Chapter 5: The first lesson.
“Well, now this is interesting.” Novis thought as he stood in a corner of the great hall. Together with him, there were five people spread about the chamber. Apart from Ei-Rin the Argonian, they were all new faces to him. He saw what looked like a big cat, a really short elf and a greyskinned elf who looked more like a warrior than a mage.
“Wew, three elves and two beasts. This is going to be fun.” The Altmer thought.
He changed his opinion when the Khajiit and the Bosmer threw themselves at each other without warning. The same had happened between Ei-Rin and the Dunmer. Insults, threats and taunts were flung around freely.
“Ah crap, I’m going to be the only student left if it keeps up like this!” Novis pushed himself away from the pillar he’d been leaning against and ran to the center of the room. How to stop the clashing parties? Nodding to himself, he raised a hand at the ceiling and called upon his simple repertoire of spells, amplifying his choice as far as he dared.
An intense beam of light flashed upwards from his hand, spiralling towards the ceiling where it hit with a deafening bang. Novis managed a light smile when he saw that everyone stopped fighting and instead stared at the source of the noise. Then a loud crack reached his ears and he glanced up.
“Frick!” He shouted and dove away before he would be flattened.
Moments after the chaos had ended, the swhirling waters of a shiftgate flowed into existence and deposited Harms on the red carpet. The Imperial shook off the water and looked at his pupils with a dissatisfied expression. He saw three bloody noses, some scratches, some bruises and one clumsy Altmer who wished really hard that he wouldn’t notice the large pile of rubble littering the floor. Harms glanced up at the ceiling and noticed the large gap in it.
“I’ve been away from Tamriel for too long.” He muttered to himself and shook his head.
“It is part of the rules here at the Battlespire that fighting is forbidden unless supervised by Master Borog. This is not Tamriel. Any war fought there will not transfer to this place. Am I clear?” He said loudly.
The group nodded meekly.
“Good. Now since this is the first time and in part my own fault, you will not be punished. Next time however, such transgressions will not be looked on kindly.” He added and dropped the subject.
“Moving back to the schedule, let me give out some quick introductions. Ei-Rin the Argonian, Favel Dres the Dunmer, Novis the Altmer, Bedroth Treesap the Bosmer and Ekapi the Khajiit. Welcome to the Battlespire on the first day of your training. The training consists of classes where you will learn about theoretic and practical subjects, and regular projects which promote self-teaching. Novis, your first project is to find a way to use your shaping talent to get that pile of rubble back where it belongs. On the ceiling. With the carving intact.”
Harms led the group into one of the many hallways.
“For your first day, we’ll be looking at your specific talents and what selection of skills fit best for you. We have twenty years to train five students, so personal training schedules are the norm rather than the exception. Tomorrow we will give you your first real lesson which builds on what we’ll learn about you today.”
Cyrodiil, palace
Separated by the infinite distance of the planes of reality, the Imperial palace was silent and dark during the night. This silence though, was an illusion. If anything, there was twice as much scheming going on right now than during the day. Jagar Tharn was standing on the balcony connected to his room. He had shed his disguise as the emperor and enjoyed the moment of rest. He looked down on the empty streets, a look of sadness in his eyes.
“You’re all being ruled by a grotesque lie. I can’t do this, I can’t keep deceiving everyone.” He shouted into the night, hoping that someone, anyone would hear it.
“You have to keep it up. You know that.” A voice answered. Jagar scowled and turned away from the old Imperial who had appeared out of thin air.
“I know, Aureus. I know. It is just that I don’t know if I can do this.” He said. The Imperial shrugged and looked out over the city without saying a single word.
“Aureus, my friend. Did you do it?” The Imperial Battlemage asked after a while.
“Yes, the bait has been placed and taken. There was a minor complication, so I had to improvise.”
Jagar nodded.
“Good. The plan must be kept on course, whatever the cost. If it fails, we will be set back by years. There has been a complication on my side as well. I have defused most of it, but I still fear that Valenwood and Elsweyr can erupt into open warfare. I want you to go to the border and limit the engagements as much as you can. Do whatever you feel is necessary. And stay away from people’s throats.” He said with a slight chuckle. His vampiric friend hadn’t drunk a drop of blood in the last twothousand years. The Imperial gave a curt nod and vanished the same way he’d appeared. Jagar Tharn clamped the railed. A light breeze tugged at his robe as the air flowed into the manshaped vacuum next to him.
“Yes, the plan must be protected till it has matured, far enough to achieve its goal.”
Battlespire
Novis looked over his shoulder at the rubble he’d left.
“Way to make a first impression. Frick, how am I ever going to get that stuff back on the ceiling? It’s like ten floors up!” He thought and felt like he could kick himself. Something poked him between the ribs without warning and he jumped a bit to the left while looking to the right. The Bosmer gave a jolly smirk and theatrically pulled his thumb back.
“Oh, and apparently the shortie is up to something. Just great.”
“Umm, what?” Novis asked after the tense silence became too much for his nerves.
“What a show! Boom, and the whole ceiling comes down! Whee, the stories they tell about you uptight snobs sure aren’t exaggerated!” The little guy said with an oddly squeeling voice. Novis frowned while he put his hands in his pockets. After his last spell, he didn’t trust his own judgement about what was enough and what was too much.
“Uptight snob?” He instead asked as neutral as he could.
“Well, at least one person is impressed by my act of redecoration. But calling me a snob right afterwards? Frick.”
The Bosmer brought up a hand to his mouth in a show of mock surprise.
“Oops, did I say that out loud? Anyway, I wanted to thank you. That furrball was all over me. Thanks for getting it focussed on the roof coming down.” He replied, still with that squeeling voice. Novis kept himself from shaking his head.
“Don’t tell me this clown is supposed to become a first-class mage.”
“You’re welcome, I guess. But don’t you think that attacking someone who is a head taller than you and outfitted with claws is a bad idea?” The Altmer said with an added touch of sarcasm. While he wouldn’t admit it, he could be a bit snobbish at times. Especially when he thought that someone had done something incredibly stupid.
“Well, I would have stuck with what I do best, turning that furball into a pincushion. But you see, I have a sister and she borrowed the only bow in the family so I was, emptyhanded. I’m Bedroth by the way, call me Bed.” Bedroth whispered in a conspiring tone and stuck out his hand. Novis looked at the hand, but didn’t shake it yet.
“Oh, frick. Now I’m thinking politics. Shake this guy’s hand, and the Khajiit will hate you forever. Hmm, gain the enmity of a pile of claws or a little archer. I guess I’ll take my chances in case he finds a bow around here.” He reasoned with himself and shook the Bosmer’s hand, fully aware of the yellow eyes glaring at his back.
“Ok, Bed. So is your sister called Pillow?” He joked.
“Ok, worst display of humor ever. How often can I screw up during a single day? Wew, now I’ve got to watch my back for the Khajiit. Maybe I should have thought this over a bit more.”
To his surprise, Bedroth actually laughed at the bad humor.
“Pillow?! You’re killing me! Pillow, wait till I tell her that. She’ll go absolutely nuts! I’d better not. It would be bad for you. No, she’s not called Pillow.”
Ahead of the group, Harms stopped at a door made of plain wood. He made a few gestures with his hands and a lock clicked.
“Listen up, everyone. Open spell, one of the first spells you’ll learn. Most doors here are locked with low-level lock spells. I expect that you will be able to open them on your own within a week. Restricted areas are locked with higher-grade spells. You won’t be able to open those till you’ve advanced far enough in your training.” He explained as he led his students through the now open door.
The room beyond the door was as unassuming as the door itself had been. There was a desk on one end, and two desks opposite. A few candles on the wall complemented the scene. What came next was obvious. Harms went behind the single desk and the others all gathered themselves at the other two desks. Novis found himself behind the desk closest to the door, sandwitched between Bedroth and the Dunmer whose name he’d already forgotten.
“Yo, elves got to stick together, don’t you think? Pointy ears forever.” Bedroth commented which made the Dunmer sneer.
“Eh, right.” Novis mumbled.
Harms raised his hand above the table and waited till he was sure of everyone’s full attention. Then, he opened his hand with the palm up and caused a silver dagger to shimmer into view. He held up the dagger for a moment and then allowed it to vanish.
“Shehai. An old Redguard trick so to speak. Handy for opening letters and the like though more commonly used to perform an autopsy on a living subject. Anyway, it is mandatory that every Royal Battlemage masters the Shehai. It is a symbol of our office, so to speak. Not to mention that a Shehai practically means you’ll never be found empty-handed. Unlike the Redguard Ansei though, you will be free in what you choose, as long as it is appropriate. So no pink flowers, please.” He spoke solemnly.
“We had that once, and it was horrible.” The Imperial thought and inwardly laughed at the memories.
“Now, I want you to raise your hand above the desk and focus. Imagine a weapon, any weapon. Now force it into existence, into your hand.”
Everyone did as said. For a while, Novis simply stared at his hand without actually doing anything.
“A weapon? Oh boy, I don’t know what to choose. Ok, I’ll just scrap what I don’t want and take what’s left. A bow, not without arrows. An axe is too heavy, so is a hammer. Sword would be a classic, but one slip and I lose my hands. A dagger, like Harms? Nah, too short. Ah, what the frick. I’ll just go with a piece of wood. Like I’m going to need a weapon after a bazillion ‘how to blow things up’ lessons.”
He focussed, imagining a smooth shaft of wood. Yet his hand remained empty. He focussed harder, going so far as to develop the intricate lines in the wood in his mind. Still nothing happened. Only a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.
“Frick! Why isn’t it working?” He carefully cast a glance at the other pupils. To his relief, no one had actually managed to form a Shehai. Now he didn’t feel like a fool so much. But to his great surprise, Bedroth had conjured a grey whisp of smoke which he was now trying to stretch and press into a shape only he knew, with wild gestures of his hands.
“You’re kidding me. An Altmer like me completely fails at this simple starter’s test and a little clown manages. Frick!”
Novis threw himself back on the test with doubled efforts. A single moment, he thought he saw a small spark leap across his fingers, though it might just be a reflection of the candlelight on his golden skin.
“And even if it isn’t, I’m probably casting a lightning spell which is not what I’m looking for.” He thought when someone clapped his hands. Everyone looked up. Bedroth’s smoky construct vanished without a trace.
“I’d say that is enough for now. The Shehai is a complex idea, a realization of will. It takes weeks to master its basic form and years to reveal its true potential. You’ll practice many times but for now, we have other things scheduled.”
Harms turned to the wall behind him and muttered an incantation, too soft for his pupils to hear. It wouldn’t do them any good even if they did hear. The vocal part of any spell is merely an aid to help focus. The real spell is formed in the mind, an abstract result of will, imagination and focus. He couldn’t help but laugh whenever he heard of how a supposedly almighty mage was defeated simply because he had been silenced. That mage hadn’t been defeated by his enemy, but by his own belief that vocalizing was an essential part. In essence, he had silenced himself by believing in the effect of the spell cast upon him.
As he finished his incantation, the wall vanished, first becoming transparent before losing all visibility. Behind the wall, a second room was revealed, one filled with all kinds of arcane tools, books and an ordinary broom.
“Namely, trying to figure out what kind of spells you are best suited for. To do that, we have a nice little gadget, a relic we once got from the Psijic order. Quite a nice item.” He said while rummaging through the racks and boxes till he found what he needed.
The ‘gadget’ was a miniature mockup of Nirn with Masser and Secunda, all suspended above a bronze dome by metal rings. At each side of the dome, there were two handholds. The Imperial tapped Masser with his finger and pushed it along its ring to see if everything was smoothly functioning. He repeated the process with Nirn and Secunda before he gave a satisfied nod and planted the peculiar object on the table.
“Now let’s see, who to begin with? Ah, Bedroth, why don’t you come forward?” He spoke and waved the little Bosmer over with his hand. Bedroth grinned sheepishly and hopped over his desk and landed near the Battlemage.
“Show-off.” Ekapi the Khajiit whispered, yet still loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Well, even though I’ve just allied myself against you, I concur. That was pure showing off.” Novis thought.
“Now, grab onto the handholds with both hands. No need to hold tightly, just a light touch is enough.” Harms instructed and watched as Bedroth took hold of the mockup.
“Good, let’s begin. Now focus as well as you can. Imagine a wall of pure force around you, a wall that can shield you from anything that might happen to be flying, from the smallest pebble to the largest mountain.” The grey Imperial instructed next. Bedroth looked like he didn’t quite know what to think of this but he complied, trying his best to imagine what a flying mountain would be like in the process. Before everyone’s eyes, Masser and Secunda trembled but they did not move. Harms frowned as he looked at the object and poked in the air with his finger, till he touched the Bosmer’s forehead who let out a surprised yelp.
“Hmm, nothing. Alright then, let’s move on to the next one. Imagine that you’re invisible, that no one can see you no matter how hard they try. I’m not talking about hiding in the shadows here, I’m talking about not being seen despite standing in broad daylight right in front of someone’s nose.” He said next and again the two moons trembled upon the elaborate construction but they still didn’t move. Harms brought out several more ideas, all with the same result. Finally, he dismissed Bedroth and the Bosmer returned to his seat, looking rather glum after his failure.
“Perhaps….perhaps it isn’t working right. I need to find out.” Harms thought out loud.
“Very well. Novis, you are so far the only one who has already displayed skill with Magicka so you shall take the test next. Not only will we find out where your talents lie, but I’ll also see if this thing isn’t broken. The Divines know it’s a thousand years older than it should.” He waved over the Altmer. Novis moved past Bedroth on his way to the desk.
“Yo, maybe you could….screw up or something. Just to not make me look bad.” The little guy whispered at the considerably taller elf.
Novis shook his head slightly.
“And look bad myself? No way. Though I do wonder why there was no reaction. I mean, he was the best at the Shehai earlier.”
Novis gripped the handholds like Bedroth had before him and focussed on the test. He began with the wall of force. As soon as he focussed, Masser and Secunda slowly but surely began to orbit the miniature Nirn.
“It does work as it should.” Harms mumbled and barked a whole list of orders right afterwards. Novis did his best to keep up. At times, Masser and Secunda would slow down while at others, they would accelerate. After barely a minute, Harms gave his last order, to imagine himself suddenly standing somewhere else without having moved. With a loud clash of falling metal, the ancient device dropped to the floor and broke into countless pieces, exposing its internal mechanisms of gears and springs.
“Frick!” Novis shouted half in surprise, half in fear of what new punishment he might receive for breaking everything.
“First the roof, now this. How often can I screw up on one day? Well, at least I gave Bedroth his wish. I screwed up and made myself look bad. Damn, who knew that thing was so heavy without a table to support it?” He thought to himself. When he warily glanced at Harms, he saw that the Imperial was rubbing his goatee while looking at the mess with an odd expression.
“The rest of todays lessons shall be delayed. Return to your rooms. Those of you who arrived today, ask one of your fellow students to show you where to look.” He spoke and the class filed out towards the door.
“Novis, follow me.” Harms ordered as he went off in the opposite direction.
“Frick! I’m toast!”
Harms eventually led Novis into an office. Like with the hidden room of earlier, it was cramped with all kinds of odd curiosities as well as a large pile of scrolls filled with jerky writing. Novis heard the door close with a feeling of impending doom. The blank gaze the imperial transfixed upon him brought his nerves to the point of exploding.
“What do you have to say?” The Battlemage eventually asked with a voice that was barely heard over the silence in the room.
“Er..I’m really sorry. I didn’t meant to….I mean…I” Novis stammered. Harms cut him off by raising his hand.
“It is not the first time someone broke it. Breaking is part of learning how to build. No, I want to know what you thought of your teleportation. Or rather, what you thought during your teleportation.” He explained. Novis let out the breath he didn’t knew he had been holding. He wasn’t going to be punished for that, it seemed.
“Well, nothing. I don’t remember thinking anything.”
Harms turned away and looked at a large painted view of the Imperial city from a nearby mountainside.
“There are many kinds of teleportation, yet they all have one thing in common. They require a destination, an image. That is how the mark and recall combo operates. The mark forms an image, an ‘anchor’ for the recall. In some places, like Vvardenfell in the east, the temples of the local gods are marked with a symbol that acts as an anchor for any believer who wishes to teleport to the nearest temple. As a result, teleportation is bound to a single plane, for one cannot create an image of a plane one has never seen.” He spoke with his back turned.
“Yet, all teleportation is an area of effect by its very definition. All desired parts, like the limbs, need to be transported. Not to mention variables, like clothing. As such, teleportation is done in the form of a sphere in which everything is transported, even the ground. Therefore, the advice to all teleporters to jump before teleportation. But that was not the case here.”
The old man took a short pause, long enough for Novis to shift uncomfortably.
“I know the sound of air filling a spherical vacuum as left after teleportation. Yet this time, the sound was different. An irregular vacuum, skintight and taking only that which was desired to be teleported, without any conscious effort on your part. You didn’t even take the time to form yourself an image. And there is only one conclusion I can draw.” He turned around and fell silent again. After a long wait, he spoke.
“You are dismissed, Novis. Go to the library and get a book that details the architecture of the Battlespire, you will need it in order to repair the ceiling. That is all.”
After Novis had left, Harms again turned towards the painting.
“It is in his blood to shift from place to place, across the planes if needed. The answers are hard to find, yet I must persevere. I will ask my friends to aid me.”
On to the next chapter
“Well, now this is interesting.” Novis thought as he stood in a corner of the great hall. Together with him, there were five people spread about the chamber. Apart from Ei-Rin the Argonian, they were all new faces to him. He saw what looked like a big cat, a really short elf and a greyskinned elf who looked more like a warrior than a mage.
“Wew, three elves and two beasts. This is going to be fun.” The Altmer thought.
He changed his opinion when the Khajiit and the Bosmer threw themselves at each other without warning. The same had happened between Ei-Rin and the Dunmer. Insults, threats and taunts were flung around freely.
“Ah crap, I’m going to be the only student left if it keeps up like this!” Novis pushed himself away from the pillar he’d been leaning against and ran to the center of the room. How to stop the clashing parties? Nodding to himself, he raised a hand at the ceiling and called upon his simple repertoire of spells, amplifying his choice as far as he dared.
An intense beam of light flashed upwards from his hand, spiralling towards the ceiling where it hit with a deafening bang. Novis managed a light smile when he saw that everyone stopped fighting and instead stared at the source of the noise. Then a loud crack reached his ears and he glanced up.
“Frick!” He shouted and dove away before he would be flattened.
Moments after the chaos had ended, the swhirling waters of a shiftgate flowed into existence and deposited Harms on the red carpet. The Imperial shook off the water and looked at his pupils with a dissatisfied expression. He saw three bloody noses, some scratches, some bruises and one clumsy Altmer who wished really hard that he wouldn’t notice the large pile of rubble littering the floor. Harms glanced up at the ceiling and noticed the large gap in it.
“I’ve been away from Tamriel for too long.” He muttered to himself and shook his head.
“It is part of the rules here at the Battlespire that fighting is forbidden unless supervised by Master Borog. This is not Tamriel. Any war fought there will not transfer to this place. Am I clear?” He said loudly.
The group nodded meekly.
“Good. Now since this is the first time and in part my own fault, you will not be punished. Next time however, such transgressions will not be looked on kindly.” He added and dropped the subject.
“Moving back to the schedule, let me give out some quick introductions. Ei-Rin the Argonian, Favel Dres the Dunmer, Novis the Altmer, Bedroth Treesap the Bosmer and Ekapi the Khajiit. Welcome to the Battlespire on the first day of your training. The training consists of classes where you will learn about theoretic and practical subjects, and regular projects which promote self-teaching. Novis, your first project is to find a way to use your shaping talent to get that pile of rubble back where it belongs. On the ceiling. With the carving intact.”
Harms led the group into one of the many hallways.
“For your first day, we’ll be looking at your specific talents and what selection of skills fit best for you. We have twenty years to train five students, so personal training schedules are the norm rather than the exception. Tomorrow we will give you your first real lesson which builds on what we’ll learn about you today.”
Cyrodiil, palace
Separated by the infinite distance of the planes of reality, the Imperial palace was silent and dark during the night. This silence though, was an illusion. If anything, there was twice as much scheming going on right now than during the day. Jagar Tharn was standing on the balcony connected to his room. He had shed his disguise as the emperor and enjoyed the moment of rest. He looked down on the empty streets, a look of sadness in his eyes.
“You’re all being ruled by a grotesque lie. I can’t do this, I can’t keep deceiving everyone.” He shouted into the night, hoping that someone, anyone would hear it.
“You have to keep it up. You know that.” A voice answered. Jagar scowled and turned away from the old Imperial who had appeared out of thin air.
“I know, Aureus. I know. It is just that I don’t know if I can do this.” He said. The Imperial shrugged and looked out over the city without saying a single word.
“Aureus, my friend. Did you do it?” The Imperial Battlemage asked after a while.
“Yes, the bait has been placed and taken. There was a minor complication, so I had to improvise.”
Jagar nodded.
“Good. The plan must be kept on course, whatever the cost. If it fails, we will be set back by years. There has been a complication on my side as well. I have defused most of it, but I still fear that Valenwood and Elsweyr can erupt into open warfare. I want you to go to the border and limit the engagements as much as you can. Do whatever you feel is necessary. And stay away from people’s throats.” He said with a slight chuckle. His vampiric friend hadn’t drunk a drop of blood in the last twothousand years. The Imperial gave a curt nod and vanished the same way he’d appeared. Jagar Tharn clamped the railed. A light breeze tugged at his robe as the air flowed into the manshaped vacuum next to him.
“Yes, the plan must be protected till it has matured, far enough to achieve its goal.”
Battlespire
Novis looked over his shoulder at the rubble he’d left.
“Way to make a first impression. Frick, how am I ever going to get that stuff back on the ceiling? It’s like ten floors up!” He thought and felt like he could kick himself. Something poked him between the ribs without warning and he jumped a bit to the left while looking to the right. The Bosmer gave a jolly smirk and theatrically pulled his thumb back.
“Oh, and apparently the shortie is up to something. Just great.”
“Umm, what?” Novis asked after the tense silence became too much for his nerves.
“What a show! Boom, and the whole ceiling comes down! Whee, the stories they tell about you uptight snobs sure aren’t exaggerated!” The little guy said with an oddly squeeling voice. Novis frowned while he put his hands in his pockets. After his last spell, he didn’t trust his own judgement about what was enough and what was too much.
“Uptight snob?” He instead asked as neutral as he could.
“Well, at least one person is impressed by my act of redecoration. But calling me a snob right afterwards? Frick.”
The Bosmer brought up a hand to his mouth in a show of mock surprise.
“Oops, did I say that out loud? Anyway, I wanted to thank you. That furrball was all over me. Thanks for getting it focussed on the roof coming down.” He replied, still with that squeeling voice. Novis kept himself from shaking his head.
“Don’t tell me this clown is supposed to become a first-class mage.”
“You’re welcome, I guess. But don’t you think that attacking someone who is a head taller than you and outfitted with claws is a bad idea?” The Altmer said with an added touch of sarcasm. While he wouldn’t admit it, he could be a bit snobbish at times. Especially when he thought that someone had done something incredibly stupid.
“Well, I would have stuck with what I do best, turning that furball into a pincushion. But you see, I have a sister and she borrowed the only bow in the family so I was, emptyhanded. I’m Bedroth by the way, call me Bed.” Bedroth whispered in a conspiring tone and stuck out his hand. Novis looked at the hand, but didn’t shake it yet.
“Oh, frick. Now I’m thinking politics. Shake this guy’s hand, and the Khajiit will hate you forever. Hmm, gain the enmity of a pile of claws or a little archer. I guess I’ll take my chances in case he finds a bow around here.” He reasoned with himself and shook the Bosmer’s hand, fully aware of the yellow eyes glaring at his back.
“Ok, Bed. So is your sister called Pillow?” He joked.
“Ok, worst display of humor ever. How often can I screw up during a single day? Wew, now I’ve got to watch my back for the Khajiit. Maybe I should have thought this over a bit more.”
To his surprise, Bedroth actually laughed at the bad humor.
“Pillow?! You’re killing me! Pillow, wait till I tell her that. She’ll go absolutely nuts! I’d better not. It would be bad for you. No, she’s not called Pillow.”
Ahead of the group, Harms stopped at a door made of plain wood. He made a few gestures with his hands and a lock clicked.
“Listen up, everyone. Open spell, one of the first spells you’ll learn. Most doors here are locked with low-level lock spells. I expect that you will be able to open them on your own within a week. Restricted areas are locked with higher-grade spells. You won’t be able to open those till you’ve advanced far enough in your training.” He explained as he led his students through the now open door.
The room beyond the door was as unassuming as the door itself had been. There was a desk on one end, and two desks opposite. A few candles on the wall complemented the scene. What came next was obvious. Harms went behind the single desk and the others all gathered themselves at the other two desks. Novis found himself behind the desk closest to the door, sandwitched between Bedroth and the Dunmer whose name he’d already forgotten.
“Yo, elves got to stick together, don’t you think? Pointy ears forever.” Bedroth commented which made the Dunmer sneer.
“Eh, right.” Novis mumbled.
Harms raised his hand above the table and waited till he was sure of everyone’s full attention. Then, he opened his hand with the palm up and caused a silver dagger to shimmer into view. He held up the dagger for a moment and then allowed it to vanish.
“Shehai. An old Redguard trick so to speak. Handy for opening letters and the like though more commonly used to perform an autopsy on a living subject. Anyway, it is mandatory that every Royal Battlemage masters the Shehai. It is a symbol of our office, so to speak. Not to mention that a Shehai practically means you’ll never be found empty-handed. Unlike the Redguard Ansei though, you will be free in what you choose, as long as it is appropriate. So no pink flowers, please.” He spoke solemnly.
“We had that once, and it was horrible.” The Imperial thought and inwardly laughed at the memories.
“Now, I want you to raise your hand above the desk and focus. Imagine a weapon, any weapon. Now force it into existence, into your hand.”
Everyone did as said. For a while, Novis simply stared at his hand without actually doing anything.
“A weapon? Oh boy, I don’t know what to choose. Ok, I’ll just scrap what I don’t want and take what’s left. A bow, not without arrows. An axe is too heavy, so is a hammer. Sword would be a classic, but one slip and I lose my hands. A dagger, like Harms? Nah, too short. Ah, what the frick. I’ll just go with a piece of wood. Like I’m going to need a weapon after a bazillion ‘how to blow things up’ lessons.”
He focussed, imagining a smooth shaft of wood. Yet his hand remained empty. He focussed harder, going so far as to develop the intricate lines in the wood in his mind. Still nothing happened. Only a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.
“Frick! Why isn’t it working?” He carefully cast a glance at the other pupils. To his relief, no one had actually managed to form a Shehai. Now he didn’t feel like a fool so much. But to his great surprise, Bedroth had conjured a grey whisp of smoke which he was now trying to stretch and press into a shape only he knew, with wild gestures of his hands.
“You’re kidding me. An Altmer like me completely fails at this simple starter’s test and a little clown manages. Frick!”
Novis threw himself back on the test with doubled efforts. A single moment, he thought he saw a small spark leap across his fingers, though it might just be a reflection of the candlelight on his golden skin.
“And even if it isn’t, I’m probably casting a lightning spell which is not what I’m looking for.” He thought when someone clapped his hands. Everyone looked up. Bedroth’s smoky construct vanished without a trace.
“I’d say that is enough for now. The Shehai is a complex idea, a realization of will. It takes weeks to master its basic form and years to reveal its true potential. You’ll practice many times but for now, we have other things scheduled.”
Harms turned to the wall behind him and muttered an incantation, too soft for his pupils to hear. It wouldn’t do them any good even if they did hear. The vocal part of any spell is merely an aid to help focus. The real spell is formed in the mind, an abstract result of will, imagination and focus. He couldn’t help but laugh whenever he heard of how a supposedly almighty mage was defeated simply because he had been silenced. That mage hadn’t been defeated by his enemy, but by his own belief that vocalizing was an essential part. In essence, he had silenced himself by believing in the effect of the spell cast upon him.
As he finished his incantation, the wall vanished, first becoming transparent before losing all visibility. Behind the wall, a second room was revealed, one filled with all kinds of arcane tools, books and an ordinary broom.
“Namely, trying to figure out what kind of spells you are best suited for. To do that, we have a nice little gadget, a relic we once got from the Psijic order. Quite a nice item.” He said while rummaging through the racks and boxes till he found what he needed.
The ‘gadget’ was a miniature mockup of Nirn with Masser and Secunda, all suspended above a bronze dome by metal rings. At each side of the dome, there were two handholds. The Imperial tapped Masser with his finger and pushed it along its ring to see if everything was smoothly functioning. He repeated the process with Nirn and Secunda before he gave a satisfied nod and planted the peculiar object on the table.
“Now let’s see, who to begin with? Ah, Bedroth, why don’t you come forward?” He spoke and waved the little Bosmer over with his hand. Bedroth grinned sheepishly and hopped over his desk and landed near the Battlemage.
“Show-off.” Ekapi the Khajiit whispered, yet still loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Well, even though I’ve just allied myself against you, I concur. That was pure showing off.” Novis thought.
“Now, grab onto the handholds with both hands. No need to hold tightly, just a light touch is enough.” Harms instructed and watched as Bedroth took hold of the mockup.
“Good, let’s begin. Now focus as well as you can. Imagine a wall of pure force around you, a wall that can shield you from anything that might happen to be flying, from the smallest pebble to the largest mountain.” The grey Imperial instructed next. Bedroth looked like he didn’t quite know what to think of this but he complied, trying his best to imagine what a flying mountain would be like in the process. Before everyone’s eyes, Masser and Secunda trembled but they did not move. Harms frowned as he looked at the object and poked in the air with his finger, till he touched the Bosmer’s forehead who let out a surprised yelp.
“Hmm, nothing. Alright then, let’s move on to the next one. Imagine that you’re invisible, that no one can see you no matter how hard they try. I’m not talking about hiding in the shadows here, I’m talking about not being seen despite standing in broad daylight right in front of someone’s nose.” He said next and again the two moons trembled upon the elaborate construction but they still didn’t move. Harms brought out several more ideas, all with the same result. Finally, he dismissed Bedroth and the Bosmer returned to his seat, looking rather glum after his failure.
“Perhaps….perhaps it isn’t working right. I need to find out.” Harms thought out loud.
“Very well. Novis, you are so far the only one who has already displayed skill with Magicka so you shall take the test next. Not only will we find out where your talents lie, but I’ll also see if this thing isn’t broken. The Divines know it’s a thousand years older than it should.” He waved over the Altmer. Novis moved past Bedroth on his way to the desk.
“Yo, maybe you could….screw up or something. Just to not make me look bad.” The little guy whispered at the considerably taller elf.
Novis shook his head slightly.
“And look bad myself? No way. Though I do wonder why there was no reaction. I mean, he was the best at the Shehai earlier.”
Novis gripped the handholds like Bedroth had before him and focussed on the test. He began with the wall of force. As soon as he focussed, Masser and Secunda slowly but surely began to orbit the miniature Nirn.
“It does work as it should.” Harms mumbled and barked a whole list of orders right afterwards. Novis did his best to keep up. At times, Masser and Secunda would slow down while at others, they would accelerate. After barely a minute, Harms gave his last order, to imagine himself suddenly standing somewhere else without having moved. With a loud clash of falling metal, the ancient device dropped to the floor and broke into countless pieces, exposing its internal mechanisms of gears and springs.
“Frick!” Novis shouted half in surprise, half in fear of what new punishment he might receive for breaking everything.
“First the roof, now this. How often can I screw up on one day? Well, at least I gave Bedroth his wish. I screwed up and made myself look bad. Damn, who knew that thing was so heavy without a table to support it?” He thought to himself. When he warily glanced at Harms, he saw that the Imperial was rubbing his goatee while looking at the mess with an odd expression.
“The rest of todays lessons shall be delayed. Return to your rooms. Those of you who arrived today, ask one of your fellow students to show you where to look.” He spoke and the class filed out towards the door.
“Novis, follow me.” Harms ordered as he went off in the opposite direction.
“Frick! I’m toast!”
Harms eventually led Novis into an office. Like with the hidden room of earlier, it was cramped with all kinds of odd curiosities as well as a large pile of scrolls filled with jerky writing. Novis heard the door close with a feeling of impending doom. The blank gaze the imperial transfixed upon him brought his nerves to the point of exploding.
“What do you have to say?” The Battlemage eventually asked with a voice that was barely heard over the silence in the room.
“Er..I’m really sorry. I didn’t meant to….I mean…I” Novis stammered. Harms cut him off by raising his hand.
“It is not the first time someone broke it. Breaking is part of learning how to build. No, I want to know what you thought of your teleportation. Or rather, what you thought during your teleportation.” He explained. Novis let out the breath he didn’t knew he had been holding. He wasn’t going to be punished for that, it seemed.
“Well, nothing. I don’t remember thinking anything.”
Harms turned away and looked at a large painted view of the Imperial city from a nearby mountainside.
“There are many kinds of teleportation, yet they all have one thing in common. They require a destination, an image. That is how the mark and recall combo operates. The mark forms an image, an ‘anchor’ for the recall. In some places, like Vvardenfell in the east, the temples of the local gods are marked with a symbol that acts as an anchor for any believer who wishes to teleport to the nearest temple. As a result, teleportation is bound to a single plane, for one cannot create an image of a plane one has never seen.” He spoke with his back turned.
“Yet, all teleportation is an area of effect by its very definition. All desired parts, like the limbs, need to be transported. Not to mention variables, like clothing. As such, teleportation is done in the form of a sphere in which everything is transported, even the ground. Therefore, the advice to all teleporters to jump before teleportation. But that was not the case here.”
The old man took a short pause, long enough for Novis to shift uncomfortably.
“I know the sound of air filling a spherical vacuum as left after teleportation. Yet this time, the sound was different. An irregular vacuum, skintight and taking only that which was desired to be teleported, without any conscious effort on your part. You didn’t even take the time to form yourself an image. And there is only one conclusion I can draw.” He turned around and fell silent again. After a long wait, he spoke.
“You are dismissed, Novis. Go to the library and get a book that details the architecture of the Battlespire, you will need it in order to repair the ceiling. That is all.”
After Novis had left, Harms again turned towards the painting.
“It is in his blood to shift from place to place, across the planes if needed. The answers are hard to find, yet I must persevere. I will ask my friends to aid me.”
On to the next chapter