Early autumn, 4E 187, Winterhold
"You stay here and watch over our horses. Gods know we have lost too many of them recently," Kodlak bade Farkas. "As long as you stay viable to keep our belongings and the shipment safe, you can do as you wish. The mages should come pick their things up soon."
He then turned to Vilkas. "You will help me in the library. Be mindful and don't disturb the mages - they are jumpy enough as it is."
Vilkas nodded. He knew his history and the suspicion of his people towards the magically gifted.
Honestly, he himself felt anxious around mages, even if he'd never admit it to anyone. Coming close with hagraven fireballs had that effect on people.
What would happen if a mage went a little bit too confident or anxious? There was the caution tale of the Oblivion Crisis, after all.
As they walked towards the College, the leopard crossed his mind. He had seen it do magic.
It felt different, though.
More…natural. Like alchemy, using the innate power of plants and creatures to get desired effects.
Ice wraiths sow destruction just like mages do, however. And they are just acting according to their natures.
He shook his head. Pointless wondering was precisely that - pointless. He couldn't do anything about others' fears, and little about his.
Kodlak led him to a stone bridge, lifting upwards.
There was no slope in that direction, though. Vilkas frowned and took a little detour to investigate.
The bridge started connected to solid ground, but as it went, it just…lifted up, not supported by anything.
It was massive. It had gateways on it, platforms. And…it just…hung midair.
There were masses of stone holding a few pivotal points of the bridge, but…they were just not enough. Not by the slightest.
Vilkas' gaze turned to the College itself. The complex was even more impressive than the bridge - several buildings, styled similarly to the rest of Winterhold, but somehow more sleek and mysterious, spread out on giant stone spikes. Parts of the buildings reached over, hanging in the emptiness above the churning sea, unbothered by the pull of the earth.
Wisp-like lights floated around and throughout the College, giving it an eerie, otherworldly feel.
He shook his head and hurried after Kodlak. The bridge proved solid enough. Driven by curiosity, Vilkas wandered over to the edge of one of the damaged parts.
The sea deep, deep below him raged and rippled over the shore, floating ice and itself, frozen dark blue and grey in colour.
He backed away, stricken by sudden dizziness.
Kodlak shot him a look.
Vilkas quietly followed, not daring to investigate more. They walked past three wells of light, humming silently with arcane energies. At the end of the bridge, a closed gate with the motif of an eye welcomed them.
The gate swung open.
Vilkas startled, but forced himself to remain unmoving. His heartbeat couldn't be so easily convinced, though.
A magewoman walked out from the courtyard yonder. She gave a curt nod of greeting. "You are the Companions, I presume? My name is Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard of the College."
Kodlak returned the greeting. "Kodlak and Vilkas of the Companions. Your goods are waiting at the inn with our last member. We couldn't really deliver them over the bridge on our own."
"Understandable. I will send someone to pick them up. Now, I believe your payment was a visit to the Arcanaeum?"
Kodlak nodded.
The Master Wizard looked around. "Tolfdir is occupied at the moment…Nevras!"
A figure, moving swiftly across the courtyard, stopped. An athletic looking dunmer, similar in age to Vilkas, turned around and went over to them.
"Yes, mistress Ervine?"
His hair was flaming red and tied into a thick braid, falling way down his back. He had sharp features, like most of his kind, and wore a stylish anchor-shaped goatee plus nicely trimmed moustache.
He had dark blue College outer robe, but there also was an inner robe, red and gold, bearing insignia Vilkas was unfamiliar with.
His eyes mystified Vilkas the most.
They were bright gold in color, not red.
"These fine gentlemen need escorting to the Arcanaeum. They are to stay as long as they like. Watch over them and assist them."
With that, the Master Wizard gave another curt nod and walked away. The dunmer mumbled something under his breath, then turned to the Companions.
"I am Nevras Mora of House Telvanni, a pleasure to meet you," he performed a gesture with his hand, elegant and welcoming. Probably a greeting from his homeland.
"Kodlak and Vilkas of the Companions," Kodlak nodded.
"If you would follow me," Nevras began walking towards one of the buildings.
"I didn't think any of the Houses could be found in Skyrim," Vilkas mused.
"Oh, I am not important to my House or family," Nevras answered cheerily, "and let's not forget there used to be a bond between the College and our House. Let's call my presence here a lip service to that. Anything to get me out of my mother's hair."
Kodlak and Vilkas shared a look. Was he really a dunmer? And of a House? He seemed far too cheerful and talkative.
He paid no heed to their confusion. "The head librarian would be master Urag gro-Shub. He is very keen on his books, so for your own safety, heed his words and treat the tomes appropriately."
He led them through several halls, which didn't make sense from the structure they saw outside, filled with various types of flora. They passed quite the number of robed figures, all of them giving curious or suspicious looks.
Vilkas' armor suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
Finally, Nevras led them to a staircase. They walked up in a spiral, opening to an antechamber. Not much was there - few seats and potted plants, reading table and standing lights.
Beyond the antechamber, however…
A space filled with bookshelves beckoned, interior invitingly warm and cosy with reading tables, chairs and floating lights.
Against all his uncertainty about magic, Vilkas' heart started beating faster from excitement. He had never seen so many books in one place before.
Nevras chuckled at his awe. Vilkas couldn't care less. He just wanted to see the books.
The dunmer led them through the circular room, which enlarged as they walked through it. At the other end, an office desk stood, manned by an older orcish gentleman.
"Who are you taking to my libraries, Nevras?" the orc eyed the Companions warily.
"These are the Companions, master Urag. Remember? Master Tolfdir must have discussed it with you before he agreed to their deal."
The orc hummed, giving them another, even more thorough lookover. "I do remember…I didn't want to agree, but the shipment cost too much this time, so all the others convinced me to allow it."
He looked into Vilkas' and Kodlak's eyes. "You are welcome as long as Nevras has time to stay with you. I don't want you treating any of these books poorly. No disruptions to my Arcanaeum. Or I'll have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Are we clear?"
"Clear, master mage," Kodlak nodded.
"Good. Now, what can I assist you with?"
"I was hoping to do some research on the Skyforge and the twin forge to it. We call it the Lunar forge amongst ourselves, sadly I am not sure whether it has an official name."
"Hm. That might be a difficult topic to cover," the librarian stood up. He spread his arms.
As he did, his fingers lit up with a soft magical glow, floating around in tiny sparkles. He performed several fluid motions.
The libraries around them began to spin. Vilkas flinched, growing dizzier by the moment as various shelves spun around and around with an increasing speed.
Finally the library settled once more.
Urag put his arms down and went to a specific shelf. No need to look around or look at an index. He just knew what to get. He picked a stack of books, all of which obediently levitated after him.
He sent them to a reading table, all ready with writing supplies on it. Then he returned to his post.
Nevras sat down with the Companions. "Songs of the Return, huh? I presume you know those well. They don't have much information, really."
"True," Kodlak acquiesced, "these are old editions, though. I have read the new ones. Maybe there will be something useful."
Vilkas picked a book at random. Lunar Mysteries. Hm. All too aware of Nevras' inquisitive gaze, he prepared his notebook and carefully opened the book.
XXX
"Found anything satisfactory?" the Telvanni mage asked. He was accompanying them back to the tavern, because apparently he went every now and then.
"We will have need of your services still," Kodlak answered with just that.
Nevras shrugged. "Not like master Aren ever has time to teach me anyway." He grinned. "Accompanying big guys with swords is more peaceful than teaching rowdy magelings, I'll take that for as long as you want."
"Wait till you meet Farkas, master mage," Kodlak chuckled.
They entered the tavern. Immediately upon their arrival, the innkeeper greeted Nevras with a wide smile. "Hey Nev! Going to check out the new guy here?"
"I sure am!" the elf laughed and went over to the bar. "The other two sure are well-mannered, what about him?"
The innkeeper just pointed towards Farkas enjoying himself with food and drink. Vilkas and Kodlak were just sitting down.
Nevras put a money pouch on the bar. "Let's have some good food, hm?" Then he walked over to the Companions' table and sat down, not bothering with asking for permission.
Farkas looked him up and down. "Who're you?"
"Our College guide," Kodlak said, a tinge of displeasure in his voice.
"Nevras Mora of House Telvanni, at your service," Nevras flashed a smile.
"Why are your eyes yellow? Don't dark elves have red eyes?"
"Farkas!" Vilkas hissed.
"What?"
"It's alright, my fine friend," Nevras leaned to the side as the innkeeper brought drinks and put them on the table. "It is a rare mutation among the dunmer, and a trait my family jealously keeps, going as far as enhancing it with magic if need be. And other methods."
He looked at his nails. "Word is my uncle had red eyes. Grandmother threw him off of a cliff."
"What's a matation?"
"Mutation," Vilkas corrected. "It's when something unusual appears in a bloodline."
"A true scholar among fighters!" Nevras' face lit up again with a bright smile. "I am starting to like you."
"But…why would she do that to her baby?" Farkas remained confused.
Nevras shrugged. "Pride. Always high in stock among the Telvanni. That and murder being legitimate practice to achieve your goals."
"I am starting to see why your mother might have wanted you, as you said, out of her hair," Kodlak noted. The mockery in Nevras' voice was as clear as day.
Nice day in Whiterun, not one of Winterhold's days.
The innkeeper brought their food. Simple, but warm, tasty and filling. Vilkas' mood lifted a little. "I get that you come here often, but why are you so interested in us?" he asked.
"I'm bored," Nevras leaned back in his chair. "No one here wants to spar with me anymore, and I need to train to keep my skills. The fighters coming for the Bloodfrost Games only arrive shortly before the Games commence."
"Bloodfrost Games?"
"Oh, right, you're from far away. Well, as you might have noticed, no one in the world gives a rotten fish about Winterhold. The jarl wants to make some money, at least. So what does he come up with? Illegal games. You pay a hefty fee to enter. One - fighting ring, no rules implemented. Two - people hunting each other down on the floating ice. Three - beast fights. Have you ever fought a horker in the water? Bloody."
"No one is against this?" Kodlak frowned.
"It's perfectly in line with old nordic traditions, is it not?" Nevras flashed a smile again. Vilkas noted a slightly hostile undertone to this particular smile. "Besides, have you seen this place? No one wants to stay. The ones who do stay don't have money to leave. The Games feed them, basically. The Games, sheep and fish," he relented after a while.
Watching the Companions' disapproval, Nevras sighed. "I don't particularly like it either, but it's better than becoming a smuggler port. I see other possibilities for growth. But am I the jarl? No."
"So how do you know so much about it?" Farkas' interest was piqued.
"I like to participate in the fights," this smile was friendly again. "I also like to save the residents here some money by throwing prizes into the pot."
"What prizes?" Farkas leaned forward, forgetting about his food altogether.
"O-ho, wouldn't you like to know? How about we spar and I tell you after?" Nevras also leaned forward, his grin growing wolfish.
"You are a strange mage, master Mora," Vilkas commented.
"That's House Telvanni for you. Nothing but strange. It's a tradition."
XXX
On the third day of their stay Nevras led the twins to a relatively well off abandoned house. It was far too away from the safe zone for anyone to live in it, but it remained in a decent condition.
"I usually exercise here and then go to the tavern for some good old mazte," Nevras shook his heavy College robe off. He folded it neatly and put it aside. "Weapons or no weapons?"
"No weapons," Farkas hit his palm with his fist.
Vilkas sat down, curiosity clear in his eyes. He kept wary of the elf, but he couldn't help but feel intrigued.
"Will we spar with weapons?" Nevras, exuding a contagious aura of excitement, flashed a grin at Vilkas.
"Aren't you worried for your staff?"
"It's not just any old stick."
Vilkas raised an eyebrow, but let it be. He watched both of them strip outer layers - Farkas ended up in shirt and pants, while Nevras kept his strangely shaped Telvanni inner robe on. The sleeves had been caught by a pair of leather bracers and the bottom flowy part was parted on his thighs, all the way up to hips and a flashy green cloth belt.
"Won't that hinder you?" Farkas looked at the cloth flowing around the elf's every move.
"Does your armor hinder you?" Nevras asked in turn.
"No, but it's armor. Armor is meant to be in a fight. Doesn't give your opponent chances to grab it and won't make you move worse."
"If you know how to move in it," Nevras raised a finger. "If you don't, it's a catastrophe. And I know how to move in this."
Farkas shrugged.
He went for a hit, no announcement, no nothing.
Nevras dodged.
Vilkas couldn't even see properly how, but the elf swirled around Farkas effortlessly, landing a few light hits on him and then danced away. Farkas changed his stance, taking this spar seriously now.
Nevras grinned. Widely, disturbingly. There was something animalistic about him just now, rage boiling in him, visible in the little, overly energetic movements of his limbs and body.
Vilkas knew that feeling.
Farkas remained calm, watching, trying things out and calculating. He always was stoic.
Nevras felt like a flurry of winter winds, dancing around the fighting grounds lightly, while Farkas like a snowy mountain. His hits were devastating. The few he managed to land on Nevras sent him staggering.
But he landed only a few.
Nevras, on the other hand, landed them almost every single time. After seeing Farkas wouldn't change his strategy and chase around after him, preserving his energy, Nevras changed tactics. Now he targeted important spots.
Finally, he broke through Farkas' defence and jabbed him in the throat.
Farkas staggered, trying to catch his breath.
Nevras dropped his stance and lifted a hand, which lit up with a familiar golden glow of healing magic. Little golden sparkles passed onto Farkas and his gasping stopped.
Farkas scratched his head. "I wasn't expecting a mage to fight so well."
Nevras smiled, warmly this time. His breathing was also hurried from movement. "Most don't. But the thing is, never underestimate your opponent. You might run into someone like me." He stretched. "Or imperial battlemages. Those kick a nasty punch."
"Why do you know how to fight, then?" Farkas was curious.
"My poor poor great-great-great-great-great-whatever grandmother was not good with battle spells. She was very agile, though. And good with other magics. So she found a different way to murder her boss and take her place."
He grabbed his staff, spun it around, then pointed the tip at Vilkas. "She learnt to fight with a staff and her body," his smile gave a challenge.
He rose from his seat and drew his sword. "What was that about other magics?"
"I won't use any while sparring, except if that sharp sharp sword of yours threatens to cut off pieces of me," Nevras cocked his head. "Only shields, don't worry."
"No fireballs?"
"Oddly specific," Nevras narrowed his eyes. He lifted his hand and summoned a tiny flame above his palm. It flickered and moved like candlelight in the wind. "On my great aunt's honor, this is all I can summon in regards to fire."
"Why swear on someone else's honor?" Farkas was perplexed.
"Ancestors are important to the dunmer," Vilkas explained.
"Why yes, and she is my favourite! She and great uncle always answer when I summon their spirits to chat with me." The flame above Nevras' palm flickered violently and died out.
"Summon their spirits?"
"Yes, they are long dead. Still sweet. I just wish they were around when I was growing up, not just to chat once in a while," Nevras sighed.
Vilkas and Farkas exchanged a look.
"Don't bother with it," Nevras waved his hand. "It's a dunmeri thing. We have a spar waiting, don't we, mister Grim?"
"Mister Grim?" Vilkas raised an eyebrow as he moved away from Farkas.
"You are very gloomy," Nevras flashed another blinding smile. "You must be a hit with certain ladies."
Vilkas scoffed. Instead of answering, he raised his blade.
"I told you," Farkas noted as he withdrew back to his armor. "You would be."
Vilkas ignored him. He started slowly circling Nevras, watching for any moves. He needed to get close, because with a staff, Nevras had longer reach.
Nevras attacked.
Vilkas recognized it as a feint. He went into a counterattack, forcing Nevras to back away.
Vilkas wouldn't relent. He pushed forward, blade striking fast.
Nevras blocked. With a loud clang, Vilkas' blade clashed with wood. It didn't bite in. It felt like the staff was made of metal instead of night-dark wood. Sparks flew, even.
Vilkas felt the hit in his arms. But he had no time to spare - Nevras was already twisting the staff to hit him with the butt. Vilkas' hand shot forward.
He grabbed the staff and tugged violently.
Nevras clearly wasn't expecting that. He stumbled, getting even more in Vilkas' range. Vilkas went in with the pommel.
Nevras caught himself. He bent sideways, finishing his stumble into a graceful roll. He let the staff go.
Vilkas pursued. Nevras yet again relied on agility and speed. He led Vilkas away, then returned for his staff with an elegant leap. They clashed and separated, both raising the pressure on their opponent.
Vilkas put more savagery into his hits. Still as precise, but much fiercer.
At one point, Nevras didn't dodge in time.
Vilkas' strike went straight for his mid. Seconds before slicing the mage in half, a purple light flashed. With the sound of glass shattering, Vilkas' blade landed on a hard surface.
Nevras grunted and stumbled under the force of the hit.
A hint of desperation appeared in the elf's golden eyes. Then, fiery rage replaced it. He twisted out of Vilkas' assault. He moved around Vilkas, even though his steps betrayed exhaustion, blocking hits with his staff.
Just a little bit more! Then Vilkas will have him…
Pain exploded in the back of his head.
XXX
Vilkas blinked. His head was throbbing.
"See? He's fine. Calm down, big man," Nevras' voice came in. "Sheesh, I wish my siblings cared for me this much."
The pain in his head slowly retreated. His vision focused. Farkas' face floated in.
"You alright?"
"Aye," Vilkas groaned, propping himself up. Nevras was just to the side, his hands still aglow with a spell.
"Like a spring chicken," the elf grinned. Over all the confidence, Vilkas caught something else - a tinge of relief and regret. "Sorry, I hit a little bit too strong."
"I can feel that," Vilkas touched his head. Most of the pain was gone, but on touching, he still got a little twang of a bruise.
Farkas dropped his menacing aura and helped him up. After they were both seated comfortably on a quality looking, albeit weather damaged table, he turned back to Nevras.
"So what's the stuff you offer up for the Games?"
"Huh? Oh. Right, I promised to tell, haven't I?" the elf walked over to his outer robes and put them on. "I'm good at enchanting. No need for souls, even though it takes longer than with soul gems. More sustainable, on the plus side."
He looked lost for a moment. Then he snapped back. "I offer up some of the better pieces I make. Leaves more money from the entry fees for the locals."
"You don't believe the College should stay away from the outside?" Vilkas wanted to know.
"Yes and no," Nevras bobbed his head from side to side. "No intervening in large politics? Yes, please. Too dangerous. But helping Winterhold stay afloat? That's reasonable. It is our front yard, too. Do you know how hard it is to get supplies up here? The only reason Urag allowed for outsiders, even more so warriors, to enter his realm was how damn much we'd save on that."
He sighed. "Everyone wants enchanted gear, but no one wants mages around. I don't do what I do just for niceness' sake. Locals like me well enough, even though I am a mage and a dark elf at that."
Vilkas narrowed his eyes at the elf. He didn't fully believe this brutally practical view of his was all there was to it.
But it was not his business to poke into.
Farkas scratched his beard. "How did you learn to fight like that, though?"
Nevras grinned, his emotions yet again slipping behind the cheerful mask. "A family tradition. No one really suspects you when all you have is a stick."
He got up and dusted his buttocks. "May I invite you fine gentlemen for a sip of shein? You won't get a better beverage anywhere."
XXX
They had combed through all the books the librarian took out for them. To not too much avail.
Nevras was sitting next to Vilkas, reading a book of his own.
"Not too happy about the results?" he asked, sensing Vilkas' gaze.
"No."
"That is the nature of doing research on mysterious artefacts of old," the elf shrugged. "At least you have something."
Vilkas looked at his notes. He added a sheet of paper on top where he summarised the most important points. Older than elves. Less known than the Skyforge. Tied to the moons somehow? Allegedly only usable at night. Connections to Lorkhan? Divine or demonic?
Several groups claimed it, but no one stayed for too long. The ones to hold it the longest were the Silver Dawn, a known group of werewolf hunters in the Second Era. They had been evicted after a few generations due to some undescribed dispute with the jarl at the time.
Nevras, reading over his shoulder, sighed. "Seems like you will be leaving soon. A pity."
Vilkas tapped the table. He had been intending to ask Nevras a favour, since they started sparring basically every evening and he seemed to warm up to them.
The elf noticed his being antsy. "What is it?"
"Can I have a look at some other books? Just before we leave."
"Your access hasn't been revoked, so I don't see why not." He got up and winked. "Even if, I don't believe dear master Urag would refuse me, the student of the Arch mage and his favourite book hunter. What are you interested in?"
"Reach magic."
Nevras' eyebrows shot up. "Unusual."
"The…not horrific kind, let's say. No hagravens, no sacrificing people to grow carnivorous trees. More of the…natural spirits type. The wyrd."
"Let me see what we have available."
XXX
Nevras made an appearance! I intended on keeping it small, as I have been planning stuff about Winterhold and the College for a possible new story, but he made a different choice.
Strange, my favourite TES game for certain is Morrowind, but my brain always comes up with more and more stories for Skyrim, specifically. Probably because I feel that story-wise, the game is just so empty. The void needs to be filled.