King-Fall

XI. The Widowmaker

"Neloth," Serana asked, "we also ran across another very powerful mage, I was wondering if you knew him."

"His technique is absolutely foreign to me." I added, "I believe I've seen him walking on water and I know for a fact that he summoned an entire body of bound armor."

"Wait, you mean mages don't walk on water in Skyrim?" Neloth said his mouth agape. "Divines, first they outlawed levitation and now everything magnificent about magic. I bet the Dragon Priests didn't care about some stupid law, now only criminals and omnipotent mages like me can use those spells."

Without moving he summoned a gauntlet on one hand in display, "Spells like this have been summoned in Morrowind since the 3rd era," he smirked as the gauntlet dissolved, "he bound and entire set of armor? He likes Conjuration, what else?"

"He absorbed Serana's spells and cast spells on his feet that allowed him to jump clear over me with a bound greatsword."

"Hmmm, that reminds me of an old friend of mine, a Brenton. A good Brenton assistant just like you. He was a prisoner released during the 3rd Era and became a hero of Morrowind. Azura's champion, the Nevarene." Then Neloth's unceremonious nature returned, "In some aspects he was a thief, and had assassins on his tail left and right back in the Dark Brotherhood's better days. Cleared out the Morrowind Capital City's sewers, full of them, but used his coin made from honest and nefarious deeds alike in making spells."

"Wait, so you could help me make my own spells?" I asked.

"Are you mad? Once hyperinflation set in on Imperial gold you couldn't give me Solstheim if it were made of septims to teach dimwits like you to make your own spell. You're just a few centuries to late I'm afraid."

"Guys," Serana broke in, "what did your friend look like?"

Neloth scratched his head and admitted, "I actually don't remember. I usually know faces but not names but his name was Dimitri Alterianni, the poor soul made a promise to Boethiah for immortality or something. Another rumor is that he went to Akavir, a land-mass far away from Tamriel. Rumor also has it he haunts some of the most powerful wizards but only reads their notes as they're writing them. He loved magic, the boy felt like he could do anything. The obsession actually became unhealthy, since he supposedly sold his soul to Boethiah of all Daedric fiends. Now, him I could see with Hermaeus Mora," he gave me a flat look, "not your dumb hide."

"Thanks..." I said awkwardly.

Become 'unhealthy'? Says the one who has killed several of his assistants in 'accidents', I thought.

"Speaking of," Serana said crossing her arms and burning me through with a look, "I happen to know the champion of Boethiah. Would it be possible for this Dimitri to be reincarnated to hunt this champion?"

"I have no idea mi'lady, now!" Neloth said clapping his hands together, "Your favorite part of coming to see me: your fees for my assistance."

"Oh boy..." I groaned.

"I'm going to be coming along for the ride!"

I arched a brow, "The great Neloth is coming into battle with me?"

"Oh Oblivions no! You seriously thought I would stoop that low? No, I perfected that spell that recorded your memories when you helped me with my research with Briarhearts so that I can see what you see, hear what you hear, and we can even converse."

"You're wanting to use this spell on both of us?" Serana asked nervously.

"Of course!"

"Serana," I comforted, "you can trust him."