The Dawncaster Chronicles [Mages, Arcane University], Have you ever thought about taking the dark and thorny path? Options

[Illydoor]

This is my first story that I've posted on the forums, it's not finished, so I'll probably be posting updates a bit sporadically throughout the year. It entails the story of young apprentice mage at the Arcane University, thrown into a world of mystery, murder and threat as the past returns and he is plunged headlong into it. I hope you like it...

~DAWNCASTER~

Prologue

Have you ever considered taking the dark and thorny path?

The voice was so sultry and alluring it made Magnus retch. Mysteriously dark, ominously sinister, like liquid poison running through his ears. The rich sound echoed off the thin walls of his house and filled the room with a soft, reverberating boom. Magnus shuddered.

It chuckled.

I know your type, boy, I know it well, but in a thousand years of painful existence I've never seen someone with so much…potential, as you.

Magnus did not dignify the compliment with a response. He was way past speaking, or even breathing for that matter. Abject fear had rendered him beyond speech or any comprehension at all of what was happening. He was utterly paralysed.

The thing chuckled malevolently again, a deep, sonorous rumble. It sensed his fear.

Speak! Only the foolish would summon me to their whim and not have the bravery to command me!

The voice rose suddenly and thunderously in volume, shaking the floor as if each syllable had the power to crush worlds at mere expression. The words echoed inside Magnus' head long after the monster had finished speaking, chilling him to the very core as icy trepidation laced the pit of stomach and his blood ran hot under his veins.

A low chuckling sounded once again.

I can feel your fear boy, your anxiety. It warms my essence, feeds my soul. Yet I can feel your power. I foresee great things for you, boy, great things.

Magnus remained silent, staring hard at the wooden floor beneath him and sweating feverishly.

Hmph. You have summoned me, and in return for the sacrifice of your soul, I shall see your ascension to greatness and immortality, if you should so accept my divine guidance. What say you, boy?

Finally, Magnus, roused from his terrified stupor, managed to stammer a few words out.

"Th-thank you, m-my master..." Magnus winced slightly as he noticed with great discomfort how weak his voice sounded, how insignificant it was compared to that of the monster.

The thing grunted, as if sizing him up. For a moment silence gripped the room, choking and stifling.

Hmm. Yes, indeed, you will do well. Come, young Magnus Dawncaster, I have much to teach you…

***

She was miles away, but the flames were still there. The pain still lingered like a terrible after-image, haunting and chilling, flashing every time on the backs of her eyelids whenever she closed them. She wished them away in frantic desperation, but the insatiable blood-thirst of the red flames couldn't be quenched, couldn't be stopped.

They burned brightly, burnishing the night-sky a tarnished red.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not shut them out. Their fiery gaze burned through anything, destroying, ruining, killing.

And still they burned. Never to cease, visions of fire and destruction, of vivid redness and anger. Elsa watched her world burn in her eyes over and over again. An eternal nightmare she could not wake from.

Hot tears stung her eyes as she ran, the dancing embers hot on her heels, their heat prickling and their roar terrifying, cackling and howling with malicious glee.

Pain engulfed her, clouding her mind with agony. She had no strength to scream, every iota of her energy spent entirely on just keeping awake. Yet she couldn't stop running. The flames chased her.

Branches and leaves whipped her face, but she ignored their sting. Roots and stray logs threatened to trip her, but she persevered, scrabbling quickly to her feet when she fell, a new, fresh gash on her person whenever she got up again.

All the while, the incessant burning continued in her ears. If only she could get away, escape, just anywhere where the flames could not reach her and her precious, precious cargo. In her heart she knew there was nowhere, the illusory flames that cursed her mind would stay with her to the abyss and back. They would burn in the darkness, in her dreams and sleep, they would smoulder on until death took her, and even then they would follow in her the afterlife, haunting her spirit.

She kept running, and fatigue dragged at her like an iron weight strapped to her soul, though she had lost the feeling in her wearisome legs a long time ago. She knew she couldn't keep it up forever, and already she felt her pace slowing, her feet falling heavily and stumbling amongst the dark undergrowth. She could tell she was at the end of her limits, her strength drained and her willpower spent. She knew soon she would fall, and the flames would catch up with her, devouring her in a swirling inferno of suffering and agony.

She ignored the icy pain that clawed at her consciousness and pressed on, finally breaking through the shadowy woods, forcing herself onwards on sheer determination alone.

She was nearly there. So close to being liberated from her haunted life, freedom from the ravenous flames at last. She only had to make it.

Through the writhing and hissing flames that consumed her mind's eye, the Arch-Mage's Tower loomed in to view. Its steep grey walls promised salvation and release from the pain.

Deep within the dark fire that raged inside her, a shadow of hope flickered, and with renewed vigour she fought away the flames for one last time, stumbling through the giant iron gates and scrabbling helplessly at the door.

Blackness began to seep into the corners of her eyes, and the flames began to deaden. Her breath slowed, and everything went into a time lapse, her movements sluggish and her vision blurred like a misty window.

She fought it, struggling to keep the flicker of hope in sight. She knew she was living on borrowed time. Any second now, death would take her, siezing her in it's inescapable grasp.

Through bleary eyes she saw the heavy wooden door creep open, and the Arch-Mage stood there, silhouetted in the yellow light that spilled from the open gap. Not able to keep herself up any longer, she slumped to the floor with a cry of supressed relief. The Arch-Mage ran to her immediately, holding her head in his hands and uttering inaudible words.

Darkness. It was beginning to consume her, her gaze narrowing as death prepared to embrace her, to finally make the flames stop. She beckoned the release.

With her last dying breath, she pushed something into the Arch-Mage's arms and whispered a final word before her world was plunged into blackness.

"Nathaniel..."

As he watched the life seep out of Elsa's eyes and her motionless body settle against the cold stone floor, Arch-Mage Honorius Greymane stood frozen in shock and grief, and in his hands a newborn baby began to cry.

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Apr 25 2009, 08:50 PM

[Illydoor]

Has been a long time, but I've had renewed inspiration and here, ladels and jellyspoons, is the eleventh chapter, sorry for the wait:

Chapter XI: Mazes and Mysteries

Nathaniel began his search hastily, not needing to hear the tolling bells of the Imperial tower to realise that dawn was soon approaching across Cyrodiil. In but a few hours time he would see the first golden beams of the morning sunlight stream through the stained glass windows, and the entire University would wake to its warming rays. With luck, however, by that time Nathaniel would be long gone from this forsaken library and prepared to put his plan for revenge into action.

He would have to work fast though. Creating some space on the shelf in front of him, he set the flickering candle on the dusty ledge, its weak flame a beacon in the cold darkness of the library. Silence gripped Nathaniel as he began to search, an icy feeling of vulnerability making his every sense aware and heightened to a frightening level. Every single sound made his hair stand on end, every touch making his skin ripple. It was an odd, thrilling sensation that Nathaniel would never have liked to experience again, yet as it grew, so did his excitement.

His fingers traced shaking paths over the dusty spines of assorted books, occasionally stumbling over the odd item or two. He could barely read the titles in the gloom, despite the waxen light of the candle, though his eyes swam with the different texts that flashed past, curled runic symbols and strange words. The Black Arrow v1, Mystery of Talara, Mannimarco: The King of Worms, the Horrors of Castle Xyr, all were books that Nathaniel bore no recognition too, so ancient was their origin.

Some were written in entirely different languages, others, like the curiously one-paged Mysterium Xarxes, consisted only of runic language and symbolic the likes of which Nathaniel had never seen before. Many books were so old they just crumbled to dust in hands before he had a chance to open them, their pages ash. The most strange and weirdest book he came across was a tiny, pocket-sized tome, stained a filthy brownish colour, the writing scrawled across it reading 'Ohgma Infinium’. He found nothing of interest with it however, and subsequently threw it to the back of the shelf.

At this rate I’ll never find anything to use, Nathaniel cursed, wondering if he’d made a mistake and his preparations had been for nothing. He threw the last book back onto the shelf and went to the next bookcase, all the while conscious of the time as it slipped away. Something sparkled in the darkness, sitting on top of the bookshelf, draped in wispy cobwebs. His attention captured momentarily, he stood on his tip-toes and retrieved the item from the spiderweb latticework, bringing it to the candlelight.

It was a ring, Nathaniel discovered, black as night, though it shined glossily in the pale blue moonlight. An inscription ran across its surface, reading ‘Blackwood, Ring of Silence’, in fiery writing that glowed a brazen orange. Immediately crazy and peculiar ideas sprung into Nathaniel’s imagination as to what it could do. Would it stop the wearer from speaking? Or even better, grant the user the ability to silence anyone it touched? If so, it could be just the item he was looking for…

Nathaniel’s curiosity got the better of him, and he decided that the best way to find out would be to put the strange ring on. He scrutinised the ring and the inscription, with a careful eye in the sallow light of the candle, trying to decipher any other, more dangerous meaning it may have. Finding none, Nathaniel extended his fore-finger, his other hand holding the ring steady as he prepared to put on the dark piece of jewellery - it would be a perfect fit.

The ring was inches from the tip of his finger when a sudden noise made Nathaniel bolt. His fingers fumbled, and before he knew it the ring had slipped from his grasp tumbling to the floor. Before he could catch it again, it hit the cold ground beneath him, the distinct ‘clink’ of metal upon stone ringing out, shattering the choking pall of silence that had been so discomforting before.

Nathaniel winced as the sound echoed around the library, harsh and discordant, reverberating off the cold stone walls and rows upon rows of bookcases. The ring revolved on its axis like a spinning top before finally succumbing to gravity, and falling with a loud metallic ‘clunk’ which belied its small size and weight. Inwardly, Nathaniel spat every curse under the moon, wondering why on Tamriel such a tiny thing could make such a loud noise.

“Who goes there? Gerom, is th-that you?”

The voice – a woman’s – was clear and strident; though fringed with edges of fear. Nathaniel instantly recognised it Shoba Felldame, the University’s Librarian – Madame Felldame to Nathaniel. In the space of a second, Nathaniel’s heart rate increased tenfold. He pressed his body into the bookcase, seeking concealment in its shadow, hiding himself as best as he could.

“Yes, it is, Shoba. I’m over here.” A man’s voice this time, dark and grating – most probably the ‘Gerom’ that the frail, dithering Librarian was calling for. If Nathaniel’s memory served, it was Gerom Spellclaw, the conjuration teacher.

Footsteps, clapping on the cold stone floor of the library, getting steadily closer and closer.

Nathaniel ears pricked up instantly. Another few moments and she would pass his alleyway where he was hidden. He couldn’t be seen now, at his most vulnerable moment. The fear and dread of being caught gripped him like icy claws, refusing to let his mind think straight.

I won’t be caught now, Nathaniel promised. Not after coming this far.

The footsteps drawing closer, Nathaniel thrust a hand into his robe pocket, feeling something cold and smooth within its folds. He withdrew the miniscule potion vial he had stolen from Damyond’s cupboard, watching its glossy surface glint in the moonlight as the viscous liquid sloshed around inside.

There was no other reason for it, he’d intended to save the potion for later when the correct time and need arose, but considering the circumstances, he’d have to compromise. If he drank just a slight fraction of the liquid now, maybe he’d still have enough for later. Again, it seemed, Nathaniel’s fate was down to luck.

With no time for contemplation, Nathaniel peered into the colourless glass of the bottle for a hesitant moment, gauging its capacity, before pinching out the stopper and raising the rim of the vial to his lips.

Bottoms up, he thought as he sipped Damyond’s chameleon potion, fervently hoping that his trust in the Redguard’s alchemy skills was not misplaced.

The concoction was lumpy and cold as it ran down his throat, like porridge gone stale. He retched at the foul taste and texture of the potion, struggling to not make a gagging sound and fighting desperately against his urge to spit it out immediately. He fell to his knees on the stone floor, heaving and silently choking.

Iron-willed however, he forced himself to swallow the revolting mixture, feeling it slide down his gullet like mid-winter sludge.

At first, Nathaniel thought nothing had happened. His heart sank like a stone as he heard the footsteps of Madame Felldame draw closer, knowing at any moment she’d turn the corner and find him there, on his knees in the pale turquoise-tinted light of the moon. He lifted a hand to wipe away the glistening ropes of saliva that hung from his mouth, only to find, curiously, it wasn’t there.

Where his hand and wrist once was, there was only thin air. He could see straight through, as if his skin were glass.

“What the…” Nathaniel whispered, as he felt a tingling sensation crawl across the whole length of his body, surging through his veins and making his bones shiver, like being submerged in cold, icy water of the purest kind. Still looking through his now invisible palm, Nathaniel watched with incredulity as the transparency began to creep up his forearm, engulfing his wrist and elbow. Before he knew it, the effects of the chameleon potion had grown past his shoulder, and onto his torso, spreading across his chest and up his neck.

Inwardly, he thanked Damyond for his talent at alchemy, wishing he’d never doubted him as he observed with wonder the sensation that was now spreading down his legs, shins and ankles.

As Madame Felldame rounded the corner at long last, Nathaniel felt the effects reach the tips of his toes and vanish, leaving him completely invisible. And where the Librarian should have seen a startled, dark-haired boy in his dressing gown, she saw only thin air…

***

Nathaniel held his breath as she passed, but his hopes were confirmed. Damyond’s powerful concoction had rendered him completely indistinguishable to the naked eye, and Madame Felldame walked past Nathaniel’s position completely oblivious to his presence.

He made to breathe a sigh of relief, but stopped himself imminently. It was easy to forget that just because they couldn’t see him, did not mean they couldn’t hear him. He stood back onto his feet, realizing that dawn was fast approaching and he needed to continue on his mission. He’d sneak past the two teachers and further into the dark recesses of the Library – surely he would find his desired object there.

Wondering idly how long the effects of the chameleon potion lasted, Nathaniel took a first step out of the bookcase alley, and subsequently stumbled, off-balance. It seemed walking without knowing where your legs were was much harder than it looked. He’d just have to get the hang of it.

Half-crouching, Nathaniel crept – quite awkwardly – across the carpeted passageway that ran through the middle of the library, aiming for the very end of the Mystic Archives forbidden section. He soon passed Felldame and Gerom, who had found an aisle of themselves and were now murmuring amongst one another amidst the bookshelves in secrecy. Nathaniel crept past noiselessly, hearing a glimpse of their conversation.

“…these are turbulent times in Cyrodiil. People are scared, Shoba, the nation is restless it seems. There have been more accounts of thieveries and murders this past month than ever!” Professor Spellclaw whispered in harsh tones, too much gasping and gawping of the old dunmer librarian. Nathaniel could feel his hairs go rigid at the mention of thievery.

“Yes, definitely. Tis’ why I’ve had to lock the door now everytime I come in. There’s no telling who might be seeking some of the powerful artefacts contained within this library. Soon as Harpfeather finishes that anti-intruder seal, the better!” Madame Felldame bleated. "Even the Arch-Mage is concerned, having those big brutes parading the streets of the University at late hours. Something big’s about to happen, I tell you…”

“I’ve heard there are rumours of a powerful rogue mage rising in the west – foresters have been entering the mountains and not returning. Yes, there is definitely something foul afoot. Still, I think…”

Nathaniel tuned out at the moment; there was nothing of interest for him in the conversation. Thinking nothing of it, he left the two teachers to gossip amongst the towering bookshelves, invisibly making his way further and further into the never-ending maze that was the Restricted Library...

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Oct 29 2009, 10:59 PM