"You'd better be here to ask me a riddle." Eldaline explained to the enormous shape in ancient armour of shining pearl.
"Despair, at last, and succumb." said the giant.
"No. Who are you supposed to be?" she demanded, but all the while she assumed that her soldiers were behind her.
The figure said, "Some have given me the name Pelinal Whitestrake. Do you not recognise me?"
"No matter. I am your doom. Bow your head and be ended."
"Bollocks are you Pelinal Whitestrake." said Eldaline, rather unpleasantly. "Ten minutes ago, I deliberately imagined a twelve-foot tall Pelinal with a unicorn hat, the better to trap you, mind-reading illusionist."
"Illusionist, am I? Will my blade not slice you, Eldaline, writer of histories?"
"Not sure. Trying to slice you first."
Eldaline did not say anything immediately, so as not to give away her weakness, but she had now understood that she was alone. Also, she realised now that imagining a 2-foot tall Pelinal with a unicorn hat would have proved exactly the same point, without being quite so dangerous. The towering knight moved strangely. His arms and legs stepped like a man, but his entire mass appeared to sway and float from side to side.
But she said, "Is your armour soft, too, false hero of the Nedes? Soft, like skin, perhaps? Like the sticky goo we have been finding wherever we go?"
She snarled like a spurned hagraven. "It looks to be soft. I like my human heroes soft and squadgy."
Her blade and the angry mace accompanying it slashed and bludgeoned across the knees of the giant, or where the knees should have been. "Yield!" she ordered.
"Ahhh! How did you get here so fast Auntie Eldaline? I got lost in the dust."
"Well, look at that!" Skavild cried. "There she is! Tsun's tonsils! What was that thing?"
"Dissolving, like the rest." said Aranwen.
"Who told you to get lost? Oh, never mind! Come over here, my working theory is now close to conclusive proof." said Eldaline. "Aranwen, I was unfair not to take your protestations seriously at first."
After wiping the sticky substance off her clothes again, Eldaline climbed atop a pile of unfortunate mortal remains. "It is an enemy of great magical skill, concentrating all his power into this elaborate illusion, with little understanding of modern history. His minions dissolve into sticky, slimy pools when they are destroyed, no matter what shape they appeared to take before. Even his knowledge of our emotions and the effects of the weather upon us are inexpert."
"Second Archivist!" cried Aralina. "You don't mean... Oh, no!"
"I do mean it." said Eldaline. "Look down. Even along the bottom of the water, you can see the trails they leave."
"Wow." said Rufus. "Slime on the water! How'd it get there?"
The elves looked down into the shallow water with mild disgust, but Skavild was confused. Ondolemar said, "I can't believe it! The answer should have been so obvious."
"What is it, Eldaline? What's all this goo about?" said Skavild.
"There is a Sload about."
"I see." Skavild began. "No, wait. The Sload are a fairy story to frighten your little elf children. Remember the illusion. It's making you believe things that aren't there. Just think about it, Eldaline. Marine necromancer slugs. It doesn't sound real, if you think about it, does it?"
"This is a very serious matter." said Aralina. "The Sload are very real. They are the very bitterest enemies of the Altmer."
"And when they appear anywhere, it is to bring war." said Ondolemar.
"What about the Nords?" Skavild said. "Aren't we the bitterest enemies of the Altmer?"
"Second Archivist Eldaline! Did you hear what he said?"
"As you were, Ondolemar." said Eldaline.
"What's so funny?" Skavild demanded, but growing more uncertain.
Aranwen said, "Why would you think that? The Sload were attacking the Isles thousands of years before we knew your kind existed. I thought you knew about Time. We hate the Sload more than anything. Then there's the Sea-Elves. Filthy pirates, we haven't seen them in centuries, but if I catch one, I'll nut him to death."
"By our own standards, we really quite like you." said Ondolemar.
"Oh, it is too silly. Why would we declare the Nords our bitterest foes, when the Sload and the Maormer still roam the seas, and the Dunmer were raiding our shores and enslaving us for so long? Second Archivist, it is my dream to go to Vvardenfell and blow up their big mountain again." said Aralina.
"Hey, Da." said Rufus. "It's all right. Nords are so far down the list with the people they hate, these elves are probably your best friends!"
"Rufus, son, be quiet while Da clears this up."
"And then there are the purple things with four heads." said Ondolemar. "I can't even remember what they're called. They live in Stirk. I hate the purple things with four heads from Stirk."
"Why don't you stop making up enemies so we can go and find this nonexistent slug necromancer?"
"I hate them even more than the blasphemous moss-goblins of Murkwater."
"I can't wait to meet a Sload." said Rufus.
Skavild said, "There's no such thing as a Sload, son."
"Be on your guard for any enormous knights, and now, purple things with four heads from Stirk and blasphemous moss-goblins of Murkwater. Thank you for that, Ondolemar."
But the illusionist, whether he was starting to suspect that the elves were making fun of him, or simply did not know how to manifest a purple thing or a moss goblin, did not provide any further obstacles for them. Before a small door in an antechamber, the humming was louder than ever. It now sounded more like a voice than ever, an outlandish voice they had never heard before, with a hint of gurgling and comb and paper.
A great collection of obstacles had been poured into a vast pit before them on the other side of the door. "Second Archivist, do you mind if I sit down here for a while? I have a low tolerance for lava."
"It serves you right for saying you were going to explode the Red Mountain again, Flopsy. Permission to fall in is denied."
"What's the matter, Rufus?" said Skavild. "Why're you looking so sullen? Just hold onto my hand, there's a path around the side."
"I wanted to meet the purple things with four heads."
As they paused in a corridor, the soldier called Aranwen made a suggestion. "Here's a thought. What if the lava isn't even hot?"
"That is good thinking, soldier." said Aralina. "Put your hand in and test it."
"There's no need to be like that, by your leave, with all possible respect, Agent Fl... Aralina. It was just a thought and you can get stuffed if you think I'm putting my hand in there, and if you're still sour about that treasure chest you can get stuffed too, I humbly suggest."
"What treasure chest?" said Aralina. "I don't remember anything about a treasure chest. Now, do not speak of the treasure chest again."
"Oh, you must remember the treasure chest, it was really funny. And you thought the geography teacher told you to stay in there and spent two days asking politely if you could get out."
"Oh." said Aralina. "Yes, of course. That treasure chest. It could not be more irrelevent at this time, soldier. As you were."
"Ahem." said Eldaline.
"Ondolemar has helpfully tested the lava, and Aranwen's theory was correct. It is harmless."
"Your geography teacher taught you well." said Ondolemar. "My hand always did that, by the way."
Eldaline said, "Now, I am going to conduct an experiment on this fiery door. Is anybody stupid enough to walk through it after me to take note of whether I am burned to death or not?"
"Seems fine so far." said Ondolemar.
He followed the uncharred Second Archivist through into a great chamber and was struck speechless by the sight he beheld. The others, close behind, began to shout in disgust. But now they had to raise their voices to be heard over the hum of the spell.
Skavild was suddenly very unsure about everything he had ever believed, or at least most of it. "El... daline. What's... that?"
"It is finished." said Eldaline. "You put on a good show, but it has consumed every shred of your power. End this mirage and be arrested, or see it ended by force and perish."
"Your demand is unacceptable." said the Sload.
To be continued...