Chapter 25
All attempts to revive the Breton girl failed. Marcus was sick with worry, and afraid that some permanent harm had come to her. Cicero was barely containing his rage.
"Let us kill this Morokei!" he shrieked. "Kill him for hurting pretty Tamsyn!"
Argis tried to calm the maniacal little jester down. "Getting angry isn't helping her!" he said.
"No," Marcus said. "The only thing that will help right now is to take out Morokei." He opened the door to reveal the chamber beyond.
A short flight of steps led down to a boulevard between two raised areas beyond an archway. To the left, a broken building with upper-level avenues was built back into the cavern wall. To the right, a raised area backed up against the opposite side of the chamber.
Twin beams of blue-white energy emanated from two ghostly forms, limned with blue and held in place at the top of the ruins on the left by a sphere of unknown power. The magic they cast triangulated its focus on a figure out of a nightmare, pinned to the raised dais on the right by another sphere of their combined power.
Morokei: it had to be him. He seemed to float in the air, his carved armor resembling the scales of a dragon, his horned crown surmounting a grotesquely-carved mask that glared blankly and severely out at the world. For the rest of him, what they could see was skeletal and covered in the rags of what once might have been richly embroidered priest's robes, but now were nothing more than tatters that whipped and snapped in the magic winds holding him in place. One bony hand gripped a large staff: the Staff of Magnus, Marcus realized.
Taking everything in in an instant, he turned to the others.
"Gentlemen," he said, pointing to Morokei. "There is our quarry, and he has the Staff. We need to take him out quickly. Cicero, I need you to get up to those two spectral guardians up there and take them out. Argis and I will wait near Morokei. As soon as he's released, Argis, we tear into him. If he floats away, we've got to stay with him, got it?" Argis nodded.
"Cicero understands," the jester said, completely serious now, and his voice had dropped to a normal register. "When he has killed the guardians, he will help dear Argis and the Dragonborn."
"Ranged attacks," Marcus advised, "if you can hit him without pegging one of us." He didn't miss the crafty look that flitted across the Imperial's face, but chose to ignore it. Like Tamsyn, he was going to have to trust that Cicero wouldn't harm them. "Let's go," he said, leading the way. He tried not to think of Tamsyn lying there at the top of the stairs, oblivious to all around her. There was nothing he could do to rouse her, except to try and kill the creature that had put her in that position.
Cicero leaped off the steps lightly and hit the ground running. Sneaking was clearly pointless here, and he didn't even try to hide.
"Come on, Argis," Marcus said, descending the steps. They crossed the courtyard area and passed under the arch. It was only at this point that Marcus saw the pool at the far end, where the road seemed to sink down and disappear into it. He and Argis climbed the steps and positioned themselves to either side of Morokei, but gave the lich the high ground. Marcus didn't like that.
"Over there, Thane," Argis pointed out. To the left and slightly behind Morokei was an avenue that ran along the cavern wall. It wasn't much, but it would allow him to get behind the undead creature, at least for a moment or two. He had no doubts that Morokei was completely aware of him and what he was doing, and would probably try to counter such a move as soon as he was free.
Cicero worked his way up the flight of stone steps to the left and across the avenue to the spectral mage furthest away. It was the female, Atmah. Rarely did Cicero ever feel regret in taking a life, but he felt a faint twinge of remorse as she shoved his dagger into her back.
"This is nothing personal, you understand," he explained. "But Cicero needs you to stop doing that now, so he can kill the lich and save sweet Tamsyn!"
With a shuddering gasp, the magic beam she cast winked out. A hollow, whispered, "…thank…you…" caught Cicero's ear as she disintegrated to dust, and he turned to deal with Hafnar. The Nord's ghost gave him more trouble. Perhaps on some level, it registered with Hafnar that his partner was no longer there, and it was up to him to keep Morokei in check. Whatever the reason, Cicero's stab didn't kill Hafnar immediately, and he lashed out at the Imperial jester.
"Oh ho ho! This is more like it!" Cicero crowed. He blocked a slash from the ghost's war axe, but was unable at such close quarters to completely avoid the Ice Spike.
"Ow! Speared by a spear…" the red-haired Imperial moaned. "I shall have no fear! The jester shall jest and lay your ghost to rest!"
As soon as Hafnar's stasis beam was interrupted, Morokei broke free with a shriek that sounded like metal being ripped apart.
"Now!" Marcus cried, and together the Dragonborn and his Housecarl began assaulting the Dragon Priest, slashing and slicing with their blades. Argis bashed with his shield, staggering Morokei, but the Priest floated away to his left, where the stairs and the avenue ended. He was still a good ten feet up in the air, and out of their reach.
"Crap!" Marcus swore. He sheathed his swords, clenched his fists and Shouted "Tiid!", making a flying leap off the end of the stairs for Morokei as time slowed around him.
It was a direct hit, and Marcus hung on, attempting to turn his body so that Morokei was under him when they landed. Since it was a slow fall – at least for him – it didn't hurt as much when they hit the pavement, and Marcus allowed a small corner of his mind to be amused with what must have gone through Morokei's mind when this madman came out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground.
He ripped the mask off Morokei's face and tossed it to one side, feeling with satisfaction the crunch of bone under his gauntleted fist when he punched the Priest squarely on the nose – or what would have been his nose if it hadn't already decayed away. Time resumed around him, and Morokei struggled to return to an upright, floating position.
"Not today, Jack!" Marcus gritted out, and punched him again. A normal person would have been knocked unconscious from a punch like that, but Morokei was not a normal person.
"FUS RO DAH!" he Shouted, and Marcus found himself flying backward, slamming against a stone wall, and having the breath knocked out of him. Dimly he was aware, through the pin-point lights that crowded his vision, that Argis had come down the stairs and was swinging away with the Nordic sword, attempting to block the spells with his shield. It wasn't very effective.
Morokei raised the Staff and pointed it at the big Nord, and Marcus could literally see the life-energy being sapped from his Housecarl. He struggled to get to his feet.
Cicero dodged another spell from Hafnar and danced out of the way of the ghostly war axe, which would have done just as much damage as a real one, if it had caught him. He slashed with the Daedric dagger, and gave a satisfied smirk as he felt it connected with something a bit more solid than mist.
"…And if by chance I see a cat," he sang, "I'll feed its corpse-oh no, wait," he stopped. "Sweet Tamsyn likes cats. She doesn't like Cicero to sing that song." The ebony dagger flew out, also connecting, and Hafnar went down to one knee. "How about this one? 'And if by chance I see a cat, I'll bow to it and tip my hat!'" Striking out with both daggers simultaneously, Cicero finished off the ghost of Hafnar, who also whispered his thanks before crumbling to ash. Cicero sheathed his daggers, bowed and tipped his hat to the space where the ghost had been.
Looking around, he saw Argis getting battered by the spells the lich was casting at him. He could not see the Dragonborn, but had heard a Shout. He didn't know if that had been the lich or the Dragonborn. Right now, he didn't care. Dear Argis was in trouble, and Cicero pulled his bow off his back and nocked an arrow. Taking careful aim, he let fly, and grinned as it planted itself in the left eye socket. The unholy blue gleam in that orbital space went out, and Cicero nocked another arrow.
Movement from the right caught his eye, and he saw the Dragonborn – the hated Dragonborn – move in closer with swords drawn to assist his Housecarl. So…tempting…. He brought the bow to bear on the unsuspecting Dragonborn. His hand holding the nocked arrow trembled with the urge to let fly.
"The Dragonborn is protected by Akatosh…You may not harm him." Lucien's words rang in his ears.
"He murdered them all," Cicero whimpered softly now. "He must die!"
"You have no choice in this…To do otherwise is to defy Sithis himself."
Swearing savagely, he swung the bow back to Morokei, now beyond the reach of both warriors, floating several feet above their heads. He loosed the arrow and turned away before it hit exactly where he aimed it. He crossed the avenue to the steps which led further up to sit and sulk.
With a shriek, Morokei crumpled to the ground in front of Marcus and Argis, turning to ash before their eyes.
With a sense of relief, Marcus claimed the Staff and sifted through the rest of the ashes. There was nothing else on the lich.
"What about this?" Argis asked, retrieving the eponymous mask the Dragon Priest had worn. Even to Marcus' uninitiated senses, it radiated magic.
"We'll take it with us," he said. "Go find Cicero. I'm going to see if Tamsyn is alright."
He found her where they had been forced to leave her, still unconscious. "Tamsyn," he pleaded, removing a gauntlet and feeling for a pulse. It was there, but faint. He took out the second scroll she'd given him and read it aloud, seeing and feeling the magic transfer from the scroll to the Breton girl through his hands.
She slowly opened her eyes. "Marcus?" she whispered.
"Shh," he told her, unstopping a potion and lifting her head. He held her carefully, almost tenderly, while she drank the potion, and when it was empty he helped her to sit up.
"Morokei?" she asked, her face worried.
"Dead," Marcus said. "I mean, really dead this time. How do you feel?"
"Better," she admitted. "But I feel horrible that you had to face it without me."
Marcus nodded. "We could have used the help," he said, "but you couldn't help what happened."
Tamsyn hung her head. "I would have died here," she said quietly. "Even if Cicero and I had been able to get this far on our own. The moment you released Morokei, I could feel him drawing on my magicka, sapping it out of my body. I couldn't stop him." She shuddered, and Marcus gathered her close and held her for several moments.
"Will you be alright now?" he asked, concerned.
Tamsyn nodded. "Yes, I think so. We need to get the Staff back to Winterhold as soon as possible."
Marcus rose and helped her to her feet. "Let's get out of here then. Is there another way out, since we can't go back?"
The red-haired girl nodded. "Just past those streets there," she pointed to where they saw Argis and Cicero waiting for them.
As the four adventurers made their way out of Morokei's chamber, the saw the ghost of Savos Aren one last time.
"…I'm sorry, my friends," he grieved. "I'm so sorry! I had no choice! It was the only way to make sure that monster never escaped! I promise you, I'll never let this happen again! I'll seal this whole place away…"
His spirit faded and they were alone once more.
"Poor Savos," Tamsyn said sadly. "To have to carry that guilt around for centuries."
"He should never have come here in the first place," Marcus said, severely.
"If he hadn't," Argis mused, "then Tamsyn wouldn't have been able to find out about the Staff, though, right?"
No one answered him, and Argis accepted their silence as confirmation.
As they made their way through a series of catacombs, a noise up ahead alerted them to the fact they weren't alone. Before they could be detected, Tamsyn pulled them back.
"That's Estormo up ahead," she said in hushed tones. "He's a toady of Ancano's. He's going to try and take the Staff."
"So let's kill him!" Cicero giggled.
"No, Cicero," Tamsyn told him. "I'll take care of him. You boys have done enough, and I feel bad I wasn't there to help."
"Tamsyn—" Marcus began, but she put a hand to his lips.
"Shush," she smiled. "This is my fight!"
She stepped out into the open, and a Thalmor mage came through the door on the opposite side of the room. He looked at the girl, standing there holding the Staff as though she had no understanding of its power.
"So, you made it out of there alive," he sneered. "Ancano was right…you are dangerous."
"I'm flattered he views me as a threat," Tamsyn said with a wry twist to her lips. "I must be doing something right, then."
"I'm afraid I'll have to take that Staff from you now," Estormo said haughtily, as if it were a forgone conclusion that she would just hand it over. "Ancano wants it kept safe."
"You mean he wants to keep me from using it to stop him," Tamsyn smirked. "Is that all?"
Estormo frowned. "Oh no," he said. "He also wants you dead. Nothing personal, you understand."
"Tell Ancano he can have the Staff when he can pry it from my cold, dead hands," Tamsyn said, smiling again, but this time there was a dangerous glitter in her eyes.
"I will be happy to make those arrangements for you," Estormo snarled, gesturing with his hand. A blue light limned him, and with the other hand he brought a Flame Atronach into being.
Tamsyn made a gesture of her own, throwing up a ward against the firebolts the Atronach began lobbing at her. With her other hand she targeted Ancano with the Staff of Magnus. A beam of blue-white energy shot towards the Altmer mage and began sapping energy from him. He frowned in dismay.
"We should help dear Tamsyn!" Cicero fretted.
"She told us to stay out of it," Argis said, holding the little man back.
"We'll step in if she gets in trouble," Marcus promised. "Not before." He wouldn't dream of taking away Tamsyn's right to redeem herself in their eyes. It was unnecessary to the three men with her; they already knew her worth. But Marcus also knew that Tamsyn needed to do this for herself, and he would not deny her that satisfaction.
Estormo switched to Chain Lightning, aiming for collateral damage, and Tamsyn shouted back over her shoulder, "Pull back!" Her ward still held firm, and the boots she wore seemed to glow with every strike.
Her three companions withdrew, but only just out of range of the lightning.
Tamsyn relentlessly kept the Staff trained on Estormo, enduring the firebolt hits with her ward, and keeping her back to the doorway to keep from getting flanked. At length, the Flame Atronach winked out, and Estormo began to panic as he realized he didn't have enough magicka left to re-summon it. He cast a Steadfast Ward to attempt to block the Staff from draining him, but Tamsyn left off concentrating on her ward to cast a wolf familiar of her own and sent it after the Thalmor mage. She followed it up with a lightning bolt which crackled against his ward, but she never gave up with the Staff.
"Enough! No more!" Estormo cried, as the wolf familiar broke through his ward.
"Not going to happen, Thalmor," Tamsyn gritted. "You are the worst thing to happen to Skyrim, and I want you all out of here!"
Estormo summoned every last bit of magicka within him that the Staff had not drained and dual-cast a firebolt at her. It caught her full in the chest, and she staggered a bit, but recovered.
"Say good-bye to Skyrim, you fascist freak!" she cried, flinging another lightning bolt at him. Estormo flew backward several feet, landing in a crumpled heap against the wall. He did not move again.
Silence filled the tomb once more, except for the sounds of Tamsyn breathing hard, and the crackle of dissipating electrical energy. The smell of ozone and scorched flesh filled the air, and neither one was pleasant.
"Now we can go," she said, leading the way up a short flight of stairs to a barred door. Cicero fell behind, presumably to loot the place. It was what he usually did.
"Fascist freak'?" Marcus grinned.
The Breton girl chuckled. "Best I could do on short notice," she quipped.
Outside in the fresh air once more, everyone took a deep, relieved breath. How long they'd been underground, they had no firm idea, but it seemed to be late afternoon now, and possibly only one day had passed since they arrived.
Tamsyn was ecstatic. They'd done it! They'd retrieved the Staff of Magnus. It was now a simple matter of getting back to Winterhold.
"RROOAAARRRR!"
"Oh, crap," Tamsyn muttered, bringing up her hands. Fire leaped from one and ice frosted the other. A shadow passed over their heads, and the shock-wave of great wings buffeted them.
"You've got to be kidding me," Marcus groaned.
After facing down draugr Deathlords and a Dragon Priest lich, fighting the blood dragon seemed like a walk in the park. Cicero shot it with his bow, Marcus and Argis attacked when it landed, and Tamsyn summoned a Flame Atronach of her own and used frost spells to whittle away at the beast. In the end, the result was a foregone conclusion, and Marcus took its soul.
Cicero and Argis began redistributing the treasures they'd picked up and Marcus pulled Tamsyn aside.
"Didn't you say there was a Word Wall on the top of that peak, there?" Marcus asked quietly, pointing.
"Yes," Tamsyn said. "The path to get there begins just to the south, beyond that stone arch. And just to let you know, there's also a word within Shalidor's Maze itself, over there." She pointed to a set of iron doors on the eastern side of the ruins.
"Uh-huh," Marcus said thoughtfully. "And what's that building way back over there?" he asked.
"That would be Lost Valkygg," she explained.
"Anything good in there?"
Tamsyn shrugged. "Not sure. Perhaps some minor loot, but nothing specific."
"And what's in Shalidor's Maze?"
Tamsyn's brow furrowed as she sought to remember. "Part of the Dismay Shout that frightens off lesser enemies," she said. "The real test of the Maze was generally meant for mages. You have to use your magical talents to get through it."
"You're a mage," Marcus grinned, "and I wouldn't be a proper Dragonborn if I didn't go after all the Shouts."
Tamsyn narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you sure you never played the game?"
Marcus chuckled. "Positive. So? How about it? Have we got time to do all this?"
Tamsyn's brow furrowed again. "I really need to get the Staff back just as soon as I can," she said, "but there's no way of knowing when – or if – you'll ever get back this way again."
She seemed to consider it for several moments before she said, "Alright. Cicero and Argis can wait here for us. We'll go through the Maze together, and when that's done we'll head up to Skyborn Altar."
It took them several hours to negotiate Shalidor's Maze and make their way back out to Argis and Cicero. Marcus had seen Tamsyn's Dremora Kynreeve fight, and knew how tough the creature was. Facing down the one inside the Maze was much more difficult, but between the two of them they were able to defeat not only the Dremora, but the atronachs it summoned. The Word Wall gave him faas, or "fear"; Tamsyn claimed the circlet they'd found, but there was enough gold and gems to placate Cicero, who fretted under the delay, though he did admit it gave him time to get to know Argis better.
Neither Tamsyn nor Marcus wanted to know the details of that.
They camped that night in the shelter of one of the ruined outbuildings, with each one taking a two-hour shift on watch before waking the next one in line. Tamsyn spent some time and soul gems recharging her staves, Dragonbane and Cicero's daggers. They were up with the sun after an uneventful night and on their way after a quick breakfast of dried meat and fruit, cheese, bread and wine.
"Cicero wants a sweet roll," he pouted.
"I'll get you a sweet roll when we get back to Dawnstar," Tamsyn promised indulgently, and the little Imperial perked up immediately.
At Skyborn Altar they startled the Blood dragon that roosted there, but it didn't take long for the drake to recover and attack.
"I thought we killed this one already!" Argis exclaimed, dismayed.
"Maybe it's got a twin brother!" Tamsyn called back, shooting at it with her Destruction magic.
This Blood dragon fared no better than the other, and Marcus found he had two souls held in reserve. The Word Wall gave him krah, "cold", and he unlocked it immediately, knowing it belonged to fo, the first Word of the Frost Breath Shout he already knew. But he held off unlocking the Dismay Shout. With only one soul in reserve, he wanted to be sure the next Shout he learned wouldn't be one he would want and not be able to activate.
Finally, laden down with their plunder, they retraced their steps back through a quiet Labyrinthian and found the road that led back to Dawnstar. It was again late afternoon by the time they got there, and the adventurers decided to stay the night at the Windpeak before heading out to Winterhold in the morning.
"Eh…Cicero will sleep in his own bed tonight," he announced. "And he has some things to attend to at home. But he will wait for you by the smithy in the morning."
Tamsyn assured him that would be fine; she knew he didn't want anyone to discover the entrance to the Sanctuary, and he probably had to tend to the Night Mother. He fretted when he was gone too long from her, as he'd done in Mzulft.
"There's a smithy in town?" Marcus asked.
Tamsyn nodded and took him to see Rustleif before closing time. On the way, a Redguard boy rushed past them so fast he almost plowed into them.
"Sorry!" the boy panted over his shoulder, dashing off.
"Alesan?" Marcus asked Tamsyn. She nodded.
His heart went out to the boy. This was no kind of life for a child his age. I'll need to talk to him soon, he thought. When this is over.
Rustleif was a hard-working Nord with a beautiful Redguard wife who shared the work with him. Seran knew almost as much about the forge, and knew her way around it nearly as well as her husband.
"I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep it up, though," she admitted to Tamsyn, placing a protective hand on her thickening waist.
"How soon?" Tamsyn smiled.
"As nearly as I can figure it, sometime around the end of Midyear," the expectant mother said.
Tamsyn nodded. "I'll make sure to come by before then, and see how you're doing. I may even be able to stay and help with the birth."
The relief that washed over Seran's face was touching. "That means a lot to me," she smiled warmly. "Frida has already told me she'll be able to deliver my – I mean, our baby, but I know what a good healer you are, and what you've already done for our town, Tamsyn. Thank you!"
Marcus had been negotiating with Rustleif over the purchase of some of the weapons and armor they'd acquired in Labyrinthian, and the two men shook hands and made the exchange. Argis handed over the gear and Marcus handed Tamsyn two coin purses. "One's for Cicero," he told her.
There wasn't a general goods store in town to sell off some of the other things, so it was packed up and held over until they could get to Winterhold the next day.
Tamsyn headed over to the Mortar and Pestle to talk to Frida and to use the alchemy lab while Marcus and Argis headed back to the Windpeak Inn.
"Gang way!" a young voice cried. "Comin' through!" Alesan raced past them again in the opposite direction, headed up to the other mine.
"Are you alright?" a man's voice asked behind him. "You seem tired."
Marcus turned to answer, but realized the man was talking to a Nord woman in fine, brown tunic. The man wore an Imperial Legionaire's armor.
"I'm fine, Horik," the woman replied. "I just…are you worried about this war?"
Horik shrugged. "No. If we must fight, we will, and you will lead us to victory. As you always have."
They passed by Marcus and Argis, but did not spare a glance toward either.
"With you by my side, is that right Horik?" the woman asked indulgently.
"Of course," Horik replied, as if it was already a foregone conclusion. "I would have it no other way."
The woman chuckled, but there was little mirth in the laugh. "So much for old soldiers settling down to a life of luxury, eh?"
They moved out of earshot, heading up the hill, and Marcus gave a mirthless chuckle of his own. That could be Argis and him twenty years from now – if he lived that long. Or Lydia instead of Argis. He shot a glance at his Housecarl, who stoically kept his eyes straight ahead and said nothing.
Tamsyn joined them later at the Windpeak, having spent the rest of the late afternoon catching up with Frida. Her pack was stuffed with more potions.
"I thought you were going to sell some off?" Marcus asked.
"I did," Tamsyn said, "but I also got some that are stronger than I can make at the moment. Here, I got you some more stamina potions. I think you're about out."
"You didn't need to do that," Marcus said. "I could have got some tomorrow morning."
"We'll be gone long before Frida opens up," Tamsyn said. "We still have a long way to go before we reach Winterhold."
After their evening meal, Argis excused himself and went over to sit at a table near the bard, listening to her play.
"Thank you again for helping me, Marcus," Tamsyn said quietly. "It really means a lot to me."
"I'm glad I could help, Tamsyn," he replied.
"And I'll keep my promise to you," she went on. "As soon as this whole Eye of Magnus thing is done, I'll help you find the Elder Scroll."
"You know where it is, don't you?" he asked.
Tamsyn quirked a grin. "Of course I do. But we can't just go there and get it. There are a couple of things we need first."
"Oh?"
"I'll explain more later," she said. "It's not important right now."
"Listen," he said slowly. "Once I have it, I have to take it back to the top of the Throat of the World and read it at some kind of rip in time."
Tamsyn nodded. "The Time Wound," she supplied. "So? What are you getting at?"
"Well," Marcus mused. "I was wondering if you would want to come with me and meet Paarthurnax."
The look on her face was all the reward he needed. Tamsyn looked as though it was Christmas and her birthday at the same time.
"I would love to meet Paarthurnax!" she breathed. Then her eyebrow lifted and the corner of her mouth twitched. "Are you…are you asking me out on a date?"
Marcus chuckled. "It's been a while since I've done that," he admitted.
Tamsyn dimpled at him. "It's been a lot longer for me!"
Cicero was waiting for them near the smithy, as he had promised. Tamsyn handed him his share of the gold along with a couple sweetrolls she'd bought that morning from Thoring. The little Imperial was delighted and happily munched on them as they left Dawnstar.
They followed the beaches and the cliff roads back, as they'd done on the way to the capital of the Pale, but little in the way of wildlife bothered them.
"Probably because we killed everything on the way out," Argis grinned.
They ate as they walked, since Tamsyn felt the need to get back to the College as quickly as possible. So it was that they made good time, and in the early afternoon they finally reached Winterhold. All was not well, however, as they could plainly see from a mile away. An enormous field of blue-black energy surrounded the entire College, sitting out on its pinnacle of rock.
"What in Oblivion is that?" Argis breathed.
"It's Ancano!" Tamsyn exclaimed. "It's already started!"
"What's started?" Marcus demanded.
"The final confrontation," she replied cryptically. "Let's hurry. We don't have much time!"
The town of Winterhold was quiet. To be fair, it was always quiet; there were not very many people who called the town "home". But those who might normally have been out and about were absent, probably hiding in their homes, or the Frozen Hearth, or Jarl Korir's Longhouse.
This isn't going to make him any more receptive to magic and mages, Tamsyn thought unhappily. Not that he was to begin with, but I had hoped to make overtures of friendship.
The four companions raced up the bridge to find the Altmer wizard, Faralda, along with the Breton scholar, Arniel Gane, and an elderly mage wearing a dark gray tunic and trousers battling more of the magical anomalies. Not far away, making every hair on Marcus' head tingle with the urge to stand straight up, the outer wall of the sphere of energy crackled ominously.
"Help them!" he called to Argis, and launched himself into the fray.
"Oww!" Cicero wailed. "Cicero does not like these things, no he doesn't!" The little Imperial was being targeted by two of the anomalies, and Marcus brought Dragonbane down on one as hard as he could. It gave a bang as it dissolved into goo, and he scooped up the soul gem.
"Are you alright?" he asked the jester, who nodded his thanks – not quite as grudgingly as Marcus anticipated – and set about finishing off the remaining anomaly. When it popped and disintegrated, Cicero bent to pick up the soul gem.
"Do these always have soul gems in them?" he marveled. "Filled ones?"
"Far as I know," Marcus said. "The other ones we fought had them."
"Cicero likes this, very much!" he cooed.
Argis had taken out one more of the anomalies, and the rest were handled by Tamsyn and her colleagues from the College, though Marcus though Arniel Gane was a little too free with his fireball spells.
"Tamsyn!" the elderly mage exclaimed. "You've made it back! Did you find the Staff of Magnus?"
"I have it right here, Master Tolfdir," she assured him, hefting the Staff. "What's happened? Where's Master Mirabelle?"
Tolfdir's face fell. "She…she didn't make it, my dear," he said sadly. "When Ancano began expanding the sphere around the College, she stayed to make sure we all got out safely."
Tamsyn's throat worked rapidly, and Marcus could see she was doing her best not to cry. Finally she choked out, "Then where are the others? Brelyna, Onmund, J'Zargo?"
"They're all waiting in the Frozen Hearth," he said, "along with Enthir, Collette and the others. We couldn't get Urag out of the Arcaneum, though. I hope he's alright." He looked at her keenly. "You're the one with the Staff, my dear," he said gently. "If it can help us get inside the College, and reach Ancano, we'll have to hope there's a way to stop all this."
"Time to end this, then," Tamsyn said, anger replacing the sadness. She walked up to the energy barrier and pointed the Staff of Magnus at it. A beam of light shot out, just as it had in Labyrinthian, when she used it against Estormo. After a moment or two, the force field began to weaken, fade and finally disappear entirely.
"Come on," Tamsyn said, and charged up the bridge, pausing only once she reached the statue in the center of the courtyard to address those who had followed her.
"This is what we'll be facing, then," she told them. "Ancano is drawing power from the Eye. As long as it's open, he's practically invulnerable. The only way to stop him is to use the Staff of Magnus on the Eye."
"That sounds easy enough," Cicero chirped.
"Not so easy, my friend," Tamsyn said. "Once I use the Staff, when Ancano opens the Eye it will spew out more of those magical anomalies. Not only that, he'll summon a Frost Atronach to attack us."
"We'll handle whatever he throws at us, Tamsyn," Marcus promised.
"Good," she sighed. "Because I need to keep concentrating on keeping the Eye closed. As soon as it is, go after Ancano; he'll be weaker, and you should be able to take him out. Just keep those anomalies and that Atronach off me."
"My dear," Tolfdir began, in some confusion. "How can you possibly know all this?"
Tamsyn smiled grimly. "I've done it before," was all she said before she tightened her grip on the Staff and headed for the Hall of the Elements.
As they entered the Hall, Marcus again saw the Eye of Magnus, glowing, pulsing and crackling in all its blue and black malevolence. Ancano stood on the far side of the Hall, with the Eye between him and them, drawing power off the orb.
"You've come for me, have you?" Ancano gloated. "You think I don't know what you're up to? You think I can't destroy you? The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?"
Marcus had to give Tolfdir credit. The old wizard whipped out one of the most powerful lightning bolts he'd ever seen, heading straight for the Thalmor. It was so bright it hurt to look at it; but it had little effect on Ancano.
"I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic," the Altmer grinned cruelly. "You cannot touch me!"
"Use the Staff!" Tolfdir shouted to Tamsyn. "Use it on the Eye!"
"Enough!" Ancano snarled. He gestured, and Tolfdir suddenly went rigid, every muscle in his body seizing, and he toppled over backward onto the floor.
"Master Tolfdir!" Tamsyn cried. "You bastard!" she glared at Ancano. "Get him, boys!"
Cicero had been waiting for this moment, and though there weren't enough hiding places, he crouched anyway and crept off to the left. Marcus circled around to the right, and he motioned Argis to stay and protect Tamsyn.
"Still you persist?" Ancano sneered. "Very well. Come then. See what I can do now!"
Suddenly the Eye of Magnus opened. If Marcus thought the glow of the orb was bright before, it was twilight compared to now. Fully opened, the Eye was like a miniature sun, floating in the center of the room. Tamsyn stared unblinking into the heart of it, then raised the Staff and sent a beam shooting straight into the center.
Magical anomalies swept out from the core of the Eye and began zooming around the room. Ancano gestured, and a Frost Atronach stepped through a portal, just as Tamsyn said it would. The Atronach immediately went after Tamsyn, standing virtually defenseless against the creature. Argis put himself in between them and did his level best to keep the summoned being from flattening her into a bloody pulp.
Cicero found himself suddenly beset by no less than a half dozen anomalies at once, and his twin blades were kept busy, inflicting damage and keeping the blasted things from hurting him.
The Eye began to close, and Ancano cried out, "No! You will not deny me this!" He darted behind a pillar, straight into the path of the Dragonborn.
"YOL TOOR!" Marcus roared, and a column of flame spewed forth. Ancano's eyes widened in horror. He brought a hand up and gestured to create a ward, but it was too late to avoid the burn. Marcus didn't wait to see what effect this would have on the Thalmor; he closed the gap almost before the flames dissipated and brought Dragonbane crashing down on the ward. The shock enchantment cut deeply into Ancano's magical shield, and it cracked under the force of the blow.
"The Eye is mine!" Ancano gritted out. "You cannot take this away from me!"
He shot a fireball straight into Marcus' midsection, and in the conflagration, Marcus lost sight of the mage.
"My power is supreme!" Ancano gloated, gesturing at the Eye; it opened once more, and more anomalies spilled out.
Tamsyn directed another beam of energy from the Staff at the Eye, but was forced to break off as Ancano sent Chain Lightning at her. Writhing uncomfortably, but not badly thanks to her mage's boots, she twisted to get away from it. Argis was still trying to keep the Atronach from turning her into jelly, and he was getting badly beaten up in the process.
Keeping one eye on Ancano, Tamsyn sent a healing spell Argis' way while keeping the Staff focused on the Eye.
"What?" Argis muttered. "Hey! That felt good!"
"You're welcome!" Tamsyn grinned. Once more, the Eye began to close, and Ancano growled in frustration.
Cicero took out three of the anomalies picking at him and tumbled to the next pillar, hoping to avoid being detected by the others. Ancano was no more than ten feet away from him, and Cicero desperately wanted to plunge his daggers into the hated Thalmor's back.
The Aldmeri Dominion had invaded the Imperial City all those years ago, when he was still a lad. Hundreds…nay, thousands of Imperials had died defending the city, his own mother included. Cicero had begged Mama not to go, but Ysabella had told her son not to worry; they would drive the elves out and she would be home before supper.
Only it hadn't happened that way. The elves were relentless, his Mama had died, and Cicero, a young lad of twelve, had been left all alone when the Thalmor swept through the city, going house to house to kill anyone who was not Altmer.
Cicero slipped out through the sewers, left the city with just the clothes on his back and nothing in his pocket, and made his way to Cheydinhall. There he'd killed a farmer in an isolated farmhouse for his food, his clothes, and the little gold he could scrounge. Rather than be revolted at the killing, he discovered he rather liked it. When he arrived in Cheydinhall, he lurked in the shadows and in abandoned buildings, killing anyone who wandered away from public areas just to get their coins.
The Speaker had found him and brought him to the Cheydinhall Sanctuary, and there his life had truly begun.
All this swept through his mind in a flash as he crept up on Ancano's unprotected back. But just as he tensed to leap on the elf, the Thalmor turned, as if expecting him, and shot him with a fireball, blasting the little Imperial back against the wall. When the smoke and flames cleared, Cicero – scorched and singed but still very much alive – had lost sight of his quarry. Snarling in rage, he lashed out at the anomalies heading toward him.
The Eye was opening again, and Marcus prayed to any and all Deities that would listen that Tamsyn was having some kind of effect on it. But he knew the only way to truly stop it was to keep Ancano from opening it, and that meant tracking the bastard down and killing him. He saw Tamsyn fire off another healing spell at Argis, who rallied and finally destroyed the Frost Atronach he'd been fighting. His Housecarl then turned to deal with the magical anomalies that swarmed around them. Every time the Eye opened, more of them poured out.
Across the room he saw Cicero pick himself up from where Ancano had blasted him and savagely attack the anomalies coming after him. Ancano had crossed the room to dodge and hide between and behind the columns, staying out of sight.
Marcus felt his Thu'um fully recharged again, and stepped into the open, facing the Thalmor. He sent Unrelenting Force toward the mage just as the Eye closed and Ancano flew head over heels into the entryway near the front door. Marcus called out, "Cicero! Over here!" and charged toward the Altmer.
"Cicero is coming, Dragonborn!" the little Imperial chirped, not far away. He slashed at the last anomaly near him and didn't even stop to pick up the gem.
"We need to keep him pinned down in there," he told the jester. "Don't let him near the Eye!"
"Hateful Thalmor will not escape Cicero this time!" the Son of Sithis swore.
And so, purposefully, methodically, they angled in on Ancano, Cicero from the right, Marcus from the left.
"KRII!" Marcus Shouted, marking Ancano for death as his magical armor and life force were weakened.
"Nooooo—"
Ancano's last cry of denial was cut short by Akaviri steel and Daedric dagger combined.
Near the Eye, Argis and Tamsyn finished off the last of the anomalies, just as Tolfdir was released from the paralysis Ancano had inflicted upon him. All was quiet, except for the thrumming hum of the Eye.
"You did it!" Tolfdir exclaimed as Argis helped the old man to his feet. "I knew you could do it!" he beamed at Tamsyn.
"I had a lot of help," she demurred. "Thanks to Argis, Cicero and Marcus. I couldn't have done it without them."
"What happens now?" Marcus asked. "That thing still doesn't look very stable."
"I—I honestly don't know," Tolfdir confessed. "Ancano is gone, but whatever he's done to the Eye doesn't seem to have stopped. I have no idea what to do!"
A glow appeared out of thin air, and Cicero, Argis and Marcus drew back, weapons ready. Tolfdir merely looked on in amazement. Only Tamsyn seemed to have anticipated it.
Of course she would, Marcus thought indulgently.
"Greetings once more, Tamsyn," said a voice, as an Altmer in hooded yellow robes stepped out of the glow.
Cicero made a move as if to rush this new intruder, but Argis put a hand on his shoulder and hissed. "Wait. Let's see what happens first!"
"Quaranir," Tamsyn acknowledged, bowing. "Well, I guess we did it."
Quaranir smiled. "We knew you would succeed," he said. "Your victory here justifies our belief in you."
Tamsyn quirked a grin. "You knew nothing of the sort," she smirked. "You told me yourself the Psijics couldn't see how this would end."
For a moment, Marcus thought Quaranir would object to being spoken to in such a manner. He didn't seem the type. But he suddenly broke into a smile of his own and inclined his head in acknowledgment of the truth of Tamsyn's statement.
"You are correct," he admitted. "Nevertheless, You have proven yourself more than worthy to guide the College of Winterhold in the years to come."
Tamsyn's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to object, but Quaranir continued speaking. "The Eye has grown unstable. It cannot remain here, or else it may destroy your College and this world. It must be secured. Ancano's actions prove that the world is not ready for such a thing. We shall safeguard it…for now. You now have the opportunity to maintain your College, and carry on with your lives. You have our gratitude, Arch-Mage."
So saying, three more robed figures appeared and positioned themselves around the Eye of Magnus. A bright white light filled the room so intensely they were forced to close their eyes against it. When they opened them again, the robed figures and the Eye were gone.
"Well, I dare say the Psijics were right!" Tolfdir beamed at Tamsyn. "I can't think of anyone better suited to lead us as Arch-Mage than you, my dear."
"No, no," Tamsyn shook her head. "I can't be Arch-Mage, Master Tolfdir!"
"Cicero thinks sweet Tamsyn would make a very good Arch-Mage!" the jester piped up.
"Stop it, Cicero!" Tamsyn frowned.
"Yeah," Argis said. "I've seen what you do with magic, and you're a Seer, too, so you'll know what could happen."
"No!" Tamsyn cried. "That's not how it works!"
"Wouldn't want to go against the Psijic monks now, would we?" Marcus grinned.
"You're not helping!"
"Well, it seems your friends are all in favor of it," Tolfdir chuckled.
"No!" Tamsyn cried. "Master Tolfdir, I can't be Arch-Mage! My gift of foresight is limited and not very accurate. And I'm not even master-level mage in anything yet! You are much better suited to be Arch-Mage than me."
"I'll be here to help you, should you need it my dear," Tolfdir assured her. "And you are one of the most brilliant students it has ever been my pleasure to instruct. Your master levels will come soon enough. And besides—" He raised a hand to forestall her protesting any further. "These are troubled times in Skyrim right now. We need someone with a fresh outlook, a new perspective, to guide the College through the difficult days ahead. You are young, intelligent, dedicated and loyal to your friends. I can't think of anyone I'd rather serve under."
Tamsyn slumped. They really weren't giving her any option to back out.
"Alright," she said finally. "I accept your appointment of me as Arch-Mage. But on one condition: I made a promise to help someone find something." She looked directly at Marcus as she spoke. "Something very important. I can't take up the reins until I've fulfilled my promise."
"That will be no problem at all, my dear," Tolfdir smiled, then a frown creased his already well-lined forehead. "Oh, I suppose I should address you as 'Arch-Mage', now."
Tamsyn smiled. "Only in public," she teased.
The old man's eyes twinkled at her merrily. "Here is the key to the Arch-Mage's quarters upstairs," he said, handing it over. "I believe I can handle things here until you get back. Just keep me informed of your whereabouts, if you can."
"I'll do that," she promised. "Gentlemen? If you'll follow me?"
She led them back to the vestibule and turned the key in the door on the right. The spiraling staircase led up two stories and opened into the large, luxurious quarters of the Arch-Mage of Winterhold.
"Wow!" Argis breathed, gazing in awe at the garden in the center, lit by permanized mage lights. "You don't see that every day!"
Tamsyn led the way around to the small table at which Savos Aren used to take his meals. She found a few more chairs and dragged them close and they all sat down.
"What will we do now, sweet Tam—uh, Cicero means, 'Arch-Mage'?" His eyes danced wickedly, and Tamsyn frowned.
"Oh, now, don't you start in on me!"
Cicero whooped and cackled. "Pretty Tamsyn is now the head of the mages' college! Will Cicero be allowed to learn magic now? Hmm?"
Tamsyn chuckled at the look of consternation that crossed Marcus' face. It was quite clear he didn't think that would be a good idea at all.
"We'll see," she promised. "I have to keep my promise to Marcus first."
"What promise?"
"I have to find an Elder Scroll," Marcus admitted. "I don't know where to start. I came here initially to find out, but all this other stuff happened, and Tamsyn said if I helped her, she'd help me."
"Does sweet Tamsyn know where to find this Elder Scroll?" Cicero asked.
"Actually, yes, I do," she said. "It's in a place called 'Blackreach', a huge system of underground Dwarven cities linked together."
"Ooo!" Cicero squealed. "More Falmer for Cicero to stabbity-stab-stab?"
"I didn't want to speak for you, Cicero," Tamsyn said. "And actually, this is Marcus' quest. It's up to him if he wants to bring anyone else along."
"Oh." The disappointment on the little man's face was patently obvious.
Marcus sat there wrestling with his conscience. On the one hand, Cicero was completely nutters; a loose cannon it would be madness itself to trust. On the other hand, he'd more than proven himself going through Labyrinthian, and now here in the Hall of the Elements below. By now, he had almost pieced together who Cicero was, but he wanted a private conversation with Tamsyn before he said anything.
"No offense, Cicero," he began slowly. "I think you're an amazing fighter. But I know you're not that fond of me. I don't want you to have to endure my company any longer than you feel comfortable with."
There, that was about as diplomatic as he could be, without outright telling the little guy he wasn't wanted.
Cicero seemed to consider this. He looked at Tamsyn, who only murmured, "It's your decision, my friend," and then at Argis, who said nothing, but had a look of hope on his face it was hard to miss.
"Cicero…is sorry..." he began slowly. "Sorry for not...liking...the Dragonborn. But Cicero has learned to…respect the Dragonborn's fighting skills. Cicero wouldn't mind…traveling with the Dragonborn…a little longer…if he does not object."
And that was about as much of an apology as he was going to get from the Imperial jester. Marcus gave an inward shrug. He'd take it. He still didn't trust the little madman, but at least now he didn't think Cicero would pull a knife on him at the wrong moment.
"Alright, then, you're in," Marcus said, and saw the look of relief in three pairs of eyes looking back at him. "So, Tamsyn, where are we going again?"
[Author's Note: While I know that in the game, the player character suffers no other debilitating effects from Morokei's dialog than a drain on the magicka, I thought it would be more nerve-wracking here to have something much more menacing and life-threatening happen to Tamsyn. Taking her out of the final battle against Morokei put more focus on Marcus, who after all is the protagonist of this story.
Next up, the group sets out to find an Elder Scroll, so Marcus can get that much closer to confronting Alduin.]