Chapter Three: I Tell You, I Tell You...

Evening painted the forest gold as the Drow and Bosmer made their way back from the bandit lair. Knowing that nothing waited for them in ambush put both at ease, and they chatted as they made their way along the rough path.

They kept the subjects light, neither one wanting to get into anything too heavy or personal. Ravenlight told stories of her family back in Valenwood; Drizzt mostly contributed humorous incidents from his years of adventuring.

Then something huge swooped overhead, something massive bellowed. Ravenlight and Drizzt jerked up at the same time, eyes widening.

"What in Nine Hells?" Drizzt started to look around, but Ravenlight grabbed his arm.

"Run!"

They both exploded into motion; not the steady lope they normally used to travel, but an all-out dash. Ravenlight kept wheeling, looking up at the sky. "Blast you," she muttered angrily, "where are you?"

"What is it?" Drizzt looked around himself, not knowing quite what he was looking for. "What was that?"

"Dragon!" Ravenlight looked around again, pulling out her bow. "Do you have a bow, Drizzt?"

"Yes!"

"Good!" She hissed, her lips drawing back in a feral grimace as she saw the creature circling overhead. "There it is. Blood dragon, drat it all! This will not be easy. Get your bow out and run on a ways! I'm going to draw its fire. Hurry!" She stopped, turning on her heel, and put an arrow to her bow, drawing it back to her cheek.

Drizzt ran on a few steps, then turned back, pulling out his own bow, Taumaril. He gasped when he saw it: a huge, greenish-brown beast, pausing for just a moment to hover over the Wood Elf. Ravenlight stood her ground, firing several arrows up at it. It exhaled, a sheet of ice covering her. Drizzt yelled in fury, yanking one of the enchanted arrows out of his quiver and sending it up toward the beast to strike in a fierce explosion and a shower of sparks. The dragon howled in agony, jerking slightly, then beat its wings and sailed up again, bellowing.

Ravenlight reappeared, her armor coated in rime, lowering a bottle from her lips and gasping. Drizzt ran up to her, noting in alarm that her movements were slow and sluggish.

"Ravenlight! Are you—"

She nodded, shivering a little. "F-f-fine, actually. Drinking these darn things like I like the taste. Move! It's not gone!"

She shoved him hard and sprang back as another gust of ice slammed into the ground between them, her hand darting up to her quiver and sending another arrow up at the enraged dragon. Drizzt rolled several feet, avoiding the freezing blast, then was up on his feet and sending several arrows up at the creature himself. Each one of the enchanted arrows struck home, as did Ravenlight's poison-coated ones. The dragon screamed in pain and fury, and—

Said something. Drizzt couldn't understand it, but Ravenlight started. Then she sent another arrow up, and the dragon staggered, sailing away.

"It's grounded!" Ravenlight sprang forward. "After it! I am not just letting it get away!"

Drizzt grabbed her arm as the ground shook under them. "What did it say?"

"No idea."

"I saw you start."

She looked at him, her amber eyes wild with battle light. "Of course I started, it recognized me! Come on! I'll explain once it's dead!"

This was reasonable. Drizzt followed her down the slope. "Where did it land?"

The answer came in a biting blast of cold from directly in front of them. Ravenlight vanished in the mist. He thought he heard her shouting—but couldn't be sure, not in the rush and the freeze. His limbs felt like lead, the cold was worse than being in the middle of an Icewind Dale blizzard—

"Move, Drizzt! Run! Blast it—FUS!"

Something slammed into him from the side, knocking him rolling just before the dragon's head appeared behind its blast of cold. He heard the huge jaws snap on the air, right where he had been a moment before. Ravenlight appeared on the other side of it, her fiery sword in hand. She darted to the side of the dragon, hacking at it with all her strength. Blood ran down the side of her face—he wasn't sure how it had happened. Still freezing, his head ringing from the force of whatever had flung him, he staggered to his feet.

The dragon was trying to attack the Elf, but she had gone in behind the useless wings—where it could reach her with neither teeth nor tail. He charged in on the other side, Twinkle and Icingdeath practically flying into his hands. He didn't stab—not into that strong hide. Instead, he slashed, opening huge rents in the beast's arrow-studded body. Blood streamed out, splashing him and pooling onto the ground. The dragon turned, somehow, and Drizzt heard Ravenlight scream. He swung again, fiercely, not sure what else he could do.

Then—

It roared, one last time, rearing up. Then, with a crash that shook the earth, it collapsed, blood pooling around it. Drizzt slowly backed away, not entirely sure he understood what had happened. It's dead. It's dead! A huge grin spread across his face. "We killed it!"

"Sure did," Ravenlight said from the other side of it, between pants. "We did good."

Drizzt hurried around the huge carcass to find his companion sitting on the ground, holding her ribs. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Winded. Blasted thing managed to swing around. Didn't bite me—ow—but it caught me in the side with its head." She pulled another small, reddish bottle out of her pack, drinking it and grimacing. "Blech. These never taste good."

Drizzt felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck and whirled to face the dragon's body. His eyes widened, and he backed off several steps. It was—shimmering, with a strange, fiery incandescence. Flakes of skin floated away, revealing more of the golden light. Suddenly, with a rushing like a strong wind, the beast's flesh transmuted into light, streaming into Ravenlight. She gasped, tipping her head back and opening her arms, her eyes closed in something almost like ecstasy. When it finished, nothing was left of the dragon but a large skeleton.

Ravenlight stood, opening her eyes. She looked over at Drizzt wryly, a small smile on her face. "Well done, dragon-slayer."

"What just happened?" Drizzt wasn't entirely sure how much he wanted to keep traveling with this woman any more—at least, not until she explained what she had just done to the dragon.

"The answer to that and the answer to your earlier question are related." Ravenlight looked up and sighed. "The dragon called me by the true, defining name I mentioned when we first met. I am Dovahkiin: the Dragonborn."

"Dragonborn?" Drizzt had heard of a strange people with that name in Faerun—but Ravenlight looked nothing like them. "What is that?"

"Apparently it's an old legend here in Skyrim, though the emperors in the line of Tiber Septim were Dragonborn themselves—up to the Oblivion Crisis two hundred years ago, anyway. I've heard it described as a number of ways." Ravenlight rubbed some blood off her face. "Apparently, a Dragonborn is one with the body of a mortal and the soul of a dragon—or the blood of a dragon. The stories don't agree on which it is. But at any rate, the Dragonborn are the only ones who can insure that a dragon stays dead—by stealing its soul. Absorbing it. It doesn't require any effort on my part, I can tell you that." She grimaced. "I saw your face; I'm willing to bet I looked almost exactly like that the first time it happened to me. Scared me half to death."

"You looked as if you enjoyed it, just now." Drizzt hesitated. "Almost as if you...took pleasure in it."

"I don't know about pleasure, exactly, but I can say this: it doesn't hurt." She walked up to the dragon's skeleton, retrieving a number of arrows left sticking out of it. "And it does...give me a sense of power, at least for a little while. It doesn't last."

"How much do you enjoy that sense of power?" Drizzt eyed her warily.

Ravenlight looked back at him, exasperated. "Not enough to get addicted to dragon-hunting, I can certainly tell you that! And your soul is safe. I can only do it to dragons. Come on. I don't know if you have any arrows to retrieve, but there's plenty of gold on this creature, which you do need; and the bones and scales are valuable."

Drizzt nodded slowly. "I guess...I don't understand, but you...maybe I'll learn more about it later." He gasped, his head coming up. "Wait—that song, the one Mikhail was singing in the Bannered Mare, about the Dragonborn. Was that about you?"

"Yes." She grimaced again. "I'm never sure whether it's ridiculously ostentatious or not—especially since I like the song."

He laughed then. "It's a good song. But you're right; liking a song you know has been written about you, whether you know the writer or not, can be mistaken for vanity." He joined her at the carcass, gathering up fallen scales, and noting that a number of them had bits of gold stuck to them. "What do you do with these?"

"Me? Sell them, mostly." Ravenlight tugged several smaller bones out of the skeleton. "I think the alchemists grind them up, and people probably like them as curiosities. If you want to do something with them, be my guest. I know the scales can be made into armor, but I have no idea how to do that."

"Huh." He gathered up a few more. "These aren't light, though."

"No, which is why I don't think I'll invest any time in learning how to make dragon-scale armor. No desire to go hunting the beasts for armor components. Huh!" Ravenlight removed a ten-inch-long bone from one of the wings. It was almost perfectly straight. "I've never seen one of these come loose before."

"What is it?" Drizzt looked back at her curiously.

"A wing bone, I think. Interesting; this is lighter than they normally are." She weighed it in her hand, then turned to Drizzt. "Want it?"

"What would I do with it?" He took the offered bone, looking down at it curiously.

"Anything you wanted. Just consider it a souvenir of the first dragon you killed." Ravenlight tugged another small bone loose and grunted. "That's enough for now, this is getting heavy."

Drizzt backed off himself, having gathered up as many scales and all the gold as he could. He flinched as the wind picked up, the cold gusts irritating the frost-burns on his face. He'd taken worse wounds before; considerably worse. And he was used to cold now. It wasn't as if he was still a youngster encountering winter for the first time.

Still, it hurt.

"Here."

He instinctively caught the pottery bottle Ravenlight tossed to him. "What's this?"

"A healing potion; pretty good one. You were caught in that blast for a while, and probably took more damage than you realize." She looked at him, her mouth twisted to the side. "Trust me. You know when you've taken fire burns because of how badly they hurt. But frost burns? They're not always felt. Always best to heal up afterward. Oh, and drink it fast; don't stop to taste. Believe me, it's a good potion, but it tastes horrible."

"They rarely do." He threw it down, half-expecting the sour, foul-tasting mess he'd once had in the halls of Menzoberranzan. This...was not remotely similar, and the powdery aftertaste was almost the worst thing he'd ever encountered. "Gak." He swallowed again and shuddered. "That is...awful. What's in it?"

"Monarch butterfly wings, blue mountain flowers, and...I think that one also had wheat in it." Ravenlight took the empty bottle and sniffed it. "No, not wheat; swamp fungus pods." She put the small bottle away and pulled out a larger, green-glass one, wrapped in wicker. "Here; take a swig of this. It'll clear the aftertaste."

Drizzt recognized the scent of the spiced wine she'd given him the first day. He gladly took a mouthful, gratitude beyond words surging through him as it did, indeed, wash away the horrendous flavor. "Ugh." He touched his face, noting that, awful as it tasted, it worked—and quickly. "Was this what you were drinking?"

"That and others. I carry as many healing potions as I can." She grimaced. "Throw enough of them down and you almost stop noticing how bad they are, though I've never got used to the aftertaste."

"Ugh." He handed the wine bottle back. "No wonder you're so skilled in healing magic."

Ravenlight looked at him in surprise, then laughed. "That's not really the reason," she said, her eyes sparkling with a teasing light. "But it would be accurate to say I'm as good as I am at healing others because I don't want to subject my comrades to my potions!"


Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the gates of Riften, and the guards on duty regarded Drizzt even more suspiciously than the ones in front of Whiterun had. More surprising was the brusque, irritated way Ravenlight reacted.

"Who's he?" the man asked, gesturing to Drizzt.

"A friend of mine," she said, her voice just a few degrees below an irritated snap. "And as such, he should be under the same right of passage I bought to get into this cesspit of a city when I first arrived!"

The guards looked at each other, and one of them started to reach for his weapons. But the second moved over to him quickly, speaking in a soft voice. Drizzt couldn't quite hear what he said, but he thought he heard the words dragon, Dragonborn, chaos in the Ratway, and don't push it. Ravenlight stood there, scowling, her arms crossed.

"All right," the first guard said reluctantly. "Go on through."

"Thank you." Ravenlight beckoned to Drizzt and pushed past, glowering at the men as she did.

"That was harsh," he muttered as they entered the city. His nose wrinkled as the smell hit him; it did, indeed, smell something like an open sewer. "I'm sure they were just doing their jobs."

"Not in Riften," Ravenlight answered. "In Whiterun, yes. In Solitude, yes. In Winterhold and Dawngard and Falkreath, and most of the other cities and villages of Skyrim, they would be doing their jobs. These creeps? That was an attempted shakedown. I paid them the first time I came here; but I've got a bit more of a reputation now, and I don't have to put up with that." She looked over at him. "And you shouldn't have to, either."

"I admit, I don't mind not having to pay to enter a place like this." He looked around. "Is this place…friendly?"

"Friendly, no. Or at least not really. Dangerous? It can be. But for two like you and I, who have fought worse than a few petty thieves, we should be all right." Ravenlight beckoned as they reached a bridged area. "Watch your step over this way. Riften has two levels, and the areas down by the canals are dangerous. The Bee and Barb is right across that first bridge."

Just as they reached the bridge, a commotion in the market area caught Drizzt's attention, and he jerked up. "What the—"

"Thief," Ravenlight answered, grimacing. "Grabbed something and ran, most likely."

"Should we do anything?" Drizzt could barely see what was going on in the jumble of stalls and railings.

"I've never been able to get over there fast enough to make any sort of difference." Ravenlight sighed. "Nor do I particularly know what I'd do."

Drizzt grimaced. "I don't like this place."

"Believe me. Neither do I."

The Bee and Barb had a relatively calm, secure atmosphere; not as pleasant as the Bannered Mare, perhaps, but better than the streets—and much more so than a number of the inns and taverns Drizzt was used to back in Faerun. Ravenlight left him standing by the fire and went to purchase their rooms from the strange, lizard-woman at the counter.

Drizzt noticed that a number of people were giving him curious looks. He wasn't sure if it was because he was traveling with Ravenlight, or…he remembered then that she mentioned his coloring was unusual. Not a monster, at least; but most assuredly oddity. Suddenly self-conscious, he flipped his hood up.

"New to Riften?"

Grateful for a relatively friendly voice, Drizzt turned to see a strapping, well-armored woman, her dark hair accented by a stripe of reddish-brown war paint down across one side of her face and a two-handed war axe prominent over her back.

"You could say that," he answered. "I'm traveling with Ravenlight."

"Ah, the woman who caused such a stir in the Ratways." The warrior laughed. "Not that anyone here cares if she got the Thalmor's knickers in a twist. Though a number of folk were wondering what was going on to make those pests interested in her." She cocked her head and eyed him as if asking for news.

He shrugged. "I don't know myself. I met her barely four days ago."

"Eh, it was a few months back." The woman looked him over curiously. "I'm Mjoll, the Lioness. Formerly a wandering adventurer, now settled down in Riften."

"Drizzt Do'Urden." He bowed slightly. "I'm an adventurer myself. What made you stop?"

"Lost my sword, Grimsever, when I explored the Dwarf ruin Mzincheluft. I was lucky to escape the place at all; took the loss of my sword as a sign that it was time to settle down." She sighed. "I wouldn't go back there for a pile of gold, but I wouldn't mind getting my sword back."

Dwarf ruin. Drizzt smiled a little. "I might go down there; keep an eye out for it, if you'd like."

Mjoll smiled. "That would be most kind of you. Be cautious, though." Her eyes grew wary. "Mzincheluft is a dangerous place, not to be taken lightly. I barely escaped there alive."

"Sounds like a number of places I've entered." Almost sounds like where I was born. "But I will keep your warning in mind."

"I said two rooms."

Drizzt's gaze shot over to where Ravenlight stood in front of the lizard-woman, her arms grimly folded and her eyes snapping. He'd never heard her sound that cold before, and wondered what had just happened.

The innkeeper raised her scaly hands in a pacifying gesture. "Two rooms it is then. The price is right, it shall be arranged…but you must admit, it is not unnatural to think thus, when a pretty woman comes in with a handsome man."

Oh. He realized suddenly that some of the people in the inn were looking back and forth between the two of them with curious expressions. And the innkeeper was right; it wasn't unusual to assume that a man and woman traveling together were…doing more than just traveling. Well. He was not entirely surprised when Ravenlight, her cheeks a rather pleasing shade of red, stalked over in a huff. Nor did it surprise him when she did not immediately acknowledge him.

At least, she didn't look at him. "Our rooms are upstairs," she said shortly. "We'll be leaving early tomorrow, so get as much sleep as you can. I'm going up to mine now." She nodded to Mjoll and vanished through the hall that led to the rough stairs leading to the loft.

"Touchy on that subject," Mjoll noted.

"I think I understand both points of view," Drizzt admitted, rubbing his hair under his hood. "It is understandable, but…no. She and I just met. We're not…no."

Mjoll laughed. "And I understand that, even if no one else will." She glanced at the loft. "Where are the two of you riding?"

"Solitude. We retrieved something for the Bard's College, and are heading up that way tomorrow."

She whistled. "That will be a long ride. You might want to join your companion in sleep, Drizzt Do'Urden; it's almost two day's solid travel—if you don't stop along the way."


Ravenlight woke at five in the morning, sandy-eyed and groggy. She rolled over, waiting for her eyes to focus, and grumbling softly to herself. Another bad night. I really need to do something about these nightmares. She just wasn't sure what that might be.

I've heard rumor that Dawnguard is suffering from nightmares. Might be worth going there to see, and maybe find out if I can put my mind to rest at night. She had seen Alduin again, and this time he had attacked Whiterun. She had been unable to act; forced to watch as her chosen home and the people in it burned. That will not happen, she vowed. I won't let it.

Finally awake, she stood, stretching to get rid of the lingering stiffness that happened when she slept in her armor. "All right," she muttered to herself. "Best to start now."

Remembering the first impressions of the innkeeper, Ravenlight was careful not to go into Drizzt's room. Instead, she stood outside and knocked on the door. At once, she heard the rhythm of his breathing change, and knew he was awake. "Drizzt?"

He could move like a cat. She barely heard his steps as he came to the door. "What is it?" He sounded groggy—but his movements were too sure for that to be true.

"It's morning, and I'm wanting to leave. Do you want to meet me out in front of the stable, or in the common room?"

"Common room. I'll be down in a moment."

The common room of the Bee and Barb was blessedly quiet at five in the morning. Ravenlight decided against trying to order anything to eat, seeing as the innkeeper was herself still in bed, and resigned herself to another breakfast of bread and cold meat. I am making sure to take time to cook something later today.

She glanced at the stairs to see Drizzt coming down, dressed and more alert than he had sounded barely four minutes ago. He is good. He was probably wide awake the minute I knocked. "Ready for some hard riding?" she asked as he came up to her.

He gave her a slightly lopsided smile. "Hopefully no harder than Fearless can handle," he returned. "Andohar will have no trouble with it."

"And with any luck, neither will we." She strode out the door, and he followed.

"How far away, exactly, is Solitude?" he asked as he followed her through the quiet, almost deserted streets.

"Good long distance," Ravenlight admitted. "Clear on the other side of Skyrim. We'll be following the roads to get there, and I'm going to try and bypass Windhelm. Ulfric ought to have no reason to hate the Bard's College, but still."

"You really don't like him." It was a statement.

"No, I don't. He's a hard man; cruel and unforgiving. I don't blame him for his dislike of the Forsworn, but what he did in Markarth…and I don't know whether or not High King Torryg was armed when Ulfric went after him with the Voice." She shook her head. "Whether he was armed or not, the Voice isn't something to use lightly."

"What is the Voice? I've never heard of anything similar." Drizzt looked at her curiously as they passed through the gate.

Ravenlight hesitated. "It's a…special power," she finally said. "I know how to use it, but few others do. There's the Greybeards, a reclusive order up on the Throat of the World; and Ulfric must have studied under them in order to learn how to use the shouts. But me…it comes with being Dragonborn."

"Comes with being Dragonborn, how so?" Drizzt blew on his whistle, summoning Andohar before they reached the stable.

"The Voice is the…prerogative of the dragons," she said. "According to the tablets I read on the way up to the Greybeard's monastery, Kyne—which I think is another name for the goddess Kynareth —pitied mankind under the days of the dragon's rule. She persuaded someone called Paarthenax to teach men how to use the Voice. But I…I don't have to be taught."

"Really?" Andohar cantered up and halted beside Drizzt. He stroked the creature's gleaming neck.

"I just have to see a word in the dragon tongue, and it's…burned into my mind. And the dragon souls I've absorbed…they help me understand that word." Ravenlight sighed. "I don't use the shouts all that often, though; only when I must."

"It's wisest to use a power only when it's needed," Drizzt said slowly. "But that kind of power…"

"I may retire to High Hrothgar once I've dealt with Alduin." She made a face. "The Blades urge battle; the Greybeards urge caution and responsibility. I'm not sure which way to go—well, I won't once the World-Eater is dead. But as long as Alduin is alive and threatening everything in Nirn, my course is clear."

Fearless snorted, prancing a little where he stood outside the stable. He saw Ravenlight and trotted up to her, clouds of steam billowing from his nostrils. She smiled at him, stroking his side. "You're up almost as early as we are," she greeted, patting the glossy coat. "Were you giving Ranulf trouble, so he let you go outside?"

The horse dipped his big head and snorted again, pawing the ground with a bucket-sized hoof. She chuckled and swung up onto his back. "All right then. Let's be off."


The first day was uneventful. After yesterday's clash with the dragon, two frostbite spiders and one pack of wolves were barely worth mentioning. It wasn't until the following morning, as they camped by the side of the road, that the real trouble came.

Ravenlight turned a haunch of venison over the small, smokeless fire Drizzt built. He sat on a fallen log, looking over the light, straight wing bone, and wondering if he could try and make it into something. He was focused on it closely enough to not actually notice the sudden change in tension. But he felt the hairs on his neck prickle, and looked up.

Ravenlight stared down the road, her entire frame rigid and her right hand straying close to the hilt of her sword. Drizzt put the bone away and stood, following her gaze to see…

Five strangers, three in armor similar to hers, two in elaborate dark-blue robes. They strode along the road, coming toward them.

Drizzt's eyes narrowed. "Who are they?"

"Not entirely sure, but those two are wearing Thalmor robes." Ravenlight lowered her head, her lips drawing back from her teeth. "Don't start anything…but be ready to fight. They may attack."

"Who exactly are the Thalmor, anyway?"

"Leaders of the High Elves; the Aldmiri Dominion. They're willing to use any means, fair or foul—mostly foul—to advance their people. Nasty group." She didn't draw her sword, but her hand curled around the hilt. "And I've clashed with them."

"I heard something about that. In the Ratways?"

"Yes." She fell silent as the group came in earshot. Fearless snorted, shifting his weight from side to side. Drizzt tried not to be obvious about resting his hands on the hilts of his scimitars.

For a moment, it looked as though the Thalmor were going to pass them by. Then one of the robed men looked over at them, a sneer on his angular, gold-skinned face—and froze.

"You!"

Ravenlight and Drizzt whipped their blades out and dove to the side as he hurled a bolt of crackling blue lightning at them. The others turned and saw her rolling back up to her feet. Instantly, they drew their blades, and the second mage joined by hurling several jagged spikes of ice. She dodged, the spikes barely missing her. Drizzt sprang forward to engage the soldiers as Ravenlight, spinning and springing from side to side to avoid ice spikes and bolts of fire, took on the mages.

The three soldiers were good. They struck fast, changed position quickly, and might have posed a problem for Drizzt…forty years earlier. He whirled and twisted, easily parrying their thrusts, Twinkle and Icingdeath flashing in arcs almost too fast to see.

In contrast to Drizzt's flashy skill, Ravenlight was considerably more direct—and the two mages quickly realized that standing close together was a bad idea. They separated, forcing her to choose between them. Without hesitation, she went after the one throwing ice spells. A finger of blue lightning danced over her. Impressively, she ignored it. In less than three seconds, she was on the first mage, striking swift and hard. His scream as fire enveloped him was cut off as her second blow plunged the sword into his chest.

The second mage had stopped firing at her, and Ravenlight looked wildly for him, hoping that he wasn't providing backup for the beleaguered soldiers Drizzt toyed with. Then she saw the reason. He had a new problem to deal with: one with four huge feet. Fearless once more lived up to his name. She charged in to deal with the mage before he could kill her horse.

Drizzt ducked a high swipe and thrust under it, catching one soldier in a chink between his helmet and breastplate. Choking on blood, the Thalmor staggered back and collapsed. Drizzt darted to the side to avoid a vicious stroke aimed at his neck, parried an oncoming stab, and struck. Twinkle's enchanted steel cut through the armor on his opponent's arm, slicing him open to the elbow.

"Wretched beast!"

Fearless screamed with pain as he took a vicious stroke of lightning straight to his chest, staggering back and stumbling. The mage snarled as he aimed a final burst—and found too late that he had overlooked his main enemy. A wordless scream heralded Ravenlight's charge. He turned to strike. Her sword flashed in a fierce, brutal arc, and the mage crumpled, his head rolling several yards away.

One of the Thalmor slipped past Drizzt's defenses, stabbing him in the ribs. The point of his blade hit but didn't penetrate, and before he realized his mistake, Icingdeath flashed in a fatal blur.

The last soldier, clutching his bleeding arm, backed away. "I yield!" he screamed as Drizzt turned to him. "I yield. No more!"

"Run off, then," Ravenlight snarled. "Run hard and fast. And don't come back!"

He backed away, then turned and ran. Drizzt wiped his scimitars and sheathed them, glancing over at Ravenlight. She stroked Fearless with one hand, healing the burns on his coat with the other. He shivered violently, his head hanging.

"What's wrong with him?" Drizzt strode up to them.

"He took on the other mage; the lighting-thrower. I think he's mostly scared; it's not a serious injury." She ran the hand wreathed in golden light over the most obvious burn. "But that lightning hurts." She glanced over at Drizzt. "Please tell me I didn't see one of them stab you?"

"Not exactly." Drizzt fingered the hole the blade had left in his tunic. "He tried, but my armor turned it."

"Good. I'm running out of magic over here; you'd have needed another healing potion." She finished and patted Fearless's neck. "Go check the venison, would you? I don't want it to burn."

Drizzt obeyed as Ravenlight knelt over the corpses of their attackers, searching through their packs. He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for…ah." She stood, a piece of paper in her hand. "I was afraid of this."

"What is it?"

Ravenlight unfolded the paper and scowled down at it. "Execution order. They were sent specifically after me." She looked down the road, crumpling the paper in her hand. "Daedra take it. This means I haven't seen the last of them."


Even with the specter of Thalmor violence looming over them, the remainder of the trip was uneventful. Evening loomed gold as they rode up to the small farm under the massive, gleaming capitol city to stable their horses, then walked up the sloping streets to the gates.

Drizzt received a number of curious looks as he and Ravenlight strode through the streets, and a number of young women stopped to watch. Several of them blushed and giggled, hoping he would look their way. For his part, he was surprised that the guards, in contrast to the suspicious behavior in Whiterun and Riften, barely gave him more than a cursory glance. I guess dark elves must be different here.

Another guard passed, appraising them. "Keep out of trouble, Elf." He walked on, having barely paused. Drizzt glanced over his shoulder at him.

"The guards here don't seem as…worried as the ones in Whiterun," he said.

"No, Solitude isn't in any immediate danger from the Stormcloaks," Ravenlight answered. "Whiterun might be. And Riften…well, Riften is just a hellhole." She lifted her hand in greeting to a woman manning a stall in a small market area to the side. The woman called back happily. "Solitude can be a bit…snooty. But it's not a bad place."

A golden-skinned woman who looked uncomfortably like the Thalmor fighters walked past, regarding the pair with disdain. Ravenlight nodded to her with an equal disdain, walking on without any worry. Drizzt followed, taking the Bosmer's lack of concern as a good sign.

"Who was that?" he asked quietly, tipping his head back toward her.

Ravenlight glanced over her shoulder to the woman indicated. "She's just one of the nobles; High Elf, bit of a snob. I don't know her personally." She grimaced a little as she turned back to her path. "I don't really want to, either."

"Probably wisest." He quickened his steps to follow her.

As they walked, Drizzt looked around, careful to note the layout of the city. I thought Whiterun was confusing. This place is even worse. And, judging from the way she kept stopping to get her bearings, Ravenlight felt the same way.

Finally, she sighed with relief. "There it is. I always get those two mixed up."

"Which two?" Drizzt looked around.

Ravenlight gestured to two similar-looking buildings. "Those. One is a manor house, the other is the Bard's College. The only way to tell the difference is to look for the courtyard in front of the College." She started up the steps, Drizzt following.

Music drifted off the raised courtyard down into the street: a flute and accompanying drum, played by two men. The flute-player was fairly nondescript, but the drummer had a striking appearance: tall and well-built, with white-blond hair and a stripe of black paint across the eyes. Ravenlight lifted her hand to them, but otherwise showed little interest as she entered the building.

"Who are they?" Drizzt asked as he followed, tilting his head to indicate the pair.

"I don't know the flute-player," Ravenlight answered carelessly. "The other one is named Joad. Pretty popular around here, or so I get the impression. He's not much of a conversationalist. Viarmo."

Drizzt jerked around, puzzled by the strange word. Then he realized that she had simply greeted a tall, thin, well-clad, genial-looking Bosmer. He smiled and greeted her in return.

"Ah, Ravenlight! Our wandering adventurer. Find anything worthy of a new song?"

"Eh, not really." She shifted her weight back. "Just a few bandit lairs and some animals. No necromancers or secrets hid in ancient ruins this time. But I found that lute Inge Six-Fingers was wanting."

"Finn's Lute!" Viarmo's eyebrows arched. "Oh, that'll please her to no end. She's been talking about that for a while. Did you have any trouble retrieving it?"

"None at all." Ravenlight laughed self-consciously. "They were...kind of pathetic, actually."

Viarmo laughed heartily. "My girl, I almost envy you that flagrant confidence of yours! There are precious few with that kind of skill. How many bandit lairs have you cleared out by now, anyway?"

"I haven't been counting," she replied, straight-faced.

He shook his head. "I don't know whether you're the most bald-faced braggart to ever walk in here or the best fighter since the Companions." It was then he noticed Drizzt. "Ah! Here's an interesting face. Ravenlight, mind introducing me to your friend?"

"Ah—of course, I nearly forgot." She smiled, beckoning Drizzt forward. "This is Drizzt Do'Urden, a stranger to Tamriel, and my companion on the road—and, I might add, one of the fastest-moving swordsmen I've ever seen. Drizzt, this is Viarmud, head of the Bard's College."

"A pleasure...Drizzt, you said?" Viarmo, remarkable for people who had just heard it, managed to get the sound right. He looked at the Drow curiously. "If I might say, I've never seen a Dunmer with your coloring before; what area of Morrowind are you from?"

Drizzt shook his head. "I'm not from Morrowind."

"Interesting!" Viarmo's eyes lit up. "Where do you hail from?"

"Faerun. It's...some considerable distance from here." He chuckled a little, shifting his weight. "I arrived in Skyrim due to some complications at a nearby mages' camp."

"The things I've heard coming from the Mage's College, I'm not surprised." Viarmo shook his head. "I suppose it's a good thing you arrived in one piece, if that was the case."

"I'm going to go find Inge Six-Fingers," Ravenlight said to nobody in particular. "You two can get acquainted."


It was perhaps thirty-five minutes before she returned, a slightly bemused expression on her face. Drizzt and Viarmo had moved to one of the benches to be out of the way of the other bards moving through to look at the downstairs library, but they were chatting as eagerly as before: trading various histories, legends, and tales of their differing lands.

And I don't know yet if Viarmo has figured out that Drizzt is from another world. Ravenlight watched, smiling a little. If the head of the College did guess... Her eyes wandered over the books on the shelves around her. The stories and fables some of them contained would likely pale in comparison to what Viarmo could spin out of an encounter with a warrior from another world entirely. I wonder if I should intervene before he has the chance to guess. She watched them, wondering how she might interrupt without seeming rude.

The answer was given for her when one of the students, an eager-looking young man, dashed down the stairs toward the library and didn't quite dodge all the way around her. He slammed into her shoulder, knocking her back several steps. The clasp on her belt pouch popped open, and something hit the floor and rolled. Ravenlight, used to much harder blows, regained her footing at once. The student, on the other hand, staggered back a few steps, clutching his chest and gasping. Viarmud and Drizzt sprang up, both staring at the two.

"Good heavens! Are you two all right?" Viarmo looked over them anxiously.

"I'm fine." Ravenlight straightened. "I may have dropped something, but that's all." She smiled at the wheezing student. "But I would imagine elven armor isn't the most comfortable thing to run into full-tilt."

He shook his head. "N-no," he managed to gasp out. "It's not."

"Here." She pulled out a familiar pottery bottle. "This isn't a strong healing potion, but it'll take care of that bruise. That's a bad place to get smacked anyway, and an aspiring bard can't afford to be short of breath for an hour or so."

"Th-thank you." He took the bottle and threw down its contents. Drizzt noticed that he grimaced a little, but otherwise seemed unfazed by the taste. He straightened almost immediately. "That did help. Thank you, um..."

"I'm Ravenlight." She chuckled a little. "I look different in normal clothing."

"Normal clothing?" The student frowned, then gasped, his eyes widening. "Oh! I remember! You're the new one, the one who joined at the festival! You were the one who went and retrieved King Olaf's Verse!"

She laughed a little, shifting self-consciously. "Yes, that was me. Um...were you coming down to get something?"

"What? Oh!" His eyes widened. "Yes! That book of songs for Mistress Inge! Excuse me, I've got to hurry! She's strict!"

He dashed toward the books, grabbed the one he needed, then raced back up the stairs. Ravenlight would have stared after him for a few moments longer, but a movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and she turned to see Drizzt, bending over to retrieve—

"Ahh—don't touch that, please."

He started, turning toward her. "Why not?"

Ravenlight scooped up the round, multifaceted thing that had fallen to the floor. "Because when I picked it up in the frost troll lair where I found it, the blasted thing spoke to me. It's some kind of artifact; the voice called it a beacon, and told me to return it to her temple."

"A beacon?" Viarmo looked at it. "Hmm. If I remember correctly, the old temple to Merida used to have a beacon on the pedestal beneath the statue. But when the temple fell into disuse, it disappeared. Supposedly some bandit or other made off with it."

Ravenlight frowned a little. "Merida, Merida...which one is she again?"

Viarmo stroked his goatee, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Well, no one seems to be certain where her particular interest lies. But it is known that she's the only Daedric prince not considered wholly evil; and she hates undead with a passion." He nodded toward the beacon. "It might be interesting to find out what she wants done with that beacon."

"I might do that, then." Ravenlight slipped the beacon back into her pack. "Do you know where the temple was?"

"Not far outside of Solitude, actually. The road that leads up to it is only about a mile or two down the road from the city." Viarmo lifted a hand in caution. "It's been in ruins for some time, though; and there's no telling what might have moved into it when her worshipers moved out."


"So," Drizzt said that night as they took a small, out-of-the-way table at the Winking Skeever inn, "I take it we'll be heading to this old temple tomorrow?"

"Probably. But keep it down about that," Ravenlight answered, her voice carefully pitched to be below that of the bard, playing and singing an ode to the Imperials short distance away from them. "Did Viarmo tell you anything about the Oblivion Crisis?"

"He mentioned it, but that was all." Drizzt stirred the steaming bowl of beef stew in front of him. "I was unsure of how much I could safely ask him without revealing where I actually came from. I remember you mentioned it before, though. A line of emperors died out then?"

"Yes. The Dragonborn emperors were all killed, and the last of the line, a priest named Martin, sacrificed himself to help close the last of the gates. But the whole crisis was organized by a cult that worshiped the Daedra prince Mehrunes Dagon. As a result, the worship of any daedric prince became suspect. Some fools still cling to them—well," she amended, "they may not all be fools. From everything I've read, Azura, the patron and protector of Morrowind, is a decent sort. But that Clavicus Vile...anyone who expects anything from him is setting themselves up for a nasty fall."

"Would that be why the temple was abandoned?"

"It's probably connected with that. A group came into being, called the Vigilants of Stendaar. They...let's say take a dim view of any activity connected with the Daedric princes at all." Ravenlight sighed, taking a drink from her tankard. "And I...well. It's pretty stupid, but I'd rather avoid them."

"Why is that?" Drizzt looked at her curiously.

Ravenlight grimaced. "Barely two weeks after I arrived in Skyrim, I was traveling to a small village named Ivarstead. I encountered a group of Vigilants on the road, exchanged a few words, and then...while I didn't exactly follow them, I kept pace with them for a little while. A couple of frostbite spiders attacked them, and I went in to try and help. It was a...a confused mess, and when I took a swing at one of those blasted spiders, I accidentally hit one of them." She shook her head, scowling at the memory. "They didn't know it was an accident and turned on me. I ran about three miles over the roughest terrain I could find to shake them off. Thanks to that little incident, when I arrived in Ivarstead, the guards were waiting for me, and I got hauled off to Riften to pay a fine for assault." She skewered a chunk of meat in her bowl.

"I can see why you'd want to avoid them now," Drizzt agreed. "But...how long have you been in Skyrim?"

"Just under a year now." Ravenlight chuckled a little, rubbing her hair. "By now they've probably forgotten me, but...still."

"It's hard to guess just how long someone may keep a memory—and a grudge." Drizzt grimaced as several faces rose up in his memory: everyone who'd ever pursued him to settle a score, real or imaginary. "I've had enemies who hounded me for years, even after I nearly forgot the incident that started it."

"Sounds like you've had more than your share of trouble." Ravenlight sighed. "I might ask you a little more about it." She covered her mouth, hiding a yawn. "Tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to eat, then I'm going up to bed. I've already paid for our rooms; yours is across from mine again, upstairs."

Across the room, the bard finished a clear flute tune to applause from the other patrons. She put away her flute and picked up her eight-stringed lute, strumming a few chords on it. "This song," she announced, "is for the hero of Skyrim; our hope for these dark times."

The crowd fell silent, waiting. Drizzt recognized the tune and looked over at Ravenlight.

"Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart," the woman sang. "I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes."

"I wonder," Drizzt murmured as the song continued. "Do they ever consider how close to them the Dragonborn comes?"

Ravenlight smiled, and put her finger to her lips.