The weather seemed to become more violent every step Ulfric took on the path. He knew the Throat of the World wasn't much further now, but every small distance had become an enormous effort. The billowing wind made it seem as if Kynareth herself was trying to blow him off the mountain. The murder of the Greybeards and the Dragonborn had angered her beyond measure. Not even the power of the Voice had worked to clear this storm.
The smoke trail coming from Falkreath still burdened him. He could never think well of the Dragonborn, not after the War, but what hope did Skyrim have against the Thalmor without Jaxius Amaton? The Dunmer had become the most revered hero in Skyrim since Talos himself in recent years. First Alduin the World Eater's defeat, and then ending the Civil War, all in two summers time. The Dragonborn had done what countless armies and thousands of brave Nords could not. His songs were the most requested whenever Ulfric went down to Ivarstead in order to resupply. Skyrim would surely be devastated if they found out their idol had fallen.
Ulfric remembered one of the last encounters he had with Amaton, in the Palace of the Kings in Windhelm. The Dragonborn's greatsword was at his throat, and Galmar was slowly bleeding out beside him. He'd never forget his friend's blood-gurgling last gasps for air. Amaton had met Ulfric's eyes.
"Do you want to die like him?" the Dragonborn had asked, as if this was all just some inconvenience in his day. Ulfric had broken, bowing his head and submitting. I was a coward.
General Tullius, that wretched leader of the Imperials, yelled at Amaton for not dealing the killing blow, but the Dragonborn ignored him. His greatsword left Ulfric's throat, and he drew the rebel's chin up with one gray-skinned finger.
"You will go into exile, with the Greybeards on their mountain. No one will know you live. Soon enough, no one will care you died. If you ever draw a sword against Skyrim again, I will put you down, and then I will come back to this city and knock it into the freezing baywater one brick at a time." Ulfric would never forget the look of malice they exchanged before Tullius stepped forward with the gag. So much for your peace, Dragonborn.
After what seemed like ages, he reached the summit. Ulfric could barely make out the shape of a Word Wall, covered in the jagged script of the ancient dragon tongue, on the far edge of the clearing. Though the Dragonborn could draw power from the words and learn new shouts in seconds, the monument was useless to Ulfric. No Paarthurnax in sight. He trudged through the blizzard towards the ancient wall, struggling to stay on his feet. Ulfric wondered if the Dragonborn had once walked this same path. Arngeir was always telling him how time was a circle. The thought brought a low chuckle to his dry throat.
The buffeting of giant wings broke through the roaring winds. Ulfric was pushed into the snow by the force. Paarthurnax? He couldn't see much through the snow, but something large settled on the Word Wall. Ulfric struggled to rise, and then staggered forward. A red blur flashed briefly through the blizzard, and Ulfric found himself knocked backwards with unimaginable strength.
He could hardly draw breath. Sharp claws pressed into his neck, and a heavy weight pressed his torso down into the snow. Hot breath pulsed over his face, and the scent of rotten flesh made him want to vomit.
The dragon's crimson head materialized. Ulfric could see yellow eyes, filled with an ancient rage. He hoped it was not directed at him.
"You have come a long way to die, joor." The crackling voice came through clear despite the wind. All of this just to become a dragon's breakfast. "It has been too long since I last tasted the flesh of man."
Ulfric struggled to speak. The dragon, as if sensing his plight, slightly raised the foot off of his chest.
"Paarthurnax," Ulfric gasped.
In an instant, the dragon's teeth were at his face.
"Who told you this name?" it asked dangerously.
"I studied with the Greybeards," Ulfric forced out, "Arngeir told me of him."
The pressure left his stomach as the dragon reared back. Ulfric gasped and sputtered, greedily sucking in the cold air. He could hear the beast chuckling, a low deep sound. It brought to mind the footsteps of giants.
"I forget Paarthurnax keeps pets. I am called Odahviing," it said it in a booming voice.
Snow winged hunter. Arngeir's old teachings on the dragon tongue came back to Ulfric in a flash. He eyed the beast warily as he rose to his feet, shaking from the cold.
Odahviing looked at the Nord and inclined his head, like a confused child observing a new sight. And then, to Ulfric's amazement, the dragon pushed off the ground and took off over the side of the mountain.
Ulfric barely had time to process what had happened before a rapidly descending glowing shape appeared above him. He looked up at it, noting that the form was getting closer, and quickly trudged out of its landing zone.
A colossal burning tree hit the ground in front of him. Ulfric blinked, shocked, half-expecting Talos himself to burst out of the tree trunk with Ysgramor riding on his shoulders. Instead, Odahviing swooped down to land on the the Word Wall. Turning his head towards the storm clouds, he shouted:
"LOK VAH KOOR!"
The dark clouds began to reluctantly clear. A dragon's shout has more power over Kynareth than mine. Ulfric felt the winds dying down and the sun on his skin.
"If we are to talk, krah joor, I do not want your weak form expiring before we are done." The winged hunter told him. Ulfric thought he saw a glint of amusement in his yellow eyes.
The flames of the tree were not diminished by the remaining snowfall, some special property of dragonfire he guessed, and the warmth felt euphoric on his frozen face. He nodded in thanks and rubbed his hands together to get the blood flowing.
"Do you know where Paarthurnax is?" he shouted to Odahviing. "I have great need to speak with him."
"I have not seen the old one for three of the moons' cycles." The child of Akatosh shifted on his perch, as if troubled. "Not since the rule of yuvon gein began."
Ulfric frowned. The golden one. Some dragon phrase I'm unfamiliar with?
"The yuvon gein is another dragon?" he asked.
"The kiir of Krein." Odahviing said with distaste.
The child of Magnus. Now Ulfric was even more confused.
"The dragons came from Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time. Magnus is the god of magic, if my memory serves."
The crimson dragon chuckled again.
"Geh, joor, I thought the same. There is much gram surrounding the yuvon gein, much uncertainty. Bormahu, Akatosh, father, was absent from his creation."
That does not sound promising.
"And what of you?" Ulfric asked, mindful of the sword strapped to his belt. "Do you follow this Golden One?"
He could hear the Word Wall rumble as Odahviing's talons tightened in anger.
"I pledged my life's service to the last Dovahkiin. No other dov has power over me."
This gave Ulfric pause.
"You saw the smoke from Falkreath, then?" he asked. Maybe the Dragonborn got out in time.
A low growl came from Odahviing, like a hunter's dog sensing a predator.
"I saw the yol, yes. The sky is choked with the leavings of it." Ulfric was perturbed to see a trace of guilt in the dragon's shifting features. "The work of the Golden and his mortal allies. The Dovahkiin called for me, but I could not face the gold one in battle. His Thu'um is too dilos, too strong for me. I do not know what became of the Dovahkiin." Odahviing's head fell. "I have not heard his Voice since the siid yol started."
Third fire. Ulfric looked up sharply.
"How many fires did you see?" He knew about Whiterun and the Dragonborn's manor. What else had the Thalmor done?
"Three thus far, krah joor. The diist from the city in which I was imprisoned, the second from the Dovahkiin's place of power, and the siid from the Sky Temple, where those that hunt us dwell." Odahviing grumbled. "I was not so sad to see the third fire."
Of course. The Blades. Arngeir had never spoken much of the dragon hunters, disapproving of their violent methods, but Ulfric had a lot of time to read in his exile. The Thalmor and the Blades were ancient enemies. Their destruction meant one less defender against the Dominion. I'm running out of allies, fast.
Ulfric was jolted out of his thoughts by a distant roar. Odahviing tensed his wings on the Word Wall, preparing to launch off. "We have company, cold man. Vonun, quickly, lest you be seen and consumed."
He wasn't in any state to argue, considering earlier he had been defeated by one dragon's foot. An entire beast would surely be the end of him. Ulfric took cover under the smoldering tree trunk, digging under it slightly into the snow. There was a large flapping of wings as another of the dov approached and began to hover above.
"Klovokun!" Odahviing shouted from his perch. "What brings you here, to the old one's place of power?" The other dragon was the color of sand, and larger than Odahviing by at least a half measure.
The other dragon roared in apparent displeasure.
"The yuvon gein waits for you to join us, Odahviing. The fields of joor are ripe for the harvest."
"I cannot join the kiir after what he has done, nos murder Dovahkiin," Odahviing roared back, "My life was sworn to the Dragonborn."
The other dragon made a horrible grinding sound which Ulfric assumed to be laughter.
"You have failed in your duty, dii saqho fahdon. The Dovahkiin is fallen."
No. It can't be true. Ulfric pushed his way out from under the tree, emerging like a child from the womb. He drew his sword and planted his feet firmly in the snow.
"What do you know of the Dragonborn's fate?" he yelled up at Klovokun.
The dragon laughed again.
He said, "Is this your new zaam, Odahviing? You may want to work on his manners."
"Foolish krah joor." Odahviing shook his head slowly at Ulfric, as if disappointed. "You have made a very unwise choice, very unwise."
To Oblivion with these dragons.
"Tell me about the Dovahkiin!" he shouted, allowing the Thu'um to resonate his voice.
Klovokun roared in rage as the small shockwave impacted him.
"The Dovahkiin is dead, and you shall soon join him." The sand dragon's angry gaze fell on Odahviing. "And you, teaching our tongue to joor? Your bones will decorate the thrones of the new age."
Ulfric's new ally shot off from his perch, making a crimson path in the sky. He heard the sound of two great forces colliding, as if the moons were smashing together. Lowering his sword, Ulfric ran for the cover of the Word Wall. The boom of dragon shouts shook the mountain, and he barely held on to the aging monument.
The two dragons were a whirl of scales and fury in the open sky. Ulfric watched in awe as the brothers fought, teeth and talons giving way to elemental vexation. One dragon truly could have won the war for us. Maybe he should have listened to Galmar's suggestion to capture one.
There was a break in the battle, and the dragons circled away from each other.
"Surrender to me, gruth, and maybe the Golden One will have mercy on you." Klovokun shouted at his kin. Ulfric realized that the dragon was soaring towards him, and he renewed the grip on his sword.
"That cannot happen, sahlo zul," Odahviing replied, noticing Klovokun's proximity to Ulfric and flying fast to intercept.
He wasn't fast enough. Klovokun reached out with his clawed feet, batting Ulfric's sword away and grabbing him under the arms. He watched in shock as the ground disappeared beneath him and gave way to open sky. He could barely see the tops of the trees far below.
But he knew to remain in a dragon's talons was to face certain death. Whispering a prayer to Talos, Ulfric took a deep breath.
"FUS RO DAH!"
He shouted point blank into the belly of the dragon. Klovokun recoiled, releasing him involuntarily. Ulfric felt the open air rushing around him, and his eyes burned with tears. He turned over, and saw the rapidly shrinking shapes of the dragons fighting. He turned over again, and the tree canopy rushed to face him. Come on, come on. Kynareth give me strength.
The last shout Ulfric Stormcloak heard before impact was "Merkoorzaam!" It was the golden one's name, he realized with a detached horror. Summer elf slave.
Dovahzul Appendix
joor = mortal
krah = cold
yuvon gein = golden one
suleykaar = powerful
kiir = child
Krein = Magnus
gram = uncertainty
Bormahu = Akatosh
Laat Dovahkiin = Last Dragonborn
dov = dragon
yol = fire
Dilos = strong
zaam = slave
Diist, ziist, siid = first, second third
Vonun = hide
Klovokun = sand shadow
Paarthurnax = ambition overlord cruelty
Odahviing = winged snow hunter
nos fin Dovahkiin = attacking the Dragonborn
vaat = oath
dii saqho fahdon = my crimson ally
Gruth = betrayer
sahlo zul = weak voice
Merkoorzaam = summer elf slave
