Nora walked out of the inn the morning after their arrival, getting her first real look of the town. There were actually more buildings than she had noticed in the darkness of the night, with only the main street illuminated by the curated torches. There must have been nearly a hundred intact buildings, making it the size of a moderate sized town. And ruins that seemed to stretch on forever to the east. Stone buildings, on their sides, walls collapsed. This had once been a great city, and even more of it was said to be under the sea. But its importance had gone into the abyss along with most of its people. Its only selling point was the College, and most of the people here resented the mages.

 

Nora wore her full armor and winter clothing, not knowing what to expect of the day. She strode down the street, heading toward the College, high walls and triple towers rising into the sky. There were several places sending blue light into the sky. And then she stopped, sucking in a breath as she saw the rock on which the College was built, a relatively thin spire for such a mass to be balanced upon, especially in what looked to be an earthquake zone. It was probably standing due to magical power. And probably the reason the College had survived the Great Fall.

 

A very pretty Altmer in robes of red stood at the entrance of the bridge leading into the College. The elf watched her intently. Nora thought red meant destruction, and if this was a master, she was extremely dangerous indeed. And someone Nora definitely wanted to talk to.

 

“Halt,” said the Altmer, holding up a hand, flames playing in the other. “The bridge is treacherous and the footing is dangerous. The gate will not open for you, and you shall not pass.”

 

“What are you doing out here in the cold?”

 

“I am here to guard the College from those who might mean us harm. Like an armored Nord warrior such as stands before me.”

 

Oh shit. If she thinks I'm here to harm the College? “I wish to study magic at the College.”

 

“And why might you wish to do that?” asked the mage, an eyebrow raised.

 

“I want to be able to kill foes, heal friends, and control the powers of Alteration and Illusion.”

 

“Ambitious. Most choose one school to concentrate on, though some branch out, to the detriment of advancement in any single school. The College has much to offer you, but what have you to offer the College? So, a small test as it were.”

 

Nora laughed. “I think we both know I will pass that test.”

 

“I know no such thing,” said the elf, eyes narrowing. “Your persuasion will not work on me. So, will you take the test. A simple spell. If you don't have any of those I want to test, I can sell you one.”

 

“What are my choices?”

 

“Throw a fire bolt at the symbol in the middle of the walkway. Cast healing. Summon..”:

 

Nora quickly threw a fire bolt at the target, while simultaneously casting healing on the elf. The woman sucked in a breath. “You are far beyond the normal apprentice of this institution. You may enter.”

 

Might as well get this over with, thought Nora. They were going to find out anyway. She had been shouting to the sky every morning when she was out of town, taking in the blessing of Kynareth. Guards didn't like to hear the shout, and almost always warned her to not disturb the residents. She hadn't done so yet this morning. Nora pulled in a lungful of air.

 

“Fus Ro Dah,” she shouted to the heavens, feeling the blessing of Kyne come over her.

 

“You have the power of the voice?” asked the amazed elf. “How...”

 

“I guess it goes along with being the Dragonborn.”

 

“Dragonborn?”

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

“No. No,” said the wide eyes elf. “Not at all. If you had told me you were Dragonborn we could have suspended the testing.”

 

“No problem. I needed the practice, and I kind of wanted to show off.”

 

“Do you have a name, Dragonborn?”

 

“Nora Jane Adams. But you can just call me Nora, Master Mage.”

“Faralda,” said the Altmer. “And titles are not necessary here, unless speaking of or with the Archmage. And Nora Jane Adams is not a name I have heard before. Where are you from?”

 

More disclosure, and Nora was happy to get it out of the way now. The more these people knew about her, the better they would be able to help her.

 

“Not from Nirn. Kynareth brought me here from my world so I could save this one. And it's looking like a bigger job than I would have thought on first arriving, at which time it still seemed like a holy bitch. So, I'm trying to improve myself on every front. Warrior, mage, wielder of the voice. All are weapons I will need.”

 

“Not from Nirn,” mumbled Faralda. “You grow more amazing with each revelation.” The elf cast the familiar spell, then sucked in yet another breath, shocked for the third time this morning. “By the Gods. You have a store of magicka as powerful as my own, and I have surely been alive much longer that you.”

 

“Is that over two hundred years?” asked Nora with a smile. “Because technically I am that old.”

 

“Two hundred years? Are you a...”

 

“Not a litch. I was frozen for two hundred years, and then woke up in a world not my own.”

 

“Amazing. You and I must have a conversation. I would be fascinated to hear your tale. But first I need to get you to the gate and through it. And welcome to the College, Nora Jane Adams.”

 

They spoke as they walked the high bridge. Nora felt some trepidation as they passed over a few sections that were missing the guard walls on both sides, the stones slick with ice. She thought this place had seen better days, but the Master Mage of Destruction seemed competent enough.

 

“I would caution you to not tell your tale to Ancano,” said Faralda with a frown. “Can't miss him. He's the only Altmer male in the school, and he wears the robes of a Thalmor. Ostensibly he is here to advise the archmage, Savos Aren. But we all suspect that he is here to spy on us for the Thalmor.”

 

“Thanks. I will be careful.”

 

Faralda led Nora through the gate. The courtyard was dominated by a large statue, a mage with fire in one hand, cold in the other. Nora saw a short woman in robes of blue arguing with an Altmer in Thalmor robes. Something about how the Thalmor was not here to tell them what to do. Nora was surprised to see a Thalmor here, in Stormcloak territory, but she assumed that the College was above the politics of the rebellion, and wanted to maintain relations with the magic rich Altmer.

 

The Altmer stormed away, through the door into the largest tower, and Faralda hurried over to the mage.

 

“Nora, this is Mirabelle Ervine, the master mage of the College. Mirabelle, this is Nora, and she has quite the story.”

 

Faralda talked softly to the Breton, and Nora overheard words she recognized, including Dragonborn and alien. Mirabelle's eyes widened with each revelation, until Nora was sure they were going to fall out of her skull.

 

“Quite the story,” said Mirabelle, now smiling. “And welcome to the College. I'm afraid you will have to start with the other novices, though you are obviously above that rank, probably closer to adept. But we have to see that you have the basic grounding.”

 

“I understand, Master Mage.”

 

“Just Mirabelle, Nora. And I assume you want to study in all the schools.”

 

“I'm not sure about conjuration, though I do want to talk with Master Gestor about a problem a friend of mine is having.”

 

“I'm sure Phinis will want to talk to you as well. In fact, I am sure that all of our instructors will want some of your time. Try to stay away from Ancano, of course, though I don't think that will be possible for long. The Thalmor has his nose in everyone's business after all.”

 

Faralda excused herself and went back to her post, while Mirabelle led Nora to one of the side towers to show the Dragonborn her dorm room. It was comfortable enough, small, but more spacious than her room at the inn, though she would still use it to rendezvous with her followers, and others, such as Nelacar.

 

“Now, I am sure that you will want to get started, and Master Tolfdir, one of our senior instructors, will be lecturing the Novice mages in the main hall in an hour. There will be other classes during the day, and you are welcome to attend any you want.”

 

“What are the expectations here?” asked Nora, not sure if there was a curriculum.

 

“There are no expectations,” said the master mage. “All are free to study what they want, and learn at their own pace. And you might want to think about changing into some student robes. I don't think you will be needing enchanted armor and weapons in class”

 

Nora hurried to her room, nodding at the mages she saw on the way, both instructors and students. The instructors had different colored robes denoting their school, though the student mages all had the blue robes that were the sign of a generalist. The Dragonborn found robes, boots and a hood within the wardrobe of her room, and quickly dressed in them, leaving her armor in the cabinet. She looked at Dawnbreaker for a moment, wondering if she should leave it behind. The sword was too valuable, and she was afraid someone might lift it if they discovered the artifact, so she took her sword belt and buckled it on, putting her pistol in a lock box sitting on a shelf with the key in it.

 

“You think Restoration is a valid school of magic, don't you?” asked a woman who was standing right outside her room. “Don't you?”

 

Nora looked the woman over, an older blond in the yellow robes of Restoration. She seem frantic to gain some validation for her school.

 

“I have found Restoration to be one of the most valid schools in battle,” Nora told the woman. “Its spells have saved my life, and those of my companions, many times.”

 

The woman looked at her with new interest. “Perhaps I should have you guest lecture in one of my classes. Let these young fools know what they need to learn.”

 

Checking on the time in her implant, Nora hurried to the Hall of Elements, the main lecture chamber of the College. She was accosted by a totally gorgeous Altmer, tall and willowy, with bright green eyes looking out of a freckled face, flowing red hair cascading down her back.

 

“I think the College is in need of new leadership,” said the woman, looking down from her height. “I am Nirya, and someday I will run this place.”

 

Really caught up in your own importance, aren't we, thought Nora.

 

“You're new here, aren't you? Could you help me with a project?”

 

“Depends on what it is.”

“I saw you in your armor, and you still have your sword, so I'm thinking you are an adventurer, yes. Faralda has some secret research I would like to see. Perhaps you can get her notes for me.”

 

The last thing Nora wanted to do was piss off the Master Wizard of Destruction, Plus, this Nirya seemed to be the most petulant child of an Altmer she had ever met. But she didn't want to start making enemies, so she changed the subject.

 

“What do you know about Ancano?”

 

“Don't trust that one,” said the woman, green eyes narrowing. “He's up to something. Of course, everyone here is up to something, but that one is up to no good. He is rather handsome though, isn't he?”

 

Nora didn't answer and hurried on to her class, feeling the eyes looking at her on the way.

 

“You're new here, aren't you?” said the Thalmor advisor, stepping out of the shadows. “So what is it? Are you here to save the world, or just in it for yourself?”

 

Nora knew she had to be careful of her words around this one. “I'm here because of the true beauty of magic. It's the ultimate art form.”

 

“That isn't one I've heard before,” said the Altmer, his eyes dissecting her. “Interesting. And that is quite some blade you have there. Planning on fighting a battle in the Hall of Elements?”

 

“No, sir. But it's a family heirloom, and I promised my father I wouldn't let it out of my sight.” That was the best Nora could come up with on the spur of the moment, and she cursed herself for carrying it here. She should have left it with her followers, where it would have been safe, and not been an object of interest.

 

Nora hurried on, using the starting class as cover for getting away from the Thalmor, whose eyes saw too much for comfort. There were twenty or so young people standing in a half circle, listening to the old mage, who reminded Nora of a chemistry professor she had in undergrad at Boston College. Distinguished and flighty at the same time. There were all races in the half circle, men and women. An Altmer, two Dunmer and a Bosmer, a Khajiit and an Argonian. A trio of Nords, a couple Imperials, and the rest Bretons, who seemed to have an affinity to magic that no other humans of Tamriel had.

 

“Welcome,” said the white-haired old man who must have been Tolfdir. “Welcome. And who might you be? And what is your interest in magic?”

 

“I am Nora. And I'm interested in all the schools.” She still wasn't sure she wanted to mess with conjuration, though she could see some uses for the few spells she knew, and would consider looking at some of the ones she didn't know.

 

“We were discussing wards. Spells that will protect you from the castings of other mages who wish you harm. And I was explaining how magic can be very dangerous to those who are not careful with it. You are unleashing great powers, and that is not without risk.”

 

“But, sir,” said one of the students, a male with the look of a Nord, unusual from what Nora had heard. “We've come to learn how to use magic. Not to hear how dangerous it is. We know that.”

 

“I agree,” said a Dunmer woman.

 

The rest of the class echoed that sentiment, and the instructor looked her way. “We haven't heard from Nora. What do you think?”

 

“I have to agree with the rest of the class. We should learn something useful.”

 

“Very well,” said Tolfdir, shrugging his shoulders. He looked over at Nora. “Would you help me with my demonstration? Do you know any wards?”

 

“Lesser or steadfast?”

 

The other apprentices looked at her with interest. She was obviously more advanced than any of them if she could cast the steadfast version of the spell, adept level, when it seemed like none of them could even cast the lesser version.

 

“The most powerful you can cast. And I will send a weak fire bolt into it, so there will be no danger.”

 

Nora smiled and stepped into position. She cast the ward, her regeneration nearly keeping up with the expenditure, making the spell long lasting in her hands. Tolfdir pulled up fire in his right hand, then started lecturing the class, forgetting that he had a pupil standing ten yards from him casting a spell that used up magicka per second. He looked back at her, surprised, as if he didn't remember what he had told her.

 

“Oh dear. You can drop the ward and let yourself recharge if you want.”

 

“I'm fine, Master Tolfdir. Fire away.”

Tolfdir nodded and sent the bolt right at her, to explode on the ward, nothing getting through. “You can drop the ward now,” he said, his expression calling her a showoff. “The rest of your, practice your wards. You, young lady, come over here with me so we can talk.”

 

Nora wondered if she had done something wrong. Had she gone beyond the pale by showing her abilities? But she had wanted the mage to know that he could skip over much of the novice level instruction with her, unless he had some interesting spells she didn't know.

 

“You are much more advanced than the rest of your classmates. I'm wondering if you might be better placed in an adept class.”

 

“That's up to you, Master Tolfdir. But I think I could benefit from at least a week of novice instruction to correct any bad habits I might have learned.”

 

“You have wisdom as well. Surprising in one so young.”

 

Nora laughed inwardly while keeping a serious look on her face. Everyone on this world underestimated her age. Fair enough, when she looked like a twenty-two-year-old, despite being thirty-three, an effect of the Supersoldier serum.

 

“You said you were interested in all schools, but is there one you have particular interest in? I specialize in Alteration myself.”

 

“Well, I'm an adventurer, so Destruction and Restoration are probably of the most use to me.”

 

“Yes, though you don't want to discount the other schools. Illusion can help you to obscure the senses of your enemies, and warp their thoughts to your advantage. Conjuration can allow you to call up allies in the battle, or turn your dead enemies into soldiers for your fight. And my own Alteration can allow you to change your form to resist damage, enhance your abilities permanently, give you the option of casting novice and apprentice level spells with no cost to your reserves.”

 

“What about teleportation?” asked Nora. “Which school teaches that.” The distances in Skyrim were daunting to a woman who had come from a culture of teleporters and vertibirds, used to getting anyplace in her nation quickly.

 

“That would be my own Alteration school, though the spells are quite advanced. With significant study you can master them in a decade or so.”

 

Nora felt her heart fall. She didn't want to take a decade to learn something that useful. But she thought she might be able to speed the process up considerably.

 

“I will consider your words, Master Tolfdir, and talk it over with a wizard friend of mine at the Frozen Hearth.”

 

“Not Nelacar?” asked Tolfdir in a tone of disapproval. “He was kicked out of the college for engaging in research that was not approved.”

 

“No, I have an Altmer friend who adventures with me. Eldawyn.”

“If it's the one I'm thinking of, that might even be worse. You keep some dangerous company, young lady. I hope it doesn't turn you to evil.”

 

Nora was sure that wouldn't be the case, and Tolfdir really didn't know Eldawyn. And Nelacar was a particularly good lover, something that could make her overlook his philosophy, as long as it didn't impact her mission.

 

Nora sat through other classes that day. Destruction with Faralda, followed by Illusion with the Bosmer Drevis Neloren, Restoration with Colette Marence, and finally Conjuration with Phinis Gestor. She stayed after that class, resolving to hurry back to her dorm floor for her study session with Nirya, the obnoxious but beautiful Altmer.

 

“Master Gestor. I have a question about possession.”

 

“Ah, Nora. You are really too advanced for my novice class. After you get some novice and apprentice level summoning spells under your belt, I might suggest that you transfer into my adept level class. And what was your question?”

 

“I have a friend who was possessed by an angry spirit, and we want to break her free of the possession.” Nora went on to explain how Eldawyn had become possessed, the nature of the being that was trying, unsuccessfully, to control her.

 

“An interesting problem, and one I'm sorry to say I don't have the solution to. But I will look into some tomes, and see if I can point you in the right direction. Be warned, though. It might involve some risk to find what you need to free her.”

 

Nora had no problem with that. She loved Eldawyn, as much as any friend she had ever had. She wanted to see Eldawyn live free, and whatever risk and time it took were worth it. Nora hurried to her dorm, to see the other students on her floor practicing casting non- harmful spells under the watchful eyes of the Altmer, who Nora assumed was an advanced student.

 

“You do not have to come to my study sessions,” said Nirya, staring down the Dragonborn. “But if you do come, I expect you to be on time.”

 

Nora nodded and walked away. She didn't think she would get much use out of spamming candlelight and heal self spells, something she had gotten enough real-world experience with. So she decided to check out the library, and the unusual Orc who was the preeminent scholar of ancient magic on campus.

 

Urag gro-Shub was an elder Orc in brown mage robes, his beard and balding head snow white. He greeted her with a growling speech he had obviously practiced.

 

"You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge,” he said. “You might as well call it my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now, is there anything I can help you with?"

 

Nora stopped herself from laughing at the self-important Orc and nodded her head.

 

“I just wanted to see the library. Quite impressive.” It was, for a medieval library. Nothing compared to the old Boston Public Library when it had been a going concern, or even the new Commonwealth Book Repository. But there must have been at least several thousand books on the shelves and the locked cabinets.

 

“A mage is only as good as her knowledge,” said the serious Orc, glancing around his domain. “And I try to preserve all the knowledge I can. Do not let me see you abusing any of my books.”

 

“No, sir. I grew up around books, and my parents taught me to take care of them.”

 

Urag smiled at her, a frightening sight with his tusks, but she returned it in the spirit it was offered. After looking around the library for an hour she was ready to call it quits and head back to the inn. That was when Mirabelle found her.

 

“Come with me. The Archmage wants to talk with you, and I want to be in on this.”

 

“So, this is Nora Jane Adams,” said an older but still fit Dunmer man, wearing the most ornate robes the Dragonborn had seen on the campus. “I have already heard so much about you.”

 

The suite they were in was also above those of the other mages. Its own alchemy and enchanting tables, glowing globes whose purpose she couldn't discern. A tea set on the desk, along with a number of bound papers that looked like reports.

 

“And I would like to hear if from your own lips,” continued Savos Aren.

 

So Nora spoke for most of an hour, telling the archmage a little about her world and her part in it, then relating how she had been brought here by the Goddess Kynareth. Then a synopsis of her adventures in Skyrim thus far.

 

“She's telling the truth as far as I can tell,” said Aren, looking over at Mirabelle. “She did not set off the spell at least.”

 

“Spell?” asked Nora in alarm, wondering if something would have hurt her if she had told a lie. But she had stuck to the truth to the best of her ability.

 

“A simple truth spell,” said Aren with a smile. “Nothing to be alarmed about. Mirabelle thought you were being straight with her, but I'm not so easily convinced. Quite the story, and you definitely aren't a normal student. So, Nora Jane Adams, Thane of Whiterun and of Morthal, Dragonborn, just giving you your titles on this world since I don't know those of your home world. What do you want of us?”

 

“I want to become a master of the schools of magic, Archmage. I told you how I have to fight the World Eater in the future, probably no more than two years from now. And I need all the advantages I can get. The voice is powerful, and I have gotten quite skilled at wielding magical weapons. But it wouldn't hurt to be able to protect myself with magic and throw spells at Alduin.”

 

“Quite the task, and I don't envy you. I wouldn't want that burden laid on my shoulders. But Kynareth seemed to think you are up for it, and who am I to gainsay her.”

 

“I'll tell you honestly, Archmage. After seeing Alduin I realized that I am in over my head. I can't beat him, at least not at this time. He's a God, and I'm just a mortal. I have taken on many challenges and won, but this one scares me to death. So much is riding on it.”

 

“I understand,” said the Dunmer in a gentle tone. “As I said, I wouldn't want it. You show wisdom being afraid. But many, including a Goddess, feel that you have it in you. You also have the referrals of three fine mages. Farengar, Wuunferd and Falion. We haven't always seen eye to eye with any of them, but all are powerful practitioners of magic and good judges of talent. So, since I don't want my world eaten around me, and would prefer that my spirit live with my ancestors, and not feed the appetite of an evil beast, we will do what we can to prepare you. Mirabelle.”

 

“We are currently working out a curriculum for you to get you to master level as fast as possible,” said the master mage in her cultured Breton voice. “It has never been done before, and it may not be possible. But much of it depends on you. On how much talent you have, and how hard you are willing to work. I know you wanted to attend the novice classes, and I'll let you sit in them for a week, since they are really a waste of time for someone who has been throwing spells and healing comrades in battle. You are a natural spellsword already, but we want to make you a battlemage of immense power, so that you can save us all. So after that first week you will spend a week with the apprentice mages, then move up to study with the adepts.”

 

“I have a routine I have been working on with my friends. Switching spells, dodging and blocking arrows, attacking with my sword. I would like to continue that if I could.”

 

“Let me see you in action,” said Mirabelle, nodding. “But be prepared for some late nights at the College. Like the archmage, I want you to succeed. I would stand by you in that fight, as would most of the mages here, But you were given the task, so I would assume that you are the only one who can defeat him.”

 

Nora left the College that night, after lessons with Mirabelle and the archmage, worn out. And hopeful. These people had believed her, and she was going to get the best instruction possible. She walked at a quick pace, eager to tell her friends.