#also pretend the crust around all the staves is them glowing or something

[ballbustervideo]

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 15

For what felt like an eternity Onmund's feet were frozen to the ground in terror; whatever this thing was he'd...he had no name for it, he'd never seen even a sketch of it before, and he was fairly certain he'd never heard a warning tale about anything like this beast.  There was no knowledge in his head regarding it and he had even less of a clue on what to do now than he had previously -- for a wild moment he prayed this was a bad dream, that someone had hit him with some sort of hallucination spell...but, no, everyone else was pressed to the walls and on their knees (whether it was actual terror or deference on their part was anyone's guess).

The ground began to shake again as the creature stalked toward him; Onmund was several steps out the door and onto the bridge before his mind registered that he'd actually moved, and in a split instant decision he turned and ran.  There was another roar behind him and the shaking of the ground intensified as the beast picked up speed to chase him, and he heard the explosion of stone as it simply plowed through the doorway and stomped after him; the bridge beneath him vibrated and thudded with each step, and with a crackling noise that sent his stomach plummeting out through the soles of his feet he realized that the bridge wasn't as structurally sound as everyone thought (or pretended) -- when the massive storm that had crashed into the mainland - that had sent most of the city of Winterhold collapsing into the sea - only the College had truly weathered it, and despite repairs the bridge had always been missing bricks and chunks (at least for as long as Onmund had been here, anyway).  He'd always assumed that it was just cosmetic damage that they'd never bothered to mend but now...with all the weight of this creature on the structure he could feel beneath his boots how the stone was beginning to rattle and shift, punctuated with cracks and popping noises. ((Continued below cut))

He spent a single instant to scan the bridge below him and confirmed what he'd desperately hoped was not the case mere seconds before the stone under him started to tilt backward and give way.

If he'd had more time he was relatively certain he could have stopped the collapse; Kestrel had taught him how to meld and shape stone, and he could have simply fused everything around him together (at the very least, fused it together long enough for him to get OFF it).  With a noise that was half grunt, half whimper, Onmund launched himself forward and scrabbled for any handhold he could wedge his fingers into as even more of the bridge beneath him began to crumble away.

A shadow passed over his head and he looked up in horror as the creature sailed over him to land on a section of the bridge ahead of the part that was crumbling, and its massive sudden weight shattered the rapidly weakening stone; immediately Onmund's handhold snapped loose and began to fall.

The creature was falling too now but by some small miracle they were too far apart for it to reach him with its talons; that massive mouth opened and a gout of flame washed over him however and in the same breath he raised his ward and sent the strongest rush of wind into the heart of the flames to try and divert them around his falling form.  The flames encircled him and roared around the ward, and the wind gust had the added benefit of blowing him backwards and even further away from the terrifying beast.

It also spun him around and he could see the ground so very far below and rapidly approaching, but he could ALSO see a snow-covered ledge that was on the way down as well.  A fall from the full height would absolutely kill him but if he could hit that ledge, maybe-

Onmund let the ward drop and frantically sent a blast of air out of both hands - one off to the side to propel him toward the ledge and one at the ledge to hopefully slow his descent.  He didn't seem to slow but he did move in the air, and slammed into the ledge and into darkness as the snowdrift there swallowed his unconscious form.

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The snow was stained bright red in places and there was a man-sized hole in the crust about ten feet above his head.  Breathing was nigh impossible - every lungful was agonizing and there was a disconcerting bubbling noise in his throat each time he inhaled.  Neither leg seemed to want to obey his commands to move but he was...mostly convinced they weren't broken, just very badly banged up, and he WAS convinced his left arm had shattered.

All around him were steep walls made of white snow and he'd certainly compacted quite of a bit of it beneath him when he'd landed; the cold was seeping in and he was very tired -- that the huge monster was probably still out there was only a distant worry in his mind right now. He would need to climb or burrow out of here but just didn't have the strength to do so...and trying to mend himself up also proved to be more than he had the will to do.

Cedrore came to mind again -- he wondered how the man had felt as he'd lay there dying.  Alone.  Had he truly known, in that exact moment, that was the end?  Onmund couldn't really tell if he was dying or not, he was just...tired.  Done.  He didn't want to move or think anymore -- not so much a desire to let go as a desire to stop existing briefly, to give himself time to sort out his thoughts, his emotions, and to examine this pathetic shell of a body and see for himself if he was able to be saved.

It took an immense effort just to roll over from his side fully onto his back to stare up at the gloomy sky, and somewhere in the distance he heard a bellow.

...so the beast HAD survived the fall too.  It just seemed so unfair.

It was a small comfort that it didn't sound anywhere near him but he pitied whoever came across it -- the guards that remained in Winterhold were too few in number now to stand any chance of defeating it...  It was an end for many things, not just his own.

He let his eyes droop shut.  

 Please just let Kestrel win.  

For a time he lay there, acutely aware of the chill seeping into his very being.  He heard and felt nothing - even the pain was receding beneath the cold's effects; if this was his time at least he would go peacefully.  That was a nice thought.

"Get up apprentice - you are needed."

Onmund's eyes fluttered open again -- he'd heard a voice and it took a few moments to latch on to what he'd heard.  A man's voice, telling him to get up; it had called him apprentice, just like Kestrel did...but it wasn't her voice or the voice of anyone he recognized.

Above him the sky seemed brighter -- had Kestrel won?  Maybe she'd won and someone had come looking for him.

As he watched the brightness of the sky narrowed and formed into a point - an orb of light; it was a soothing light blue and he watched it curiously -- what was it?  Why was it here?  A silhouette of an arm materialized in its glow then and Onmund felt the snow around shift and draw in close to his body. He had a fear that the snow was somehow going to collapse in and crush him but instead it flowed under him and began to gently lift him back up toward the hole in the crust above; the closer he came to the light the brighter it grew, searing his eyes and leaving bright afterimages that soon blinded him, and by the time he could feel the harsh winds of Winterhold on his face he had his eyes squeezed shut.

A rush of warmth filled him, and he opened his eyes to see the bright blue of the light mingling with the familiar golden glow of restorative magics; for a long moment he eyed the swirling lights in confusion then noticed that in the heart of the light there was a man standing there.

His hooded robes hung open and were a slightly darker gold than the magics he wielded, with red and silver designs at the sleeves, along the hem, and across the epaulets he wore.  His clothing beneath the robes were muted grays with a wide cream-colored sash belted together with an odd buckle -- it sort of reminded him of the shape of the dragon's head that he'd seen long ago under Saarthal, and there was a brilliant blue gem set in its center.

The man was an Altmer with a thin face partly hidden by his hood that betrayed no emotion as he looked Onmund over.

As the cold left him he felt strength surging back into him -- it wasn't much but it was leaps and bounds more than what he'd had only moments ago and with each passing breath (he could breathe again!) he felt better.  "Who are you?" Onmund managed to ask.  

"An ally. You must be in place to assist your master when the time comes.  Do you understand?"

A spike of pain shot through his head and just as quickly disappeared; seemingly floating in the middle of all this restoration magic was doing wonders for him overall but each time a new injury mended itself by snapping back into place he felt a jolt of pain that made him sick to his stomach.  "I... I under...understand THAT.  But I don't understand who you are."

The man eyed him silently a moment, expression never changing.  "-we guided your companion to success before.  I had a feeling it was too soon to turn our attention from your College however.  The others despise me for my direct action but it bothers them more that I was correct twice about such dire circumstances."

"Wait - you knew Cedrore?"

"It was I who guided him in staving off total disaster."

Onmund stared at him as a sudden chilling thought came to him at the man's words - Cedrore had had outside help...was that why the Archmage had tasked him with so much?  And if this man had guided Cedrore...   "You... You stole the Eye and let him die, didn't you?"

A flicker of something - it was too quick to identify - crossed the elf's features.  "His death was not intentional.  But, knowing who your master is I'm sure she's instilled in you the depressing reality of making choices based on priority."

"-what happened?  Where's the Eye?  Who are you?"

"My name is Quaranir, of the Psijic Order.  We will not meet again so there is no need for further introduction.  All that concerns you is being in the correct place at the correct time."

"But-"

The altmer cut him off with a sharp gesture, then craned his neck to look upward.  "What remains here will be contained - you must hurry down the coastline.  You will know what you must do when you are where you are meant to be."

The blue orb floated over to come to a rest in the man's outstretched palm and the light it gave off began to steadily increase; Onmund was forced to again shield his eyes from the glare, and as he squeezed his eyes shut he heard a final "and tell your master the debt is considered paid" from the altmer before he was plunged into the darkness behind his own eyelids.

Cautiously Onmund opened his eyes and found himself standing alone off to the side of where he'd fallen into the snowdrift; he was very slowly sinking into the snow - it was halfway up his calves already - and yet there weren't even footprints to suggest where the altmer man had been or where he'd gone.

His wounds were closed, his arm and ribs mended.  He was still exhausted but was no longer on the brink of death, and was greatly confused as to what had just happened along with feeling a bit of anger toward the man who'd admitted he'd allowed Cedrore to die.  Had that Quaranir USED Cedrore?  Used him to obtain the Eye?  For what purpose? The thought of some other overwhelming threat somewhere in the world turned his stomach but the man's other words echoed in his mind: Kestrel needed him, and that some debt between her and...the man?  The aforementioned Psijic Order? Whoever the debt was actually attached to, the man had said it was paid...Onmund had no idea what that might mean but he did understand clearly that he needed to find Kestrel and do whatever it was that was required of him to help her end this.

It took him ages to climb down to the ice-and-mud covered beach; he saw the massive craters caused by the falling pieces of the bridge above, as well as the crater where the giant creature had landed and clawed its way out of.  There were tracks that led away and to the northwest and as Onmund glanced that way his eyes widened at the carnage along the beach.

--it wasn't just the creature's giant footprints here: there were scorch marks, frozen pillars, places where the sand had been blasted away in a shower of glass shards, glowing places where a spell had struck and seared itself into the ground.  A tremendous amount of magicka imbued the place as well and it burned a bright path in Onmund's mind heading northwest -- standing and focusing himself he could make out a much thinner path of residual magicka that wound its way down the cliffs behind the College and curled around the rocky shore until it reached here and veered away.

Kestrel and Varea had no doubt fought through this area and kept going; Onmund began to plod forward along the beach, fighting with each step as the mud and sand sucked him down.  Trudging through this magicka-infused area had its benefits though -- with each step taken the magicka rushed to fill him until his head was buzzing, and he began to fill himself with restoration magics to burn some of it off only to have it rush to fill that void again.  His skin felt hot and almost vibrating, and he had the urge to take off at a run just to rid himself of this overly-empowered feeling.

He it was difficult but tried to ignore it; any additional power he could pull upon would only benefit him.

...well, not JUST him.  If HE felt this then he'd no doubt Kestrel and Varea would be drawing from everything they were suspending and infusing into the land even in the midst of what looked to be a frightening high-skilled battle between two master mages; the further he went the more destruction he came across - there were holes in the ground filling with water, cliffsides were demolished and laying in piles of rubble, and there were more scorch marks and spots of glass as well as frozen patches here and there (Onmund used one of the bigger, thicker ones to cross one of the newly created "ponds").

The magicka path led him to the edge of the beach where, across a channel that looked to be about twenty feet wide (and who knew how deep) was an imposing island made of one very towering, sheer mountain crag. They'd crossed from here...to there...and around to the opposite side, it felt.

Swimming in water this cold would easily kill him and even wading (assuming it was shallow enough) would be just as terrible an idea; pulling from the magicka around him Onmund began to freeze the channel over.  It didn't take as long as he thought it would (all this excess power in the air definitely helped) and soon he was carefully striding across and stepping off the ice onto a very narrow stretch of sand at the base of the crag, turning to circle around to its north side.

The wind was beginning to blow and on the horizon over the sea Onmund could see a storm coming in; as he picked his way among the driftwood it began to snow and the weather rapidly worsened as the storm rushed in on him.  In the swirling white he could make out a tall and claustrophobic pass between the crag he'd seen from the other shore and yet another tall and pointy crag.  He hurried away from the churning seawater and ducked into the shelter of the pass, shaking snow from himself and catching his breath.

The crumbling of rocks from above was the only warning he had before the creature dropped down on him.  Its massive bulk was stopped short from completely flattening him by the narrow rocky walls but it was close enough to swing its tail down and catch Onmund from head to thighs, sending him flying further into the pass to land awkwardly on his back between two large stones.  All the air was blasted from his lungs and he blindly scrabbled to stand as the monster leaped from its perch to land off to Onmund's right; the ground was slick with ice here and a second after he got his feet under him they shot out and dumped him onto his backside, sending him sliding backwards down an incline behind him that he hadn't noticed was there in his panic.

Onmund twisted as he slid and landed in ankle-deep water on his hands and knees, growling as his fingers immediately went numb at the chill. He launched himself off the balls of his feet and across the shallow pool, finding himself sprinting up the steps to a stone platform on which a statue to Talos stood -- a forgotten, lonely shrine on an island in the sea.  He would have been pleased to find it if the circumstances were different but at the moment it gave him solid ground to stand and fight on (and if Talos saw fit to help a poor mortal fighting at his feet, all the better).

The creature was charging down the incline after him and Onmund was grimly pleased to see it too was sliding on the ice-slicked stone. In a surge of inspiration Onmund fired a (admittedly overpowered) spray of frost over the tide pool; the top layer immediately froze and the creature slipped down to a knee on its first step onto it, and then the ice cracked under its weight.  It gave Onmund the wild idea of luring it out into the sea on ever-thinning ice, but then that would leave HIM stranded (or worse: it would dump him into the water too).

The monster was quickly recovering from its slip and rather than slide across the ice it was dragging its taloned feet to shatter it with each step; Onmund sent several bolts of lightning at it and frowned when it didn't slow the beast in the slightest.  He sent an icicle (it deflected off the hide) and then a few fireballs (that also deflected and didn't even leave a mark) and the creature still kept coming; there HAD to be some way to keep this thing slowed down and away from him if his magic wasn't strong enough to even scratch it.

 Think Onmund...THINK.

He ducked and nearly slid off the stone platform as the creature leaped for him; as it floundered on the ice again it spun and managed to keep its wide mouth aimed in Onmund's direction, and he was able to see the glow in the creature's throat a moment before a massive spray of flames erupted from it maw.  His ward split it to either side of him and when the creature stopped to take a breath he was dismayed to see just how large of an area it had cleared of the ice.

Onmund quickly began to spray down those spots with frost -- he couldn't allow this damn thing to burn away the one small advantage he currently had.

He had to stop and dodge aside, flailing his arms to keep his balance as the monster lunged and swiped at him; his momentum carried him toward the far eastern corner and the monster slid toward the southern. Beyond the monster Onmund could see the little tide pool.

 If only that was deep enough to drown this thing...

...hang on a moment.

The little pool had a very narrow gap in the rocks that led out to the sea - maybe two feet wide - and Onmund knew how to move and shape the earth.  That pool might not be deep NOW, but--

It was a stupid idea, likely impossible to manage while this thing was chasing him around, and yet it was the best thing he could think of as he watched the monster again shrug off three more lightning bolts and a fireball.

Mentally he reached out to feel around the bottom of the tide pool; it felt like...sand, and a lot of it, sitting on top of stone far below.  Sand wasn't hard to move like stone was - it was slightly easier than packed soil even - and he shifted a foot or so on the side nearest him and watched as the water rippled...then immediately dove and rolled off the platform as the creature lunged for him and very nearly clawed one massive hand down his chest.

He risked using one hand to hold up his ward and the other to direct and dig at the sand, and paid for it with a searing blast of flames across the left side of his face before he managed to get the ward angled correctly.  The tide pool rippled again and began to froth as he haphazardly forced the sand to move away and out of the water and more water from the sea began to pour in.  Once more he was forced to dance away as the reptilian beast charged for him; it seemed to be getting a feel for the icy ground and didn't slip near so much as it was before, and of course once its talons sank into the sandy area that surrounded that stone platform of the shrine it gained the traction it needed to chase Onmund in a circle, almost driving him back to the narrow gap he'd come through to reach the shrine.

In desperation Onmund ducked into that little pass -- the beast followed after and tried to wedge itself into the opening to claw at him.  It did manage to rake its claws down his hip, tearing the waistband and gouging deep cuts into his left hip and thigh; Onmund staggered and fell to the ground on his knees, hissing in pain and feeling his head spin.  He reached out to the magicka in the area and rapidly pulled it to and into himself, casting what was quite possibly the most powerful spells he'd ever managed; the restoration spells immediately closed the wounds but as he clambered back onto his feet and backpedaled away from the creature the gouges were pink and discolored at the edges, as well as stiff and painful as he moved -- he'd healed them too quickly for them to have mended correctly...and the only way to fix that would be to cut them open and do it again (which was something he definitely did not have the time to tend to).

Pain surged down his leg with every step but he kept backpedaling, and there was the awful noise of claws on bare stone as the beast climbed up and over the gap and scaled the cliffs to continue following him.

There was the sandy, muddy shoreline to either side of him, and open sea at his back.  Onmund looked longingly in the direction of the tide pool...could he make it back through that gap and continue trying to deepen it?

He paused to glance down at his bloodied and aching leg -- it was too risky.  With this monster chasing him there just wasn't the time needed to focus on what he was doing and it'd likely get him killed instead.

With a deep breath Onmund spun on a heel and charged down the small hill that led from the pass back down to the shoreline; the snow was blowing even harder and the waves looked deadly - a shower of frigid mist, snow, and wind pummeled him as he ran forward.  

Mere steps before he reached where shore met the pounding waves Onmund sent the strongest, coldest blast of frost magics he could muster ahead of him and into the churning sea, and it was a small comfort that he didn't fall through or slip when his boots hit the edge of the ever-growing sheet of ice forming under his spell.  The ice beneath him grew wet as the waves washed over it and three steps from the shore had him soaked from his chest downward but with the sound of pounding feet charging after him Onmund tugged his hood down further to shield his eyes from the water and the wind, and forced himself further out into the storm and the sea.