Arcane Arithmetic: Chapter 1-1

• Posted by Olaf June 30, 2013 - 257 views

   

  -4:09 PM, 4th of Frostfall, Bruma, Cyrodil- 

  "Focus boy!" The old Altmer shouted as he thrust into the younger man's ribs with a cane.

  "Master, I'll not be treated as such, if you want me to focus, then I shall, but I expect some composure on your part as well." Corvus gritted his teeth, burrowing any rude remarks deep inside.

  It wasn't the first time that Vorian beat the young Colovian down to the ground. The elf had high expectancies for a human. Corvus knew Vorian wasn't trying to be rude, Altmer were simply superior to the human races, that's the way it would always be.

  Vorian disregarded the Colovian's demands and urged him on, "Come now, cast the spell again, I'm sure you can do it. "

  Corvus' head throbbed, the Altmer had been ripping him apart through constant draining of his magicka reserves. His arms trembled while casting a spell, a brutal pulse brought an extreme heat to his body each time he did so.

  His hands were perfectly aligned, parallel to each other, combining their energy in beautiful synergy. A mist-like emerald colored orb emanated in between his conductors. His senses soon disappeared one by one. The brittle, cold, of snow that once tapered his focus was diminished. The sound of the elven magician's heavy breathing was no longer audible. His body seemed to go numb, yet he held himself with great ease, he could feel nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, see nothing.

  This seemed to take forever, an everlasting moment of perfect bliss. Until, his senses suddenly leapt back into him with a surprising burst of energy. Sweat trickled down to his eyebrow, a sovereign calidity, recurring once more.

  "Good," The Altmer nodded in approval before continuing, "now pluck an apple off the tree and throw it at me."

  Corvus hesitantly mustered the final bit magicka from his reserves and slowly pulled the apple off, levitating it down directly in front of him, he pushed the ripe fruit towards the elf, and his master caught the delicacy with ease.

   "Was that so hard, my student," the magician inquired, before sinking his teeth into the apple. With his mouth full and succulent juices from the fruit streaming down into his thick white beard, the elf adjourned  the lesson, "Now go, wash up. Meet me back here at nine o' clock sharp. I have a little field trip to conduct tonight. "

   The Colovian grinned at his kind yet distasteful manner of speaking, welcoming the opportunity for rest, at first glance.

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  -9:15 PM, 8th of Frostfall, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim

  "I'm not thanking you, for what you did, now get that insane notion out of your head master!" The young magician growled.

  "You'd be better thanking me, young one. Had you known what I had to go through to do this-"

  "You smuggled me to a different province, I've thought you mad, but never psychotic, why in oblivion would you do this? Wait, no, you didn't just smuggle me normally, you kept me as a hostage and forced me to cross the Jerall Mountains just to arrive at a bloody forest in Skyrim!"

  "By a fish's beard, there were Thalmor patrols, they've been keeping strict laws and forces on those borders. It was the only way to get you here, so while you need not thank me, I know that you do. "

  "NO, I don't. For one, you haven't told me why we're here. This is the most dangerous place in Tamriel, right now. With 'Thuum' berserkers killing everyone, dragons burning down villages, and a civil war. So tell me, why exactly, are we here?"

  Sighing, Vorian curled the ends of his lip and answered, "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

  Blood pumped into Corvus' face, making him look more like a demon than a human. He had to be calm, think of something serene. The damnable elf could be petrifyingly vexing at times. However, as a member of the Altmeri race, he is of course correct, and as a superior being, he must have some decent logic behind the entire idea.

  Corvus nodded, "Sorry for my outrage master. You.. caught me by surprise when we came here."

  "Tis' fine, you are an apprentice for a reason. TO LEARN. Don't bother delving on such bothersome subjects, focus on the arcane and mystical mysteries. Now, I'll give you a clue as to where we are headed, if you figure it out before we arrive, I'll..," The elf's mind went blank. What could he give him that the boy wouldn't find as a bitter, rushed gift or ability?

  "Aha! The flying fish of Atmora I thank ye! Corvus, I shall allow you to practice using your ever-so important sword. In the meantime, spend your time not honing barbaric skills, but refining the fine art of Alteration techniques. " Vorian replied, with a demeaning undertone tone in his otherwise conceited voice.

   Corvus nodded, and took in his surroundings. The climate was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The ground released a thick cloud of moisture, shielding their vision. Trees whispered with every silent gust of wind. Leaves fell down gracefully, performing a dance-like ritual before touching the rich soil of Falkreath. The warmth, there was nothing quite like the warmth. While it wasn't as bitter and satisfying as the frozen mountains near Bruma, it was remarkable to be in such an environment.

   "Now, go on, you enjoy physical activity, so act as a fine slave of the Telvanni, and get a camp ready. " Ordered the elf, throwing a black fur pack of supplies upon the Imperial's boots.

  -------------------------------------------------------

  It took him half an hour to prepare everything. Pitch the small fur tents, prepare the two bed rolls, kindle the fire, and begin cooking. He stared at the flickering jubilancy of the fire's individual flames. Crackling from the warm cooking area, filled up the silence, of the two magicians.

  His mentor, was dressed in nothing but a thin robe, yet he was not cold at all. How odd. He knew him to be resilient to the weather in Bruma, but normally he had a fur cloak on, at the least. Corvus on the other hand, got as close as he could to the fire, shivering slightly from the much cooler night air.

  "Master, how exactly are you so warm?" asked the curious Imperial.

  "Is it not obvious, young one? A spell. Foxskin, as it's called. It simply gives you a little bit of warmth, much like wearing a thin coat in the rain. " Replied the elf.

  "Would you teach it to me?"

  "I'm afraid I don't remember how to teach the artificial warmth spells. If we pass by a town, we could always purchase a spell tome, but for now you'll have to keep yourself warm," Vorian pointed at the fur pack, with an amulet of Julianos hanging out of the pocket, "There's a fur cloak in there if you want it."

  Nodding, Corvus stood up, cracking his back, and shuffled over to the pack. Once he had finished rummaging through the pack, he swung the cloak over his backside and connected the two sides with a small silver chain.

  After about thirty minutes of eating cooked Horker Meat, Corvus finally raised his voice, "Master?"

  "Hm?"

  "You never told me the clue, to where we're headed."

  "AH! Yes Indeed, that is the truth," began Vorian, nodding viciously, "Well, we are em.. heading to the.. laboratory of a genius. A friend of mine, actually. Well, old friend, no.. more of an acquaintance.. or a known person.. as the Nords say-"

  "Master! Just get on with the clue."

  "Fine, fine. Don't be so hasty. Anywho, he sent me a letter, not too long ago, that he has, in his possession a box."

  "A box.."

  The Altmer nodded, "A box."

  "Is there something special, about this.. box?"

  "Of course not! How many special boxes have you seen?!" The Altmer chuckled in disbelief at the young prodigy's poor question.

  "Why do you want it then?"

  "HA! I don't want a box! What kind of lunatic kidnaps his students to find a box?! No, no, I want what's inside. A large, red, holy relic, if you will."

  "A large, red holy, relic? That's not exactly clear. "

  "You'll figure it out in time, though it is abundantly clear."

  Corvus grunted, and laid on the ground, not even going into his bed roll, as he fell asleep, considering all the possibilities of holy relics in a large boxes.