10 frostfall, 2920, Phrygias, High Rock.

Frostfall
Book Ten of 2920,
The last year of the First Era

10 frostfall, 2920, Phrygias, High Rock,

The creature before them blinked, senseless, its eyes glazed, mouth opening and closing as is relearning its function. A thin blob of saliva burbled down between its fangs, and hung suspended. Turala has never seen anything of its kind before, reptilian and massive, perched on its hind legs like a man. Mynistera applauded enthusiastically. "My child," She crowed "you have come so far in so short a time. What were you thinking when you summoned this daedroth?"

It took Turala a moment to recall whether she was thinking of anything at all. She was merely overwhelmed that she had reached out across the fabric of reality into the realm of oblivion, and plucked forth this loathsome creature, conjuring it into the world by the power of her own mind. "I was thinking of the colour red," Turala said, concentrating, "The simplicity and clarity of it. And then - I desired, and spoke the charm. And this is what I conjured up"

"Desire is a powerful force for a young witch," said Mynistera. "And it is well matched in this instance. For this daedroth is nothing if not a simple force of the spirits. Can you release your desire so easily?"
Turala closed her eyes and spoke the dismissal invocation. The monster faded away like a painting in sunlight, still blinking confusedly. Mynistera embraced her Dark Elf pupil laughing with delight. "I never would have believed it, a month and a day you've been with the coven and you're already far more advanced than most of the women here. There is powerful blood in you Turala, you touch spirits like you were touching a lover. You'll be leading this coven one day - I have seen it!"

Turala smiled. It was good to be complimented. The Duke of Mournhold had praised her pretty face; and her family, before she had dishonoured them, praised her manners. Cassyr had been nothing more than a companion: His compliments meant nothing. But with Mynistera, she felt she was home."You'll be leading the coven for many years yet, grat sister," said Turala.

"I certainly intend to. But the spirits, while marvelous companions and faultless tellers of truth, are often hazy about the wen and hows. You cant bkame them really. When and how mean so little to them," Mynistera opened the door to the shed, allowing the brisk autumn breeze in to dispel the butter and fetid smells of the daedroth. "Now, I need you to run an errand to Wayrest. Its only a weeks ride there, and a weeks ride back. Bring doryatha and celephyna with you. As much as we try to be self-sufficient, there are herbs that we cant grow here, and we seem to run through an enormous quantity of gems in no time at all. Its important that the people of the city learn to recognize you as one of the wise women. You'll find the benefits of being notorious far outweigh the inconveniences."

Turala did as she was bade. As she and her sisters climed aboard their horses, Mynistera brought her child, little five-year-old bosriel to kiss her mother good-bye. The witches were in love with the little Dunmer infant, fathered by a wicked Duke, birthed by wild Ayleid Elves in the forest heart of the empire. Turala knew her nursemaids would protect her child with their lives. After many kisses and a farewell wave, the three young witches rode off into the bright woods, under a covering of red, yellow and orange.