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ACRUS

Hitting the Books

Arch-mage's quarters, antechamber

He had to admit it to himself, he was terribly nervous. How could he not be? Tolfdir had stormed into his room, told him he'd made an amazing discovery, and ordered him to report to the Arch-mage as soon as he was well. It had to be something amazing if he reported directly to the Arch-mage.

He realized he didn't even know who the Arch-mage was. He could be a fifteen-year-old Redguard with one eye, or he could be a she, Acrus had no idea. And as he waited in front of the door to the Arch-mage's quarters, he felt the nerves shriek through his ears. This was his chance to really make an impression. Oh, how the other students would gnash their teeth in envy.

Finally, he mustered up his courage and rapped on the door.

"Come."

The voice was definitely male, and sounded... Dunmer? He wasn't sure. He'd know when he opened the door, doubtless.

Indeed, the Arch-mage was a goateed dark Elf, and while Acrus wasn't overly pleased with that fact – Dunmer were so damn hard to deal with if you weren't one yourself – his excitement over getting to see the Arch-mage won out.

"Come in, don't stand there," the mer said, sitting behind a darkwood desk. "Tolfdir said an Apprentice would be giving the report. It must be something unusual indeed. Tell me boy, what is your name?"

Acrus knew well enough that a semblance of humility was in order, and he would have faked nervousness if faking wasn't already unnecessary. "Acrus Vadosus, Arch-mage. I'm honoured to speak with you."

"A new arrival I was told. And already making ripples. Interesting." Acrus felt his heart flutter. "So. Your report?"

"Err, yes. I was part of an expedition under the ruins of Saarthal, where we found an amulet fragment – "

"Yes, I'm aware, and you laid the soul of Jyrik Gauldursson to rest."

"I uh... Indeed, we did." If this mer already knew everything, why did Tolfdir need Acrus to bring him the report?

"Tolfdir delivered me the writ of sealing you found by the body." The Arch-mage unfolded a paper and read out loud, "Be bound here, murderer, betrayer, condemned by your crimes..." he trailed off, folding the paper again. "... et cetera. It's an interesting story, and the amulet you found is certainly a prize, but I'm still not sure why he was so over-excited."

"Uh... I don't know, Arch-mage, he merely told me to report to you."

The Arch-mage turned and went to stand by the window, looking out at the falling snow. "Well, I suppose if that is all, then I thank you for your report, Apprentice. It's been good meeting you."

Wait, there was one more thing. "Arch-mage, it slipped my mind, but we found one other thing."

Savos Aren turned back to Acrus. "Yes?"

He folded back the cloth around the orb he was holding. "This... object seems to have given Gauldursson his power... or protected it. Or both."

"Hm," the Arch-mage said, inspecting the object. "Looks like a protection orb. A powerful version, but still quite run-of-the-mill... although..."

Warmth rose in Acrus' chest as he prayed for this object to be the exciting revelation Tolfdir had been talking about. The Arch-mage took the object and his eyes narrowed as he probed the orb with his scrying power. When the tension came off his face, he grinned broadly. "Apprentice, this is an interesting find indeed. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention."

Acrus swallowed and hoped he didn't do something tremendously stupid by asking, "I don't suppose I'm allowed to know what it is?"

The Arch-mage smiled, to Acrus' relief. "Allowed, yes. But it's too early to be certain." He stopped to think for a while. "I may have a job for you, if you're up for it?"

"I... certainly, but... the lectures..."

"Nevermind those. This is important, and from what Tolfdir tells me, you're somewhat ahead of the others anyway." Acrus' felt his chest swell. "This item," he held up the orb, "is not just any old protection orb. But before we can determine for certain what it is, we need more information. Mirabelle Ervine will be your contact in this. Report your findings to her, and she will do what's necessary."

An assignment from the Arch-mage himself! Even if he had to go through the Master Wizard, it was still huge, and the Master Wizard herself also wasn't a small shrimp in this College. The name he'd be able to make for himself! "Yes Arch-mage, I will do whatever needs to be done."

"Good man. Now, I understand you had some problems with the darkness under Saarthal?"

Oh my, now to answer in a way that made him look good, but that wasn't an outright lie. "I'm sure rumours have been greatly exaggerated."

The Arch-mage chuckled. "Indeed. Well, let me make sure no opportunity for exaggeration will occur in the future." He reached under his desk and produced a short staff. "Staves of Magelight aren't exactly plentiful, but they're just common enough to be an appropriate reward for an Apprentice."

He handed the staff to Acrus, who accepted it with slightly unstable hands and a polite thanks. His first staff! Oh, this would make the others seethe with jealousy. Even if it was 'only' a Magelight staff.

"I will inform the Master Wizard. Meanwhile, go on to Urag gro-Shub in the Arcanaeum, and ask him if he has books pertaining to..." he stopped himself. "No, hold on, better to do it this way." He bent over his desk and jotted down a few words on a piece of paper, folded it, then dripped a puddle of wax on it from a nearby candle. His ring left a seal in the wax, and the missive was complete. "Give this to Urag gro-Shub. It's best if you do not open it. We need to keep this under the lid for now."

Acrus stared at the paper in his hand, looking disappointed that he was being left in the dark, but the Arch-mage laid his hand on his shoulder and said, "Not before we're certain. If this is what I think it is, things will be revealed to you in time, but for now I need your trust."

There was only one thing for Acrus to say, and that was, "And you have it, of course, Arch-mage."

"Good. Like I said, Mirabelle Ervine is your contact for now. Good luck."

"Thank you, Arch-mage."

As luck would have it, he almost bumped into Mirabelle Ervine as he came down the stairs. "Ah, Master Wizard. Forgive me for troubling you," Acrus began, "but the Arch-mage – "

She stopped him with a patient smile. "I know, he's informed me already."

"He has? But I just – "

Another smile. "We have ways of communicating beyond face-to-face meetings. For now, go see Urag gro-Shub in the Arcanaeum. See if he has the books we need, and bring them to me. If this is what the Arch-mage thinks it is, it might be something massive." She leaned in closer. "One thing, though. Apart from the Arch-Mage and myself, you speak of this to no one. Not even Tolfdir. If he asks, simply say we asked you to keep silent for now. Refer him to us if he insists." She looked around furtively. "It's not that I don't trust him, but the less people know about this, the better. Urag won't ask questions, I know him too well, but if someone else does, you do not answer, under any circumstance. Is this understood?"

It meant he'd have to wait before turning his fellows green with envy, but that would make it all the sweeter. "Completely, Master Wizard."

"Good. Now then, the books. Get to it."

"At once."

She nodded. "Arcanaeum's over that way."

Urag gro-Shub. Wasn't exactly a name that conjured up images of a dignified Altmer librarian. It sounded Orsimer. But that couldn't be. Surely the College's librarian couldn't be an Orc. They were liable to eat the books rather than catalogue them.

The books weren't eaten (at least, not those he could see), but the librarian was definitely Orsimer, with a long white beard and white receding hair tied into a topknot. He looked like a troll that had been put into a yellow robe and then strategically shaved. Acrus figured he'd be lucky to get a full sentence out of the man, let alone actual information.

"I see from your face," the librarian grunted, returning Acrus' frown in kind, "that you're none too hopeful about an Orcish librarian."

Warmth flushed up in Acrus' chest, rising to his head. "Uh... I wasn't aware of – "

"Good. So at least it wasn't deliberate." The frown remained.

"Uh, look," Acrus began. He'd have to work the charm a bit. "It's not every day you see an Orcish librarian, you know? I'm from a simple town, got stereotypes hammered into my head, and now I see all these unexpected things. I just needed a minute to make sense of it all. You know?"

"Hmph. I suppose it can be a bit hard to wrap your head around. And yours isn't the most inconsiderate face I've gotten since I became librarian. Urag gro-Shub is the name. And you are?"

"Oh, right, sorry, Acrus. I'm uh, a new Initiate, on a mission... uh, errand for the Archmage. Looking for some books?"

"Ah, a new Initiate. It must all seem new and wondrous to you now, doesn't it?"

Acrus resented being so patronized by an Orc, but he knew better than to react on it. "Yes, it's a new world opening for me." The library itself was a high-domed room, with shelves and shelves, stacked with books and Orc was able to form a coherent sentence, so with some luck, he could actually locate specific books in this massive library. Acrus supposed he wouldn't have the job if he wasn't capable of at least that.

"Well, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, right." Acrus presented him the paper. "These are the books I n... the Arch-mage needs."

The librarian deftly tore the envelope open after inspecting the seal, then whistled between his sharp teeth. "These."

"That... didn't sound very promising."

The Orc nodded. "I've got some bad news for the Arch-mage. The books he needs, well..."

"Let me guess, they're not here?"

"Indeed. One of my apprentices, a mer by the name of Orthorn, he ah... stole them a while ago." He seemed more than a bit embarrassed at the fact. "I wager the late fees didn't impress him very much."

"I... see. Any chance you can tell me where he was headed?"

The librarian wrung his green hands. "I was hoping you'd ask that. He was on his way to a place called Fellglow Keep, to investigate the summoners there. He never came back, and he wasn't the type to take unnecessary risks. Either something happened to him, or he defected. Neither possibility is very appealing."

Acrus sighed. The Arch-mage would expect him to show some initiative. And that probably meant hoofing it to wherever that place was and getting those damn books back. "So it looks I'll have to head to Fellglow Keep then, don't I? Unless there's other copies of those books that I can rustle up somewhere?"

Urag gro-Shub stared at the Arch-mage's paper. "These? Oh no, I doubt you'll find a copy."

With another sigh, Acrus resigned to the situation. "Right. Where do I find Fellglow Keep?"

"You head to Whiterun, then East. Here's a map of Skyrim." He took a folded paper from one of his desk drawers, presenting him a crude map of the province. He marked Whiterun, and then drew a line of dubitable steady-handedness to the East, ending it with a cross. "That's where it is. Good luck, Initiate."

"Yeah. Thanks." He realized full well he was being sent to do this Orc's dirty work, but the Arch-mage wouldn't appreciate him returning empty-handed.

"Oh, one more thing. In case you find yourself at odds with those summoners... here's a Banish scroll." With a gleeful grin, he added, "sends all those summoned critters right back to Oblivion and leaves the summoner naked like a baby in the woods."

With the scroll tucked in the loop on his belt, Acrus strode to the exit. The Arch-mage had given this task to him, and that meant he had the right to skip classes. The others were bumbling cantrip-casters anyway.

"You there!" a sharp, cultured voice commanded behind him as he approached the gates. "I have questions for you."

Acrus turned to see a tall Altmer, clad in decorated Elvish armour, stride towards him. The armour was clearly Elvish, but of a design he hadn't seen yet, not like the gilded eyesores the Altmer in Cyrodiil wore. He also wore a long coat over it, coloured as darkly as the armour.

"Questions, for me?" Acrus asked.

The mer came closer, his elongated face knotted into an impatient frown below his receding gray hairline. "Yes, you. You were in Saarthal, yes?"

"I was part of the exped – "

"I would ask you about what you found there. An artefact of some power, yes?"

Acrus wasn't about to let himself get intimidated by this pompous, arrogant bastard. "Forgive me, but I find it more than a bit rude to interrogate me without introducing or identifying yourself. Who are you to ask me all these questions?"

The mer's face stayed more or less straight, but Acrus could tell the inflated prat was keeping himself from exploding in indignation. "I am Ancano, human, Emissary of the Thalmor."

"The who?"

The mer rolled his eyes and sighed, "Should have known I'd have to deal with the braindead one. The Thalmor, human, are the governmental representation of the Third Aldmeri Dominion. Unless you are completely dense, you can see how this makes us a force you do not want to antagonize. Now, the artefact – "

"Let me stop you there," Acrus said, determined not to let himself get coerced into blabbing. "I don't say anything without permission from the Arch-mage, and if you think you can just strong-arm me into telling you – "

"Without permission from the Arch-mage, is it?" The Altmer said with a smirk. "The Arch-mage himself told you not to speak of it?"

"That's correct."

His smirk widening, the Altmer simply said, "Then I know enough. Good day." With that, he turned and strode back in, leaving Acrus to realize he had been, at least partly, had. But what should he have said? The bastard would have concluded that it was important no matter what.

Acrus sighed and shrugged. He'd done what the Arch-mage had ordered – send any questions his way – and anything that came of it wasn't his fault. And like milk, there was no crying over spilled beans.

His journey first led him to Whiterun, where he came across a strange figure, dressed like a jester, who'd run his cart into the mud. He'd asked for Acrus' help, but when Acrus had seen that the axle had broken, he'd told him he needed more than an extra pair of hands and left the creep there. From there, he plodded on eastward, walking past a brewery where several men were busy passing buckets and throwing water on the smouldering beehives in the early morning light. Seemed like someone had gotten careless with his pipe.

Following gro-Shub's scrawling was an ordeal, but eventually, he noticed the pointed rock indicated on the map, and navigating on that landmark, he came upon an old, ruined keep. Seemed like he'd found Fellglow. Now, for the hard part, to find this Orthorn character. If he wasn't gone already... but somehow Acrus doubted it. Either he'd be dead, or he'd defected, gro-Shub had said. Either way, he probably wouldn't have gone far. He kneeled in the bushes around the keep and observed the place, but for an hour, nothing came or went. He knew there was someone in there though, since he'd seen a torch pass by one of the openings in the wall.

It would seem he'd have to go in himself. Damnit. But just as he was about to emerge from his hiding place, a man in mage robes came out the door, locked it with a key, and went to stand with his face to the wall a bit further. Acrus wondered if the man had been punished and sent outside for a time-out, but the he saw him hitch his robe up and spread his legs, and he understood what he was doing.

Carefully, Acrus sneaked closer. From what he'd heard from Urag gro-Shub, these summoners were rather nefarious types, so he didn't intend to take any chances.

As the unknown mage groaned in relief, Acrus took position behind him, holding his staff of magelight high. He figured he might as well do the guy the courtesy of waiting until his pee break was over before clobbering him over the back of the head.

As the man let out a short sigh of relief and let his robe back down, Acrus whacked him over the head with the staff. There was a dry clack as the enchanted wood connected with the man's balding pate, and he fell down, crumpling to the ground.

"Haha," Acrus said, striking a triumphant pose. "The first of the evil mages lies unconscious by my hand, felled by – "

The mage cursed and got back to his feet, holding his head. Acrus' pose immediately became less victory-like, and with two hands, he brought the staff down again and again, missing the man's head and uselessly clubbing him on the shoulders, unaware that he looked like a prissy maid trying to squash a mouse. The mage clawed at his robe, but before he could actually stand upright, Acrus' staff did find true, and this time the man went down for good.

After standing over him for a few seconds, staff held in two hands like an idiot, Acrus was convinced the man was well and truly out. Taking the mage's belt, he tied the man's hands behind his back, fastening them to an iron ring in the wall. Then he tore off a strip of his robe and bound it into a gag. He'd be fine as long as no hungry bears crossed his path. A big bump was forming on his bald skull.

Acrus fished the key from his pocket and crept toward the keep. Opening the door, he peered inside, but saw nothing, except a flickering torch put into a wall socket. Good.

He didn't know how big this keep was, in the sense that it probably had basement levels and whatnot, and he had to be careful every step of the way. Better to stay unseen and silent than to get a bunch of fire- and ice-slinging mages after him. He doubted the little ward he'd cast in the College would make an impression. He crept forward, stopping just short of a female mage who lay on a cot, sleeping and snoring like her life depended on it. Acrus realized he'd be best off just cutting her throat or strangling her, or whatever it was these vulgar assassins did, but despite his flaws (of which he was well aware and often even proud), he found the sanctity of life a thing to be respected. He'd never killed anyone in his life, and he didn't want to start now. So he simply resorted to quietly casting a Sleep spell to bring the woman even further into dreamland, then stepped over her and went on.

The Keep didn't turn out to be very big after all, but after seeing no more people on the ground floor, Acrus noticed a broad staircase leading to the basement. Great, more dark rooms to explore, and using his staff of magelight was a bad idea, for obvious reasons.

He crept down the stairs and found himself into what looked like a prison. In the middle of the far wall stood a desk, and behind it sat another mage, with his back to Acrus. There were niches in the walls, some of them barred, others open. And behind one of the sets of bars was a man, looking straight at him, his mouth open in surprise.

Acrus, his heart beating fast, put his index finger on his lips. The mer (because he was clearly Altmer), nodded in compliance. The man sitting with his back to Acrus was hunched over, probably peering at a book or something, and if Acrus was quiet, he'd be able to clock him over the head just like he'd done with the other mage. Well, hopefully in a less ridiculous fashion.

He closed the distance, but when he was halfway there, the mage yawned and stretched, and Acrus saw the Altmer prisoner's face become tense. Acrus froze and hoped the man wouldn't turn around, but when he made to rise from his chair, Acrus knew that was idle hope.

"Hey, you!" the prisoner suddenly shouted. "Either you empty this shit bucket or I'm going to start lobbing handfuls at your head!"

Ah, good thinking on the distracting move!

"Be quiet, elfling," the mage said back in a bored voice. "Or I'm roasting you right there in your cell."

"I mean it, you human pig. I'm about to start throwing the contents of this bucket at you!"

The prison-guarding mage stood up and trudged lazily at the bars. Acrus saw his opportunity to creep closer. "I'd like to see you try, College-boy."

Acrus crept closer and closer while the prisoner kept doing his job of distracting his guard.

"Just empty this damn shit bucket and you won't have to see me try. Is a little humane treatment so much to ask?"

"Look here, you're lucky we didn't feed you to the Caller's spiders instead of throwing you in a cell. Would you have preferred that?"

Acrus crept even closer.

"Well at least I'd be rid of the stink!"

Acrus raised his staff, ready to whack the mage over the head.

Just one more step.

Tink!

His boot hit a pewter cup that had been standing on the floor, for the one, single purpose of foiling Acrus' sneaking attempt.

The prisoner's eyes went wide, and the guarding mage whirled around. Acrus brought his staff down, and caught the mage in the face, but the blow glanced off his cheekbone without more effect than some good old pain. The mage launched himself at Acrus and bowled him over. They both fell to the ground, his opponent on top of him, but Acrus managed to set his foot against the man's chest and propel him backward, against the bars. Snatching up his staff, Acrus prepared to defend himself, but the man didn't come at him.

He was caught with his back to the bars, and the prisoner's arms hooked around his neck, struggling, clawing at the mer behind him, and making cramped faces.

"Don't kill him," Acrus told the prisoner.

"Why not?" the mer grunted, strangling the man with all the strength he still had.

"Because... because they didn't kill you either." Acrus wasn't ready to see a man die. Not even these guys, whoever they were. "Come on, man. Don't do it."

"Listen," the prisoner hissed to the mage. "You're lucky this man wants you to stay alive. You'd be dead if it wasn't for him. Now the choice is yours. Either you resist while he ties you to the bars, and give me a good reason to strangle you like a chicken, or you stay calm and let yourself be tied up. What's it going to be?"

The man only grunted inarticulately, unable to speak from the pressure on his throat and jaw.

"I think he agrees," the prisoner said.

Acrus snatched a few lengths of rope from a shelf and lashed the man's wrists and feet to the bars. Then he fished in the new prisoner's robe for the key, and unlocked the Altmer's cell. The door swung open, with the captured mage pedalling along with it, and Acrus' new friend came shuffling out. He looked badly underfed, his bones visible even through the rough sack cloth he wore. "Thanks for that. Judging from the robes, I'm guessing you're from the College?"

"I am."

He nodded. "Name's Orthorn. Was sent here to uh... investigate these summoners for suspicious activity, and found a lot of that before they subdued me and stuck me in this cage."

"Acrus. And yes, I've been looking for you. More specifically, the books you 'borrowed' from the College."

The mer chuckled, stretching his back. "Yes. Figured those would interest them more than some not-particularly-talented Initiate." He had a sharp face, even for an Altmer, and a hooked nose. "Well, those books... I don't have them, but I've got a pretty good idea of where they are."

"Better than nothing, I guess. So where?"

"You heard my friend here," he roughly rubbed the captured mage's head, "already mention the name 'the Caller', right?"

"Uh... possibly, I was too busy trying not to die to pay attention."

"Mm. Well, she's probably got them. I'd... advise against going up against her though."

"Why's that?"

The man took a moment to find the least offensive words. "You're... obviously inexperienced, and she's a summoner of great power. Not like these", he tapped the bound mage's cheek, "hedge wizards."

"Well, I'm not going back without those books."

Orthorn walked over to the desk and snatched up the cheese that lay on it, stuffing it in his mouth. "Well, your funeral," he said, muffled through a mouthful of cheese."

"Yours too," Acrus said. "You're coming with me. It's your fault this... Caller or whoever she is, got hold of those books."

He held up his hands, still munching the cheese. "Fine, fine. Should have known my ticket out of here wouldn't be free."

"Nothing's free in life," Acrus merely said.

"Come on, I know where she is. But first..." Putting down the cheese, he walked over to his cell, past the bound mage, and in one quick motion, lifted the shit bucket and emptied it over his erstwhile prison guard's head, drenching his hair, face and robes in a shower if yellow and brown. The stink was horrible. "See?" Orthorn scolded. "If you'd done as I asked, this bucket would have been empty."

The bound man could do no more than sputter and heave in disgust.

"Come on," Orthorn said, leading Acrus through the hallways of the basement. "The summoning room's at the end. The door was open when they dragged me to my cell. Don't know why they kept me alive, but it was probably to sacrifice me in some maniac Daedra summoning ritual."

"And we'll find this Caller person in there?"

Orthorn merely shrugged.

"Right."

Acrus and his new companion carefully opened the door at the end of the corridor. A woman, Altmer by the looks of her posture (a lot of Altmer crossing Acrus' path these days), stood with her back to them, hunched over a book.

"Akhad, you better have brought me that deathbell extract or there's going to be Oblivion to pay. Put it on the – "

She fell quiet when she saw the two from the College standing in the doorway. Her hood was down, and all Acrus and Orthorn could see was her pale, narrow face, drawn with the lines of middle age. She'd smeared some kind of war paint over her eyes, making her look even more sinister. "So. Our prisoner roams freely. And he's brought a guest."

"We're just here for the books," Acrus said, trying to sound calm despite the knot in his stomach and his pounding heart. This Caller didn't sound like a dabbler, and even with his new ally, he'd be in big trouble if this one started slinging spells. "We haven't killed anyone, and we're not looking for a fight. All we want is the College books."

"Not looking for a fight?" the Altmer said, crossing her arms, a smirk on her face. "Weaklings always say they aren't looking for a fight. I'll wager if you felt you could take me on, you'd be talking differently."

"No," Acrus said flatly. "I don't like fighting, or hurting people. I just want to bring those books back to the College." Trying to inject some humour in the conversation, he added, "And I'll even waiver the late fees."

The wizard chuckled. "Well, I must hand it to you, you've got nerve for being so puny." Hope flared up in Acrus' chest. "But no, you're not leaving with those books. If you turn around now, however, you may just leave with your lives." Sneering, she added in turn, "and I'll even waiver the lodging fees for Orthorn."

He wanted to take the offer, he really did, but he knew he had to return with those books. "I appreciate it, but I just can't leave without those books, much as I'd want to."

"Then you have but one choice, it seems, no?" the Caller said back, stone calm and clearly more than ready to blast these two apprentices into Oblivion.

"I can offer you one," Acrus said, swallowing. "The College knows I'm here." Well, the librarian at least. "They'll come looking for me, and they won't send apprentices this time."

The Caller threw her head back and laughed. "Let them come. And if your ghost finds some way to speak with the living when this is done, go ahead and ask your Master Wizard if her legs still itch. I wager they do, after my spiders bit them black and bloated. Oh, the salty tears Collette Marence cried when she tried to stop the venom and had to resort to cutting her friend's legs open to let the death out. I didn't get the chance to see the scars yet, but I will some day."

"She's trying to intimidate you," Orthorn grunted at him. "She's nowhere near that powerful."

Still, the story made an impression on Acrus, true or not.

"It... it doesn't matter," he stammered. "Just... give us the books and we'll go, and you can do... whatever it is you do here."

"I believe I've been more than generous after you've broken into my keep and tried to threaten me into giving you those books." She snorted. "That you even dare to threaten me is the biggest insult."

"I don't like where this is going," Orthorn muttered.

"Look, we don't want – " Acrus began, but the Caller raised her hand and in two swirls of light, a creature appeared on either side of her. They looked like spiders, but they were far too big, at least the size of a pony, and twisted in shape. They did not attack, but they clearly needed nothing more than a signal to do so. Black venom dripped from their mandibles as their eight beady black eyes looked at the two morsels, eager to devour them.

"Last chance," the Caller said. "Leave or you'll spend your days slowly being liquefied as my spiders use you as a silk-wrapped feed bag."

"Those... those come straight from Oblivion," Orthorn breathed, creeping backward. "They resist the elements, our magick is useless against them. We're dead if they attack. We have to go."

But Acrus saw his chance. Focusing his inner eye, he saw that the Caller, while looking unfazed, had expended nearly all her energy in the summoning, the waves of power emanating from her dim and colourless. Why wouldn't she have? With those spiders, she didn't need any more power of her own. "We don't," Acrus said, determined. "Caller, this is your last chance. Give us the books or die here."

"Are you insane?" Orthorn hissed, while the Caller looked on, amused. "Those things will kill us."

"No they won't. What's it going to be, Caller?"

The summoner sighed and said, with clearly feigned disappointment, "I warned you, but you didn't listen. Nerve you have, apprentice, but you've exhausted my patience. Now you die."

The woman motioned the spiders forward, and as Orthorn turned and ran, with a shriek, the things leapt at them, but before they reached the two apprentices, Acrus pulled the scroll from his belt and opened it, letting it crumble to dust as its magick was released. His eyes closed, Acrus felt something hairy give a short but hard thump against his chest, knocking him on his ass, but that was all. He opened his eyes again to see the spiders were gone, and let out the built-up air in his lungs. Gro-Shub had thankfully not put a piece of junk in his hands.

"What?" the Caller shouted, and Acrus saw that a bit of colour and vibrance had returned to the waves around her. When he saw the flash of flame form in her hand, he quickly pulled the strands around him out of the air and shaped them into a fire ward, like he'd done at the College.

Tolfdir's lesson paid off when he saw the flames flash off the transparent shield before him. The ward stopped the flames, but collapsed under the might of the Caller's spell, leaving him vulnerable. There were still some traces of colour around the Caller, and he was knocked flat and unable to muster up another defence. Frantically, he plucked at the strands that floated around him, but in his haste, he tore the fragile bonds of energy and his second ward fizzled, the power waves around him retreating in a flash.

The Caller conjured up another flame burst, the fire dancing around her hands. "Nice try, apprentice, but you're going to burn."

His power expended, Acrus could only raise his hands to uselessly shield himself from the fire that was sure to consume him.

"Remember what I said. If your ghost can somehow converse with the living, tell the College of your utter failure."

Acrus closed his eyes and waited for his death.

The air crackled and the smell of ozone blasted into Acrus' nostrils, the light so hard it came through his eyelids, coloured red. His eyes flew open and he saw the Caller, spasming and jerking as crackling threads of electricity jumped across her body. When the woman's muscles stopped twitching, another bolt of electricity hit her, this one even more powerful than the first, sending her into another throe of shaking and convulsing. Acrus briefly saw a wisp of lightning come out of her open mouth.

The energy expended, she fell to the ground, trails of smoke rising from her body.

Acrus got to his feet and saw Orthorn standing, his hand still extended.

"And then the College said I wasn't particularly talented."

"Yeah," Acrus gasped. "That was... some fine lightning boltery. Is she... dead?"

"I doubt it," Orthorn said. He stepped over to her and put his boot down on her throat. The Caller's hands feebly went up and Acrus heard the rattling of breath come from her face.

He came closer and saw what the lightning blast had done to the Altmer, now clad in a blackened and curled robe. It was almost enough to make him feel pity. The skin on the Caller's face was heavily burned, bright red in most places, and charred black in others, the smoke rising from her skin stinking so badly it made Acrus' stomach heave.

"Looks like I hit her harder than I thought," Orthorn merely said.

"No... no reason to kill her, though. She's... obviously harmless."

"There is a reason to kill her," Orthorn said. "There's many reasons."

"Look," Acrus explained. "She really can't do much in this state. And she's completely defenceless."

"Well how's this for a reason then?" Orthorn asked, his eyes flashing. "She won't recover. No one recovers from this. She has to die, to be put out of her misery if nothing else." Without another word, Orthorn brought his boot up and stamped it down on her throat, crushing her windpipe.

The Caller gasped for breath for a few seconds, then her hands fell to her side. Acrus just stood there, looking, nailed to the ground.

"She was too dangerous to be left alive anyway," Orthorn simply said, then he walked to a nearby pedestal. "Here's your books." He pushed three volumes in Acrus' hands.

He didn't even register taking them.

"Hey, snap out of it," Orthorn barked. "You look like you've never seen a person die before."

"I... I haven't," Acrus said sullenly. "Not actually... dying." For a moment, it was as if it was Anorra lying there, her body twisted and torn, guts hanging out of her belly, red and shiny on the dusty cobblestones, reflecting the uncaring sunlight. Then he was back in the dank basement, and the corpse was once more the Caller's.

Note to readers: while I appreciate your reviews immensely, both members and guests (leave your e-mail address if you'd like a reply!), and while I love to hear your feedback as well as have you with me in this journey, I would like to humbly ask not to post too many spoilers in them, or to at least mark them as such. It'd be a shame if new readers looked at the reviews and had important plot elements spoiled. Thank you so much!