Chapter Four
~ ~ ~ Seeks-the-Storm ~ ~ ~
Winterhold certainly did live up to it's name. A blizzard was blowing upon the land and the sky was a dreary grey, allowing no sun to grace the shores today. The whistle of the wind was quite irritating to say the least, especially when my window kept rattling alongside it.
"Xuth! How can one work in these conditions!?" I grumbled in an exasperated tone, rising from the chair in my room to once again slam the window shut, the wood buckling under the brunt of the weather. The latch creaked in protest, not liking the torment it was forced to endure.
The College of Winterhold might be bleak, true, but it was one of the last places for true magical study in Tamriel. The School of Julianos, the Synod School of Study, College of Whispers, even the mysterious Psijic Order… All truly amazing places I could only dare to dream of! Unlike the swamps of Argonia, civilised study could be formed here… More or less.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when an explosion suddenly came from the room to my right and laughter erupted through the Hall of Attainment, the hollers echoing throughout the building. I rose from my chair, tail flicking to the side as I walked from my room and into the next. My nose wrinkled in disdain as an unpleasant odour wafted towards my nostrils. What on Nirn…?
"Do it again, yes!" A male voice called as I entered the next area and to which I saw J'zargo, Breyla and Onmund, three of my fellow apprentices, sitting around a open crate which I saw now had a splatter of a mess in it and the distinct smell of rotten egg in the air. I gagged and stuttered as the Dunmer of the trio turned to me. "I would leave if I were you, lizard," she huffed, covering her face with robes as the Nord, Onmund, lit his hands up with lightning and prepared to zap yet another egg into dust, making the Khajiit beside him cackle.
Despite her tone, I felt as if the woman was sincere in her words and without another word from myself, I disembarked. Nords and Khajiit… Setting sparks to a rotten egg, is this what they considered true magical study?! I could only roll my eyes as I made my way out of the Hall.
The blizzard outside was settling but the wind still blew cold upon my pale scales and sent shivers erupting from my brow to the very tip of my tail. I grasped at my robes with my claws and tightened them around me. Xuth, I will never grow use to Skyrim's cold… I thought, hissing out loud as well as in my mind.
A chuckle came from my left and Faralda, the Altmer Destruction master of the Institute, came from a leaning against an alcove in the stonebrick of the College's grounds, snowflakes across her robes and fur cloak. "Enjoying the weather?" she asked with a slight smile.
I could only smile back and brushed my hood back, curled horns coming forth and showing the frozen tips of the blue feathers upon my head. "As much as one can…"
"Skyrim may be cold, yes," she replied. "But there is magic here that is untouched and untampered by those around it. It is up to us here in the Collage to guide those who seek the knowledge to use it… Or chase storms."
Ah, a crack at my name, all too common here. I chuckled. "It's translated for your people's benefit, do remember." The truth was what I spoke, but I'll admit I had grown fond of my new name.
Seeks-The-Storms, Tali-joon. What is a name regardless? A collection of letters aligned to oneself in order to give a sense of identity? No, we are all thought to be simple minions in a great game played by those above and beyond our reach. Our actions make us who we are and I for one will not be a pawn in a scripted fate, to live and die before I had achieved what I had sought to become.
Become one with lightning.
How I had dreamed for many nights to control the weather, to feel lightning through my veins like a wamusu, to feel the wind around my feathers, to feel ice upon my fingers and to breath fire like the legendary dragons of old… How wondrous that magic would be!
But… It was just a dream. I shook my head and looked out the window, watching the snowflakes drift across the sky. Faralda followed my gaze and was peering over the town. She incorrectly read my thoughts. "Do not fret about the Nords. They have always hated the college and always will."
"What? Oh, I do not care for that," I replied dryly, my eye narrowing. "It is a shame, but I do not care in the slightest. I simply seek knowledge and here it is, not down in the snow."
My lecturer nodded and with no other words, she departed my presence, heading towards the main building, the Hall of the Elements. She had barely entered and closed the great doors shut before they were thrown open again, another Altmer swiftly moving away. My eyes narrowed as his dark robes billowed in the snowstorm.
The Thalmor overlord - apologies I meant advisor - gave no looks towards me but was simply hurrying along to the great bridge that linked the city and the College. He passed by Mirabelle, the Master Wizard, who merely gave him a pointed look and continued upon her way.
"I hope you are settling well, Seeks-The-Storms," she remarked to me, looking down to write something else in that book she seemed to be always carrying.
"As well as one can in these conditions…" I replied, flicking my tail back and forth. Yes, I was still complaining about the weather, for Hist's sake, it is bloody freezing after all!
"Perhaps you should head to the inn…" she suggested. "I believe your fellow apprentices like to head there when the weather permits them to."
Her words had barely escaped her lips when Breyla emerged from the quarters behind me, gasping and shaking her head. "Damn you boys to Oblivion!" Her crimson eyes soon found my blue ones and she quickly turned away, to escape my reptilian gaze. "I'm going to the inn, will you join me?"
A brief nod was my answer and after a few seconds, we departed, heading across the great bridge and down into the city. The wind blew hard, trying it's hardest to force us off the stonework but we held fast, magic aglow in our hands and wards brushing off the harshest of the vile push. I tightened my fur cloak tighter around myself and soon found myself upon the snow-kissed ground of Winterhold.
To call it a city was an understatement. The years had not been kind to Winterhold and there was much to show for it. The wall around the city was crumbling and broken, large gaps forming between pillars. Rickety houses and thatched roofs were the only defence from the harsh northern winter and even that was not enough at points. Ruins of the city still clung desperately at the rock face beyond the houses, fallen brethren beneath and crumbling on the shores of the Sea of Ghosts. And every so often, a pale-silhouette of a spirit would venture forth from a darkened corner of the town, drifting along the path and passing by guards, who in turn made no indication they even saw the spectre, ignoring them completely.
My Dunmer friend and I made our way to the inn, only to find two of the citizens having an argument on the front porch. I knew them not, but judging from the look of my companion, she certainly did. As we approached, the male of the duo walked straight into the inn, slamming the door and causing the woman to yell at the wood. "Don't you walk away from me, Ranmir!"
Another sound caught my attention and I turned to face the road leading out of Winterhold, watching and waiting. Breyla tapped my shoulder. "What is it, scaleback? Get inside before you freeze to death!"
A pointed look met her face and a slight hiss escaped from my tongue. "Don't you degrade me, Dunmer. Something is coming."
Her face turned to the roads and I could see that she knew I was right. Through the howl of the mid-afternoon winds, the quick and echoing clip-clop of hooves upon stone could be detected. Even the guards of Winterhold (all five of them) seemed to be alerted to it as we were. One walked towards the gate and looked out over the snow, flicking up his helmet's visor.
"Open the gates!" he called to his comrade upon the wall. "Galmar and the 'Cloaks ride towards us!"
"Stormcloaks!" I turned to see Breyla exclaim this remark and looked upon with worried eyes. I had been in Skyrim for seldom a week and I knew not of what she was referring to. But judging from her expression, I knew she did not like the so-called 'Stormcloaks.'
A small group of men rode into the city, their poor ponies panting hard but seemed to not notice nor care. They dismounted and I could see their uniform more clearly - Blue cloth over chainmail and leather, fur boots and gauntlets adorning their limbs and a mix of steel, iron and leather hoods over their facial features. Only one differed from this, a man of significant bulk with a bear pelt draped across his helm, his uniform resembling the others but with crude claws upon his gauntlets.
He plopped down from his horse and he was the apparent leader of this band. "To the inn, soldiers!" he ordered in a gruff, gravelly voice. "Warm up."
His men (and women, might I add) obeyed, tapping their chestplates twice and moved into the inn. They barely glanced at us, moving past as if we were just dead trees embedded in the snow. I felt Breyla let loose a sigh at my side and then, she tapped my wrist. "Come, inside…"
I nodded in return and we walked into the inn. A roaring firepit greeted us, as well as an argument between two parties - One a Altmer in mage robes, the other a blonde Nord in a dirty tunic and apron.
"It was like some monster had been turned inside-out, then exploded!" The blonde exclaimed, who I recognised as the barkeep, Dagnar. A nice-enough man, for a Nord I suppose. "What the hell did you do?"
"It was a minor miscalculation, merely need to transmute the degree of energy into the harmonising resonator and reapply Gaelion's Third Law. I have already corrected it for future experiments," the Altmer replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
Danar blinked, as if he hadn't understood a single word of that. But then he huffed and pointed an accusing finger at the mage. "This… This is why people have a problem with the college, Neclar!" And with that, he sodded off to tend the now full bar.
I cocked my head at this, watching the elf walk into another room and waft smoke out of it with a rag. Breyla chuckled and sat at a table by the fire, brushing down her hood and letting the cloak drop from her shoulders. I followed suit, sitting my cloak beside me on the wood.
We sat silently for a moment, before my companion went and fetched us mead, dumping a few coins upon the bar and returning with the drinks. I sipped from my tankard uneasily, listening to the howl of the wind and the crackle of the fire. Breyla seemed to be lost in thought, but then, out of the corner of eye, I saw her ears twitch and her face turned slightly towards the bar.
The soldiers had moved and had sat near our table, talking roughly in hushed whispers. Breyla turned away but she was eavesdropping, I could tell. I weaved a spell under the table, muttering low and then, my familiar formed. A rat, wispy and translucent, it scurried under the Stormcloaks feet.
Familiars were curious things. Crafted of pure magicka and thought, they were attached to their crafters by more than mere spell. These beings saw things, felt things… Heard things. And right now, I could hear the Stormcloaks every word as if they were right by my side, whispering right into my ears.
"Galmar, if they have returned…" one spoke harshly, the other's murmuring beside him in mutual agreement. "What is to say that they are not a weapon sent by the elves?"
The commander, Galmar as I now knew, slammed his fist on the table. "Do not be ridiculous, Brunar, you know the stories as well as any Nord. No elf could control a dragon."
My face furrowed in disbelief. Dragons?! My eyes flicked to Breyla, mouthing the word at her and her eyes narrowed, as if I was making a joke at her.
"But if the legends are true… Is it a sign from Talos? That he is displeased with us?" one Stormcloak whispered in a hushed tone.
"By Shor, are you an idiot?" another grunted, wiping a hand across his great red beard and fingering the knot below his chin. "Talos would be pleased to see his son following the Way of the Voice, taking back his land!"
"Watch your tongue, new-blooded!" replied the first, spitting his words like hot coals. "Regardless, we must plans to defend Windhelm! If it flies from Mount Anthor down to the city, we would stand no chance."
"We will defend it as we have always defended our lands!" a third Stormcloak said. "A dragon is no match for Ysgamor's city!"
The Nords squabbled now, their words growing too hard to hear, and my familiar faded away as my magicka source depleted. I shook my head, a little weary and rose then, heading outside. I could hardly believe what I had heard… Dragons!
My companion joined me, tapping my shoulder as she approached me. "They spoke of… Dragons? No one has seen them for hundreds, no, thousands of years!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
"The closest I know of dragons is some animals back home," I replied, watching the snowfall with a curious expectation. "Yet, they are smaller and still alive…"
We stood in silence and I was thinking hard. Dragons… What a wondrous experience that would be to witness! It is said that their breath abilities were not of magicka, but of voice, like they were engaged in a great debate rather than battle. If only I could see them…
"Hey Breyla!" I said suddenly, turning to face her. "Where is Mouth Anthor?"
She blinked, her crimson eyes meeting mine. "I believe it is beyond the Shrine of Azura, a few clicks over the ridge between here and Windhelm. Why?"
I chuckled and pumped my fist in the air. "Come, we must find that dragon!"
She gasped. "Are you insane?! Has your brain turned to mush?!"
My mind wandered, ignoring her words. Yes, perhaps I was insane. But how could I not be excited by this revelation? Imagine the Arch-Mage's face when we tell him of studies involving a dragon! I, no we, would be the first in thousands of years to seek a dragon and speak to it as an intelligent creature, not a monster to rampage and destroy.
My feet moved before I even knew they were going. I headed into the snow, across the road and into the stables, mounting one of the College's horses and nudging it forwarded, heading out of the front gate. I glanced over my shoulder and found Breyla beside me, swinging herself up onto the saddle behind me.
"I don't have a choice in this, do I?" she sighed, pulling her hood down over her eyes.
I snickered. "Not a chance!"