The Lone Study
The Mages Guild was a strange place.
I, never being proficient in magic, had only ever gone there for the occasional potion or tonic; my needs were simple home remedies easily procured from them for a pittance. The times I had gone had been thankfully brief. Yet, every time I had gone had been a time that I had seen some strangely curious things.
Mages are, by nature, secretive and furtive. An entire guild of them? Strange sights were sure to abound.
I knew this was to be a memorable trip when the stone atronach opened the door to the guild. An impassive face reminiscent of Nordic art adorned the loose collection of rocks; it’s walrus/man countenance floating atop of the semi-formed stones that clattered nosily together. I and the Ordinator who followed me, Nevelion Indoril, blinked several times in confusion. The stone atronach floated there as this mass of stones, bound together by thin tendrils of magicka. I began to speak when a young Argonian clad in a flowing blue mages robe squeezed past the atronach and barred the door.
“Hold hold!” She squawked in a raspy voice, “You people have already been here once before! We are in the middle of a very important event!” “Aqua-Lung please do be so kind…” Nevelion spoke in his friendly manner, “As to let us back in? Your Arch-Mage is still missing you know.”
“There’s a new Arch-Mage!” The Argonian, Aqua-Lung, stuck her nose in the air, “Or at least very soon! There’s a vote going on this moment.”
“A vote…so soon?” I asked cautiously. She looked at me with an incredulous “Just who do you think you are” look?
“Aqua-Lung my dear,” Nevelion put a friendly hand on my shoulder, “Please. Don’t make me get the High Ordinator. We don’t want another Lorenio incident do we?”
The Argonian sea-green eyes went pale and her hands quivered. No doubt the Lorenio incident was a cause of friction between the Ordinators and the Mages. Her back stiffened and she nodded; with a wave of her hands the stone atronach disappeared in a puff of foul smelling smoke. Nevelion gave me an approving thumbs-up and held the door open for me. I rolled my eyes at him and went through, steeping into the Mages guild proper.
It was darkened, multi-storied room, festooned with shelves and desks that held all kinds of magical curiosities. Jars and containers of glowing ooze and slime; fragrant flowers and foul-smelling offal; and the faint twinkling of magical energies flowing through brightened prisms. The room was dimly lit by floating balls of energy, incensed by the splendor of smells from all the potions and reagents that were contained in the room. It was a miracle that anything was done at all in such a whirlwind of magic and wonder.
I got a good look now at the Argonian, or at least as good as I could in this dim light. She was a youngling, no more than twenty at best guess, and an associate of the guild at best. Her robes were a simple cerulean affair with deep pockets; I could see from the splatters on her sleeve cuffs that she was dabbling in alchemy, and the burns on the tips of her fingers showed that her grasp of Destruction was rudimentary. Her scales were a sun-starved cream that at one time must’ve been yellow, and her back slightly bent from hours poring over books; she shifted from one foot to other impatiently and glared when she caught me looking. One hand was clasped over a belly pregnant with eggs; she was no more than a month from her first laying.
“Aqua-Lung,” Nevelion pulled in and shut the door behind him, “Allow me to introduce the Inquisitor, Gannicus Varro.”
“Inquisitor?” She huffed and ignored my effort to shake hands, “Is that really necessary sera? Couldn’t the Ordinators handle this?”
“The Ordinators refuse to handle this.” I pushed past her, “Which is why I was contracted out.”
I made my way to the main atrium through a dark hall, moving past several floating books, each turned to a page filled with magical symbols and runes. The darkened halls hid stranger things yet, and as I passed the numerous rooms flanking the hall I beheld self-stirring cauldrons, alien looking plants, torches and candles that burned ice and lightning, and quills that danced autonomously on parchment. On the way in I tripped over a curious looking frog-like creature that had lain half hidden in the relative darkness of the hallway. It croaked loudly and I banged my right knee hard against the smooth marble floor. Turning back towards the creature I rubbed my knee in pain and was shocked to see it had human’s face. It croaked again, looking almost comical as a decidedly frog noise came from a human mouth. The face was undeniably human, stitched by some ethereal surgeon onto the face of a common toad. The lazy eyes pointing in different directions settled on me, the wet lips quivering before producing a croaking, “Damn rude of you…”
I was full of questions. Before I could even think next though, Aqua-Lung followed and banished the thing with a wave of her hands. I stared at her with what I tried to portray as annoyance. She stared back and I knew my face was something more akin to sheer confusion.
“D-Don’t leave your playthings in the hall…” I stuttered as if she was a child that had left her toys behind. It was the best I could come up with. She huffed and pointed her sanctimonious nose up at me. Nevelion chuckled behind her and pulled a candy from a pouch on his belt, popping the sweet treat in his mouth.
I got up and limped forward into the main atrium proper. Aqua-Lung huffed again and strode ahead to cut me off.
The room ahead was a large auditorium. Various doors and hallways adorned the walls, leading off into yet stranger areas of the guild. The identifying feature of the room was a grand staircase leading up into the Archmage’s quarters. The staircase was made of polished marble, each step glittering with a sheen that was clearly showed it to be enchanted. Staring too long into the swirling patterns inlaid on the stone, I found myself thinking of the stars come to earth. Tearing my eyes away, I noticed that the banisters that flanked the staircase were a polished mahogany; each banister was the nude image of woman, turning into a mermaid and back again as the stairs led up.
But more noticeable was the collection of magi that stood dead center of the room. Each one was cloaked in flowing robes, the color of nightshade; each one had their arms lifted in supplication, their mouths opened in a long chant of eldritch poeticism. The magi, there was five of them, stood on the tips of a star; this was drawn on the floor in what I thought was blue paint, but upon further inspection I noticed that it was white paint glowing blue.
The air cackled with invisible life, a drawing of the magic that pervaded the universe. Walking through the air was like wading through thick mud; a marshy sickness that filled your lungs with its humid air until you noticed too late that you were drowning.
I cleared my throat. The mage’s ignored me. I cleared my throat again. And again, nothing. Once more I did, this time tapping one on the shoulder of one. He ignored me and instead the poetic portending increased in volume. Now I knew they were having me. For my next recourse, I took a nearby jade figurine off a shelf, an atronach in a kneeling position, and I chucked at nearest mage. It sailed beautifully through air, a perfectly spiral, and clocked the individual clearly in the knee.
“What in Oblivion!?” The poetic structure of their song ended, and the individual whom I had struck started hopping around on one leg and holding his knee. The star on the floor abruptly faded and we were left in near total darkness, save for the wall scones. The others had all turned to me, faces hooded and in shadows.
“Hello!” I wiggled my fingers in mock cheerfulness.
Aqua-Lung, panic-stricken, clapped her hands twice and the dimly lit scones flared in intensity. The atrium was now clear to see and that illuminating light cleared some of the magic from my mind. Whereas deep shadows created illusions in the mind eyes, I could now see clearly. The five magi, with the light of truth showing them out, lowered their hoods. Five of them, a cloaked Midget of undeterminable origin, two Dunmer, a Nord, and an Imperial like me. They all looked pissed.
“I hope you have license for this ceremony?” Nevelion said cheerfully, “I don’t recall seeing this pass through temple channels?”
“Bureacratic milk-sop!” The Nord cried out, “A selection must be made! We have no time for-“
The Nord was countered in argument by the hearty laugh of Nevelion. It was off-putting, how jocund and jolly this Ordinator was. He remained an enigma to me. Out of all Ordinators he was an outlier, a renegade, different from the norm. He took the traditional image of a taciturn and gruff member of Indoril and turned it on its head. Indeed he was quite talkative and affable in nature, but with a certain darkness underneath that I knew hid a trained killer. Mark my words, Nevelion knew blood and would know it again before his life’s end.
“I’m just messing with you dear Magi…” He chuckled. “I understand your need for leadership, as a bureaucratic milk-sop. Timing is a question of course, but I perfectly understand.”
“Oh,” The Imperial said, “Then why are-“
“-Honestly though.” Nevelion became deadly serious. “If I catch wind of any necromancy or non-sanctioned magic here I will carve your heart out.”
There was a round of nervous chuckling from the mages, quickly cut off when Nevelion did not join their merriment. Perhaps I did like him after all.
“Quite a party we have here.” I said surveying the room, “A little ceremony to decide the next Arch-Mage?”
Aqua-Lung beside me gave a quick nod and the other followed suit. I crinkled my nose and smell the acidic scent of burned reagents in the air. The light was slightly dimmed by the motes of dust and burned ingredients.
“That’s fast…” I mentioned and walked around, staring each mage in the face, “Why in such a hurry to pick a new one? Not worried about your Arch-Mage missing?”
“The Arch-Mage was on his way out anyway,” The Imperial Mage said. He was a young man with an eyepatch, a rune etched on its black surface. “He’s mentioned retiring soon. Thus, why wait?”
“And it didn’t worry you that he disappeared from a locked room?” I asked.
“He’s a master of mysticism sera.” One of the Dunmer said. He was dour looking individual matched with a woman who clung to his sleeve, “No doubt he used a spell to travel to some outer plane.”
“And has he ever been gone so long?” I asked incredulously.
“No, but…” The Nord with a drooping mustache said, “He wasn’t very popular at any rate. The Guild in Morrowind has been absent effective leadership for too long and I for one-“
“You think you can be the Arch-Mage?” Hissed the Midget with the hunchback, “Over my dead body Hjalti! You and your experiments are a blasphemy!”
“I’ll blaspheme you into Oblivion Ratt-Man!” The Nord, Hjalti said as his hands brimmed with magical electricity, “You ever rode the lightning!?”
“We all know your experiments are going nowhere Hjalti!” The Dunmer said, nettled. “No doubt you’d use Guild funds for another cockamamie experiment!”
“As if you’re one to talk Uruyn!” Hjalti drooping mustache stood out with static, “Or do I have to remind you of the time you used your alchemy to cause acne?”
“It’s a skin lightening cream Hjalti, and you know I’m working on it!” The Dunmer answered back, “Besides, at least I’m more competent then Laertius One-Eye over there!”
“Honestly,” Laertius answered, “I’m just happy to be considered.”
Thus began a round of in-fighting and argument that set the guild alight. The five magisters roared and raged against each other with accusations and sharps word flying. Aqua-Lung looked at us with an expression of disbelief and Nevelion sucked hungrily at a candy while picking his nails. It was when lightning from Hjalti’s fingertips sparked that Nevelion stepped in.
“Ho-Ho-HO!” He yelled and waved his arms, “Calm now wizards, calm! Don’t make me call the guard!”
The five settled down and glared sullenly at us. Aqua-Lung began to speak and was silenced by a harsh look from the others.
“While the intricacies of the guild politics are interesting I’m sure.” I said, “I’d rather not partake of them. I need to see the Arch-Mage’s study if you please. Oh, and don’t leave. I’m sure that Nevelion here wouldn’t enjoy it.”
Nevelion smiled a toothy grin. The mages sneered and glared hot death, but remained silent. Good for them. I wasn’t in any mood for their antics and was more than glad for Nevelion to work his ways. I rubbed the bald spot on my head, which itched annoyingly, and made my way up the grand stair to the Arch-Mage’s study.
We went in, Nevelion and I, and I braced for the signs of either a kidnapping or a rushed exit from the city. There was nothing.
I breathed out a sigh of exasperation. The Mages Guild, with its strange sights and magical elements had made me feel awkward and out of place; it was one thing to mix among the criminal element and root out the enemies of the Empire, but another thing entirely when you have to mix with those who shape reality with the power of Aetherius. But the Arch-Mage’s study was simpler, homier, almost inviting.
There was a long desk that looked well used with its littering of books and stains of spilled potions, two bookcases (stuffed full of ancient tomes and colorful novels of the pulp variety), and a lavish fireplace glowing with magical coals that never died. There was a scale-model Colovian mountain range; dozens of books and paper-filled crates, most of them covered in a thick layer of dust. Papers were strewn in half-open rolls onto the stone floor. There were bales of letters and formulas bound with twine.
“No sign of a struggle.” I observed and picked my way amongst his belongings. “Not very fastidious was he?”
“The room has been left as it was found Inquisitor.” Nevelion nettled, “Nothing has been touched.”
“Indeed?” I asked and turned to him, “Why the lax approach in the disappearance? Surely someone such as the Arch-Mage requires a more thorough investigation?”
“The Mage’s Guild doesn’t hold much stock in Morrowind, and less so in Vivec.” Nevelion said, “Many see them as Outlanders pushing in on traditional Dunmer institutions. Some are more than little concerned with their approach to necromancy.”
“Nothing has been investigated so far?” I ventured, “Why the lame duck attitude to all these disappearances?”
“Foreigners sera,” Nevelion shrugged, “All the disappearances have been foreigners. The way most see it, goodbye and good riddance.”
“Not surprising,” I kicked uselessly at the floor, “You Ordinators aren’t hardly the friendliest bunch.”
“Save me Varro,” He grinned toothily, “I pride myself on my positive demeanor and affability. Why just last week I…”
I tuned him out at this point. I had known him only a day, but in that time he had droned my ear off with his constant chattering and grating laughter. The elf was a gossiper and didn’t know when to shut his mouth. On more than one occasion I had asked, “Does your mouth hurt?” when his talking had gone on too long. He would then grin and say, “Only when I stop!” and continue for another hour.
While he droned on, I picked through the Arch-Mage’s belongings on his desk. Scattered papers with undecipherable language and diagrams of complex runes and potions were everywhere. In one corner a half-eaten sweet roll laid on its side, the stale frosting obscuring the picture of a vivisected snake. I ignored the sultry drawing of a half-dressed elf and suppressed a chuckle as I spotted the well-worn cover of The Lusty Argonian Maid.
How Idula ever thought I could find anything in this mess was laughable.
On the desk I noticed a variety a books strewn haphazardly around. Most of them were trivial or ordinary; mostly spell books and various magical studies, along with dozens of papers and notes. I picked up one book, a well weathered brown journal, and flipped through. I immediately noticed the familiar scrawl of the Arch-Mage; it was his own journal, complete with notes and various crude drawings. I stopped and smirked at a rather crude drawing of a man performing the “Bosmerian” technique on a woman.
As I flipped the pages I noticed there was certain weight to the book that revealed itself as a small coin. The coin was gold, no bigger than a septim, with a strange design. An elf woman stamped on serpent who recoiled and struck back at his foot. In the Elf’s hands was the Azurian Moon and star. The reverse held a Daedric symbol I had never seen before. The coin slipped between my fingers and fell on the floor with a clatter, rolling underneath the desk and settling between the wall and the side of the desk.
Grimacing I hid the journal in my tunic and leaned over. Craning my neck I peeked between the wall and desk and was surprised to find another book. I pulled the desk out slightly and grabbed the coin, setting it back on the desk. With my free hand I pulled out the surprisingly heavy tome. It was a colossal book with a binding covered in gold vines. My fingers slipped over several parts that felt like well chiseled stones on the front cover and when I looked I was surprised to find that they were gems.
The book read, “The Vagaries and Wonders of Daedra, of Oblivion.”
Intrigued I decided to check out the contents of the book. It was ponderous tome of a long lost age, no doubt younger than the 2nd Era. Inside were fantastic drawings of Daedra and creatures summoned from Oblivion. Some of the creatures looked as if they were drawn by the half-mad mind of some tormented artist, and I doubted that any such thing could ever live. I flipped through the book one last time, and stopped stone-cold at what I saw next.
It was a bloody thumbprint on a page. The print was ill-defined and smudged, with a trailing tail that told me that the thumb had been ripped away from the paper. The stain was glaringly fresh, still a bright tint. I closed the book and turned it over, noticing now the almost imperceptible traces of violence that this book had witnessed. I strained my eyes and I saw along the edges of the paper minute traces of what I was sure was blood. Only five or more dots of dried blood, of which I dared to hope was from normal causes.
I set the book down and once again observed the room. Horror dawned as my eyes began to pick out more and more traces of blood. Nigh-invisible droplets picked out from everyday objects; I looked again and again and every time I looked there was yet more. Tiny droplets led to bigger ones, some near the size of septim. The ceiling, the floor, the walls, and everything in between was covered in what would have been a mist-like spray of blood.
“What is that?” Nevelion had stopped talking at some while I was reading. He stuck his head over my shoulder and his eyes grew wide at the book.
“Nevelion…” I muttered, “I don’t think we’re going to find the Arch-Mage here…”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, “What makes you think that?”
He glanced at the book and his vision narrowed; his face pinched with tight consternations. The candlelight caught the gems encrusted on the book, casting a rainbow of light around the room; it highlighted even yet more death droplets.
“Nevelion,” I turned and trembled, “This disappearance…has turned into a murder.”
Submitted December 01, 2018 at 02:19AM by TheBravestarr https://ift.tt/2G0xSee
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