Minds Astray

So far Sissel had not explained anything. In fact, the woman had been hard pressed to answer the simplest question during their ride southeastward from Whiterun. Now, Ariela had always considered herself to be a very patient person, but this silence was really starting to get to her. They'd been kept in most pressing suspense, and now that something was finally happening, they didn't even know what that something was.

Deciding she wasn't going to take it anymore, she rode her horse Lucky beside Sissel's.

"Listen," she started. Sissel's sharp look nearly silenced her right off the cuff, but she persisted. "Where are you taking us?" She frowned down the road. "Back to Fellglow Keep?"

That was indeed the direction they were headed. What possible reason did she have to return there?

A wholly irrational stab of fear struck her, at the other woman's sudden strange look. Was this a trap? Could it have been that this was indeed not Sissel at all but someone . . . I don't know, wearing her skin? The mere thought made her shiver, although at the same time she could not quite convince herself to be truly afraid.

Sissel smiled, a touch impatient. "Relax. I will keep you safe." She then gave Ariela another look—one an awful lot like a look-over.

Suddenly awkward, the scholar cleared her throat. Oh, this was Sissel alright! Reminded her, at once pleasantly and piquingly, of Runa Fair-Shield. I wonder how she's doing? Up to no good, I'm sure. "I don't doubt that you do," she muttered.

"We need to make sure," Sissel said, "whether Calisto has left yet or not, before we report to Faralda."

"Left? Left to go where?"

"There was some errand that eerie woman, Nora, who apparently runs the cult, has sent him for—but it seems that our golden boy has plans of his own. I don't know what those are, precisely, but it can't be anything good. He must be stopped."

"How do you know about this?"

"I have eyes and I have ears, and they get around. That's all you need to know."

A bit excessively enigmatic, don't you think? "How are we supposed to— Oh yeah, I remember now!"

"What?"

"While me and Ariadne were in that cell, Calisto had a conversation with that Nora person. She treated him very arrogantly, and once she'd left his obsequiousness was immediately replaced with bitterness. He was saying something about some place . . . ah, if only I could remember. Sounded like a Dwarven name!"

"Those are a nightmare if you don't know the language."

"I do!" Ariela reined herself in. This was no place for pride. "I mean, yeah. Damned if I could just remember the name!"

"A ruin?"

"Possibly, but not one I would have ever heard of."

"Doubt they've built new ones lately."

"What was that name!"

"Never mind that. It's whether Calisto accomplishes what he's trying to that matters. But this is too big for us. We'll need folks at the College to wake up to this threat so we can start to fight back."

"Threat? The cult?"

"Yeah, the cult." Sissel set her jaw. "And who knows what else."

The last part gave Ariela a chill.

Meanwhile, Ariadne had inconspicuously ridden right up behind them. "What's up?" she asked, drawing a jolt from Ariela.

Damn it girl, but you scared me!

The young mage did not exactly seem sorry about it.

Ariadne didn't bother suppressing the smirk that the jumpy scholar's yelp gave her.

"Ariadne, I didn't see you!" she gasped.

"I can tell. So." Ariadne shrugged. "What's going on?"

"Your boy, Calisto," Sissel began.

"My boy?" she said icily.

Sissel smirked. "He's up to no good, that naughty young man."

Ariadne narrowed her eyes. Are you trying to pick a fight? "That fails to surprise me. He's a piece of work."

"I'm glad you see that now."

What's that supposed to— Ah, never mind her jabs. You're bigger than this. "I admit he had me fooled." Gods be damned but it damn near physically hurt to admit that!

"I think all of us," Ariela interjected.

"Not me," said Sissel.

Ariadne narrowed her eyes again. Well, shouldn't you be handed the clever girl award! She took a deep breath. This, now, was a perfect opportunity to practice the new, even-tempered Ariadne. She donned an ill-fitting smile. "I guess that's why you're the one running the show here and not us!" Did that come out just a tad bit condescendingly?

Whether it did or not, Sissel seemed not to either notice or care. "I'm running nothing, but we all are going to run out of time soon, so I suggest we keep going instead of wasting more breath on chit-chat."

Ariadne was about to protest, but the scholar caught her eye with a deterring gesture. As in, not worth it.

Ariadne gave a sigh. No doubt the scrawny bookworm had the right of it.

She fell back again, not finding much use for the company of the two. She had been trying to think the whole way here, but her mind kept running away with her.

Where was I? Ah, yes, once the dust settles and things return to normal, I'm going to take the rest of my studies really seriously. Everyone can see that I'm the best destruction mage that joint has seen in ages, even Faralda will admit as much. Should I aim for the Arch-Mage's position? Ugh, no, the old crone will give it up over her dead body, and with her being Altmer and all, I can't wait for that long. What then? No way I'm going to be sticking around for a lesser position. I'd actually quite like to see the world. Cyrodiil, at least, has the weather going for it. And I hear the men there are the best lovers . . . then again, they say good things about Bretons as well. Good, er, with their mouths. And the Redguard supposedly have—

Her cheeks burned. No, that was not what she was going to think about. This was her future as a great mage she had to be concerned with. Surely things of carnal nature would take care of themselves. After all, men were always throwing themselves at her feet. Well, not literally of course. That would be really inconvenient, if she was constantly having to step over prostrate—

Ariadne groaned in frustration. This wasn't working. She'd have to try this thinking business another time. She might as well use the time for some daydreaming, then.

Where was I? Right, the Redguard . . .

Ariadne made a strange noise behind her, but Ariela chose to ignore it. That girl had sort of started to get on her nerves, to be perfectly honest. Never had she met anyone with as high of an opinion of themselves coupled with the shortest imaginable attention span. A dreadful combination on anyone; but the fact that Ariadne was obviously also very gifted with magic made it especially worrisome. After all, the case of Calisto was an acute enough a warning of what magical prowess in hands devoid of strong moral standing could do. Not that she took Ariadne for morally challenged in any degree comparable to him, but it would definitely not bode well if she chose not to try and rein in that overbearing personality of hers.

She's still young, give it time.

Ariela almost snorted. Here she was, only two years older, but feeling as though those two years were as good as two decades. Make that centuries. Well, it was nothing new to her.

Feeling not only old but tired to boot, she wiped sweat off her brow. The exceptionally hot late-spring weather didn't make it any easier. She'd grown accustomed to the nearly continuous frost of Winterhold and had never really been the biggest fan of heat to begin with. In that sense, moving from Cyrodiil to Skyrim had originally fit her very well. The beauty of autumn had practically swept her off her feet the first time she'd seen it. The colors so vivid, they never got that way where she was from! But she could not deny having started to feel a little homesick as of late. She especially missed the hall of the Scholar's Guild . . .

Her mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. No, there was no returning to that place for her. She'd seen with her own eyes the note signed by the new principal confirming that he had sold his soul to the demon Hermaeus Mora, and not only that, sold her to the cult, for who knew what purpose. The though made her not only sick but freezing cold to her very soul. What was going on in this world?

She gave a sigh. So much had been going on lately, and she was having a hard time keeping up with it. She'd been trying to arrange her thoughts in some kind of order, but things kept ending up in jumbled piles nevertheless.

What had she even been so preoccupied with just a few short days back, now seeming like an eternity ago? Musings on the nature of magic, the nature of the soul, the curious case of the supposedly unfulfilled prophesy of the Dragonborn . . .

Ariela's breath caught in her throat. Dragons. Why did that notion strike an uncomfortable note within her? Like a surge of memory, only . . . empty.

What had she forgotten?

She rubbed at her face. I need to focus and not start chasing phantoms. There were, after all, actual ghosts at play. She'd need to concentrate on the pressing matter at hand: this cult and whatever they were planning. She could hardly still believe it. They had truly summoned Mannimarco! And not only that, he had spoken to her personally! Seeming to take interest in her. Now, that, that was something to get anxious about!

"The Wheel spins around you in most . . . curious ways. The probabilities . . . and the improbabilities. They myriad dimensions . . . the infinite Void!"

What did that even mean!

She could not let her mind linger there for too long. Her imagination was soon starting to get the best of her. And her imagination, although often her best friend, just as often proved to be her worst enemy.

In an attempt to bring herself back to the present moment, she let her gaze wander to her surroundings. Despite the heat, it sure was pretty this time of year. The grass, the foliage of the trees, all fresh and vibrant. The air heavy with fragrance. It was almost soothing. She then glanced at her companions—Ariadne behind her looking all lost in thought, a small smile on her lips, the austere Sissel ahead—and wondered how many people there were in the world who she could truly trust. Sissel was always a steadfast comrade, but there was an undeniable inaccessibility to her. Ariadne was a good person despite her idiosyncrasies, but then she was hardly any more able to navigate this mess that Ariela herself was. Still, she was a worthwhile companion, and certainly one to rely on when things got violent.

In fact, the girl was almost too comfortable with violence. Made Ariela kind of nervous around the her.

Is there something that doesn't make you nervous?

There was no denying that her inner critic had a solid point with that one. She would really need to do something about her nerves: the constant anxiety had even started to interfere with her work this past winter. And with commencing wars between mages looming in the near distance, she would wind up a nervous wreck before long if she didn't learn to rein herself in soon. But how? Perhaps she should observe harder how others managed. Learn from them. Try to absorb some of their strength. She had, after all, always been good at assimilating things from her surroundings.

Once more her thoughts turned to Runa Fair-Shield.

Wonder what the woman up to? she thought again.

"No good," Runa muttered. "No good. No fucking good!"

The headache and the nausea weren't the problem. Even if they were relatively rare visitors in her life, they were also easily taken care of. Just a little potion and everything was hunky dory. No, what chafed her, what there was no alchemy against, was the sudden loss of memory. That she could not for the life of her bring back the events from yesterday, starting from getting humped by . . . wait, who again?

Now, this kinda thing was not only rare but very fucking irritating! Runa Fair-Shield had always prided herself on her excellent control over herself, even when stumble-down plastered. But the sense of loss of control that went with having events blacked out from her mind was simply unbearable!

She laid there, on her back, holding her throbbing head and cursing. The Bee and the Barb was silent below her, the morning probably far underway. The curtains were drawn, of course, but little did that do with the sunlight piercing the tattered and stained scraps of once-white cloth. The bed springs poked her back through the overworked mattress.

For some time she considered that, for penitence, she should just forgo the hangover potion altogether. But that idea was soon out the window, as a particularly vicious convulsion threatened to heave up yesterday's . . .whatever grub she'd stuffed in her face. The food of the joint, as usual, left room for hoping. Hoping it was worth a shit, that is.

After the quick ingesting of the bitter stuff, once her body started feeling whole again, the upset over her scattered mind started to feel slightly less punishing. After all, some things were better left unremembered.

Yeah, things like . . . ah, shit on it.

Truly, some things she'd really rather have forgotten.

Well, no one's come and tried killing me yet, at least. And it's been, what, a whole day?

Killing you? Ha! You'd be lucky to get off so easily once they get their hands on you. And you won't be!

Runa frowned. Now, it wasn't an altogether unfamiliar feeling to have her own mind spell out her doom for her, but she didn't usually feel it take such dark joy in it.

I'm starting to crack. Face it, it's about due. How long have I lived this insane life of killing and almost dying? Honestly, I'm on borrowed time as it is. I've already turned thirty, right?

She shook her head with determination and jumped off the bed, feeling just a little bit wobbly.

Alcohol, I need alcohol. Then maybe a bit of cock.

Yeah, just a couple drinks to get her going again. And the first passable looking fellow she ran into after that was in for the ride of his life.

Runa gathered her stuff and stormed out of the room, feeling life in her veins again and relieved she could go for a bit longer without thinking about her future.