Hey! Before you start reading I just want to say a few words. This is old; two years old in fact. On top of that, it's my very first fanfic pretty much. Do not expect top quality, just sayin'. It's been collecting dust on my hard drive for quite a while now but I finally got it going again and I figured I'd upload it here. There are currently 7 finished chapters and I will upload all of them after I've checked them through for spelling mistakes and the like. Thank you, you may proceed, hope someone out there enjoys it.
With a last swing of the arm, he let the dark blade sweep down and cut through the skin of the robed culprit. The man screamed in pain, hands clutching tightly around a torn-open chest, twitching uncontrollably before loudly collapsing on the ground, landing firmly next to his matching companion.
Zekk frowned as he sheathed his dagger and wiped a splatter of blood off his eye. He looked down on the two bodies lying in the snow that had so suddenly lashed out at him at the road. They were clad in almost identical brown robes, covered from head to toe with the rough fabric giving absolutely no indication whatsoever to their identity as not even a bit of skin was visible. Thick gloves of the same structure covered their hands, decorated with a bright, bone-like material that he figured had the function of physical protection.
Apart from the strange clothing, there was one thing in particular that caught the attention of the dunmer. The faces of the two - men, mer, beasts, whatever they were – lay concealed by a strange mask. Zekk crouched down to get a better look at it. It was a large mask. White in color, stained with dirt and blood from the battle. He reached out his hand to trace his fingers along the many patterns carved into the surface of the material, which he reckoned was the same type made for the armor on the robes. Rough cuts formed circles around where the eyes were, deep enough to leave only a tiny space in the middle for the person to see through. Tilting his head slightly, he tried to make out its resemblance. The mask itself had sharp features, the edges of it shaped into points seeming to grow out from it, sharpened enough to alone be able to pierce skin. Zekk realized it must be some kind of a skull, when he more closely inspected the similar formations near the mouth-area where the spikes clearly looked like long teeth.
Out of mere curiosity, he searched for the belts to hold the hood together and untied them to remove the mask, seeing the face of one of his two attackers for the first time, and he let out a sigh. The grey-blue skin and crimson eyes couldn't fool even the boldest of nords. Knowing now that he had fought a dunmer, he removed the mask of the other person to see if they were of the same kind. His assumption was proven correct as the hood unfastened.
A quick search through the many layers of the robes revealed little value to be kept and the elf was just about to rise to his feet when he discovered a neatly folded note tucked into a satchel at one of the elves' sides. He unfolded it in an instant, eyes scanning the parchment and reading the writing on it.
"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Zekk before he reaches Solstheim.
Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."
Zekk raised a brow as a puzzle began to form inside his mind. Two seemingly like-minded individuals in strange clothing were sent to execute him to the advantage of their mighty leader. What was he to make of this, other than that these two dunmer were members of a cult? A cult ruled by someone living on Solstheim. He stopped for a moment to think, and let the name escape his mouth in a vague whisper. Solstheim… The name sounded familiar, though he couldn't place a finger on where he had heard it before. His thoughts turned suddenly to times long ago, to standing outside a weathered farmhouse, a hard wind bringing cold flakes of show in a young face, and a mother carefully embracing him as her lips moved in a calm rhythm. It's almost as cold as on Solstheim.
A smile spread to his face as he sat there between the two bloody corpses, stunned by the sudden memory. Though he quickly rose to his feet and drew a long breath before he could wrap his head around it. Well then, he thought, bothered but yet strangely amused at the idea of being the target of an obscure cult. He supposed it was off to Windhelm. After all, he had enough people wanting his head on a plate and the least he could do was to get rid of them before they got any more ideas, or investigate what everything was about at least. Throwing the two masks bluntly on the ground, he turned and began walking towards the road again, to the spot where he had first been ambushed by the attackers. He looked around for his horse, which was nowhere to be seen. The mer grunted loudly. The poor beast must have fled at the sight of the spell-wielding robed men with their large skull-shaped masks in the instant they appeared.
Well, since the mer wasn't up to walking all the way to Windhelm from Falkreath Hold so close to dusk, he ran up one of the hills, scouting around the woods hoping to catch a glimpse of the animal through the trees and branches. Luckily it took only a couple of minutes before he heard neighing nearby, and jogging towards the direction of the sound, he was pleased to find his brown horse standing peacefully by a large pond busy munching on the green grass under its hooves. Zekk shook his head unable to hide a slight smile as he approached the creature, who didn't seem to mind his presence at all.
"Alright, you coward," he mumbled, taking hold of the reins, gently patting the head of the horse before leading it through the forest back to the road. "Come on." The horse huffed in disapproval of having to leave the tasty grass, but the elf only responded with another pat on the head. He didn't dislike the animals, though found them difficult and unpredictable. They were a useful asset for a traveling adventurer such as himself, but other than carrying supplies and equipment, he didn't fancy them too much. If it weren't for the fact that you could scarcely walk between the holds Skyrim, he would never have acquired one in the first place. This fellow hadn't even got a name. He had bought him but three weeks ago, tired of riding carriages and boats (and occasionally walking) for the last months since his other horse died. The beast had been bought for merely a five hundred gold from an old stable near Riften, probably used to carrying his junk by now, spending most of its time waiting outside cities not even riding that much in between the breaks. And he hadn't even asked for its name. Zekk didn't deny that he felt a bit guilty at the thought of that, but he wasn't one for names. He simply couldn't come up with one, even if he owed the horse at least that.
Once up the steep hill and the many moss-clad rocks, Zekk proceeded to mount the steed, seeing how it didn't quite matter if the ground was fairly solid to ride on anyway.
After a while, he could spot the road ahead of him and motioned to increase the speed. The sky had begun to fade to a warm orange tint when the wind finally roared in his ear and the world flew by like the passing of a wave. Tightening his grasp of the reins, he leaned forward and closed his eyes for a few seconds, simply enjoying the feeling of speed and fresh air on his skin as the brown steed lashed past the many trees and bushes by the small gravel road in the middle of the forest. The riding part wasn't that unpleasant, Zekk thought with a smirk. Nor was it difficult, as long as you kept on good terms with the horse and a firm grasp of the reins. If there was anything he enjoyed especially about traveling, it was these calm and undisturbed moments where he could just feel like there wasn't a bother in the world.
Concentrating his thoughts more on riding, the mer navigated the horse to change direction when the road split, choosing the way he knew led towards Riverwood. To think, that he would come to know this land so well. After all, he had only been here for a little more than six months and he practically knew the roads like the back of his hand, even some parts of the wilds weren't that hard to recognize anymore. After more or less roaming the wilds and the rest of the lands like he had in his previous adventures, he supposed it was normal for one to grow so accustomed to surroundings like he had. Peculiar that a country he thought so little of would become his home and sanctuary, for him to ever seek to discover secrets and stories from, on account of himself. Perhaps he had a knack for these kinds of things. Probably, he thought, since he got into exploring in the first place.
It wasn't long until the skies were a deep blue and the hills and mountains to his side lay in darkness, unreached by the spots of billions of glimmering pearls high above, or the dim lights of lanterns far in the distance. Upon turning his horse around the mountainside and seeing them, Zekk slowed down to a trot. He had been riding in a canter for what he reckoned to be a good bit more than an hour up until now. Seeing how he'd reached his destination without trouble since the light ambush, he figured he could enter the small town calmly.
The river flowing from the lake made a soothing, splashing sound as the water hit the surface of nearby rocks and cliffsides. The air was chilly, but not enough to feel unpleasantly cold when it passed through your nose. Spring had finally taken hold. Moving slowly in the same direction as the running water, he soon approached the village. There stood a guard by the city entrance, who almost seemed startled at the dark figure emerging from the shadows of the road, though immediately relaxing when she saw the face of the rider who proceeded to jump off his horse and greet the guard now standing stretched and confidently smiling.
"Always a good evening knowing you're around, Dragonborn." The guard respectfully stated, brushing off some dirt that had stained the yellow cloth on her Whiterun armor. Zekk gave the woman a polite glance as he grabbed the rope to tie his horse to a tree, like he had grown used to doing every time he stopped in Riverwood. It wasn't really the most courteous way to do it and probably not even allowed either, though no one had complained to him so far about it. He supposed he had earned that little advantage from the guards, among many other things that came with saving the world single-handedly. At this, he smirked halfheartedly. He had become a symbol of legend among the inhabitants of Skyrim, a hero to respect and to thank with their very lives. This made him uncomfortable most of the time. In his life he was never one to appreciate being in the center of attention. He had been an unknown, silent passer-by whom no one paid attention to. And look at him now, making even city guards pay close attention to their manners. He was too accustomed to being recognized everywhere that he didn't really care anymore, or know how to care, at least not at the moment too busy smiling at the guard's behavior. As long as he was left alone when he wanted to be left alone, and able to relax when he could, he figured he would remain content.
The village lay silent in the night. No one except Zekk himself and a patrolling guard a small distance away could be seen walking the stone-clad street at this hour. The mill was still turning with the ever-lasting flow of the river, but all windows were dark and doors were shut except for a large, sturdy building at the outskirts of town, where the lights shone bright and the sign hung high.
Upon entering the well-known inn, he was greeted by the sound of laughing and cheering, as three men sat by the large hearth, each positioned on a chair facing the flames. The three of them each held a large mug in hand, occasionally raising them to their faces or knocking it against another in loud exclaims with a rosy smile on their faces, all while singing and laughing together in their intoxicated state. Zekk smiled to himself as he caught the soft scent of newly baked bread and the light smoke from the warm fire the men sat by. It was a merry company. They all looked up as the elf closed shut the door behind him, eyes widening in realization.
"Dragonborn!" exclaimed the bearded one while dramatically raising his mug to his head while the others did the same in a cheering. He recognized him as Alvor, the town's blacksmith. The others sat on each side of him, Embry and Hod.
The mer smiled warmly and placed his bag on one of the empty tables near the entrance. "Evening, gentlemen!" he greeted them, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Even better than yesterday!" all of them seemed to agree as they all cheered once more to this remark.
"Say, why don't you join us for a drink?" the one of the men asked as Zekk leaned over the table and started to dig in his bag.
"Show us a shout!" requested Embry, which only made the Dragonborn laugh mildly. He cast a gaze in the direction of the grumpy bartender, who stood behind the counter with a mug in his hand wiping it clean with a piece of cloth. He gave an acknowledging nod towards the mer, lips in a thin line as he again fixed his gaze on the three friends.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen," Zekk started, finally reaching what he was looking for and looking up and the three waiting humans, showing a regretful smile as he explained "I only came inside to rent a room." Which was true, he wasn't going to bed just yet and didn't really feel like getting drunk with three nord locals either. This left the company a bit disappointed, but it was barely noticeable as they were all in such a good mood to show it.
"Bah, let the man mind his own business", slurred Hod, with the others turning towards him in anticipation. "He's probably got dragons to slay!" And so the cheering and laughing began anew as they all rose their mugs and turned towards Zekk once more.
"To the Dragonborn!" yelled the blacksmith and the others mimicked him while dashing their beverages together and enjoying a long drink from the metal mugs all while the elf walked past them, bag in hand, chuckling at them before dropping ten gold coins on the wooden surface of the counter. They clattered as they hit the table and Orgnar seemed pleased to hear the sound, and so swept them into his hand looking up at the elf.
"Usual room, then?" he murmured, devoting more of his attention towards then gold rather than to addressing the elf. Zekk nodded, ignoring the man's lack of interest and turned his gaze towards the door to his left, which stood so slightly ajar that only a strip of firelight could escape into the small room.
"I'll be leaving this inside until I come back in" he said lifting his bag slightly to indicate what he meant. The man before him grunted something in response before reaching for one of the mugs again, grabbing the not-so-very-clean linen rag and beginning to wipe the insides of the containers, nonchalantly dismissing him. The elf sent him a last glance before turning to move towards the door. With one hand, he pushed it open and peered inside, stepping in. It looked exactly as it always had, with a narrow bed tightly tucked between two wooden walls and a worn chest at the foot of it.
Zekk casually threw the bag on the chair before seating himself on the bed, tucking away his Daedric dagger from his side and laying it next to him on the table. Some parts of it glowed red in the dim light of the room, giving an almost intimidating impression to him. He supposed that was just one of the powers it possessed. The elf leaned back into the soft cow hide that lay on top of a layer of hay. Riding for such long intervals always made his neck so tense, for whatever reason. Closing his eyes, he let each muscle in his body relax as he tried to filter out the chaos of thoughts in his mind. After the days' incident his mind lay in a mist of strange images, quick passing sequences of red liquid flying through the air, sparkling like rubies in the light of a burning flame. Robed figures bearing the same masks as the ones he had killed. A majestic structure rising high beyond the distant fog…
No, that wouldn't do. He had intended to take a walk to clear off his mind before going inside to rest, and that was exactly what he was going to do. Now with the men having the time of their life just outside his door, he figured he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.
He jumped up and quickly rose to his feet, which he then realized was a grave mistake when his head started to spin and ache upon lifting it from the pillow. By Azura, had he really been that exhausted from the trip? Or had he forgotten to eat again… It didn't matter. He left the room and headed outside, leaving his weapon behind. He doubted anything would happen in a small village like this, and in case those damned cultists would show up to chop his head off again he had more than enough skill with flames to turn each of them into a burning pile of ash.
The air was as cool as it had been before, and he inhaled deeply to keep it inside his lungs for a bit until letting out his breath. Gazing up at the starry sky, he stepped down the wooden stairs, wrapping his dark cloak around him as he turned right down the path, heading in the direction of the stone bridge that went over the small river. Masser and Secunda were close together in the sky, barely touching the dark blue horizon where the mountains gathered yonder. He heard crickets somewhere in the flowing grass as he walked down the road, stopping silent when they noticed his presence. The light wind brushed against his cheek as it followed his steps on the road and causing the brushes to rustle calmly from its touch. Zekk leaned against the railing once he reached the bridge, a tired gaze fixed on some unknown point on the land down the river. Some of the light from two nearby road lanterns helped his eyes adjust to the darkness quicker as he stood silently on the bridge, surrounded by the soothing sounds of running water and crickets.
He was bothered. As much as he enjoyed the feeling of solitude and its advantages, he still had a lingering feeling of being alone. But that wasn't directly the issue, since he'd always been the lone wolf even before Skyrim, way back in his childhood in Cheydinhaal he would run out to the gardens of the area spending his time by himself climbing trees and watching animals. Sure, he would often see the other children playing in the streets, but he had never really wanted to join them. He didn't dislike the company of others, though had never really cherished the thought of it either. Now, he didn't quite know what he thought. The threat of Alduin diminished and the world back to its normal state, him having fulfilled his "great destiny" as a hero, knowing that he had accomplished what he were supposed to do… He frowned slightly. Perhaps he simply didn't know what to do now. He tried to settle his mind on this, but that ever-present longing for like-minded company refused to leave him once he noticed the silent stillness of the night again.
He stood like that a while, contemplating on whether or not to pay attention to his inner thoughts, until his eyelids practically shut themselves from sleepiness and he forced himself away from the railing lousing back to the inn. The elf expected to hear the same drunken yelling and laughing when he entered, but to his surprise he didn't. Alvor seemed to have left the company, which now consisted of the two remaining men sitting next to each other, Hod ranting about all kinds of problems while Embry gave him occasional friendly claps on the back. Most of it sounded like gibberish and something regarding his wife which Zekk was too tired to hear. None of them seemed to notice him as he walked past, probably too immersed in Hod's sentimental moment.
After closing the door and removing his cloak, which he lazily threw on his bag on the chair, he collapsed onto the bed not minding the hay sticking up from the covers and not caring to untie his high ponytail. And so he finally relaxed, concentrating on the creaking noise of the wooden house and the flickering of candle light (and the occasional voice from the men outside) he fell silent, into a deep but troubled sleep.