"OH DAH VIING!" I shouted to the skies, as the mountain trembles beneath my feet.
For the first time in very long, I was avoiding my challenger. I don't even know who he is. He simply appeared, next to the Scorched Hammer in Riften, and propose me a challenge: I must send him to Sovngarde with honor… but right now, I fear for my life instead. If I'm not careful enough, I will be the one that may return to Sovngarde… for good, this time. Because that man, hided in his ebony suit, proved to be the strongest foe I ever fought with.
That 'last vigil' as he called it, way high in the southeast mountains, was like a bloody arena. I had called my strongest allies: two dremora lords, Karstagg, Durnehviir, and now, Odahviing.
The two dragons circle in the air above us, shouting fire and ice at the same time. The dremora twins keep him busy while I give consecutive blows at his back. As for Karstagg, he looked almost amused every time he throws the ebony warrior against the rocks.
Even so, the guy resisted. And that armor… was far from ordinary. I can sense its magic protecting him. And it is powerful enough to amaze me, the last dovahkiin, the arch-mage of Winterhold, the harbinger of the Companions, the champion of Oblivion! Plus, his sword appears to feed on my life force at every blow, and every black arrow that trespasses my armor freeze the flesh around the wound.
The dremora twins rushed back to Oblivion innumerable times, just for me to call them again. The dragons were hovering for so long that started to land, breathing deeply and exhausted. Only Karstagg appears to never lose his grip. However, I feared that he doesn't hold it much longer: I have to be careful. When I battled against him, the deal was that he will serve me, as a sign of respect, but that I can only call him three times. And I cannot waste either of them. I cannot let him die. Neither of us! I will not die at the hands of that man! Not being taken for fool to be slain by someone who asks me to send his soul to Sovngarde!
As the warrior pushes the dremora away again, he began to run in my direction, with his sword ready to strike.
So I focused, try to ignore my will to run away from his path, I inhaled deeply, and as he gets closer, I spoke. "KRII LUN AUS!" Die now! Let that purple glow cover every inch of yourself! You're marked to death! Now you will parish!
But in return, the guy's sword caught me. The wound was deep, as I see my blood flowing to the frozen ground. The pain made me scream like I never did.
"Dovahkiin!" Odahviing roared above me, landing a few seconds later, standing protectively between me and the warrior that was now beginning to feel the effects of my Thu'um. That gave me time to heal myself, as I heard Odahviing biting him relentlessly.
When my wounds finally closed, I saw Odahviing exhausted, with deep cuts on his snout. Durnehviir has landed the other side, trying to get the warrior attention. He could take his blows better than the red one: a dead dragon cannot feel pain.
"You bastard!" I screamed, attacking with everything I have. "Stay away from him! FUS ROH DAH!" I saw him being projected against the rocks. Durnehviir shouted again at him, as Odahviing fought against the pain of his haggard snout, incapable of further battling.
When the warrior managed to stand up, he repaid me back. "FUS ROH DAH!" This time I was the one projected violently against the hard scales of my defeated ally. "Frolaaz… zey… [Forgive… me…]" He spoke, spitting blood from his mouth.
The warrior rushed to me, preparing to stab my fallen body. I had no time to put myself away from him. And so Odahviing, in an effort, whipped him with his tail.
I didn't lose any more time. I came to him and I swung my sword with all the strength I have. To my horror, the man slowly stood up again. "Die, damn it!" I spited. "ZUN HAAL VIK!" He spoke. I seemed paralyzed, as I felt my sword being ripped out of my hand and threw down the mountain. Who was that man?!
"Is that all you've got?" He shouted with a sick laugh. He came to me again, and I was so terrorized that I couldn't move. He had his sword inches above my head, when a giant hand grabs him like a child grabs a doll and furiously shoots him into the icy ground. Karstagg. I looked the giant king, and smiled in gratitude. He shook his head, and somehow I felt all my powers refilling me.
I summoned the dremora twins once again. "He's weakening every second! May we attack him all at once! Mu fen all! [We will destroy!]" I screamed to the heavens, raising the Mehrunes' Razor. In a new impetus, we all attacked him. Within our circle, the trapped man, weakened by my Thu'um didn't had a chance. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" I spoke, one last time. This was for Odahviing! I kissed the Razors blade. "Kill him at once, my lord!" I pledged to the daedric prince of destruction. And with that, I launched it: the blade crossed the warrior chest like it was butter.
"At least… Sovngarde…" He said as he faints away. But then a purple light came out of his body to fill one of the dark soul gems I was carrying. At my side, Durnehviir purred loudly, in what is the closest thing a dragon has with a laugh. Then, I get it: he used the Soul Tear shout on him. "Daar los fah hi, zeymah. [This is for you, brother.]" He said to Odahviing. "Now he will never enter Sovngarde." "Durnehviir, you evil dovah… [Dragon]" I said to him with fake disapproval in my voice, sounding rather soft. Truth is that I couldn't think in a better punishment for that man's arrogance. Like he was apparently listening to my thoughts, the dragon answered. "You're welcome, qahnaarin. [Vanquisher]"
"We shall go, master!" The dremora twins spoke, right before vanishing into sparks, back to Ovlivion.
Next, the floor trembles again, at the steps of the white giant that approaches. "Karstagg…" I always respected him, now more than ever. The big giant knelt in front of me, looking me straight in the eyes. His time of service has long passed, and yet he stayed until the end. He saved my life. "Thank you." I was amazed when I saw his lips twisting into a smile. Then he took his hand to his chest. "Honor." He struggled against the word to come out of his mouth in his guttural voice, before standing up and disappear in blizzards.
"I think I should go, too. Tiid wah daal hofkiin. [Time to return home]" Said Durnehviir behind me. "For the first time in my existence, I wish to return to my realm, just to see his face, when he realizes that he ended up in the wasteland of lost souls, himdah do nimun. [Land of nobody]" With this, he took off, disappearing above the eburnean clouds.
Next, I came to see Odahviing. He was better now. His wounds had begun to close. I wanted to help him, but there's nothing I could do. Ironically, a dragon may be susceptible to destruction magic but it's immune to restoration spells. All I can do is waiting for him to recover. Luckily, it's also truth that dragons have an extraordinary power to regenerate. And after long minutes, the red dragons face was back to normal. Then, he shook his head and stretched his wings. "Feeling better?" I asked with a smile. "Geh. [Yes] But I have to confess that I've never took this long to recover." "He was strong…" "Indeed. But you were stronger." "Not without some help. Nox hi. [Thank you]" "You are truly honorable, dovahkiin, dii zooruv kinbok. [My legendary leader] As far as I know, giants don't talk. And yet their king bended himself before you, and forced himself to speak." "That's something I will never forget." I answered, with my voice softened, as my mind lived that moment once again.
Odahviing attempted to the dark body in the snow, and walked to it. I joined him, and pulled the Razor, firmly craved on his chest. Immediately, the armor closed all its rips, and before I even have time to make sense of what just happened, it was brand new. "Interesting…" Commented Odahviing, as he touches the ebony armor with the tip of his nose. "Are you going to take it?" He asks suddenly. "Why should I?" "This hide was the source of his power. Left this to be taken by the wrong hands and we will be forced to fight it again. Besides… it's more likely to suit you better than him." "Perhaps…" Maybe he's right. And all this fight… was something I will not be eager to repeat. So I ordered Odahviing to turn backs on me, as I changed myself.
I was pretty amazed when I found that the man behind the suit was a redguard. "Odahviing! Come see this!" The dragon turned, and purred loudly. "See? I told you! Look nice on you!" "Not me, silly! Him!" I pointed to the man layered on the snow. "A redguard?" He sniffed the man with curiosity. "Came from Hammerfell?" "Who knows? He must wander these lands for long. He knew the Thu'um. He was learning the words. What if he was another dragonborn?" "Nid. [No] That's impossible." "Don't be so sure. I defeated Miraak, not long ago… and he was supposedly the first dragonborn to exist. Prepare yourself to take off!" I ordered as I mounted him. "Geh! Wah faal lok! [Yes! To the sky!]" I need to talk with the Greybeards.
At my command, Odahviing landed in High Hrothgar courtyard, causing the Greybeards to rush on us, alarmed. "Dovahkiin?" Called Argneir, as the others prepared themselves to battle. "Who is that dragon? Is it with you?" "Yes." I simply forgot that I've never introduced the Greybeards to Odahviing. "So these are Paarthurxax's disciples?" Odahviing asked looking intrigued. "Zu'u zent soven lahvu do kendov ko hez dwiin qah, ni dopaan do ronir. [I expect (a) secret army of warriors in bright steel armors, not (a) group of monks]" "Mu vis hon hi, dovah! [We can hear you, dragon!]" Arngeir spoke assertively, much for Odahviing to angrily spit flames from his nostrils, forcing the priests to step back. With that, I thought that it was time to let him go. "Daal wah strunmah. Nii los tiid fah hi wah stiildus tum. [Return to (the) mountain. It is time for you to calm down]" Without answer, he flew off.
"I see you became fluent in Dovahzul." Arngeir noted. "Paarthurnax is a good teacher." "Who was that dragon of yours?" "He doesn't belong to me. Zu'u fen neh piraan dovah ol dii engein. [I will never claim (a) dragon as my belongs] He's an ally of mine, and I had to prove myself to him in order to earn his respect. He brought me here so I can speak to you." "Speak about what, exactly?" "Do you recognize this armor I'm using?" Argneir inspected the armor cautiously, before he looks to me with a shocked expression on his face. "Where did you found it?" "I looted it from a redguard warrior." "You… you killed him?" Bingo! They knew him after all! "Why?!" He demanded to know. "He approached me and said I was the only one who can send him to Sovngarde with honor. He named me his final challenge." "By the Gods…" Arngeir looked paler than usual and I feared at some point that the old man would dismay right in front of me. "It was his last desire, and it is fulfilled." Then I remembered I was lying – right now Durnehviir must be twisting the warriors' soul and mind into madness. "Are you telling us the truth, Dovahkiin?" He asked again. "I have no reason to lie. Besides, I was nearly killed in combat. He was by far the strongest foe I had since my arrival to Skyrim." "In that case, sorry I doubt of you. I can only wish him a good reception in Sovngarde." "So he… trained here, right?" "Yes. He and Ulfric Stormloak." Now the story of Ulfric shouting upon Torygg makes sense! And I used to think that those guards in Windhelm drank too much mead… "Ulfric too?" "Yes. Back then they were two little boys rescued from the orphanage. We gave them shelter and share our knowledge with them. Unfortunately, they both left the monastery before they can fully comprehend the Way of the Voice. In their innocence, they believed to be ready to face the world ahead and all its dangers." "Who of them was the dragonborn?" I asked, confused. "Neither. They took decades just to learn the Unrelenting Force shout that you learned in seconds." "That's the only shout they had ever learned?" "Yes." "What if I told you that the man who wore this armor knew the Disarm shout?" "I've heard whispers of its words, but I do not know that shout. He must have learned it by himself, which is a remarkable achievement." "So you didn't have any news about them since trey left?" "The last thing I remember about Keldr, the former holder of that armor, was the day he came to us saying that he felts ready to leave, and discover his homeland. If he learned the Disarm shout before leaving or after return, I have no idea." "And where this powerful piece of armor came from?" "He made it himself. Keldr was a hard-worker. He divided his time between High Hrothgar and the College of Winterhold. Sometimes, he spent weeks in there, before returns home. And at some point it came to our ears that he had become one of the best enchanters in the College. I remembered perfectly from receiving letters from the college asking permission to extend his stay, so he could help on the main business there: enchanting armors and weapons for anyone who will be willing to pay for it. Of course, he received his share, and when he amounted enough to buy sufficient ebony for the armor and weapons, he crafted and enchanted one on the same day. When he returned, I can barely recognize him. He said goodbye to Hrothgar in the next morning." "And Ulfric?" I asked, now driven purely by curiosity. "Ulfric was the first to depart, few months before Keldr. He was a great student, and back then I believed he would be the one who can make the votes and take the robes of the Greybeards Order. His tenacity was unmatched. Unfortunately it ended the moment he mastered the Unrelenting Force. At a glance, he got cocky and ambitious. Upon his departure, he said never intended to die in here, and that he expected another life to himself. He didn't take long to murder the High King with the very words I taught him." He spited the words, disgusted. "He didn't make his goal to proclaim himself the new High King, but he managed to take the Palace of Kings as his new home, and usurped the title of Jarl of Windhelm. And the rest you should know, right? His great plan, the one that can kill many more than just one man?" His voice sounded angry this time. "The insane idea to bane the Empire from Skyrim, and make it independent. How many men that would die just for that miserable to fulfill his lifetime goal…" "So you're saying that Stormcloak morality has nothing to do with the nords?" "To its soldiers, I believe… but not to Ulfric. He proved only to be greedy and relentless. He will do whatever it takes to hold the Jagged Crown, even if that means to start a civil war." "So you are for the Empire, then?" "We are for neither of the two sides. Every side is both right and wrong. Wars like the one we have ahead will only serve to claim hundreds of innocent lives."
I was still thinking on the words of Arngeir when I left the monastery. And believe it or not, I now feel more intrigued by Ulfric's story. Maybe because he is the only student of the Greybeards that remains alive… or because of the war that approaches, only moved by his ambition.
In my way home, I descended the largest mountain of Skyrim, and passed by the few pilgrims that dare to take the Seven Thousand Steps, a dangerous path in order to read all the ten etched tablets along the way. They do so only as an act of faith. I heard, mainly in Irvastead, in which that journey begins, that the people that choose to climb the mountain seek commune with the Gods. Some of them even say that animals will be kind for them, and that every road in Skyrim becomes suddenly safe to travel by. I don't know if it's truth or not. As for myself, every animal that I've encountered in my path or flees or it rather tries to kill me. It isn't for the Gods, and even less because of the hostile wildlife, that I still climb that mountain by foot, instead of calling Odahviing to give me a quick ride to the top. Reading those tablets made me reflect on my own powers and on my path, as Dragonborn.
Once I arrived to Ivarstead, I sat down by the borders of the Darkwater River that flows nearby, before bending its course to northeast. I looked at my reflex in the calm waters. All I see is the armor. Like Odahviing said, it's a powerful armor… and its user can be anyone. And right now, I feel like I lost my identity, somehow. I'm looking to the Ebony Warrior. Who I am doesn't seem to matter anymore. I am Dragonborn… but I also could be a farmer or a miner. It doesn't feel right. And it feels even more wrong to use it after lying to the Greybeards about the destiny of Keldr.
So in the next moment, I mounted Shadowmere, and rode to home as fast as the mare could take me.
My house – main house, because the fact is that I own several – is located in Whiterun: it is called Breezehome, just near the gates of the city, right after the Warmaiden's. There, I switched the ebony armor for one made of dragon bone. Besides, this one has a special meaning to me: it almost feels like the dragons whose souls I absorbed now fight aside me. I always respected the dov [dragon-kind]. That's not going to change. But in my journey as Dragonborn, some of them just gave me no choice. Besides, denying a challenge to a dragon is the worst insult you can give to them. They seek honor in battle, in a way astonishing similar to the Nordic warriors of Skyrim.
As for the black cursed outfit, it will be destined to be treated like a personal trophy… just as many items I managed to collect during my adventures.