The most experience with dragons?'
'Was the Jarl serious?'
One of Whiterun's outlying watchtowers had fallen to a dragon attack not more than a few hours ago. The scout that delivered the news seemed to be in shock, his wild eyes wide and unfocused as he made his report. He had the look of a deer about to bolt at the sound of some unseen predator.
Sure she had been at Helgen during the attack, but the majority of her time there was spent running from cover to cover trying not to get swallowed by the inferno. How in Oblivion did that qualify her to help in any way against another one of the beasts?
She sighed as she made her way through the Wind district, the Dying Gildergreen to her right and the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr on her left, her thoughts drifting to her brief meeting with the Companions.
Farkas was the man's name wasn't it?
A handsome man with a warm, genuine smile and a gentle yet deep husky voice. Clad in a full set of heavy armor and wielding a massive two handed sword, yet he moved as if they weighed next to nothing. She felt instantly comfortable and at ease around him, which was rare for someone she had just met.
There was also the girl, Ria, who seemed a bit wet behind the ears, possibly a new recruit. Timid and shy, she didn't seem the type to be associated with the Companions.
Then there was Aela, the woman in the old Nord armor. Copper colored hair, eyes a beautiful shade of bluish gray. Full sunkissed lips and chiseled features endowed her with a strong yet undeniably feminine beauty, the war paint she wore doing little to conceal this fact. She was also a proud woman from what Fritha could tell, yet didn't suffer from the ego that often came with it.
"Frítha!", a familiar voice pulling her out of her musings as she descended the steps into the market district. It was Carlotta Valentia a food merchant and young mother that she'd recently helped in dealing with the advances of a certain overly amorous bard.
"Good day to you", she smiled in greeting as Fritha made her way over to the stall.
"Morning Carlotta", she nodded, picking an apple from the basket at her side and handing a few coppers to the woman.
"Are you headed outside the city again?".
"I am actually, yes"
"Seems the Jarl doesn't have enough servants to do his bidding" , Frítha added offhandedly.
"Don't let the guards hear you saying that", Carlotta whispered, leaning closer, and eyeing a dark elf and her retinue of guards as they passed by, a sneaky grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
The dark elf catching Frítha's eye as she passed.
"And that would be my cue", Frítha replied with a wink and a wave, taking a bite of the apple.
"Wait!", Carlotta called as she turned to leave. The merchant rummaging behind her stall before finally retrieving an old leather cloak.
"Here take this with you", she offered.
Frítha cocked her head giving the woman a questioning look.
"I've been in Whiterun long enough to know when we're going to have a bout of horrible weather", she explained, glancing up at the dark clouds creeping across the horizon .
"I'll be fine Carlotta, we aren't headed very far, from what I've been told", Frítha assured her, palms raised, politely declining the offer.
"Take it", Carlotta insisted, her stern expression, playfully exaggerated.
"I wouldn't be surprised if there's a storm soon, and you never know where you'll be able to find cover on the road", in a tone Frítha had seen her use many times with her daughter, causing her to sigh in defeat.
"Alright…alright, I'll take it...thanks", she mumbled, frowning at Carlotta's smile of victory.
"Be careful out there", the woman called, receiving a backhanded wave and grunt in reply as Frítha made her way to the city gates, taking a few bites of the apple, the cloak slung over her shoulder.
Ireleth, the Jarl's, 'bodyguard?', she wasn't sure exactly what station this dark elf held. It didn't matter. This woman was basically the Jarl's right hand from what she gathered.
A stern woman, her time spent among the Nords of Skyrim perhaps giving her the aggressive attitude and the scowl she seemed to constantly have plastered on her face. Or perhaps it was over compensation to fit into the mold of the stereotypical Nord barbarian. An attempt to be accepted among the Nords maybe?
Frítha didn't particularly dislike the woman, her attitude just rubbed her the wrong way. An overzealous actor on stage, trying too hard to play a part they didn't fully grasp.
Absently taking a bite of the apple, her boots knocking on the cobblestone walkway with a dull thud. She made her way over to the elf, who stood at the head of a large gathering of guardsmen and guardswomen, updating them on the situation.
Frítha leaned on the nearby post of the' Warmaiden', arms folded, keeping her distance while she watched the elf try to rally the less than eager guards.
This was a dragon after all.
If they did indeed meet this creature, there would undoubtedly be death.
There was a very real possibility that she too would not make it back. Her thoughts drifting back to Helgen, the overwhelming force of destruction, raging flames all around her and the dust thick in the air. She could still feel the heat smothering her, still hear the screams and shouting being drowned out by the thundering explosions, interspersed with the deafening roar of the beast as it tore through the sky.
She sighed, the sense of dread she'd been fighting ever since the Jarl ordered her to accompany the group, growing stronger by the minute.
Ireleth's speech was over and the group marched out the gates, the woman catching Frítha's eye before heading through the gates herself.
Frítha sighed deeply and pushed off the post, making for the gates. In a way it reminded her of the walk to the headsman's block back at Helgen. This time however. she was free to walk away, she was free to ignore the Jarl's order. Free to ignore the possible death sentence, but where would she go?
She wasn't very familiar with this region of Skyrim. And staying here probably wouldn't be an option if she ignored an order from the Jarl. How far was it to the next city or town? How would she get there?
With next to no belongings and a coin purse that was getting lighter faster than she could refill it. Somehow, trudging aimlessly through the harsh land that was Skyrim, under-geared and alone just didn't seem like a viable option.
She needed stability, a familiar place that she could return to if she ever got in over her head out there. Whiterun was her best option, she needed to establish herself here, find a source of income, earn the coin to replace her clothes and gear. Until then, her personal goals would have to wait. Staying at the Inn the past two weeks, among her other expenses, was not helping her financial situation in the least.
So much had happened lately, so many brushes with death.
She had been travelling on her own ever since she left Cyrodill, a fair share of close calls even before she made it to Skyrim. Then the whole incident at the border, being tortured with the prospect of a gruesome certain death, fighting to stay alive, and then being thrown into this land, her homeland, which she barely knew.
Naked and lost, nothing and no one to lean on. It was starting to take its toll. How did she even make it this far?
She felt...helpless, she was drowning, kicking and flailing wildly just to keep her head above the surface, while events kept conspiring to pull her further out to sea. There was nothing to hold on to, and no one in sight to help her.
A familiar dull ache in her chest, her breath catching in her throat causing her to shake her head clear, burying those thoughts before they could overwhelm her.
'Thinking like that won't get you anywhere. Stay focused, stay alive.'
'This is the last favour I'm doing for that man, I just need to get through this in one piece.'
'Hopefully this will earn me enough goodwill with the Jarl...'
The cold sharp bite of a raindrop on her cheek breaking through her thoughts. The creeping clouds, an angry grey, had claimed most of the sky over Whiterun.
Frítha threw on her cloak, and with a deep breath, headed through the gates.
The deafening roar piercing the heavens as the dragon tore through the grey, stormy skies. The booming crack of thunder almost indistinguishable from the cries of the beast. The cold mountain winds biting into her skin, as the heavy rain bombarded the land, creating a constant dull thrumming in her ears that complimented the sinister symphony playing overhead.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
Frítha released the arrow she'd held drawn, cursing as it missed the sizable target by an embarrassing margin.
She could hear the sounds of screaming and the bark of commands as the guards tried to coordinate their efforts to bring down the beast. It wasn't working, their numbers were slowly but steadily dwindling.
Twentythree, twentyfour, twentyfive...
Frítha shook her head, the rain clouding her vision. The stone ramp to the crumbling watchtower slippery with the downpour, causing her to briefly lose her footing for the third time. Cursing again as she landed on her hands and knees, deciding to stay on one knee as she knocked another arrow.
The dragon had descended, it's massive jaws snapping at those brave or reckless enough to engage it in close range combat, it's tail sending one poor soul flying as they tried to flank the beast. She released her arrow and watched as it tore through the rain skimming past the dragon's head.
She scowled in frustration, wanting nothing more thanto break the useless weapon.
A flash of electricity lit up the rain and hit the beast in the head, causing it to release its latest victim from its jaws. It wasn't another lightning strike, it was a spell. The dark elf stood on a platform off to the side of the watchtower not far from Frítha, blue sparks crackling in one hand, a sword in the other.
Fortyfive, fortysix, fortyseven…
The creature dug its legs and clawed wings into the ground, lowered its head, and the jaws of the dragon snapped open releasing a torrent of liquid fire onto a hapless guard, causing the others to flee in search of cover. This was the sixth time it had used the devastating, fiery attack since the battle started. The rain doused the flames quickly, but the damage had been done, his screams had stopped and the dragon clawed past the smoldering heap with uncanny speed.
It was headed for the elf.
"Come on!", Ireleth taunted the dragon, casting another spell that seemed to coat her body in a dull shimmer of green.
Frítha recognized the spell as a form of mage armor. The dark elf held her ground, sword at the ready as the dragon closed in.
Was it supreme confidence, bravado, or just plain stupidity?, Frítha had no idea. For some reason the woman's expression as she faced down the charging dragon, just irritated her.
Cursing under her breath, she kept her arrow trained on the dragon, briefly entertaining the thought of switching targets to the elf in her annoyance.
The dragon crashed into the wall of the platform, staggering the elf. Using its clawed wings to grab the edge of the stone wall, it raised itself to an almost upright position, snapping at the elf with the reach afforded by its long neck.
Ireleth recovered just in time to dodge the initial attack, the beasts jaws snapping shut where she stood not a second before. Swiping her sword at the beasts' muzzle and drawing blood, she let out a battle cry as the beast recoiled its head.
Deciding to push her advantage she swung her sword again, the blade stopping mid swing as the dragon caught it in its jaws, shattering the metal.
'The stupid elf didn't know when to retreat.'
Frítha swore as she discarded her bow and skidded down the watchtower ramp.
'She's going to get herself killed.'
Frítha watched as the dragon closed in on the unarmed elf, it's jaws wide, only to be met by a flash of electricity causing it to recoil once again. The stubborn elf still held her ground, charging another spell as the dragon quickly recovered.
'She's going to get me killed', Frítha corrected herself, unlatching her shield and breaking into a full on sprint, drawing her sword, her boots splashing through the muddy water.
Ireleth let loose another bolt of electricity at the dragon's face, however the beast seemed to be expecting it and endured the crackling light as it closed in with its gaping jaws. A move the elf hadn't counted on, her eyes going wide in shock as the dragon's maw broke through the light and almost completely enveloped her field of view. The blast of the dragon's hot, foul breath assaulting her senses.
Ireleth's body froze, this was it, she hadn't expected the dragon to shrug off her attack and she was out of moves. Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes were the only actions she had time for. Her mind completely blank in that instant, focused completely on bracing for the impending gruesome attack she was about to endure.
She heard the shrieking roar of the beast over the thundering rain, felt its breath on her face before the beast's jaws snapped shut!
Did she feel it?,
No...she felt nothing...she heard it. It was above her!.
Ireleth's eyes shot open. The beasts' gaping maw that once enveloped her view was gone. The dragon's head was now a few inches above her. Held aloft by a shield under its neck. It was the Nord, Frítha, her face obscured from view by the outstretched arm that held the dragon's head at bay.
The sprint up the slippery incline to the platform had slowed her considerably, reducing her momentum and making it difficult to hold her position. Frítha had barely managed to reach the elf in time to stop those huge jaws from snapping the woman's head off.
"Jump off!" Frítha shouted, turning her face to the elf.
Ireleth appeared to be in shock for a brief moment before regaining her senses and grabbing the edge of the platform, she lowered herself down before jumping the rest of the way.
The movement above her shield catching her attention after she confirmed the elf had retreated safely. The dragon was trying to adjust its head, no doubt for another attack. For just an instant she locked eyes with the dragon over the edge of her shield. She felt no malice towards the beast, no hatred. She wasn't out for blood, she didn't even want to be there. Her breath sharp and quick, her senses felt like they were stretched to their limits.
'Stay alive, survive this…' were the only thoughts going through her mind as she fought the almost overwhelming urge to turn and flee.
She couldn't run and she knew it, turning her back on the beast would surely spell her death. Every muscle tense and her body shaking ever so slightly, from the cold or from her fear, she couldn't be sure.
It was a feeling she had become very familiar with these past few months, ever since she started this journey. Her eyes stung, the taste of tears mixed with the cold rain.
'Help..',
Why did she have to do this. She felt her determination draining from her body as she stared into the slitted eyes of the dragon. Her heart racing in her chest and the strength draining form her shield arm.
Lowering her head and gritting her teeth in frustration, Frítha hated this feeling. She wasn't a coward, but why did her valour have to be constantly tested like this these past few months?
'A dragon!, by Oblivion she was facing a damned beast of legend'.
Her frustration at her perceived weakness finally reaching a breaking point, she screamed. Her voice resounding in her chest, dulling her fear, her roar drowning out the rain.
With renewed strength, she pushed forward exposing the underside of the dragon's neck. Frítha sunk her sword just shy of halfway into its scaly hide, prompting a mighty cry of anguish from the dragon. With one smooth movement she dislodged her sword, and swiped at the talons of the dragon that gripped the edges of the platform.
The dragon's shrieks grew louder, thrashing about wildly and knocking her off balance. Spreading its wings, the dragon took to the sky once more. The forceful winds from the dragon's ascent finally throwing her off her feet, causing her to tumble down the slippery incline and into the muddy water below.
Frítha lay on her back looking skyward. The raindrops clouded her vision.
An ocean of dark grey punctuated by a flash of lightning that struck the top of the watchtower, sending chunks of stone crashing to the ground far below.
"Frítha, over here!", Ireleth's voice snapping her out of her daze.
She picked herself up and scrambled behind the platform to the elf, their backs to the wall.
"I thought it was over for a moment", the elf began,
"The dumb beast could have easily had me if it used that breath of fire, instead of snapping at me like a rabid dog".
Not even a thank you and still cocky as ever. Frítha decided she definitely hated this woman.
"It didn't use its fire because it couldn't, it takes just over forty seconds to recover between attacks", Frítha explained peering past the wall at her side to see the dragon, busy with a handful of the remaining guard force.
"What?!", the suddenness and tone of the outburst causing her to return her attention to the elf.
"You knew this and you didn't say anything earlier?!".
"Do you have any idea how many people we've lost becau.."
"Enough!", Frítha interrupted, growing increasingly annoyed at the woman.
"If I had known, I would have mentioned it on the way", she glared at the elf with a scowl.
"I just realised it myself not a few minutes ago!".
"I'm not some damned expert as your Jarl seems to think, I shouldn't even be here!, so drop the attitude and show a little humility, I just saved your gods forsaken hide".
The elf looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it as Frítha gave her one last glare before turning her attention back to the battle behind them. It took a few seconds before Frítha heard the words, "thank you" from the elf at her back, almost lost in the roar of the rain. The words delivered begrudgingly but sincere enough to her ears.
"What do we do?, it angers me to admit it but this seems to be a lost battle", Ireleth admitted.
"Agreed", Frítha concurred, her attention still on the raging battle beyond the platform.
"We aren't doing enough damage fast enough, at this rate it will simply outlast us till we all fall".
The dragon's movements looked a little slower from where she sat, sluggish and measured. The wound she had given it wasn't very deep considering the thickness of its neck, but it was definitely draining the dragon's strength. That coupled with a few lost talons and she had definitely given the beast something to chew on.
"We need a plan", Frítha continued, turning again to face the elf.
"What we need are reinforce-", Ireleth began, but was interrupted by a flash of lightning that hit the watchtower once more with a deafening crash, showering the guards below in rubble.
Something up there was attracting the lightning. Frítha had an idea.
"I have a plan", Frítha declared, leaning closer to the elf as both women sat with their backs against the wall.
"Can you still use your lightning spells?".
"I can", Ireleth confirmed, genuinely curious.
"I need you to call the dragon's attention to us after it next uses its fire breath".
"Alright", the elf nodded, "I hope you know what you're doing".
This was their chance, the dragon had unloaded its fiery breath at the remaining guards that took cover behind the crumbling stone littering the landscape near the watchtower. Thankfully they appeared to be unharmed by the attack. Whisps of steam dancing around their stone defences.
"Now Ireleth".
Frítha and the elf bolted from their cover and into the open field. The electricity arcing through the air and hitting the dragon in the side. The dragon turned its head to the two women and began clawing it's way towards them in a mad rush.
"Wait for my signal and then fire a bolt at its head", Frítha instructed, making sure Ireleth heard her.
"Very well, but what are you going to do?", Ireleth asked.
"Just wait for my signal", Frítha replied before bolting headlong towards the rapidly advancing dragon.
Shield at her chest in front of her, and sword trailing behind her, held tightly.
'This was a horrible idea.'
Frítha hoped to the divines that Ireleth had good aim.
"Now!", she shouted, several paces in front of the dragon, still maintaining her charge, suppressing her mounting fear and quelling the voice in her head screaming that she was about to die.
The sparks hit the beast directly in the head causing it to stop in its tracks, turning its head up and away from the dazzling light.
It was just the opening Frítha needed. Her speed giving her the momentum to grab the beasts' shoulder at the wing, and clamber onto its back.
Wasting no time, she brought her sword down and lodged it into the dragon's back, where its neck met the shoulder. The rumbling cry of the beast reverberating up her legs, and she struggled to keep her balance.
She could feel the blade coming loose in her hand. Scrambling to her knees, trying not to get thrown off from the panicked movements of the beast, Frítha raised her shield and brought it down hard on the hilt of her sword, lodging it deeper into the dragon's shoulder.
Another mighty cry from the beast before it suddenly leapt backwards. The sudden unexpected movement causing her to flip head over heels, landing on her back. The soft muddy earth cushioning her fall and just leaving her winded.
She managed to scramble to her feet, but only in time to bring her shield up as the dragon spun around, its tail crashing into her, sending her reeling backwards and knocking her clean off her feet. Her shield warped and fractured with the blow, sending shards of splintered wood flying everywhere. Frítha hit the ground again, the soft earth at her back as the dragon frantically retreated.
Struggling to catch her breath, the cold rain assaulting her face, she felt a searing pain in her arm.
A splinter had lodged itself in her forearm.
"Frítha!", Ireleth called, appearing at her side and helping her sit up.
"Here let me", she offered, gingerly taking Frítha's injured arm.
"Do it quickly", she instructed, biting back her tears and clenching her jaw.
Blinding pain shot through her head as the jagged wood left her flesh in one quick motion. She managed to suppress her cry to a whimper by biting into her other gloved hand.
"It's not serious, a trip to a healer and it will be fine", the elf declared, examining the wound, before releasing her arm.
"So, that was your plan?" , Ireleth questioned, kneeling at her side and watching the rampaging dragon dive into the few guards that were left.
"That was part of my plan", Frítha hissed through clenched teeth, annoyed at the elf's tone and biting back the throbbing pain in her arm as she ripped a strip of fabric from her undershirt, and wrapped the wound.
"Give me three scrolls of lightning from your pouch", Frítha demanded.
"What...what are you going to do, it takes at least some proficency in..",Ireleth began.
"I know how to use the damned things!", Frítha growled, grabbing a handful of the scrolls from the elf's pouch.
"Keep it busy until I get to the top of the watchtower", she added, shakily standing.
The elf still sat there, looking confused.
"Go!", Frítha shouted back across the rain, while she sprinted towards the watchtower.
Ireleth pushed herself up, watching as the Nord sprinted up the ramp to the watchtower and out of view. Who was this woman, Ireleth had to admit, she was thoroughly impressed thus far. What was she planning though?
The deafening roar to her far left shaking her out of her stupor. The dragon kicked off the ground, the whirlwind created by its wings knocking over the few guards not behind cover.
The air was thick with steam and the stench of smoke and burnt flesh. Charred corpses littered the muddy battlefield. If it weren't for the rain the entire area would have been a blazing inferno by now.
The rain continued to hammer the plains, almost drowning out the cries of her guards. "Child I hope you know what you're doing", Ireleth muttered under her breath before drawing her bow.
Frítha's legs burned as she ran up the dark, steep, spiraling staircase of the watchtower before finally reaching the top. The assault of light and freezing rain briefly disorienting her as another roar of thunder rocked the skies.
Rubble and broken stone littered the top of the watchtower. The torso of a headless statue lay on its back at the far end, large iron sword pointed to the heavens and a massive stone tower shield still in its grasp. Both were clearly ornamental and too cumbersome for practical use. At least she figured out what was attracting the lightning.
She made her way towards the statue, a sudden shockwave from above sending her tumbling forward onto the wet stone as the dragon tore through the sky just above her.
'Good, it can still fly', she thought to herself. Scrambling to her feet, and towards the statue, kicking it's sword arm, sending the massive sword hurtling to the ground below, almost hitting a few of the remaining guard.
"Frítha!", she heard Ireleth shout from below.
"Get everyone to cover!", Frítha called, her voice sounding weak against the roaring wind and rain.
The dragon was circling around, making a beeline towards Ireleth and the retreating guards.
Frítha pulled out a scroll, chanting familiar incantations, the enchanted parchment disintegrating in her hand leaving behind a crackling ball of electricity that danced between her fingers.
Lightning slammed into the dragon just as it was about to dive the guards below, forcing it to veer away.
That definitely got its attention. She watched the beast circle around again, another spell already prepared.
The beast cut a path through the rain with unbelieveable speed towards her. It was something she didn't expect.
More than once she had seen the beasts hover above the ground to rain fire at those below. It's injuries no doubt making such aerial maneuvers nigh impossible. Frítha braced herself as the dragon plowed into the side of the watchtower, just below where she herself stood at the top, raining stone and debris in all directions.
The shockwave was enough to bring her to her knees and lose the spell in the process.
"Damnit!", this wasn't what she planned.
The stone tower shook beneath her feet, it was the dragon clawing its way towards her, up the side of the watchtower.
It was the sound of her impending death.
She searched around frantically. There was nothing, she was unarmed.
Her frantic gaze fell to the stairs leading below.
'Go, run!'
Frítha gritted her teeth and scowled at the voice in her head
'Run, survive!'
The deafening roar of the dragon as it neared the top, freezing the breath in her throat and shaking her to the core.
On her elbows and knees Frítha knelt, her forehead resting on the cold wet stone, the rain beating on her back.
'Your pride isn't worth it, run!'
"SHUT UP!"
"STOP SHAKING!", she shouted.
"stop shaking...", she whispered.
Another thunderous roar.
It was here.
Frítha lifted her head to see the beast claw its way unto the roof.
The dragon's talons digging into the stone as it dragged itself towards her, stopping not two feet away. It's upper body mostly on the small roof while its hind legs anchored it to the side of the watchtower, it could go no further.
For a moment they stayed like that, Frítha kneeling in front of the beast, they watched each other. Her heart raced in her chest, but her mind was clear. With another roar that almost deafened her, the beast made an attempt to snap at her, but despite its long neck, was not able to reach.
Fritha knelt back on her heels, she knew what would come next, she was however not ready to resign herself to death. She stared at the frustrated beast as it made a few more attempts to reach her, before finally realizing it was futile.
Then, as she expected, the dragon's jaws opened ever so slightly, heat and yellow light glowing behind those sharp teeth.
"No you don't!", she shouted, pushing herself to her feet, grabbing the disembodied head of the statue next to her and smashing it with all her strength into the side of the beast's head, just as it was about to open its jaws.
The blow staggering the beast causing it to lose its footing, sliding back a few feet and struggling to claw its way back toward her.
She knew that would only delay the inevitable, the dragon couldn't reach her, its only option would be its flame breath, it would definitely try again, she had precious few moments.
The stairs to her right, beckoning her at the back of her mind.
She turned to her left grabbing another boulder and bringing it down on the statue's shield arm.
It wasn't completely stone after all. The back of the shield seemed to be made of reinforced leather and wood. It still weighed a ton regardless.
The frantic growls of the dragon at her side hastening her efforts. It took all her strength but she finally managed to stand the shield up, the stone frame scraping heavily on the ground.
Finally the beast raised one winged talon after another and buried them deep into the stone roof and braced itself just as she did. Bent on one knee she held the shield standing as the torrent of fire bombarded everything around her.
Blinding light surrounded her, the dragon's roar overwhelmed her, heat and steam scorching her skin and burning her eyes while the flames robbed her of breath.
The attack seemed to last forever, smothering her senses and sapping her strength with every second.
It couldn't last much longer, her chance was coming. Frítha reached into her tunic, almost falling under the weight of the massive shield, and fished out her last scroll.
Breathlessly chanting as best she could, she was becoming light headed from the heat, while her muscles screamed from lack of oxygen and the weight of the shield.
She closed her eyes biding her time, andclinging desperately to consciousness.
The torrent of flame ended as abruptly as it began.
Frítha drew in a hungry breath, and with a massive battle cry pushed herself upright, still propping up the shield, and let loose her own torrent of electricity into the dragon's maw. Her voice rivaling that of the beast's roar as she maintained the spell as long as she could.
The deafening crackling across the heavens startling her, this was what she'd been counting on. Frítha barely had a split second to cancel her attack and duck behind the shield again before the blinding light cut through the sky, striking the sword embedded in the dragon's back, sending waves of electricity directly into the beast's body.
The dragon's shrieks sent shivers through her bones and the charged atmosphere cut through her chest, gripping her heart like the cold fingers of death.
And just like that, everything went quiet, save for the thrumming rain. Frítha sank to both knees, struggling under the stone shield and chanced a glance beyond it.
The dragon lay in a smouldering heap in front of her, its talons still embedded into the watchtower, keeping it from plummeting into the muddy ground below.
With an exhausted groan she pushed the shield aside, its weight hitting the stone floor with a dull rumble.
She knelt there on her heels in front of the dragon's corpse, her arms hung lifelessly at her side, her entire body ached.
Closing her eyes and lifting her face skyward, the icy raindrops washing away the mud and blood from her skin.
She survived...again.
She won, it was over.
She wanted to collapse right there, let the rain beat down on her battered body forever.
The sound of crackling fire in front of her catching her attention. The dragon's body was burning away rapidly. Frítha stared at the spectacle with a mix of exhaustion and indifference. Her eyelids heavy as the dragon's body seemed to burn brighter and brighter until it seemed to envelop her world in blinding light.
Images flashed in her mind, images of places, words, sounds, people, memories...knowledge.
"By the Gods!", Ireleth exclaimed, a handful of guards at her back standing at the top of the staircase.
They watched as the dragon's body dissolved in flame, tendrils of energy emanating from it and latching on to the Nord woman before being absorbed into her body in hot white light, then subsiding suddenly.
Everyone stared at the Nord woman in shock, unable to speak. She knelt there, oblivious, face to the sky, eyes closed, arms loosely at her side.
She was soaking wet, wisps of steam rising from the ground around her. If not for the steady rise and fall of her chest, one would think her a lifeless doll.
