“Are you alright, my lord?”
Edwyn turned to Agryn and snapped angrily. “Of course I’m alright. Why would I not be?”
The fact of the matter was that he could smell singed hair. He was very proud of his hair, short though it might be. Many men a tiny fraction of his age had none left, to speak of. He’d worn it long and flowing at one point, so far back that he could barely remember who he’d worn it that way for. But it had been short and close-cropped for a very long time now and to smell it burning was an event that pleased him not in the least.
“I’m… sorry if I annoyed you, Edwyn. I was temporarily blinded by that fireball and couldn’t tell whether you’d gotten out of the way quickly enough.”
Agryn had pushed Edwyn back out of the way when the fireball erupted. It had been extremely fortuitous that the Redguard girl had stepped out in front of Agryn when the man – Dardeh – had created it. They’d slipped back into the vampire lair to regain the upper hand, in the event that he followed them; but it had become clear quickly enough that the woman was dead and the man had left her body behind.
“Yes. Forgive my impatience, Agryn. You did well with the Redguard girl, drawing him out here to us. His power was not something I would have expected.” He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Although I ought to have expected it. We were looking for a Dragonborn, and we clearly found just such a man.”
“Yes. Now what?”
Edwyn peered at Agryn and realized that he’d been badly scorched by the fringes of the Dragonborn’s Fire Breath. It was of no account, of course; Agryn need only feed and he would be restored to his original state. It was, however, a fortunate thing indeed that he hadn’t been any closer to the fireball.
“Now, my dear friend, we will return to Solitude, check in with your delightful partner, observe my darling wife, and from there go to the College of Winterhold. It seems likely to me that there will be more information somewhere in the archives pertaining to former Dragonborn: their names, their histories, how they were defeated in the end.”
“Couldn’t we simply make a direct assault on his home, sir? I do know where he lives.”
“No. Not yet. Perhaps it will come to that in the end, but I still hope to take the man and enthrall him, to create a steady supply of Dragonborn blood. If we attack him directly at his home, the chances are high that we will have no choice but to drain him. That simply will not do. If we leave him for the time being he may become complacent and allow us another convenient moment to secure him.” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” Edwyn said. “The other thing we must do is determine the status of the Moot. I suspect it is going to be held fairly soon. If we can do so, I would like to make the acquaintance of as many of the current Jarls as I can. Perhaps we could offer them some… incentive to select the Archmage of Winterhold as the next High King.”
“Yes sir. With any luck, your wife…”
“… will be with child. Yes I do hope so.”
Edwyn straightened his robes and started toward the cave’s entrance. It was, in fact, time for both of them to feed.
I would prefer to go to Castle Volkihar. I would prefer to spend an evening in the company of Serana, to replenish myself at the Blood Chalice, and to commune with the spirit of my mentor before undertaking any significant steps on the path toward our ultimate goal. But I feel certain that Serana will not welcome me and that our presence following Vingalmo’s demise might be a bit of a distraction to the court in the short term. So we will go to Solitude.
And I will see whether or not that distasteful man has managed to fill my dear wife’s womb.
They stepped out into the inky darkness. Edwyn considered his options for a moment and then took his Vampire Lord form. He knew that between them and Solitude were several areas where human mortals congregated: Rorikstead, the large bandit encampment at Robber’s Gorge, and others. He turned to Agryn and smiled.
“Shall we have a bit of a hunt?”
He saw Agryn’s brilliant white fangs shine through the darkness. Agryn followed suit, transforming.
“I think we absolutely should. I’m hungry, and I have a bit of… repair to do on my own skin.”
They fed several times, in fact, as they traveled. Edwyn found himself relaxing, letting the cares of the moment drop away, and simply enjoying the company of the friend and loyal underling with whom he had spent so very many years. It was almost as though they were once again much younger vampires simply causing their own special brand of havoc.
They’d met so long ago he could barely remember it, after Harkon had sent him to Cyrodiil to begin infiltrating society there. It hadn’t been all that difficult to do once he’d met Agryn, because Agryn knew the territory and was happy to share his knowledge in exchange for Harkon’s Gift. It was the realm of the Vampyrum Order at the time. They cultivated the fiction that there were no such beings as vampires, and that they did business in the evenings primarily out of preference rather than necessity. After all, a noble or a high-ranking functionary who was deluged with paperwork during the day could hardly be expected to be seen in public until evening, could he? Edwyn smiled, thinking about it. He’d adopted the Order’s methodology because it made the most sense of anything he’d seen. And Agryn had assisted, and had followed him.
He had to laugh, as he and Agryn made their way from the south of Whiterun Hold to Solitude, leaving drained corpses in their wake. This was most definitely not his normal practice, nor his preferred one. He’d never cared much about the hunt, or the blood. But on this dark night the two of them seemed to have silently agreed that their narrow escape from a fiery end warranted a bit of fun.
As they drew near to Dragon Bridge, however, they reverted to human form and cast their illusion spells. He knew that he would have a supple enough appearance regardless of the spell; he certainly never allowed his thirst to wait long enough for him to take on the desiccated, pinched visage of a hungry vampire. Still, he tried never to take the chance that someone would see his eyes and recognize him for what he was.
“Ahh, that was fun, my friend,” he told Agryn. “But I suppose it is time to take care now.”
“Of course,” Agryn said. Edwyn peered at him. He looked much better; feeding had repaired him. Agryn rarely complained about anything and was always the very picture of equanimity, even when tackling a dangerous situation. The past few hours, though, had proven once again just how impressive a companion he really was. He’d taken the brunt of that part of the fire damage from the Dragonborn’s Shout, saving Edwyn from a great deal of harm, and hadn’t complained at all about it.
“I do need to thank you, Agryn.”
“Sir?”
“Yes. You might have been harmed to a much greater degree than you were, pushing me back out of the way as you did.”
“Just doing what friends do, Edwyn.”
Something about that struck at Edwyn in a way he wasn’t used to being struck. They slowed to a stroll and made their way across the wide expanse of the Dragon Bridge toward the center of the tiny town, and he glanced at his fellow Breton, trying to determine what it was that he wanted to say.
“Are we?”
“Are we what?”
“Friends, Agryn. Truly friends. Or do you simply consider me your master, and do what you do for me out of a sense of necessity?”
Agryn glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and then returned his attention to the roadway. After a few more paces he stopped, and turned to face Edwyn.
“That was a serious question?”
“Yes, it was.”
Agryn paused for a moment before bursting into hearty laughter and continuing on his way.
“Edwyn. Sometimes you truly amaze me.”
“What is it that is so funny, if I may inquire?”
“How long have we known each other?”
“Several hundred years, I would expect. I’ve lost track by now.” Edwyn furrowed his brow and cast his mind backward but it was all just a blur of similar events stretching back into time so far that his lovely Serana had still been free and reasonably happy with her family.
“You are, of course, my … I hesitate to use the word ‘master,’ but I suppose that’s what is appropriate,” Agryn said. “I wouldn’t ever dispute that. You gave me the Gift, you at least in part made me what I am today. But it was a long time ago now. A long time. You may be the most powerful vampire I’ve ever known aside from Harkon but surely you realize that I could easily have gone off to start my own clan by now if that was something Tyna and I wanted to do.”
Edwyn had a moment of shock. It would never have occurred to him to think such a thing. His subordinates in Volkihar Castle were all skilled vampires, some of them ancient and very powerful, as Vingalmo had been. And yet somehow he never thought about the fact that Agryn, his right hand, could not only quell most adversaries with a flick of magic, but could also strike their heads from their shoulders with his prodigious swordsmanship.
Would he ever leave me? It would be a sorry thing indeed if he ever became an adversary rather than an accomplice.
“I… must admit to you that I truly had never thought about that, Agryn. There is no doubt, of course; the number of Volkihar you created in Cyrodiil alone says that you would be perfectly capable of being your own master, and master of others. So…”
Agryn grinned. “You’re my friend, Edwyn. Always have been. I like you. I like the way your mind works. Like being around you. Do I always agree with you? No, and you’ve heard me tell you when I don’t. I just would rather spend my time with you and Tyna than with anyone else. Particularly in this godsforsaken part of the world.” He glanced once more at Edwyn’s surprised expression and chuckled. “I’m surprised you even needed to ask.”
Edwyn smiled slowly. “I am indeed surprised. Surprised at myself that it never occurred to me to ask before and surprised that I didn’t already know the answer to the question. I do hope that you don’t hold it against me, Agryn.”
“Oh, heck no. If I held your utter lack of introspection against you I would have left your service a long time ago now. It’s one of your innate charms.”
Edwyn suddenly thought about how annoyed he’d been when the Nord named Brynjolf had implied that he needed to work at being charming, and laughed aloud. “I do seem to be hearing that sort of thing more frequently of late. I wonder how old a soul must be before it’s incapable of learning new things?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, sir. I may get annoyed with you from time to time but it’s of no great import. Tyna’s the one to worry about. She has a much shorter fuse than I do.”
“I have noticed that, to be sure.” Edwyn stretched out his shoulders. “Speaking of the lovely Vyctyna, I think we should perhaps hurry a bit to reach Solitude before dawn breaks. It will not be too long, now.”
“Agreed. Let’s have a run.”
The two friends broke into the blindingly fast sprint only a vampire could perform, and raced along the length of Haafingar. It wasn’t long before they saw the outer gates of Solitude with the towers of Castle Dour looming just behind them.
It didn’t take long for Edwyn to feel exceptionally uncomfortable in his own home. Vyctyna was there, and greeted Agryn with enough enthusiasm that he needed to shoo them off to whatever hidey-hole Vyctyna had found in the area. He had no desire to hear the two of them joyfully reacquainting themselves with each other, especially since Geor was striding about the place looking like a much more pleased and relaxed version of himself. He asked Geor about that, soon after they entered the mansion.
“How is the progress toward your goal, my good sir?”
“Well, now, I’ve got no real way to know that for certain, master; but the mistress does seem to be very content with my efforts, that I can tell you.”
Edwyn had found himself with a wrinkled nose and a surprisingly unpleasant feeling running through his gut. Vyctyna had seen his discontent and stepped up to speak to him.
“It hasn’t been long enough to know, boss. She certainly hasn’t said anything out loud and if she’s going to get the sicks because – you know – it probably won’t be for another few weeks.” She gave him a mischievous grin and leaned in closer. “Don’t get jealous or sumpin, boss. You need him to do this work for you and let me tell you, the two of them are working hard to get it done!” She giggled.
Edwyn sighed. “Yes. Thank you very much for your update, Vyctyna. I appreciate it. Now go spend some time with Agryn. He saved me from a great deal of damage last night and took some himself.”
Her eyes got very round. She ran to the basement stairs and scurried down them, and he could hear her calling out.
“Aggie? Aggie! What happened? Are you ok?”
Edwyn heard Agryn’s gravelly chuckle as he made his way toward the bedroom. The truth of the matter was that he personally was exhausted.
Exhausted, frustrated, and angry. Nothing that I have attempted to do in the past short while has gone to plan. Perhaps I’ll feel better with some rest. I’ll just need to be certain to be up and gone before Elisif returns from the Palace.
He fell onto the bed and was almost immediately asleep.
___
They were gone before Elisif returned, and while Agryn was decidedly and obviously tired, he had no complaints about the trip to Winterhold that started before sunset. They decided to take the shortest route; namely, to fly along Skyrim’s northern coastline from Solitude to Winterhold. Flying at all, in their massive Vampire Lord forms, was faster than running; but flying across the water was nearly instantaneous travel compared to anything else they could do.
They did stop for a moment, near Dawnstar. Edwyn hovered on the shoreline, looking around in perplexity.
“What is it?” Agryn asked.
“Something important happened here,” he said. “I get this feeling every time we pass this area. Something important happened here and I don’t know what it was. There’s a lingering sense of … power, I would say. It’s getting fainter as time passes, but it’s still here.”
Agryn’s great gray eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm. I don’t get much from the spot but maybe? I’ll take your word for it. Is there something else troubling you?”
Edwyn nodded. “I don’t know that ‘troubling’ is necessarily the correct term for it. ‘Envy’ might be closer to the mark.”
“What in the world do you have to be envious of?” Agryn chuckled. “You’re the Archmage of the College, and we’ve got fingers in every one of the other magical organizations. You’re the Lord of the Volkihar, and we’ve got outposts in High Rock, and Cyrodiil, and a few in Hammerfell. What else are you missing?”
Edwyn sighed. He’d been thinking about it for hours, ever since they’d nearly been sent to the Void by Dardeh’s fireball.
“I am envious, my dear friend, of the fact that the Dragonborn can not only read and understand, but use, the language of the dragons.”
“Um…” Agryn gestured toward the shoreline, and they started drifting down it and away from the town where they might be noticed. “I would have assumed that the word Dragonborn meant that he could use the language. What is there in that to be envious of?”
“I cannot,” Edwyn said flatly. “I have come across the places where words of power are said to be etched into those huge, concave walls. I see nothing, only scratches. I can make no sense of them whatsoever.”
Agryn shrugged. “So you’re not Dragonborn. Few are.”
Edwyn growled. “That is the case, to be sure. I’m convinced now that the man called Dardeh has ability beyond all other mortals’ capacity for the language. But think about what we know of Ulfric Stormcloak. What do the tales say about him?”
“They say that…” Agryn paused for a moment, his thoughts almost visible between the beats of his huge wings. “He shouted High King Torygg to death with his Thu’um.”
“Yes. And when I was last in Castle Volkihar, on that occasion when Vingalmo met his rather unfortunate demise, one of the last things he told me was that the late Lord Andante could also use the language of dragons. Why should an upstart, unknown vampire from who knows where have been able to use words of power and I, a master of nearly all types of magic, cannot?”
“Well…” Agryn shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. We don’t know much about the man aside from what they’ve told us there in Volkihar. Perhaps he was just uncommonly gifted with languages. What difference does it make now?”
He chuckled and flew on ahead of Edwyn. Edwyn followed, thinking about it.
It doesn’t make any difference, not really. But that ability – that is a form of magic, is it not? Should I not be able to use it, as easily as I use all other forms of magic?
That isn’t exactly true, if I’m honest about it. I’m hardly a master of restoration magic. Most everything else, yes; but not restoration. Perhaps… perhaps I should focus on building my skills in that area of study and stop being concerned about something that is completely outside my control. Perhaps I should.
For once in my life I should stop trying to measure myself against the rules that apply to others. But damn it, when I look at the walls there is nothing there, nothing at all!
They’d nearly reached Winterhold, and were reverting to their human forms at the base of the cliff beneath the College, when he had another thought. He had to force himself not to grin so much that Agryn would notice him.
I wonder whether I’ll gain the ability to use the Thu’um when I drain that man of his blood.
The more he thought about it, the more excited he became at the prospect. He tried to push the idea out of his mind, though, knowing that it would do him no good in the short term to become obsessed with something that might never come to pass.
“Go to the Arcanaeum,” he told Agryn once they’d reached the College proper. “I want you to begin searching for materials on the legends of the Dragonborn. I need to know what we’re likely to be facing.”
“Alright. I’ll be there.”
Edwyn paced around his quarters a few times before spending several minutes in meditation to Molag Bal. He wasn’t entirely certain that veering away from the specific plans Lord Harkon had laid out for him was the best course of action; but he was certain, beyond any doubt, that if he were displeasing their deity he would be told so in some unmistakable way. He then rose and made his way down through the tower and out into the College’s courtyard. It was time to check in with Tolfdir, the senior wizard and the man who worked most closely with new students.
He had spent a fairly good amount of time with Tolfdir when he had begun his campaign to take over the College of Winterhold. As a “new student,” and in spite of the fact that he knew far more magic than any of the other new students likely had ever heard of in their short lives, he’d been assigned to Tolfdir for beginning lessons.
Those had been comically simple. He’d barely needed to lift his hand in order to cast the ward spell; but he could sense the extent to which Tolfdir had restrained his own fireball attack when he’d cast it against the ward. It had been clear that the apparently bumbling academic was a force to be reckoned with, old or not. Edwyn’s beliefs about the man were confirmed as they had made their way through the ruins of the ancient city of Saarthal. Tolfdir had battled draugr with the skill and vigor of a man many decades his junior, clothing himself with magical armor and casting ferocious fireballs at the ancient draugr called Jyrik Gauldurson.
Tolfdir had studied the Eye of Magnus for hours on end after they’d found it there in the room with Gauldurson, and then in the College itself after they moved it. He’d stepped into the gap left by the deaths of Savos Aren, the prior Archmage, and the former chief wizard, Mirabelle Ervine, after the Thalmor envoy Ancano had caused the Eye to discharge in a deadly magical explosion. And he’d kept the business of the College going once Ancano had been slain and the Eye of Magnus removed to parts unknown by the Psijic Order.
Edwyn didn’t necessarily like Tolfdir – he tended to be pompous and long-winded – but he had a healthy respect for his mastery of magic and appreciation for his devotion to duty. Even after being named Archmage himself Edwyn never worried about being away; for just as Mirabelle Ervine had handled the day-to-day operations of the College for Savos Aren, Tolfdir did the same for him.
Tolfdir was asleep when he found him. He knew that Tolfdir was asleep well before he found him, in fact; for the sound of his snoring nearly shook the walls that even the Great Collapse had not been able to destroy. He might have felt bad about disrupting the man’s sleep if not for the fact that everyone else in the College would likely thank him for it.
“Why hello, Archmage!” he said, rising slowly up off the bed. “So good to see you. What can I do for you on this fine… evening?”
Edwyn chuckled. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s actually the dead of night, Tolfdir, and for that I do apologize. However, I only have a limited amount of time to spend here and I wanted to be certain that there’s nothing I need to know.”
Tolfdir rubbed his chin for a moment. “Well, ah, as it happens I think there is. We’ve been contacted by the Jarl of Dawnstar. It seems that there is some sort of disturbance in the area. From what few details we were given, it sounds quite familiar.”
“Oh?” Edwyn’s mind went immediately to work. As he’d told Agryn, he needed to meet and ingratiate himself with as many of the Jarls as possible before they agreed to hold the Moot. If he could do them some small service as well, all the better. “Do tell.”
“I suspect that the power released by the Eye of Magnus was not fully contained, and has coalesced in this part of Skyrim.”
“Hmm. That’s not very reassuring. I’ll definitely go see whether I can be of any assistance to the Jarl.” And possibly make my way into his good graces if at all possible.
“I do hope you still have the Staff of Magnus somewhere. You may need it!” Tolfdir’s brows were so furrowed they nearly met at their outside edges.
Edwyn smiled. “I do indeed. It is in my quarters upstairs. Don’t worry; my friend Agryn Gernic is with me. He’s a rather powerful mage in his own right and I am certain that between the two of us, we will be able to contain this problem.”
“Very good. Do hurry!”
Edwyn nodded. “We’ll be off just as soon as I’ve had an opportunity to speak with Colette.”
Colette Marence was the Master Wizard in charge of Restoration magic. She was a strange one, always defensive about the way others spoke of the school of Restoration. Her quarters were in the Hall of Countenance, across the courtyard from the Hall of Attainment where Tolfdir and the apprentices stayed. Edwyn trotted across the courtyard, enjoying the silence and the dark, and thought briefly about slaking his thirst on one of the sleeping mages there; but in the end he simply made his way to the second floor of the Hall and found Colette sleeping in her room.
“Colette, my dear,” he said, shaking her gently by the shoulder. Colette was a fellow Breton, and like Agryn and Vyctyna he had a special place in his heart for her. She always received his very best behavior, whereas with some of the other mages – Imperials, in particular – he might not have been quite so patient or forgiving. “Do wake up. I need some assistance.”
“Restoration is a perfectly valid field of study! You do believe that, don’t you? Well, don’t you?” she said as she rose, just as though she’d been engaged in an argument with someone over that issue in her sleep and just continued it into her waking state.
Edwyn chuckled. “Of course I do, my dear. In fact, that is precisely why I am here. I need to advance my own understanding of the subject.”
Colette frowned, pursed her lips, and shook her head at him. “Well, I can’t teach you anything more; you already know all that I know. Flattered, I’m sure. But still… Maybe there are some specific spells that you might not have in your repertoire? Let me show you the tomes I have for sale.”
She took him to a cabinet at the side of the room and showed him her collection. He happily selected a tome for a much more powerful healing spell than those he already knew. Casting that once or twice rather than casting his existing spells several times in a row might well be the difference between life and death – or undeath and real death, he thought to himself with a smirk.
“What are these?” he asked, running a finger along the spine of a book entitled Ruin and another called Horrid Wilting. “Those seem rather imposing titles for restoration spells.”
“Oh yes, Archmage. But as you know – or as you should know, I would hope – Restoration is all about the balance of natural forces. Tweak them just so, and the results can be very beneficial for yourself, and not so beneficial for your opponent. Very useful indeed. The wilting spell will dry up the living opponent, the way a vampire sucks the blood from his victim’s body.”
Edwyn raised an eyebrow, and tried not to look amused. “Is that so.”
“It is. The Ruin spell simply returns the magical energies of the opponent to their original state, over time. Balance, you see?”
Edwyn grinned. “I do. I’ll definitely take those two from you. And then what are these? Blood Boil? Nature’s Balance?”
“Those are Expert level spells, sir, and of course you should be able to learn and cast them very easily with your level of skill. Nature’s Balance is the simplest of things, but highly useful in a tight situation. It will exchange your level of health for that of your opponent. If you’re in a bad way, well…”
Edwyn nodded. “Give the bad way to the adversary and take his health for my own? Useful! And the other?”
“Well that’s a bit harder to explain, but it still falls within the laws of balance. It creates a… cloud, almost. Or maybe a disc, would be a better description. It’s made of blood, and it is every bit as effective as a fire or frost cloak spell. But…”
“Yes?”
“It uses your blood. You take some small amount of damage in casting it. But it’s all balance, you see? Exchanging one force of nature for another.”
Blood. Now that seems highly appropriate under the circumstances. And I will never run out; for even if I do not have enough of my own blood to spare I always have plenty of it with me in potion bottles.
The power is always in the blood. Isn’t that true, Harkon?
“Yes, well in that case I will purchase these tomes from you as well. And one or two more soul gems, if I might.”
“Thank you, Archmage.”
“Thank you, Colette. I much appreciate your help. This is the school of magic in which I am the weakest and I fear that a day is approaching in which I need to be weak in none whatsoever.”
“I do hope not, sir,” Colette said, smiling. “But I’m happy to have been of help.”
Edwyn took his spell tomes and made his way back across the College’s courtyard. He would learn these before he did another thing at all, and he would practice up on the roof of the Archmage’s quarters until he felt confident in his ability to cast them. There was something about the idea of surrounding the Dragonborn in a cloud of his blood – of Harkon’s blood – and then stealing his health that excited Edwyn in a way he hadn’t been for a very long time.