They walked the rest of the day. The cold didn't bother An-Zaw much now; the soul from the dragon, Grahrahgol, was anger and fury and heat and fire. It brought with it a word of Fire Breath, toor – inferno. The dragon's name meant 'battle rage' – an apt description. When An-Zaw saw through the dragon's soul the last minutes of its life, all he saw was burning and a haze of sheer berserker rage. There was nothing useful in there, nothing interesting – simply the inferno. But An-Zaw was warm, and that was something.
They were making good time, even if An-Zaw did have to help Lydia walk. Her condition had worsened, and they were running out of cold resistance potion. Lydia's arm was icy cold, and the bite was turning black from frostbite. She would lose it if they took another day.
The blizzard was starting up again. An-Zaw had used his Voice to clear the weather after he killed Grahrahgol, but it would not be permanent. The clouds gathered once more, and in minutes the snow was falling again. An-Zaw was certain that the blizzard was even fiercer than before. He had to clear it.
An-Zaw took a deep breath, and Shouted. "LOK PAH TOOR!" The Shout echoed through the mountains and the snowdrifts, louder than it had any right to be. The blizzard relented – but only for a moment. The snow kept falling, and the wind kept blowing. For a moment, An-Zaw glimpsed a mass of rocks and cliffs ahead of them.
An-Zaw waited until he regained his strength and tried again. "LOK PAH TOOR!" Again, the snow cleared, and again, it returned. But in that brief instant, before the blizzard returned, An-Zaw looked ahead, trying to get a clearer picture of the landscape. They weren't rocks, he saw. They were ruins, barely clinging to the cliff face. And near them… Lights.
Winterhold.
An-Zaw paused for a moment, relieved. "Don't worry Lydia. We're almost there."
Premniruth did not move when the Thu'um cleared the iizstrun for a moment. He waited, and watched, as was his nature. He knew that they had the tozeinnu grozein to strike, to krii the Dovahkiin and the other joor. Uliidtusnoz, one of the dovah under Premniruth's command, flew over to him "Tiinvak stiildegaar, Uliidtusnoz," whispered Premniruth in a voice that was griindol ok. "Joor kend ni hon."
"Vah dreh mu ni nos nu?" said Uliidtusnoz. "Gein do joor los ahraan, ahrk mu lost zuk tokaan."
"Pek, Uliidtusnoz. Hi fen koraav." Premniruth turned back to watch the joor. "Mu fen iidah das, lost nid ren."
That seemed to puulin Uliidtusnoz. The other dovah flew back to his firig place, and Premniruth continued to watch the joor. In vahzen, he had changed his mein. The Dovahkiin was seeking a kel in the lohiim; say he found it? He would griindol reistigaar take it back to the strunmah where the vax Paarthurnax dwelled. Premniruth would be able to retrieve the kel for Alduin, as well as krii both the joor. If they had a kel, the dovah would be unstoppable. But they would have to iidah closer to the lohiim in that case. That meant dealing with the lahzey, and even ten dovah would have leik if it came to that. Premniruth flew to the place where he knew he would siiv Bofaanfor. He had a dremah he needed sent.
An-Zaw and Lydia passed through a great stone gate. Or what used to be one; the wall at the entrance to Winterhold was dilapidated and crumbling. Past the gate there were only a paltry few buildings; the Jarl's Hall, an inn, and a few old houses. Behind the inn lay the ruins; the wrecked wooden foundations of destroyed houses, and beyond those a great cliff. The cliff was not the product of natural erosion – it looked more like one day, the ground beyond it had simply given up and collapsed.
They passed through the gate, and headed towards the inn. It would be best to get some food and warm up by the fire before they moved on. The inn was a modest building. Its thatched roof was covered in snow, and a faded sign hanging from a weathered post out the front bore a Nord symbol and the words 'The Frozen Hearth.' An-Zaw and Lydia walked up the old wooden steps and went inside.
The Frozen Hearth's interior did not look much better. A fire crackled in the centre of the main room, and wooden tables lined the walls. At one of the tables sat a Nord man surrounded by dented tankards. Nearby, a woman was sweeping the floor with a broom. In front of the counter, another Nord with tied back blond hair was talking to an Altmer mage wearing blue robes. Despite the conversation, the inn felt strangely silent.
"I'm sorry Dagur, could you describe the smell?" asked the mage.
"Like some horrible monster was turned inside and out, and then exploded," said the Dagur. "What did you do?"
"It was a minor miscalculation. I've already corrected it for future experiments."
"This… This is why people have a problem with your College, Nelacar." Dagur turned, and walked back behind the counter. Nelacar, the mage, sat down in a rickety wooden chair by the fire and started reading a book. Dagur noticed the two adventurers standing by the door.
"Not often we get guests coming through Winterhold." Dagur took an old rag from under the counter and began wiping the dusty counter. "Let alone Argonians. Anything we can do for you on your way to the College?"
"How did you –" asked An-Zaw before Dagur interrupted.
"It's the only reason anyone ever comes here. That or they live here and can't scrape together enough to go somewhere else. I don't see a problem with it though, just as long as we get any business."
"My friend here's hurt," said An-Zaw. "She needs help."
Dagur paused. "The road to Winterhold is difficult. I don't have anything that can help you, but Nelacar here might be able to help." He gestured towards Nelacar, who looked up from his book.
"I've told you, Dagur, I'm not with the College anymore," Nelacar said irritably. "If they want to join, they have to speak with Faralda at the bridge."
"This isn't about the college," hissed An-Zaw. "My friend Lydia's hurt and needs healing. You can do that, can't you?"
"In that case, I would be happy to help," said Nelacar, standing up. "Just sit her down in this chair and I'll see what I can do."
An-Zaw did so. Nelacar crouched down beside Lydia and examined the wound. "This is an Ice Wraith bite, correct?" An-Zaw nodded. "How long ago was she bitten?"
"I don't know," said An-Zaw. "I think it was maybe ten hours ago."
A golden light appeared in Nelacar's hand. He pressed the light against Lydia's wound, but after a few seconds he pulled it away sharply.
"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do here," said Nelacar. "The bite's too severe. You need to find Colette Marence, in the College. She'll know what to do."
"Thank you," said An-Zaw. He walked over the counter and placed a few septims on it for the innkeeper, then walked back to Lydia. He helped her stand back up and put her other arm over his neck to support her. The two of them walked back outside, then down the snow-covered cobblestones to the bridge.
A High Elf woman stood guard there. An-Zaw guessed that this must be Faralda. "Cross the bridge at your own peril!" she said as An-Zaw and Lydia approached. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You will not gain entry!"
"I don't have time for this," said An-Zaw. I need to enter the College!"
"And I will gladly let you in," said Faralda. "If you tell me what your purpose here is."
"My friend is injured," said An-Zaw. "And I need an Elder Scroll."
"Well, healing is one of the services that the College provides for the Nords in Winterhold, as much as they hate to admit it," said Faralda. "As for the Elder Scroll… You'll need to pass a test for us. Prove that you have some magical ability."
"He's the Dragonborn," groaned Lydia. "He can just show you a Shout, right?"
Faralda looked slightly taken aback for a moment, then put her look of confidence back on. "Is she telling the truth? Are you really… Dragonborn?"
An-Zaw cursed himself under his breath. Why didn't he think of this before? "Yes." He turned around to demonstrate. "FUS RO DAH!" A blue wave of pure, unstoppable kinetic force erupted from An-Zaw's mouth, uprooting a post from the snow in the ruins and sending it flying into the Sea of Ghosts.
"Very impressive!" said Faralda. "I think you'll make a superb addition to the College. I'll lead you inside; once we're there we'll get your friend to Colette."
"Wonderful," said Lydia as they started moving. "I think I'm starting to die here."
Faralda led An-Zaw and Lydia across the bridge. She was certainly right about it being dangerous; the thin stone bridge was covered in ice and snow, and there was a long fall awaiting them if they slipped. The bridge was barely in better condition than Winterhold's walls, as well, and An-Zaw felt as though it could crumble at any moment. Eventually, they somehow made it across without falling to their deaths. "You'll want to talk to Mirabelle Ervine, our Master Wizard," said Faralda, indicating the Breton woman arguing with a High Elf in Thalmor robes across the courtyard. "I'll take your friend to find Colette."
An-Zaw approached Mirabelle after the Thalmor left. She took him on a tour of the College grounds, and once that was done he went to the Hall of Countenance to check up on Lydia. She was looking better; Colette had a golden light in her hand similar to Nelacar's, and was holding it near the bite. An-Zaw noticed that the blackened area had receded significantly, and Lydia seemed to be in less pain. "How are you doing?" asked An-Zaw.
"Much better," said Lydia. "I'm not sure why I never thought to pick up some Restoration training earlier."
"You're lucky you got her to me when you did," said Colette, keeping the spell where it was. "Ice Wraith bites can be nasty, but she'll be all right. It'll be a couple of days before she's fully healed, though."
"Thank you," said An-Zaw. He turned around, heading for the alchemist table. As an Argonian, he had a penchant for alchemy and was always eager to experiment with the new ingredients he found in Skyrim. After that, he went to the Hall of the Elements for lessons in magic. He had plenty of time to ask about an Elder Scroll. Inside the hall were a Khajiit, a Nord, and a Dark Elf.
"You wouldn't happen to be our master, would you?" asked the Dark Elf. "We've been sitting here for an hour and he still hasn't shown up."
"J'Zargo came to the College to learn powerful spells," said the Khajiit. "Not to sit around in silence."
"I'm not your master, I'm afraid," said An-Zaw. "Just an apprentice, like you."
"What's with the armour, then?" asked the Nord. "Mages don't normally wear armour. Or carry swords, for that matter."
"I'm not a full mage like you," said An-Zaw. "I just thought it would be useful to know a few spells."
"I wish all the other warriors in Skyrim shared your outlook." The Nord outstretched his hand. "I'm called Onmund. The Dark Elf there is Brelyna Maron, and the Khajiit's J'Zargo."
An-Zaw shook Onmund's hand. "An-Zaw. Pleased to meet you. So, do you have any idea where our master is?"
As if on cue, an old Nord burst through the door, his arms full of scrolls and spell tomes. He dropped a few as he ran over to the class. "Sorry I'm late! So sorry!" he said.
"Where have –" began Brelyna.
"Sorry, I forgot! Could you pick those up?"
They did so, as the old Nord put down the books and scrolls he had been carrying. "Sorry about that," he said. "Anyway, my name is Tolfdir, and I'll be your master here at the College. Now, before we begin, I think we should just go over some basic magical concepts. The first thing we should learn is that magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous."
"Master, I think we all know the inherent risks involved in magic," said Brelyna. "We wouldn't be here otherwise."
"I agree," said Onmund. "We should learn something more practical, I think."
"The Dunmer and the Nord are right," said J'Zargo. "The faster we learn new spells, the faster we become powerful mages, yes?"
Eventually Tolfdir caved in, and taught them some basic wards and Oakflesh. Any other spells would be too dangerous at this stage, he said. J'Zargo looked disappointed at that.
After the lesson, Tolfdir told them that they would be going to the College's excavation in the old Nord ruin of Saarthal in two days' time. An-Zaw went to the Arcanaeum and asked about the Elder Scroll.
"Are you kidding me?" said the librarian, an old Orc by the name of Urag Gro-Shurub. "Even if we did have one, then it would be kept under the closest guard and no one would be allowed to even touch it, let alone a new apprentice."
"Do you at least have any leads on it, then?" asked An-Zaw. He would be damned if he came all this way for nothing.
"Well, we do have some," said Urag. He walked over to one of the bookshelves, unlocked it and took out two books.
"Thank you," said An-Zaw. "Could I take them back to my room and study them?"
"If you must," grunted Urag. "But if you damage just one page in the slightest way, I will summon a horde of angry Frost Atronachs to mash you into a bloody stain on the floor. Is that clear?"
An-Zaw hesitated. "Yes," he said, being very careful.
He took the books and read them in his room. One of them, called Effects of the Elder Scrolls, didn't really tell him anything he needed to know but was still interesting. The other one, Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls, was completely incomprehensible. An-Zaw determined to ask Urag about it, but it was getting late. He went to bed.
It was hefvulon when Bofaanfor returned. Premniruth heard, but remained in place. The Dovahkiin had not done anything of note, and so the dovah continued waiting. Bofaanfor landed beside him. "Premniruth, zu'u lost daal."
"Zu'u mindok, Bofaanfor. Zu'u hon hi," said Premniruth. He need not uful about being hon by the joor; they should all be enlaag by now. "Drey nust meyz?"
"Geh."
Pruzah. "Gesaag niin wah pek voth vorey. Nust fen mindok fod nii los tiid."
"Zu'u fen, Premniruth." With that, Bofaanfor left. The wingbeats grew louder and Premniruth turned face the lok. He was greeted with the zaarein of twenty three more dovah, fresh from the place the joor called High Rock. Soon, the joor would see the vahzah suleyk of the dovah.
"Das," breathed Premniruth.
When An-Zaw woke up, he decided to see how Lydia was doing. "She's much better," said Colette. "It'll be a few more days before she can fight again, though." That wasn't the best news. An-Zaw wanted to be moving again as soon as possible, and he couldn't do that if Lydia was incapacitated. Still, at least she was getting better. An-Zaw made his way to the Arcanaeum with the two books to ask about them. Urag told him that the second book, the incomprehensible one, had been written by a former College member by the way of Septimus Signus.
"And where can I find this Septimus Signus?" asked An-Zaw.
"He left a few years ago; last I heard of him, he was living as a mad hermit somewhere in the Sea of Ghosts."
It took all of An-Zaw's willpower not to throw Septimus's book at Urag. He thanked the Orc for his help, carefully put the books back on the counter, walked outside, stood there for a moment and then, using the Voice to add more volume, yelled at the sky in rage.
Bruleif Bear-Heart was a guard in Winterhold. He was a simple man with a simple life. Like many in Winterhold, he didn't trust the College but at the same time he knew that there was precious little to be done about them. That morning, he had been assigned to watch the gate. Make sure that no one entered the city looking for trouble, keep wolves out, sound the alarm if a dragon attacked, that sort of thing. It was boring, but then so was the rest of Winterhold. Someone had to keep them safe though, and that's where the guards came in.
For over an hour, nothing happened. As usual. Then Bruleif heard a loud, booming noise echo through the mountains. And then he heard the roar. Only one kind of creature made that sound – a dragon.
Bruleif waited before he sounded the alarm. After all, it might not be attacking. It might just be passing nearby. Then he saw it flying over the mountains. The dragon was definitely heading for Winterhold. Then he saw another. And another. And more. Bruleif didn't bother to count, but at a guess he would say that there were at least three dozen dragons there. And they were all flying towards Winterhold.
Brunleif sounded the alarm.
AN: The Draconic's a bit heavier in this chapter, but again I think it should be easy to figure it out from the context and I've made sure to say what the basic conversation was about whenever the dragons talk. Once again, any constructive criticism is welcome (as is any unbridled praise) so make sure to leave a review!