Under the Purple Sky

Chapter One: Idgrod the Younger

It had been almost a week since Idgrod the Younger had been to Falion's house. She meant to go over every night to visit her friend, but Joric needed her. A spate of visions and nightmares had consumed her brother's mind, and he needed constant supervision. Her mother, the Jarl, was in a similar state, keeping her father occupied. This left their housecarl Gorm, to handle a good deal of court business. To say that this was less than ideal was an understatement. Morthal had always been among the poorest of Skyrim's towns but until recently, the citizens had been quiet and content. Now they were angry, coming by day after day, demanding answers on everything from dragons and vampires to the mysterious mage who had recently taken up residence and with whom the Jarl spent a good deal of time conferring.

Falion was not quite as mysterious as everyone believed—though Idgrod the Younger had considerably more tolerance then most of the townsfolk. But he was powerful, and his skills in restoration far exceeded those of the typical healer. He was the only mage she knew who could heal a vampire once they turned but were still in the earliest stages of the illness.

He had never cured a vampire in the later stages, but when the woman in checkered leather armor showed up with Prisca in such a state, he was so very eager to try. It bothered Idgrod that her friend seemed to be more of a project than a person, and that his attention to her was only clinical. But she could not complain, however, that she wasn't getting the best possible care under the circumstances. The treatment was tedious, requiring painstaking attention to a process that involved skin pricks, muscle and organ compression, leeches, and the part Idrod found most unsettling, a black soul gem. But Falion was attentive to all of this. Recovery was slow, and even as her skin regained a pale pinkish glow and her eyes turned from red-orange back to blue-grey, she remained weak and feverish, never stirring from her deep slumber.

All Idgrod could do was provide some comfort. She burned calming herbs, brought freshly laundered linens, and read books aloud. Then she would pray.

"Hi Idgrod!" Agni, Falion's young ward, greeted her from the table, where she sat surrounded by text books and soul gems.

"Good evening Agni," she replied. "You're up awfully late."

"I just want to finish one more lesson," she said, gesturing down to the book she was reading. "Are you here to see Falion's patient? She woke up today! Falion said she was talking."

Idgrod furrowed her brow, frustrated at all the secrecy surrounding Prisca's convalescence, which meant that Falion couldn't summon her as soon as this happened. She said good night to Agni and made her way down to the basement, where Falion maintained his infirmary. Prisca was staying in a small, one-cot room in the back, a closet that he cleared out for this, his most complicated, challenging, and private patient.

Falion was quite pleased to see her, however, and Idgrod smiled when she stepped in and saw her friend sitting upright in the bed. Her long, dark hair was mussed and her nightgown, damp and stuck to her thin frame. She was still rather pale, but she was awake. It took all the restraint she possessed not to smother her in a loving embrace.

"Prisca!" she said as she swept across the room and knelt by the bed. "Oh my goodness, look at you. You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Parched." Prisca reached up, her fingers lightly grazing her throat. She turned and smiled at Falion, who brought her a tumbler full of water.

"I have never had a patient drink as much water as this one," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Her fever broke this morning. She's still rather weak, but I think she will be well enough to leave soon."

Idgrod was pleased to hear this, and waited as Falion gathered his things, but before he left, he gestured for Idgrod to join him outside for a moment. She handed Prisca the fresh nightgown and excused herself.