Chapter 1: The Stranger
He had no idea where he was. He might have guessed it was Icewind Dale; the temperature was almost correct. But the landscape was different: less icy, less windy...and considerably more beautiful. Small red, blue, and purple flowers nodded in the cool breeze. Trees swished in the distance. The crisp air smelled of greenery and snow from the not-distant mountains.
Drizzt Do'Urden took a deep breath, trying to let his head clear. He grimaced at a whiff of something dead upwind and rubbed his temples in an attempt to banish a faint but nagging headache. He had no idea where he was or what had happened; but he had a more than sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the explosion at the wizard's camp he'd been passing ten minutes ago.
Mages, he thought irritably. Of course whatever happened over there would target the unwary passerby. Though, he considered, he was probably being unfair. Chances were that if the explosion had sent him to...wherever this place was, it had done the same thing—or worse—to them. A rabbit scurried past and halted for a moment, sniffing. He smiled down at it, not surprised when it took fright and scampered away. And I could have been sent to a worse place. He looked up at the high wall of cliffs to the west of him, wondering what lay beyond them, then turned and looked in the other directions. The open land beckoned, but...
That was when he noticed the road a short way away. Eyebrows arching, he strode down through the rough grass off the hill, and stepped onto it, looking up and down it. Neither way promised anything immediately at the end, but—his eyes narrowed as he looked back. An ominous form circled a mountain to the south. Drizzt's lips tightened. Dragons. North it is, then. If there was one thing he didn't want to have to face, alone and out of his element in a strange new land, it was a dragon. He turned back to the north and strode along the road.
As he walked, the odor of decay he had noticed earlier grew stronger. He stopped, looking around and wrinkling his nose. "What in the world?"
It wasn't the only smell. There was a sort of...it wasn't quite a musk, but definitely an animal odor, underlying the stench of decayed flesh. Suddenly cautious, Drizzt drew his scimitars and left the road, approaching the source of the smell.
Some distance away from the road and nestled near the bank of a lazy-looking river stood a small house. Both odors definitely emanated from it. He gritted his teeth, suddenly guessing what had happened there. "That poor fellow," he whispered. "Likely a bear, judging from that smell."
He noticed a series of tracks in the soft earth and knelt down to study them. Almost at once, he frowned. They weren't bear prints. In fact, they looked more like a panther—though he couldn't think of a panther that large and heavy...
Instinct alone got him out of the way as the culprit, a massive saber cat whose head came up almost to his shoulder, lunged out of the doorway and dove at him. Drizzt clutched at his scimitars and wheeled, slashing at the monstrous creature. He managed to score a couple of hits, but neither one sank as deeply as he needed. The beast's thick fur deflected all but the most direct blows.
Angered by the cuts, the saber cat slashed at him, its paw moving shockingly fast. Aided by his enchanted anklets, Drizzt dodged the first two strokes, but took the third on his hip. He staggered. His mail coat had turned the beast's claws, but not the force of the blow. He struck again, this time inflicting a longer cut on the creature's face. It roared, lunging at him in fury. Desperate, he dashed back, trying to avoid claw and fang.
The cat was canny and dangerous, its coat striped with scars from battles with man and beast. It had dealt with many who had tried to oust it from its chosen lair, some more skilled than others. This challenger was faster and more nimble than the Nords it usually caught; but it had eaten Elves before, and knew how to take them down. It slapped again, lower, and caught the fighter on the lower thigh.
Drizzt bit back a cry as the claws ripped into him, sinking through his leather pants. He staggered, whipping his scimitars in a blur to try and keep the cat off. It roared in fury, backing off a few steps as Twinkle and Icingdeath opened another set of wounds on its face and neck. Then, maddened by the scent of blood, it charged in again.
Drizzt fought desperately, trying to keep it off him. The huge cat struck fast and often, its blows unpredictable and vicious. A swift three-part strike to the chest—again, partially foiled by his mithril coat—slammed into him like a hammer, and he felt two ribs give way. Another swipe came higher, pushed past the scimitar he held up, and tore across his face. Half-blinded by the flow of blood, he tried to stab the saber cat in the mouth, somehow missed, and gouged it in the shoulder. Again it backed off, and—staggered.
It roared, turning slightly, then staggered again. Drizzt, gasping from pain, struggled to stay on his feet. This time he heard the whish, thwack! as a third arrow whipped down from somewhere above and to the west. The saber cat roared again, the sound mixed with pain and frustration. It staggered a third time, this time from...weakness.
The fourth arrow sent it crashing to the ground. Feebly, it tried to rise once more, then fell back, the wild light in its eyes dimming. Drizzt tried to stand, then fell back to his knees, gasping as his leg and chest screamed at him for trying.
"Don't move!"
Puzzled, he turned, trying to find the source of the clear, female voice. Then he frowned as he noticed a flash of greenish-gold, halfway up the nearly-sheer cliff face across the river. It slithered back and forth, moving in a zigzag line downward.
"Don't move!" the stranger called again. "You're losing too much blood. I'm going to help you!"
"How are you doing that?" He rose again, his head whirling. Something told him he shouldn't do that, now with these kinds of wounds, but his mind wasn't really...working correctly...
His injured leg gave out beneath him, and he collapsed, falling directly onto his wounded side. A rush of pain smothered him, and he blacked out.
Soothing warmth filled him, working its way through his body. A light touch rested on his injured side for a moment, and he could feel the ribs straightening and knitting together. The touch moved from his side to his face, brushing across the gashes inflicted by the cat's claws, then down to his torn leg. Drizzt stirred and opened his eyes.
"Ah, you're awake."
The strange voice spoke again. He realized suddenly that he was smelling food, and tried to sit up. A hand on his chest stopped him. "Don't move too much yet. You lost a great deal of blood. Here." She put a cup to his lips. "Just sip at this; it's strong."
It was strong—but good. A warming spiced wine that coursed through his veins and into his head. "Unf. No more, I think."
"Not on an empty stomach." The stranger moved away from him, and he heard dishes clattering. In a moment, she returned, holding a bowl. "Think you can eat by yourself? The first time I took those kinds of wounds, I was weaker than a newborn puppy for a day or so."
"This isn't the first time for me." He managed to push himself up. "Ouch." He reached for the bowl. As she handed it to him, he saw her clearly for the first time.
She was slender, about as tall as he was, and surprisingly beautiful, her trim body concealed beneath the greenish-golden armor he had seen on the cliff. A helmet sat on the table nearby, made of the same stuff as her armor. She smiled at him as he took the bowl from her, rose lips curling up. Thick black hair, plaited away from her narrow face, accented her pale skin and set off her amber eyes.
"Welcome back to the world of the living," she said calmly, sitting back on her heels. "When you collapsed, I wasn't sure you were going to make it. But this wasn't the first time I've poured healing energy into someone who'd fallen, hoping to find a breath or a heartbeat for my power to take onto."
"I suppose I owe you my life," Drizzt said, a bit cautious. This wasn't the first time he'd been in trouble, or even in mortal danger. Usually, though, the one who helped him had been a friend already—often a close friend. Not a complete stranger.
The woman just shrugged. "It's easy for that to happen here in Skyrim. You're not the first I've aided...and there's nothing to say I won't owe my life to you somewhere along the line."
"Skyrim. Is that the name of this world?"
She tilted her head to the side, puzzled. "The name of the world is Nirn. Skyrim is just the country." She looked out the shattered door, her face growing dreamy. "Skyrim; realm of the north."
Drizzt looked around at the rough walls around them. "Where are we?"
"Inside the cabin that saber cat had staked out." The woman chuckled wryly. "It doesn't smell as bad as some places I've come across, and I didn't dare try to move you further, not as torn up as you were. At the very least, this place has a roof and blocks some of the wind." She looked at him again. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Ravenlight, formerly of Cothy'rim."
"Drizzt Do'Urden." He inclined his head to her, not wanting to test his sore ribs further. "Why formerly of Cothy'rim?"
Ravenlight laughed softly. "Because now I am of Skyrim, without limits or hesitation. And I have a new name...a defining name." She stood and walked over to the door. "Eat and rest up, Drizzt Do'Urden. I'm going to skin that saber cat; pelt won't be worth much, but I can always use the leather." She paused and looked back at him. "Unless you want it."
He shrugged. "What would I do with it? I'm a fighter, not a furrier or a smith."
"There's nothing to say you can't be both." Ravenlight smiled oddly as she spoke, then walked outside.
Drizzt looked after her, wondering what she meant. Then he looked down at his bowl. Venison stew, thick and hearty. He took a bite and whimpered a little, wondering why nothing he had eaten before had tasted this good. Then his stomach growled loudly, making him wonder if, perhaps, the fact that he hadn't eaten for nearly twenty-four hours had something to do with it. He dug in.
Ravenlight stood in the doorway to the cabin, looking out at the falling night. Despite a finger of selfish annoyance muttering to the contrary, discovering the stranger had not disrupted any plans. It helped to be just out wandering more or less aimlessly, she mused, rocking back on her heels. Besides which, she didn't like traveling at night. It was good to have an excuse to pass the night under a roof—especially if she was right in assuming that the gathering clouds meant rain later on.
"Is there a problem?"
Startled, she turned and looked back inside. The stranger—Drizzt, he had called himself—was sitting upright, still favoring his right side. He looked a little worried.
"Oh—no, there's no problem." She walked over and sat down on the chair, forcing herself not to grimace at the bloodstains in the wood. "Though I will admit, I rarely stay in one place for long—at least, outside a city."
"Oh." He shrugged a little. "I'm the same way. I'm sorry if I've held you up."
"You really haven't." Ravenlight shook her head. "I don't have any particularly urgent tasks at the moment. To be honest, all I've been doing for the past few days is exploring. Wandering." She leaned back in the chair. "I probably should rest a little more regularly. I tend to push myself pretty hard."
"Was there somewhere you were heading?" He started to stand.
"Give yourself at least tonight to rest up and heal completely." Ravenlight leaned over and gently pushed him back down. "And yes, I was heading in the direction of a bandit hideout, but there's no rush. They've kept the thing I've been asked to retrieve for at least three years; it'll wait a few more days. I don't mind waiting a little while for you to heal up." She paused. "Besides which, I don't feel exactly...right leaving you out here on your own. If you didn't even know the name of the country—didn't even know the name of the world..." She shook her head. "I knew virtually nothing about Skyrim when I arrived, but I knew where I was and what the general topography of the place was." She hesitated then, looking him over. "And you...I've never seen anyone quite like you before."
"Really?" He looked skeptical.
"It's true." She had been trying not to be obvious about admiring him—though she had been able to look her fill while she was hauling him into the cabin and healing him. But it was hard not to watch him, especially now that he was awake. He was the most striking creature she'd ever seen, with jet-black skin, shining lavender eyes, and hair as white as snow. "I guessed you were a sort of dark elf; you're clearly Elf, and only the Dunmer have dark skin. But I've never even heard of a Dunmer with your coloring; and it's not wise for someone so different to be out and alone." She looked around. "Skyrim is beyond troubled these days; there's a civil war going on, dark magic users and bandits are taking advantage of all the chaos, and on top of everything else, the dragons are coming back." She grimaced. "With a vengeance."
"Coming back?" Drizzt frowned. "Where did they go?"
"They were all killed." Ravenlight shifted her weight, deciding not to reveal details about her...unusual bloodline. "I spoke extensively with one of the last members of the Blades, an elite warrior group that had killed off the dragons way back when. The dragon king, Alduin, has come back; he's bringing the others back to life."
Drizzt leaned back, stunned. "I have heard of some wild things in my life, but never anything as wild as that."
"I didn't either. Until she and I went to the site of a dragon tomb and saw it happen." She shuddered. "He knew I was there. That blasted—" Ravenlight closed her eyes. "Ugh. That's something I still have nightmares about."
Drizzt was silent for a moment, sipping at the tankard of spiced wine she had given him earlier. Then he glanced over at her again. "You're an Elf as well, aren't you?"
She smiled at him. "Yes. I'm Bosmer—a wood-elf. We're a sort of...in-between. We're not like the Dunmer, who are coming to Skyrim to escape the Ashplagues in their homeland, Morrowind; but we're also not like those pestiferous high-and-mighty Altimer—" she spat the word— "who think they're so much better than the rest of the world and are willing to tear it apart to prove it."
"I take it you don't like the Altimer?"
Ravenlight's eyes gleamed with remembered pain. "Let's just say, I have reason both old and new to dislike them. Greatly." She worried at the strap of her pack, looking to the side. That poor prisoner; Thronnir. And Malborn...brave fool. I just wish he'd hung back long enough for me to take that blasted troll on. She sighed and looked back to him. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to burden you with my troubles. You've certainly got enough of your own to worry about." She stood up. "We'll keep talking about this in the morning, and decide what to do. Get some sleep. You'll be in condition to travel by tomorrow."
Drizzt stretched out on the rough bed. "You're certain?"
Ravenlight smirked at him. "I know my recipes, my herbs, and my powers. You'll be healed come daylight."
She really knew what she was talking about. Drizzt woke up the following morning just as the sun peeked over the rim of the horizon. He rolled out of the rough bed and stopped, remembering the fight of the day before, and wondering suddenly if it had actually happened. He stretched, twisted, bent in every direction he could think of.
There was no pain at all—not even a lingering ache. This is amazing. Ravenlight may be one of the best healers I've ever met.
He walked outside and stopped, alarmed. Ravenlight stood, staring glassily off to the south. She leaned against the wall of the hut, unmoving, barely seeming to breathe. Cautiously, he touched her arm. "Ravenlight?"
Light returned to her eyes, and she turned to look at him. "What? Oh, Drizzt." She straightened, grunting a little as stiff muscles protested. "How are you feeling?"
"Marvelous." He paused. "Better than I've felt for some time, actually. There's no pain at all." He eyed her. "How did you do that?"
She smirked again. "Herbs, a good recipe, good night's sleep, and a generous application of healing magic. I've had to use the combination on myself often enough; I know how it works." She moved away from the wall. "I've been thinking; you look like you've got quite a bit of skill with those blades of yours."
"I have." Drizzt smirked a little himself, then sighed. "Not that yesterday..."
"There is not a warrior in Skyrim who can stand up alone to a saber cat," Ravenlight said bluntly. "I'm a skilled fighter myself—and there was a reason I was up on that cliff to fire at it when I did. I'd been working into position to shoot it from a spot where it couldn't get at me." She grimaced. "I have healing herbs, but I haven't been able to combine them into healing potions for a while now. I need to remedy that soon."
"You mix potions?" Drizzt glanced at her in surprise.
Ravenlight laughed softly. "Quite the conundrum, aren't I? But I prefer to say I have many facets, like a well-cut gem." She looked around, frowning as she contemplated her next move. Then she sighed. "I have too many preparations to just wander from one place to the next," she said at last. "I've gone off half-drawn before, and always paid for it. And you need to learn more about Skyrim. It will be far easier to do in safe territory."
"So what's your plan?" Drizzt followed her out to the road and watched as Ravenlight placed her fingers to her lips. She whistled, long and sweet: a coaxing warble that thrilled every nerve in his body.
In a few minutes, he heard a thunder of hooves along the road, and a huge, dappled horse cantered up along the road. Ravenlight smiled fondly as horse came up to them and halted, breathing out clouds of steam.
"There you are, Fearless, my beauty! My brave one; I was gone for a while this time, wasn't I? Ah, but you're all right." She sprang up and glanced over her shoulder at Drizzt. "My horse. I generally don't take him along when I'm traveling rough terrain; I don't want him hurt. But riding is faster than walking, and Whiterun is nearly a day's travel by foot." She beckoned him up behind her. "Don't worry; Fearless can carry two. He's a strong one, aren't you?" She stroked the powerful neck. "Two Elves won't be any problem for him. None at all."
"Where are we going?" Drizzt vaulted up behind her.
"Home for me: a city called Whiterun. It's a friendly enough place, and I can get supplies there." Ravenlight flicked Fearless's reins, and they set off at a canter. The big horse had a surprisingly smooth gait, given how heavily it strode over the ground. "And you can get a chance to find out a little more about the area. By the way, I never asked; how did you get here in the first place?"
"In all frankness, I don't know. But I think a failed spell had something to do with it." Drizzt grimaced. "I was passing by a camp of wizards when something exploded, and I was knocked flat by a force of what appeared to be iridescent light. When it passed back over me, I found myself here." He glanced ahead, and his eyes widened. "We're going south?"
"Yes. Why?" Ravenlight turned to look back at him, one eyebrow arched.
Drizzt pointed toward the dragon. Ravenlight followed the direction of his hand, frowned, then smiled. "He doesn't stray too far from his territory; we'll be all right. Besides which, that's not a particularly powerful one. Even if he attacks, we shouldn't have too much trouble." She scanned the skies overhead. "But tell me if you hear a roar that sounds closer. There are more powerful beasts in the air lately, and we do not want to be caught by a blood or frost dragon out this way."
"Have you encountered them?" Drizzt also looked up.
"Yes. They can be killed, but I wouldn't bet on our chances if we're caught out in the wild. It helps to be somewhere there are guards, so you have help in taking the blasted thing down." She snickered. "Though I once saw a dragon attack a mammoth herd guarded by a giant. That was a fight over quickly."
For several moments more, they rode in silence, Fearless's hoofbeats the only sound. Then both Drizzt and Ravenlight jerked their heads up at a long, mournful howl ringing out from off the road. Instantly, Ravenlight slipped down off Fearless's back, dropping into a fighter's crouch.
"Wolves!" She drew a hand-and-a-half sword and held it in one hand, her left suddenly wreathed in hissing fire. Drizzt watched in surprise.
"Are they that much of a threat?"
Ravenlight circled into the woods, her eyes narrowed. "To me, no. To the average traveler coming along this way? Possibly. To some unlucky refugee chased out by bandits or a dragon attack?" She whirled, meeting the first of the charging gray beasts with a gout of blistering flame. "Most assuredly!"
Two more charged out of the trees while Ravenlight was busy with the first. Instantly, she stopped hurling fire and went after them with her blade, fire hissing out of the strange metal with each blow to envelope what she struck. Drizzt was nearly thrown when Fearless suddenly reared up and charged after a fourth wolf, trampling it under his plate-sized hooves. The entire fight was over in less than three minutes.
"I can see why you call him Fearless," Drizzt remarked, swinging down from the snorting horse to retrieve the carcass from under his hooves.
Ravenlight looked up from where she was skinning the singed wolves and smiled. "It's not just wolves," she said. "Any time I get into a fight, he helps. He actually got his name the first time I saw him; we were in a town to the southwest, called Falkreath. I'd just arrived there when a dragon attacked. The guards and I downed the dragon just outside the town gates, and Fearless and the other horses charged out of the stable to help attack it."
"He attacked a dragon?" Drizzt looked back at the dappled horse with new respect. "That's impressive."
"I don't know what all he might fight and what he'd run from." Ravenlight stripped off another skin with well-practiced efficiency. "Which is one of the reasons I tend to leave him near towns when I head off into the backwoods. I have no desire to lose him to a saber cat—or a troll." She looked down at something she'd found. "Well. It looks like we might have avenged someone; this wolf had a silver ring in its belly." She sighed, cleaned the ring off on the grass, and slipped it into her pack. "I don't mind so much when I find the dimwitted things have eaten gems—other than to wonder how on earth it happened—but jewelry clearly belonged to someone." She stood, wiping blood off her hands and her sword. "At least this pack won't be terrorizing anyone again."
"Nor will that cat." Drizzt rubbed the side of his face, still amazed that there was no pain from the encounter. "Though, judging from the scars on its hide, it had done a lot of terrorizing on its own."
"To be sure." Ravenlight looked around, then sprang back up on Fearless. "No wounds this time, you silly beast? Good." She beckoned to Drizzt again, and he sprang up behind her. "All right, let's go. We've got a long ways ahead of us yet, Fearless, but you'll sleep in a stable tonight, and have your fill of oats and hay. Hya!"
Ravenlight had lived in Skyrim for nearly a year now, and it had been eight months since she bought the small but comfortable Breezehome. But no matter how many times she came riding up the road to Whiterun, she never failed to feel the thrill of wonder at the sight of the place rising up, on the only hill for miles. Behind her, Drizzt leaned forward, a soft murmur escaping his lips.
"Is that Whiterun?"
She glanced back at him, grinning proudly. "Yes, that's Whiterun. It's not the grandest city in Skyrim, but it's special to me."
"It's beautiful." He leaned back a little, gazing at the Dragonhold glowing in the afternoon sun. "Why, exactly, is it special to you?"
"Just for starters, I live here." Ravenlight raised a hand in greeting to a wild-looking group striding along the road. "Hail, Companions!"
The woman at their head lifted her own hand, but didn't say anything. Ravenlight shook her head and chuckled ruefully. "I think they're sulking because I won't join them. I've been independent for a long time; even my joining the Bard's College hasn't changed that." She drew Fearless to a halt in front of the stable, and both dismounted. "Haemar! He needs a good rubdown and a sack of oats."
The stablemaster came out, smiling. "Ah, your proud Fearless one! Has he been fighting any more dragons?"
Ravenlight laughed. "The kind that have been coming after me lately? I'd make sure he got to a sheltered area, and quick. They're not ones I want him facing. They're not ones I want to face, not alone." She handed the stablemaster some coins, then turned toward the gate.
Drizzt followed her. "Bard's College? Are you a bard, then?"
Ravenlight snorted with laughter, waving a hand. "Me? Divines, no. I can't even play a drum—and you certainly don't want to hear me sing. Actually, I joined because the Bard's College is one of the best places to learn the old legends and the histories of Skyrim, something I need to do quite badly. Whether it was my intent or not, I've become part of this place; the least I could do is learn more about it." She grimaced. "And about what I might run into while I explore. Draugr. I'd never even heard of the blasted things before I came here."
"Draugr?"
A passing guard shuddered. "Nightmares. They haunt the barrows and tombs of the old warriors. It's said that to look into the eyes of the draugr is to see death."
"It's not far wrong, either." Ravenlight rubbed her arms. "I still see some of those in my nightmares, too. Thank Akatosh, though, they can be taken down."
"You've encountered them?" Drizzt glanced at her, remembering her speed as she took down the wolves, and the fierce expression on her face as she did.
"Numerous times. Sometimes I've been after something specific in the tombs; other times, I was just bored." She chuckled. "And once I was ending a ghost story that held a small town in fear. Some treasure hunter had decided to turn con artist to keep everyone else away; he'd mixed up a potion that made him look spectral. I don't know what went into it, but I don't have any desire to replicate it, either; it drove him crazier than Sheogorath."
"You seem to have had an interesting time of it."
"Interesting is not the word." Ravenlight greeted the guard standing beside the gate.
He nodded back to her, then paused, looking intently at Drizzt. "Friend of yours, Lady Ravenlight?"
"A stranger to Skyrim," she answered calmly. "More so even than I ever was. I'll vouch for him."
The guard eyed the stranger suspiciously. "What does he know of the war?"
Drizzt shrugged a little. "That there is one."
Ravenlight glanced curiously at Drizzt. He seemed almost resigned to being questioned by irritated guards, making her wonder why.
The guard pressed on. "What think you of Ulfric Stormcloak?"
The look of utter bafflement was the clearest declaration of innocence he could have received. He nodded, satisfied. "Go on in; had to make sure you weren't a Stormcloak spy." He glanced over at Ravenlight. "Not that I believed the Thane would knowingly bring in danger, but one can't be too careful these days."
Drizzt stared at Ravenlight as they passed through the gates. "Thane?"
"That's the second reason Whiterun is special to me." She raised her hand, greeting a woman working at her forge. "I did a rather difficult errand for the court wizard, brought word about danger to one of the towns, and helped the guards take down the second confirmed dragon. Jarl Balgruuf isn't prejudiced, and he's inclined to reward initiative and courage. Though as far as I was concerned, this was the best reward." She opened the door to the house immediately past the forge. "Welcome to Breezehome."
"Welcome back, my Thane!" A pretty, dark-haired woman stood up from the table.
"Hello, Lydia." Ravenlight smiled at her. "Drizzt, this is Lydia, my housecarl. This is Drizzt Do'Urden, a stranger to Skyrim." She pulled off her pack and grimaced, stretching her shoulders. "Ow. That was getting heavy. Lydia, I'm going to be in the alchemy room for a while, then I need to go to the market district. Drizzt, feel free to make yourself at home here." She gestured around the room at the full bookshelves, the well-stocked cupboard, and the dishes set out on the table. "A number of those books should answer some questions about this place. Lydia and the people of the town can answer others. I'm going to be busy for a little while, and I tend to ignore everything around me while I'm working, so if you talk to me, and I don't say anything, I'm not being rude. I'm just...absorbed."
Lydia bowed slightly. "I'd be glad to teach him, my Thane." She straightened, appraising Drizzt curiously.
"Good." Ravenlight smiled apologetically at Drizzt, then strode across the room and through a door behind the stairs leading to the loft.
Lydia proved to be a willing font of information, gladly telling him about the land, the people, and the creatures that wandered it. She didn't know much about the dragons, saying only that they were coming back, none had come closer than a watchtower and a nearby town, and that Ravenlight would know more about them than she did. But she knew about the creatures—at least, she knew about the ones nearby. She explained about the giants and the mammoth herds they tended, who Ulfric Stormcloak and his counterpart Elisef were, named the more notorious bandit hideouts, and warned him about draugrs, trolls, and strange creatures called hagravens.
Once she'd finished chatting, Drizzt leaned back in the chair, trying to absorb all of what he'd been told. All he had really managed to take in was that Skyrim was just as dangerous as Faerun; possibly even a little more so. He had also learned a little more about Ravenlight, though he doubted Lydia knew she had provided the information; she had been very careful not to gossip about the Thane.
Lydia, though she lives in a hub of Skyrim and no doubt picks up most—if not all—the gossip in the area, knows little to nothing about the dragons. But she directs me to ask Ravenlight—and for her part, she is surprisingly knowledgeable. It wasn't hard for him to reach a conclusion: somehow, Ravenlight and the dragons were connected. Still, he couldn't see the black-haired Elf in league with the creatures. She had mentioned killing at least two, and had as much as said that she could have killed the one on the mountain near the road. And her mention of the elite warriors who had destroyed the dragons held neither contempt nor alarm. It may be a connection, but it's not an alliance.
From the alchemy room came a muffled curse, the crash of pottery breaking, then an indescribably bad smell. Ravenlight shouted. "Sheogorath's toenails! Lydia, shut the door, quick, this stuff's poisonous!"
Lydia practically flew to slam the door to the small room. Drizzt jumped up, startled. "You just shut her in there with it?!"
Coughing, Lydia moved away from the room. "She'll be fine," she said, in between bouts of hacking. "She's a good healer; and Bosmer are resistant to poisons." She took a bottle of mead from the cupboard and poured herself a tankard, gulping eagerly. "Ugh." She lowered the tankard and wiped her mouth. "I wonder what she broke; that stuff was foul."
"Experiment." Ravenlight's voice, only slightly muffled, came from the room. "Resulted in a particularly strong poison. Would have been fine if I hadn't knocked the bottle onto the floor. Don't open the door yet; I've got the window open. The place needs to air."
"Will you be all right?" Drizzt eyed the door.
"Wouldn't be if I drank the stuff, but the fumes aren't nearly as strong. Ah!" A scuffing sound, then a breath of relief, combined with a barely-audible mutter of, "Maybe I'd quit knocking bottles over if I moved away from the table..."
A few minutes later, the door opened and Ravenlight, wearing a circlet he had not seen before, came out of the alchemy room holding a drenched cloth in one hand. She pulled the quiver off her back, removed a large handful of arrows, and stuffed the cloth into the bottom of it, tucking the arrows back in on top. "There. That's taken care of." She glanced at Lydia and Drizzt, smirking. "There was no way I could have safely destroyed that cloth, not with that kind of mixture in it. Smoke could have killed half the town—or at least, made everyone sick. This way, the poison only goes where I want."
"You poison your weapons, then?" Drizzt eyed her, not sure what he thought of this.
"Yes." Ravenlight slung the quiver back over her shoulder. "Especially when I'm going up against particularly dangerous enemies. I'm not large or strong; it helps to have an advantage when you're going up against creatures that could throw me around like a rag doll."
"Like dragons?" The question came out more like a challenge than he had intended.
But she didn't take offense. "Dragons are just about at the top of the list. Thank the Divines most poisons work on the blasted things; fighting them off without it is terrifying." She paused. "Though I've heard more of giants that can throw a body with one blow. Never met one; but I'd rather the opportunity never came up."
"I see." Drizzt decided not to brag about the giants he'd killed over the years; from Lydia's description, they might have been a different sort.
Ravenlight shrugged back into her pack and grunted. "Oof. It's high time I went to the market and the forge." She glanced at Drizzt. "Want to follow? I won't make you listen in while I deal with the shopkeepers, and you can probably get a broader idea of the town and the area dealing with others." She exchanged grins with Lydia. "She doesn't get out as much as she'd like."
"You know I'd come with you, and gladly, whenever you asked." Lydia folded her arms and gave Ravenlight a mock-serious scowl.
Ravenlight sighed. "I know you would. I just don't like the thought of you getting involved in a toe-to-toe scramble involving a troll—or a frost dragon. Or worse, since Adrienne's been asking me if I could find her more Dwemer metal, and there's only one way to get it."
Lydia shivered. "There are things in the deeps, then?"
"Oh yes. And not just the Dwemer traps, though there are dozens of those and they're all deadly." Ravenlight grimaced. "Trust me, there are some things you don't need in your dreams."
"But you see them?" Drizzt stood, looking at her curiously.
"Half the things I've faced come after me in my mind. Draugr, trolls; bears sometimes; Falmer; and Alduin. I see him a lot, especially now."
"What's so special about now?" Drizzt almost missed Lydia's breathless whisper of, "World-eater."
Ravenlight nodded to Lydia, mouth set in a grim line. "Because now I know that his title isn't metaphor."
The black-haired Bosmer spent her next four hours ridding herself of nearly two hundred pounds of items. Whiterun's alchemist, Arcadia, gladly purchased the more exotic potions Ravenlight had put together, in exchange for all the store's healing potions and its entire stock of reagents.
In the general goods store next door, she shelled out a good number of jewelry and finer clothing, along with some unset stones and a number of large bones that had Belethor exclaiming with pleasure. Then, just to make up for nearly bankrupting him, she bought some healing potions, all the elven arrows he had, and several large soul gems.
Finally finished with the more mercantile area of her task, she turned her steps back toward the wall—and the forge. As she came up to it, she noticed a flicker of green and black, and looked toward the Drunken Huntsman across the street to see her stranger entering. A smile tugged at her lips. There are worse places for him to go, she thought. Elrindir is a friendly one, and they ought to hit it off. And he's not as likely to get in trouble there as he is at, say, the Bannered Mare. Besides which, Elrindir and his brother, who ran the fresh-meat stall in the market area, got out and about pretty regularly, and should be able to answer more questions.
"Well, hello there, Thane!"
Ravenlight jerked out of her musings to see Adrienne, Whiterun's skilled lady blacksmith, leaning against one of the overhang posts. She nodded back. "Hello, second-best blacksmith in Whiterun."
The two women laughed genially as Ravenlight strode into the forge yard. Adrienne eyed her pack. "Looks like you've got some weight in there that needs removing."
"I was lucky out in the wild areas." She removed the pack and began fishing out lumps of raw ore. "Even came across a few veins of moonstone—and that's hard to get."
"But no dwarf metal." Adrienne came over to the smelter beside her.
"I'm afraid not." Ravenlight selected the chunks of raw moonstone and handed them to Adrienne. As the blacksmith pushed the cast basin into the furnace, Ravenlight dug the shovel into the nearby pile of coal, feeding and stoking the fire to melt and blend the metal down. "Dwemer metals are hard to get—unless you're delving into the old ruins, of course, and there's just something about Falmer I really don't like."
"Falmer..." Adrienne kept her eye on the smelting basin, watching the moonstone slowly turn into a slurry of near-white. Fiery flickers appeared as the impurities burned away. "Those are the blind, slug-pale things you said live in the deepest parts of the ruins?"
"Those and chaurus." Ravenlight added another shovelful of coal. "I hate dealing with those things. My luck and bloodline can only go so far with that kind of poison. I had a run-in with one of them in the marshes—don't ask me how it got up there—and barely survived."
Adrienne swirled the metal around again, waiting for the impurities to burn off completely. "You really should take a companion with you, if it's getting that dangerous. Even with your gifts, you might run into something out there too much for you to handle. Lydia's willing to go along."
"Oh no." Ravenlight shook her head. "I've had this discussion with her a number of times. I've no doubt she's a skilled warrior and knows her way around a blade and a battle, and I'm willing to believe she's faced any number of bandits...but bandits are one thing. A dragon's another—and those are just the ordinary dragons, the ones I can fight off alone with no trouble. A blood dragon—or worse, a frost dragon—those are much more vicious. If I got separated from her, or distracted for a moment too long, I'd have her death on my conscience."
"It wouldn't be your fault," Adrienne pointed out mildly.
"Thronnir's death wasn't my fault either. Nor was Malborn's." She dug the shovel into the coal fiercely. "But I still feel guilt over it. And Lydia's a friend. Thronnir was a prisoner of the Thalmor; Malborn my co-conspirator. I didn't really know either of them."
"I do see your point." Satisfied, Adrienne poured the metal into the bar molds. "Hire a mercenary?"
"Mmm...I've thought about it. And heaven knows, I have the gold." Ravenlight produced a pile of iron ore from her back. "Plus, I know they can be a decent bunch. I like Arnier. But the same problem applies for Arnier as it does for Lydia." She tossed another shovelful on the coals. "Actually, it's stronger in his case, because he has a wife to support. I probably wouldn't be able to forgive myself if he got killed out chasing dragons with me." She grimaced. "I'd also like someone who won't have had any...tips from, say, the Dark Brotherhood."
Adrienne jerked up. "Dark Brotherhood?!"
"I've had two assassins come after me. I don't know who wants me dead that badly, but it's enough to make me cautious." Ravenlight emptied the last ore chunk into the smelting basin. "I'd need someone with considerable experience in exploring, who's faced nasty creatures and come out alive, and doesn't mind taking the roundabout way on foot across most of Skyrim, as opposed to the roads. And who doesn't have a superstitious terror about diving into old, haunted tombs."
"For treasure?" teased Adrienne, pushing the basin into the fire.
"Treasure's no bad reward for laying all those draugr back to rest." Ravenlight stoked up the flames again, looking down at her cooling bars of moonstone. "But there's more than treasure to be found down there; there's knowledge. Old legends to be poked back into life. Hapless ghosts to be avenged, so they can pass on." She snickered. "Con artists to be dusted so the town can continue on as normal."
"I guess. So are those all the qualifications needed for a companion to walk beside you?"
Ravenlight held back the flinch at the words. Adrienne did not know of that long-closed chapter in her life; nor did she need to. "Well...it would be nice to find someone who won't object or look at me like I'm crazy when I decide to be generous."
"If the story I heard about you paying a two-thousand gold tariff for a stallkeeper in Solitude is true, I understand that." Adrienne shook her head. "Really?"
"There was no way that woman could have paid the tariff—and if she didn't get the spices, she may well have lost her business. And I don't have enough faith in my voice to try and sweet-talk some overbearing noble out of a two-thousand-gold profit. But I had the money." Ravenlight shrugged, knocking the bars of moonstone out of the molds. "And it's not like I couldn't get the amount back again—and more—just by delving into some old ruin. There was no reason I couldn't help her out."
"I guess I don't understand handing over two thousand septims for someone you've barely met." Adrienne poured the molten iron into the just-freed molds. "But then, I don't have the opportunity to run around and delve into treasure caverns."
"It does make a difference," Ravenlight agreed. She waited until the iron was finished before adding two chunks of silver. "So does knocking apart bandit lairs. Most of their goods are free for the taking; and if you find something someone recognizes, you can give it back to them."
"Have you done that?" Adrienne stacked the moonstone bars near the forge.
"Only once, yet; though I'm heading out to retrieve something that belongs to the Bard's College tomorrow. From a bandit lair, which means I don't know how difficult it will be to find it. It might be fairly easy; it might be extremely difficult." She shrugged. "I never know what to expect with bandits."
"I know we're glad you're doing it; makes things a little easier for the rest of us when we know there are fewer bandits on the roads." Adrienne retrieved the bricks of iron as Ravenlight stirred the melted silver. "So, you joined the Bard's College. Any chance you might oust Mikael as entertainment at the Bannered Mare?"
"No chance at all. I sound like a female saber in heat when I try to sing—and I can't even play a drum. I joined because they have one of the best libraries in Skyrim, and I need to learn all I can about the legends." Ravenlight checked her pack one more time and stood upright. "All right, that's all the smelting I need to do. Mind if I borrow your forge for a minute, Adrienne?"
"Go ahead. I never mind it; your items go fast." Adrienne walked toward the front overhang of her shop. "But you might think about what I told you; it really won't be safe much longer for you to travel alone."
"So you came in with Ravenlight?" Elrindir leaned on the counter, his sloe-black eyes regarding Drizzt curiously. "She's an unusual one, that's for certain. But good."
"That was the impression I had of her." Drizzt hesitated. "By the way...the name of this place?"
"The Drunken Huntsman?" Elrindir chuckled ruefully. "Yes, I get asked that a lot. It came about shortly after my brother and I decided to open the shop. We went hunting one night after having...rather too much mead. We got separated, and in the moonlight, Anconiah mistook me for a deer. He shot me in my...well...my rump."
Drizzt opened his mouth, thought a few times, and closed it again. Elrindir chuckled again. "Yes. Exactly. Fortunately, I wasn't seriously hurt. But after such a memorable adventure, we knew we had the name for the shop." He straightened off the counter. "Though, needless to say, he does most of his hunting by himself now."
"I don't blame whoever made that decision." Drizzt looked around the room again and frowned a little. "Though...to be honest, I came in here under the impression that this was an inn."
"You're not the first to have that impression, either." Elrindir gestured. "The inn is at the end of this street; the Bannered Mare. Hulda will have food, drink, rooms; even a few jobs, if you're looking for them."
"I'll ask her about them." Drizzt straightened, then bowed slightly. "Thank you."
As he left the shop, Drizzt heard the clang of hammer on metal, and looked toward the forge. He stopped, his eyebrows lifting in surprise at the sight of Ravenlight at the forge, curving a breastplate over the anvil. The blacksmith didn't seem perturbed, as she worked a gleaming steel blade at the grindstone.
"So she's a smith also?" he muttered, shaking his head. "What is that woman?"
"Belethor says she drives a hard bargain, as well," said an unfamiliar voice. Drizzt looked down to see a young man looking up at him. He smiled a little. "I'm Sigurd; I work for Belethor, at the general goods store. I'm not exactly acquainted with the Thane, but I see her every now and then. She's...friendly." He flushed a little.
Drizzt glanced over at the slender Elf. Even in a place where Elves did not seem altogether welcome, Ravenlight was noticeable. With her habitually friendly demeanor added to her beauty, he was not surprised that Sigurd was interested. It surprised him that more of the men didn't appear interested—though, he considered, a number of the men may have been married, which would have changed things. Sigurd nodded to him and walked off, back in the direction of the market area. Drizzt, after one last puzzled glance at Ravenlight at the forge, followed in the same direction.
The market area, while not crowded, was respectably busy. Three stalls stood around the well in the center of the square, with two shops to the right. An attractive woman called attention to her produce, an older lady stood behind a locked glass box of jewelry, and a strapping Bosmer hawked fresh cuts of meat. Drizzt bit back a grin as he looked over at the Bosmer; the resemblance to Elrindir was unmistakable. The drunken huntsman himself, eh? I'd probably better not mention that to him, though.
A smooth, cool voice, not quite a sneer but close to it, spoke behind him. "A newcomer, then? Ah well; I suppose there's room for all sorts. Skyrim's big enough."
Drizzt turned to see a well-dressed man with reddish-brown skin and close-cropped hair. He moved on, ignoring the drow now that he had said his piece, and went on to harass some of the other people in the market.
"Don't pay him any heed," another voice said. This one belonged to a handsome young man with a well-groomed blond beard, leaning against one of the uprights of the nearby general store. He nodded to Drizzt. "Nazeem's like that with everyone. He's got a place in court, wealthy enough; but he has no true say. Makes up for it by being condescending to everyone he passes. I don't envy him. He's not liked."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Drizzt watched as the man stopped by the produce stall. He couldn't quite make out what he said to the woman who ran it, but from the way her lips tightened and eyes flashed, he guessed the man was within a hair's breadth of getting slapped. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if the only reason she didn't slap him was that he was a wealthy man, and she only a stallkeeper. He found himself contemplating the wisdom of evening things out for her.
"Talking about Nazeem?" The faint tap of metal-shod boots on cobble was the only thing that betrayed Ravenlight's presence as she came up behind him. "He's a jackass, that's all. Though he's worse to women." Her lips tightened slightly. "He will, however, tone it down if the woman in question habitually carries a flaming sword. But, annoying as he is, he's not worth it. The best thing to do is just forget about him the minute he passes by." She nodded to the young man leaning against the post, apparently unaware of how his eyes lit up at being noticed. "Drizzt, were you on your way to the Bannered Mare?"
"I was. Will that be a problem?"
Ravenlight chuckled wryly. "There are fewer fights in there than in, say, the Companions' mead hall. But there are some ne'er-do-wells, and the odd permanent drunk—and Mikael, the bard, who is a womanizer and a first-rate bastard. I was actually more concerned about the amount of your coin—or lack of it, considering where I found you. But you will need a room there. Breezehome only has two bedrooms—and both are owned." She chuckled at the look on his face. "Come on; I'll pay Hulda for your room. And then I have a...proposition for you—which may take care of your coin problems."
The common room of the Bannered Mare was well-occupied. A well-armored woman sat nursing a tankard; a scruffy man reeking of alcohol sat against the opposite wall. A handsome bard stood in front of the firepit, playing a wooden flute. A woman with the same reddish-brown skin as Nazeem swept, her head turned to reveal an odd scar pattern across one side of her face. Ravenlight led him through the crowd to the bar, where a gracefully aging woman leaned on the counter. She smiled as she saw them.
"Hello, Thane! Come to grace us with your presence?"
Ravenlight smiled back. "Hello, Hulda. Actually, I'm buying a room for my friend here. And if you could give us two of whatever you've got on the stove in the back, I'd appreciate it." She set a handful of golden coins on the counter.
Hulda swept them into her palm. "Certainly. You'll be eating here, then?"
"Yes. We'll be taking one of the back tables. I have some private business with him."
"Very well. I'll have Saadia bring you your food—and any drinks, if you wish." She smiled at Drizzt, looking him over curiously. "Once you're ready to head to your room, just ask, and she'll show you to it."
Drizzt bowed slightly. "Thank you, Mistress Hulda."
She beamed. "Well, aren't you a polite one! I'm glad to have you in here."
Ravenlight guided Drizzt over to a corner table, the furthest away from the door and the firepit. "I don't need anyone listening in," she explained as she slid into one of the carved chairs, "especially not that confounded bard. If there's one thing they're not good at, it's keeping a secret. And I don't want my business spread all over Skyrim before I'm halfway to Riften." She looked him in the eye. "Or should I say, before we're halfway to Riften."
Drizzt's eyebrows arched. "We?"
"Yes." Ravenlight stopped talking abruptly, looking up and smiling as Saadia came up to them, carrying two steaming plates of roasted venison and vegetables. "Thank you, Saadia. And two cups of mead, if you would, as well?" She handed over a few coins, and the girl walked off. Ravenlight looked back at Drizzt. "I was speaking with my friend Adrienne earlier, and she pointed out that, strong as I am, strong as I'm becoming, Skyrim is a dangerous place. It could only help if I had a companion on the road. Lydia would come, and gladly; but she's a bit too loyal, and would die to protect me, something I do not need on my conscience. And the local mercenaries...well, they'd come for the shine of my gold, and a share of the treasure holds we delved into, but I somehow doubt they'd be understanding of my...more generous habits."
"Are you asking to hire me?" Drizzt frowned, trying to understand.
"If that's what you'd prefer, yes. If you'd rather not think of yourself as a mercenary—which I understand completely—then I'll put it this way." Ravenlight leaned forward. "I need a companion for the road, someone skilled with a blade, preferably not superstitious, and willing to face down monsters. You were out of your element when you first arrived, but I've seen the way you move, and the way you handle your blades—and I'm impressed." She leaned back, quieting again as Saadia returned with two tankards.
Drizzt waited until the serving girl was out of earshot, as it seemed Ravenlight had said her piece. "So you're asking if I would like to come with you on the road?"
"Or into the cities, if we need." She smiled a little. "They're not all that bad; and I wouldn't make you come into Windhelm with me." She grimaced then. "Not that I have much reason for wanting to go into Windhelm."
"What's Windhelm?"
"Ulfric's capitol. I'm technically neither on one side or the other in this war, but I've learned a few things about Ulfric Stormcloak—and they're not good." She shook her head. "I want nothing to do with him or his Stormcloaks. Though I may eventually have to choose a side."
"Why's that?" Drizzt tried the roasted vegetables, ruefully wondering why regular meals never seemed to fit into his life.
"Because I'm firmly on Whiterun's side, whatever happens. This is my home, and I'm fond of it. And Jarl Balgruuf isn't about to meekly bend his head to Ulfric's bullying." Ravenlight shook her head a little. "At any rate, the roads may soon become even more unhealthy for me than they normally are. I need someone at my side; someone I'm willing to trust."
"And you're willing to trust someone you met only a day ago?" Drizzt smiled, wondering if he was charmed by her trust or baffled by her naivety.
"Someone who is a complete stranger to Skyrim, not to mention Tamriel?" Ravenlight matched his smile. "You'd be under no obligation to stay with me any longer than you wanted; but I've been known to travel nearly the length and breadth of the land just for my own amusement. I'd certainly have no objections to guiding you to various places you may decide you wanted to see; most of the time, I want to see them myself." She cocked her head, amber eyes glinting in the firelight. "Or are you suggesting you're not trustworthy?"
"My friends considered me trustworthy. I consider myself trustworthy." Drizzt sighed. "But I do have a tendency to...attract trouble."
"That could be said of most of the people here," Ravenlight said dryly, "including myself. And what trouble I don't attract, I sometimes get into on purpose. If you're strong enough, skilled enough, or just sly enough to take on that trouble, I don't mind it in the slightest." She drank from her tankard.
Drizzt looked down at his plate. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "After what happened before I... was sent here...it's not easy to just transition from one life to another."
"I don't expect an answer now." Ravenlight paused. "Nor will I expect any kind of recompense for helping you. If you decide you don't want to travel with me, there are jobs in the area you should be able to take on—and the Companions aren't fussy about who joins them, as long as you enjoy a good fight. They take care of their own, as well." She finished her ale and stood. "Take the night to think it over. I'm heading for Riften at dawn; I'll wait a little while in front of the stable. If you decide to join me, meet me there." She smiled. "It's up to you."
As Ravenlight began to leave the inn, Mikael announced his next song—a new one, in honor of a newly-emerged hero. It was an odd song, but beautiful and...somehow inspiring. Drizzt turned to watch the man, and his eyebrows arched.
Ravenlight stood in front of the door, rigid, her head up, her eyes gleaming, her face still. As Mikael sang, warning the wicked of the land that their end was soon, the light played across her in a strange way. The wall behind her became darker. But she grew brighter, her armor throwing a nimbus about her form.
Drizzt did not seem to be the only one who noticed, either. Heads turned, and the inn grew very quiet as the bard sang the last line.
"You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn comes."
Author's Note: The note is mostly about the timeline. At this point in the story, Ravenlight knows who she is and what she is after, though she has not yet gone to Sky Haven Temple. For Drizzt, the accident happens right after the events of Gauntylgrim, but just before Neverwinter starts, so he has a lot of his more impressive items-which will come into play later on in the story.
All reviews will be graciously accepted. Flames will be critiqued against the dragonfire scale, judged for impressiveness, and otherwise disregarded.