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Skyrim: Arga's Story

Chapter 8: Magic Aid

Sponsored by Draxinusom

By Draconicon

It took Arga some time to decide where he wanted the dragon to take him, but eventually he decided on the northern city of Winterhold. It wasn't the central hub that he'd heard Whiterun was, nor was it the Imperial stronghold that Solitude was said to be, but it was strong in magic, and that, he felt, was where he needed to be.

He landed on the opposite side of the small pass that led from Winterhold to the cliffs south of it, and bid farewell to the dragon that had brought him thus far. Rather than taking off and leaving him to the cold, the dragon looked him up and down a few times, and slowly chuckled. Arga rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Just might want to do...this."

Without any warning, the dragon threw him into a nearby snowbank. Arga gasped for breath, flailing as the dragon turned half of it to water with a word, and he shivered as he dragged himself back out. Desperately, he slapped at himself, trying to scrape the water off as fast as he could.

"What was that for?"

"Wouldn't want everyone to know that you sucked off a dragon, would you?"

"..."

"I will see you again, Arga...and maybe next time, we might do more."

With a smile and a naughty wink, the dragon took off and left him to his fate. Arga shook his head, the black and red Argonian looking towards the pass before taking a deep breath.

If he says that there is a college of mages in this town, then there is a chance for me to find something for myself here. he thought. The Telvanni rules probably don't apply anymore. Just because I'm an Argonian doesn't mean I'll be out of place here. They probably have room for just about anyone, considering Skyrim doesn't seem to like mages so much, anyway.

Whatever the situation was, he needed to get somewhere sheltered, soon. Riverwood had been fairly chilly, but the air here was frozen. The rocks were cracked with the cold and ice, and even with his leather armor - what was left of it - packed around him as tight as possible, he could feel the chill seeping through his scales and cutting through him. He rubbed his arms hard, trying to get some friction between his scales as he started walking.

Following the flag markers across the flat ground and then through the pass, it didn't take long to find himself looking down at the small town, and a town was exactly what it was. There was a larger lodge, and an inn, a two-story shop, and...

That was it. There was a burnt-out wreck of a house, and a couple of people milling about the center of the town, but that was it.

Where's the college?

Feeling as if he'd been lied to, Arga made his way down from the pass, trying to avoid getting stared at quite so much as he walked to the very edge of the town. He knelt down where the world just seemed to end, and his eyes widened.

Winterhold wasn't a town, or at least, hadn't always been. Staring down from the edge, he could see the cracks and the shredded earth and rock where the ground had been ripped away. Far down, so far down that he almost couldn't see it through the mist and the snow, were ruins of old buildings half-drowned in the sea below.

The Argonian had no idea how so much of the city had been destroyed like that, but it explained how the dragon had thought that there was more here than there was. Nobody could call this little place a city, no matter how much influence it might have had. And if there was no college, then...

He'd been about to turn around, but he saw something to his left, and slowly lifted his head. At first, it looked like the ruin of a stone pillar, but as he followed it up, he realized that it connected to a bridge, and that bridge...connected to something mighty. It was nothing more than a shadowy silhouette through the rising snow and winds, but it was something, a big structure with high walls kept off to the side of the town, with a few lights that burned hot against the winter winds.

That has to be it. That -

"Lizard!"

Arga jumped, almost sliding off of the edge of the cliff before he caught himself. Scrambling back, he whipped his head around, and found himself staring at a pair of guards, their faces hidden by their helmets. Neither seemed particularly happy to see him.

"What do you think you're doing there?"

"I was just curious. I'd heard this was a city, and -"

"What, you think we're not one?" the other guard said.

"We've just as much right to it as the capitals of the other holds."

He didn't respond right away. He'd seen people like this before; small towns that had once had importance, that were eclipsed, always had people that missed the old days and were sensitive about it. Shaking his head, he gestured to the drop-off behind him.

"I'm sorry. I was just shocked at the damage."

The guards nodded.

"All due to the mages, of course."

"They're nothing but trouble. The College probably caused it."

Oh, wonderful. He didn't quite sigh, but it was a near thing, considering how his exasperation leapt up a few levels. So much for finding a place where magic was tolerated and, perhaps, welcomed. Rather than arguing, he tried a different tack.

"I've just arrived. May I ask you to point me towards an inn?"

"Frozen Hearth. Right over there."

One of the guards pointed him to the smallest of the three large buildings, and he nodded his head in thanks. They passed by him, looking down from the cliff, and he wondered how often they did that, just thinking of the good old days. It didn't matter, really, but he was still curious how insane this town was.

As he walked through town, he looked back at the bridge, seeing the steps up to it that he had missed when he'd come through the pass. It was just out of view from that angle, so he wasn't surprised that he'd missed it any longer, but he could make out a golden-skinned woman standing at the top of the stairs. Her arms were crossed, and she looked rather imperiously towards anyone that was passing by. Probably one of the mages, keeping people that weren't part of the college out.

Knowing where he'd be going later, he continued making his way to the inn and stepped inside. Instantly, the heat of the large fire in the common room started seeping through his scales, making him sigh softly in contentment. A large bed of flames extended for almost a dozen feet across the center of the room, with tables pressed out against the walls and a bar over on the far side. Arga stepped over to the fire, half-leaning over it and enjoying the heat as he glanced over the people occupying the place.

There weren't many. A drunken Nord sat at one of the tables, nursing what looked to be his sixth mug of whatever his drink of choice was. A pair of children ran around the fire, one of them screaming and giggling, the other just grinning happily. The bartender was talking to an Altmer, and a woman who might have been the bartender's wife was sweeping the floor near the door.

All in all, it was fairly typical, but his attention was drawn to the Altmer, due to the mage robe he wore. Curiously, Arga sidled along the side of the firebed, putting himself in earshot of the pair of them. The bartender seemed exasperated, muttering to the elf.

"What the hell was that smell?"

"Could you describe it to me? I wasn't paying much attention to the smell."

"Like a monster turned inside out, exploded, and...and someone marinated it with pepper, for some reason."

"That's very helpful. I know just what went wrong."

"...You see, this...this is exactly why people have issues with the college."

"But now, I can fix it. Thank you."

"Just...try and clean it up fast? I don't need to lose any new customers."

Well, that was something. The inn wasn't opposed to mages, just annoyed by some of the results of the spells. For that matter, the innkeeper seemed like he was a halfway decent person, and was willing to help with magic, too.

Promising.

Arga was about to take a step over, curious about what the elf was working on, when the lady with a broom sidled over and nudged him with the tip of it. He turned, blinking.

"Yes?"

"New in town?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm assuming you're here for the college then? Don't worry about what some of the guards are saying. Or the Jarl."

Goes that far? The woman continued.

"We get most of our money from people heading in or out from the college. Lots of people do try and enter it, and lots of the college folk come back out for...nights out."

He blushed slightly at the implication in the Nord's voice. The way that she wasn't speaking louder almost made it feel like he was getting an offer, even though that seemed impossible. She looked up at him, chuckling.

"Don't worry. This isn't anything like that. We just have so few people coming through that we need every bit of goodwill we can get. I'm Haran, by the way."

"Arga."

"Good to meet you. My husband, Dagur, is over there, and he's the one that's in charge of the inn. If you want to get a room for the night, please, talk to him. He'll get you anything you need."

"The way you say that..."

"We can't get everything, but we try and make our guests want to come back as often as possible."

He noted that down, though he doubted that he'd ever be coming back here for something like that. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but...well, there was forwardness, and there was awkwardness, and this was fast approaching the latter.

Still, it was good to know that he had a fallback plan if things at the college fell through, or if they decided that they didn't have a room for him and he'd have to get one of his own somewhere else. He nodded at her, and she slipped away, going back to her cleaning.

Hmmm...

He decided against getting a room there and then. The chances of getting into the college felt high enough for him, considering some of his skills and the things that he'd discovered with his fire magic in Helgen. Being able to redirect or reapply Magicka the way that he had was something that the college might have already discovered, but he doubted that it was that widespread. He'd never heard of anyone doing it, at least, and he might be able to get entrance through that alone.

But for that...Well, that elf seemed to be part of the college, and it was easy to tell which room belonged to him. Arga stepped away from the fire, finally feeling warm again, and walked over to the door with glowing lights pushing out from under it.

Knock, knock.

"I'm fixing it, Dagur, you don't have to check on me."

"Actually, it's someone else. I was hoping to speak with you about the college."

The lights stopped under the door, and a few seconds later it opened just a crack. Golden skin and narrowed eyes peered out at him.

"What do you want to know?"

"I am considering applying for it, and I was wondering if you might have some advice."

"You? Why?"

"There are few places in Skyrim that are suitable for someone with magic, it seems. That, and..."

He paused. He had to tell someone, sooner or later, and it might as well be in a place where he could buy a little goodwill. Arga reached into his pack, pulling out the stone that had held the dragon's spirit, but still remained etched with various letters and runes. He held it in front of him, displaying it to the elf. The sudden eye-widening did not go unnoticed.

"And I wanted to see if this could be explained."

"Come in, come in!"

The elf opened the door and almost dragged him off of his feet, the Argonian sitting down on the elf's bed as the golden-skinned mage took the stone off of his hands. Arga relaxed, settling down as his host started dragging his fingers along the edges of the stone, checking this part and that, seemingly taking in every detail.

"This is incredible. This...this is something that I've only heard rumors about. Do you know what this is?"

"I know that it was inside of one of the barrows, and that it was guarded by a Draugr with strange abilities."

"It would be. This...this is a very old tongue. Dragon speech, I think."

Dragon speech. That would explain a number of things, particularly with how the wall with all those runes on it had started glowing, and how one of the words had burned itself into his mind and become something of a spell. He ran his tongue over his teeth, almost tasting that power again for a moment or two before he pushed it away, listening to the elf continue to rave about it.

"This is the best-preserved set of runes that I have ever seen. And you just found this?"

"Found it, yes, along with a few other things. Things I want to talk to the college about, after I get in."

Shaking his head, the elf turned away from the stone.

"I'll buy this off of you. A thousand septims."

Arga almost fell off the bed at the offer, and it took him a moment to pull his thoughts back together. A thousand Septims for something that was little more than a stone with etchings on it? He had stumbled on something good, then, though perhaps something with more danger to it than he realized. He started to shake his head -

"Two thousand."

"I - are you serious?"

"This is the greatest find in the history of old speech in Skyrim. There are words here that I imagine even the Greybeards don't know. If we can translate it, then there will be all sorts of records that might make sense."

The elf was a scholar, through and through. In a way, Arga felt rather happy to see that. Too many of the Dunmer that he'd met, as well as the Altmer, had been of the sort to look down on others. This man...

"What is your name?"

"Nelecar."

"Nelecar."

Arga reached out, delicately taking the stone back and putting it back in his pack. He could feel the golden elf's eyes on it, knowing that it was a prize that the mage wanted more than anything else at that point. A part of him wanted to work that, but no. He wanted to start this honestly.

"I will be giving this to the college. You'll have it to study there without having to pay anything. But I have an offer for you."

"What's that?"

"Tell me what I need to do to get in, what I can do to guarantee being part of it, and I'll let you have eight hours to study this thing without any interruptions."

"I'd be willing to do far more than that for such an opportunity."

For the briefest of moments, Arga imagined the elf on his back, ass in the air, and begging for his cock, but the moment passed quickly. The fact that he'd been showered in dragon cum not that long ago still burned in his head, and his libido wasn't in full force anymore. A part of him wondered how long it would take before he could see a cock and not immediately think of being under a dragon.

"Then consider it a bargain."

#

Arga spent the next eight hours in and out of the Frozen Hearth, making himself familiar with the area and trying to avoid the guards that seemed to have it out for him. The bartender, Dagur, was a surprisingly friendly man, and even had a few stories to share about the city, and about a few other mages that had come through in the last few days. From a Dunmer named Brelynna to a Khajiit named J'Zargo, they were all waiting for their own applications to come through, and for the chance to start studying magic.

He found himself mildly fascinated with that, wondering what it would be like to learn magic properly, rather than simply from picking up bits and pieces of it in his travels. The idea of learning alongside other people who were also somewhat skilled would be interesting, as well, and he found himself feeling...hopeful. It was strange to feel that again, after such a long journey and after so many things had happened to make it hard to feel anything good.

In gratitude, he spent a good fifty Septims on food and drink as he waited for Nelecar to finish his perusal of the dragonstone. When the eight hours came and went, and there was still no sign of the Altmer, he walked back to the door and knocked on it. When there was no answer, he pushed the door open gently, and immediately blushed.

Nelecar had stripped down to nothing, his robes folded on the bed as he half-floated in a magical trance. The golden elf's skin was shining as the spell lights reflected off of him, and, to the Argonian's surprise, the elf had a surprisingly large member hanging between his legs. It hung lower than any other that he'd seen so far, and fulfilled many of the orcish stereotypes he'd heard.

Who would have thought an elf would have something that large down there, he thought as he slowly stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat, and this time, Nelecar responded.

"Almost done."

"And very exposed."

"Wha - oh, you came inside...and you shut the door. Thank you."

"I did give you eight hours. It's been nearly eight and a half."

"You know you can turn around."

"I'd prefer not to be staring at everything at the moment."

"I enjoy showing the breeding of the Altmer people. Most of us have more than this to be proud of."

That is something that I didn't entirely need to know, he thought, even as he blushed slightly at the idea. It was something that he might have to...verify. By books, of course.

The spell lights faded a moment or two later, and after he heard the rustling of robes being pulled on, he turned around again. Nelecar offered him the dragonstone, and smiled.

"Thank you for letting me study this. It has been incredibly enlightening."

"I would hope so, considering how old it is. Now, you said that you'd have a few tips for getting me accepted?"

"Yes, yes, my side of the bargain. You'll want to talk to Faralda at the bridge. Do you know the firebolt spell?"

"I don't."

"Then let me teach it to you. It's one of four that you'd need to show if you want to get in, and she does have a preference towards those with Destruction magic."

"Well, that is my interest at the moment."

"Then you and she should get along fine. Just make sure to talk up that type of magic, and you should have an advocate, if you need it."

"Thanks for the tip."

Having another mage to teach him a spell was intensely different from learning it on his own. There was not nearly as much trial and error as there was when he was trying to pull together the proper gestures and words for a spell, nor was there the chance of the magicka overloading him and bursting through some of his protective wards. Instead, he was guided in how to form the magic in his hand, collecting the fire as a ball rather than as a presence, and making sure that it was all held tight.

Nelecar pointed him towards the fireplace, and told him to throw it rather than let it out. It took a few tries to get it right, as he was so used to building it up as a stream, but eventually -

SHOOM!

A bolt of fire went flying from his fist, shooting into the fireplace and setting it to a roaring blaze. Arga grinned, even as he felt more drained than usual. The spell definitely used more magicka, but it was more targeted, able to hit harder than the streams of flame. The Altmer patted him on his shoulder.

"That's exactly it. Do that for Faralda when she asks, and you're in."

"Thank you. I never thought learning magic could be so much easier with a teacher."

"It's usually not quite so easy, but you're a good learner."

"Thank you."

In truth, he already had more ideas for this spell. Just like the streams of fire, how he had converted them to going in different directions or narrowing the stream to make it cut things, he had a custom idea for this one. His mind was wrapping around it still, seeing if it would work, but if it did...

He thanked Nelecar again, leaving the room and heading out of the inn. The cold hit him hard, and he shivered as he walked up to the bridge, trying to keep his head on straight.

The Altmer he'd seen before stopped him, shaking her head.

"If you aren't here to join the college, then you are going the wrong way."

"That's exactly why I'm here."

"Really?"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Arga nodded.

"We do need everyone we can get, but I need to know that you can cast the magic required for study here. What style do you study? Restoration? Alteration?"

"Destruction."

"Hmmm, I see."

He didn't miss the slight shift in her voice, a note of approval slipping into her words. Not much, but something, and she didn't seem quite as stern.

"Then you already know a firebolt spell."

"Recently learned, but yes. And a theory of how to expand it."

"Interesting. Show me the basic, and then we'll talk."

That was easy enough. He pulled the fire into his hand, forcing it into a condensed ball between his fingers before letting it loose. It went flying through the air for safety, and it held its shape for a good two hundred feet before fizzling out. The Altmer nodded in approval.

"Tight focus, and a good shape to it. Very good."

"Thank you."

"You said that you had an idea."

"Yes, actually. Has anyone tried to mold it into a series of rapidly released bolts?"

"...No, actually."

"I had a thought of how."

Arga lifted his hands, pressing them together as he started forcing the balls of fire to form. With one bolt in each hand, he started bouncing them off of each other, the force breaking each bolt down. Two became four, then four became eight, and eight became sixteen. He felt a bit of sweat break out on his forehead as he held his concentration, keeping each bolt from breaking apart, feeling the magicka inherent in each as they danced between his palms, straining to either break apart or break free.

When sixteen became thirty-two, he knew he was reaching his limit. With a grunt, he threw his hands to the side, and unfurled his fingers. The firebolts went flying, one after another in rapid succession. Four per second, pew-pew-pew-pew, drilling out against the rock of the nearby mountain. It was like a barrage of the firebolts, each one with the power of the original, just focused down into a smaller shape.

It lasted only a few seconds, but it drained him much more than he'd thought. Still...

"Incredible."

Just the reaction he had been hoping for. Arga turned with a smile to the high elf, who was shaking her head.

"You just came up with this idea?"

"I thought it might be useful."

"It will be. I believe..."

She held her hands in the same way, and after a couple of experimental starts, she got it. Arga was slightly disappointed that his trick was picked up so fast, but was more shocked to see her summon thirty-two bolts, and then sixty-four, and then a blistering one-hundred twenty-eight. Even then, she showed no sign of the strain that he'd been feeling, and he felt like she wasn't stopping because she had to, that she could go much further.

As she let it loose beneath them, he could hear the ice breaking, the crack of a new ice flow leaving the land and heading out to sea. The display of power, the casual use of it, left him staring in awe. Faralda smiled.

"A good trick, and a good mind in your head. I think that you will be a magnificent member of the college. Follow me."

He numbly did, shaking his head. It wasn't how he had thought he'd get in...but knowing that there were people like this here, teachers and protectors, told him that magic had a chance. It might be feared, it might be hated, but with people like this, it wasn't going to go quietly.

And against dragons, that power was what people needed.

The End