began to look at the rest of the scaly beast and came back into reality.

He needed to move.

The dragon approached him and reared its neck back, realizing what was coming, Tiren dove out of the way just in time to dodge the dragon's mighty jaws as they snapped at him.

Tiren got up and ran. He still had his shortsword, though he questioned its usefulness in this situation. Along with that he could feel the armor spell his father casted weakening with time, and Tiren began to feel very vulnerable.

Tiren looked at his father and saw his staff lying on the ground next to him. Tiren was tempted to go for Stormfire, but was terrified of drawing the dragon's attention near his father's body. While he didn't know if his father was dead right now, a burst of flame or simple crushing stomp would erase all doubt quickly.

So instead, Tiren bolted for the forest.

The dragon pursued, though having strained its wings during its first fall, chased after Tiren crawling and stomping slowly on the ground. The dragon let loose a ferocious roar, and followed by a stream of fire that stormed after the fleeing half-elf.

Tiren dove to dodge the flames behind a large tree, and then continued to run. He began brainstorming any sort of method for causing serious damage to the dragon. He looked over to the large cliff near the left side of the Homestead to see a large boulder perched near the edge, and suddenly his brain began to churn.

Using telekinesis, Tiren grabbed a rock roughly the size of his head, and launched it at the dragon in an act of defiance. The dragon took the rock in the side of its massive jaws and responded with a loud roar and added haste as it pursued the boy.

Tiren bolted through the woods and towards the cliffside as he shouted profanity and insults toward the ancient beast. The dragon began sprinting after Tiren and with one single motion of its large wings, the beast launched into the air and landed with a crash right on the thatch roof of the Homestead, collapsing in part of the roof and knocking over his father's enchanter's tower. Tiren wanted to take a moment to weep for his home, but the dragon wouldn't allow it.

Instead he kept running and ducked around a jagged edge of the cliff for cover as dragon's fire engulfed the hard rock. Tiren used this cover as an opportunity to prepare his assault. He began focusing all his magicka to trying to move the giant boulder. It was difficult, he certainly couldn't lift it, but he started to get it to slowly roll forward inch by inch...

And then he mas interrupted. The dragon swung around the side of the cliff and snapped at Tiren. Barely having time to react, he rolled out of the way of the piercing jaws. The dragon slammed its head briefly against the cliff, causing a loud boom as the rock shuddered. Tiren felt the boulder even jump forward a bit, and in his head pleaded with it to move faster.

The dragon stepped back for a moment, disoriented, but finally decided to finish this fight. His prey was going to trouble him no longer. The dragon coiled its neck back and unleashed a final spray of fire and the boy.

Unable to evade this time, Tiren stopped his telekinesis and used both hands to channel his magic into the strongest ward he could muster just barely holding back the harsh flames. But the flames seemingly wouldn't end, and after about seven seconds Tiren could feel his magicka waning fast. He knew he had to end this.

In a crafty motion, Tiren took his right hand and drew the orcish sword at his belt. Barely holding back the flames with one hand, Tiren grabbed the sword and aimed for just a moment before launching it with telekinesis. Flying like a spear, the shortsword impaled itself in the dragon's left eye and the dragon's cry of pain echoed across the land. The dragon twisted and contorted in pain as it swung back and forth trying to fling the blade out of its eye.

Tiren took his opportunity to gather himself and took one deep breath before latching onto the boulder with telekinesis. His muscles ached, his blood boiled. He put every ounce of magicka in his body to making this giant rock fall.

The dragon finally collected itself. Blade on the ground and bleeding from one eye, the dragon launched its jaws at the boy with more anger and ferocity than ever before. Tiren closed his eyes in fear as he felt the dragon close in on him and he threw his arms forward in one jerking motion, and in that moment of desperation, he finally felt the rock give way.

The rock fell, bounced of the side of the cliff, and crashed onto the outstretched neck of the dragon, just as its jaws closed on its prey. But before the beast could clamp down harder, the beast's fangs only pierced half an inch deep. The initial force had been stonewalled, barely breaking through the transparent magic armor that even Tiren forgot his father had casted.

In the end, his dad had saved his life after all.

In a deafening cry of agony, the dragon screamed for but a moment as the two-ton rock collapsed its windpipe. And then with a final gasp of air, the dragon eyes went hollow.

Tiren pulled himself free of the dragon's jaws and fell backwards. He began to feel dizzy, and collapsed as the world went black.

-ooo-

Tiren awoke disoriented and confused. It was only when he looked up and saw the dead dragon's face that Tiren jumped back to reality. His curiosity began to get the best of him, as he was tempted to examine the beast, when suddenly Tiren remembered his father and leapt to his feet.

He raced as fast as he could back to Styrnbjorn. As he approached he could see Styrnbjorn still lying up against the tree, now with his eyes open, coughing and reaching out to him. Tiren dove down to his father's side and began casting as many healing spells as he could.

Healing others is much more difficult than healing oneself. True healing requires a total knowledge of the person's wounds or ailments or you can't direct the energy in the right places. This makes things like disease or other internal injuries nearly impossible to truly cure with magic, while external injuries like cuts, scrapes, or even obvious broken bones can be healed rather easily. And so these were what Tiren focused on first.

Styrnbjorn tried to speak, but Tiren hushed him, trying to get him to save his strength. As the external injuries mended, Tiren began to turn his attention to his father's more serious injuries. And he realized this was worse than he thought. Styrnbjorn had a wound that couldn't be mended by a boy with some willpower.

Styrnbjorn had cracked his spine.

He was paralyzed, and as still as a statue. Coupled with internal bleeding, Styrnbjorn had minutes left to live, and he knew better than anyone that no magic could save him now. Not even he now, too drained from the battle, could repair the damage done.

"What do I tell him?" Styrnbjorn frantically thought.

"Do I say how much I loved him? How happy he always made me? How proud I was of him?" He continued as tears came, "Do I tell him everything I've kept secret? Or give him advice to survive? Do I tell the truth about his mother's death, or where he can find safety?"

Finally, with a final tear rolling down his cheek, Styrnbjorn accepted his fate and closed his eyes. Using his last bit of magicka left, Styrnbjorn used a little known spell he'd discovered one late night in the College Library. Telepathy.

Knowing he'd only be able to hold the connection for a few moments, Styrnbjorn focused on his memories and pictured three images in his mind. He then gathered his energy, and locked minds with Tiren. Tiren was startled at first by the sensation, but his father's essence quickly calmed him.

All of the sudden, a swirl of colors and images flowed through Tiren's mind. Flashes of colors began to come together to form a clear picture in Tiren's head, and he began to see the visions sent to him.

The first thing Tiren saw was a huge, beautiful, castle-like building with enchanted lights and a thin bridge connecting it to a small village. Beams of bright blue streamed into the sky through a harsh blizzard. The vision focused on the castles courtyard, and a statue of a mage with flowing robes. A single word echoed in his head as the image dissipated.

"Winterhold"

And then a new vision appeared in his mind. This time there sat a beautiful Bosmer woman. She had soft, flowing brown hair and dressed in a dark blue mage's robes. A tall young Nord walked over and handed the woman a crying baby, who she took with a smile. Upon being in his mother's arms, Tiren saw himself as a young baby smile and close its eyes.

"Nienna"

And as the last vision entered his mind, tears rolled down his eyes. It was an image of when Tiren was a boy, not five years old, on his father's lap in their favorite chair by the fire. The young boys eyes were filled with wonder as his dad told him a story of adventures, mages, monsters, and heroes. The little boy fought to stay awake, but eventually his eyelids grew heavy as he fell asleep, and his father carried him to bed. He watched his father lean over and smile as he kissed his forehead goodnight.

"I love you son"

And with that, Styrnbjorn smiled, let go, and rested in peace.

And Tiren was left alone.