Chapter 4

"It's to the northwest – we just follow the road for a while," Emlen explained to Lydia, a little wearily. She wiped her palms of nervous sweat and they set off. She was aware of her every movement, the armor shifting agaist her, the heavy clanking of Lydia and Odahviing's armor. She was so scared of where they were headed, of what this road led her to, she was beginning to feel faint.

She took a deep breath and walked beside Odahviing, and then kind of tugged him so they both fell back. Lydia didn't glance back, though Emlen was sure she heard them slow down. The older woman seemed to understand their need for privacy.

"So, er, Hunter," she said, half teasing. She took a glance at his unamused eyes and looked away quickly. His damn eyes! They were dark and deep and a million years old. Black, as though his pupils were eternally dilated. "How are you adjusting to this change?" Though she had tried to rehearse the question in her head, it came out quick and rushed and awkward.

She checked his face, avoiding his eyes, and saw his brow furrow. He shrugged a little, and then scowled. "It is strange. If I do not dwell on it, it does not bother me – the foreign movements come with ease as though I've operated this body since I was created."

She was slightly surprised. "I guess you're really lucky. So…we are keeping your identity a secret, right?"

"Naturally," he answered cooly. She blushed and dropped her eyes to the ground. His tone made her feel like a child – and he probably thought of her that way. The child who slain Aludin! The thought was absurd to her. She was far from a child.

"We'll probably run into a few wolves," she said uncouthly and her blush deepened. "You can practice your sword on those."

He didn't offer an answer, as though her simple words were beneath him. "Um, Odahviing?" she murmured.

"Yes, young Dovah?" He looked right into her eyes and her feet stopped moving. She turned towards him, feeling a vile pain in a place she couldn't identify.

"This is all my fault," she whispered, feeling as though she might cry. "I'm so, so sorry."

"You should be," he responded harshly and she winced. A tear actually slipped from her eye and she wiped it away quickly, ashamed. "You should have called me earlier."

She swallowed and stared at him. His eyes were unaccusing – rather, slightly pained. She shook her head, not understanding. "I-I what?"

"You should have called me when he first caught you. You shouldn't have let him hurt you for so long, Emlen." She couldn't read his eyes now. His voice sounded odd when he said her name, and it made her feel odd too. She couldn't identify the feeling.

He brow furrowed. Why hadn't she called him right away? Her eyes widened slightly. "I think I knew what he was going to do," she said with heavy conviction.

Her knees shook and she fell, but Odahviing caught her. She remained in his arms, her vision clouding over, an abhorrent memory threatening to take her over. But Odahviing's body was very warm, and his arms were strong, and his voice was calling her name. She forced her way through the pain until her vision cleared and she could see him and Lydia looking over her.

"I'm all right," she stuttered out and pulled her way out of Odahviing's grip. She pressed her hands over her eyes for a long moment. "I'm all right," she repeated.

"We ought to stop," Lydia said. "You need to take this slowly."

"We just got started!" Emlen said as strongly as she could, but her voice was high pitched and she just sounded like a petulant child. She swallowed. "I'm fine, honestly," she said, and sounded a bit better.

Lydia looked as though she might argue but Odahviing cut her off. "She'll be fine. We should go."

Emlen threw him a grateful look and stood and led the way down the road.

It wasn't long before she heard the telltale catcalls of a few bandits. She drew her bow and set one of the dwarven arrows in place. She heard Lydia and Odahviing draw their swords. The bandits came into view – three of them, in simple hide armor, each holding a sword. They laughed at the hodgepodge of a group that they were. "Oda – Hunter, here's your chance," she said cautiously. Odahviing came in front of her, sword bared, body tense. "Hold back, Lydia. Attack only at my command."

"Now, now," the leader coaxed. "No need for violence. Just hand over all your valuables, and we won't have to kill you."

Odahviing stepped forward, and swung his sword at the man. It was deflected easily. "Ha!" the bandit laughed. "Haven't you ever wieled a sword before, pretty boy?"

Emlen was a little worried. Odahviing's movements were too tense and controlled – not free and loose. She kept her bow and arrow pointed at the leader just in case. The other two bandits were thankfully holding back, waiting to see how easy the kill would be.

The leader thrust his sword towards Odahviing – it caught his armor, and he stumbled.

All three bandits were laughing now, and Emlen was just about to step in and end the fight when an odd sound was heard. The bandit leader took a step back, his eyes disturbed. The sound was distinctly like a dragon snarling. But surely it hadn't come from the man in front of them.

Odahviing's movements changed – slithering, smooth and whole and strong as though once more operating a greater shell. He brought his sword so hard against the bandit's, that the enemy's sword fell right out of his hand and to the ground. A great sweeping of the ebony sword and blood spurted from the bandit's neck.

For a long moment, the other two bandits were in shock – and then their eyes grew furious and they went to charge him at the same time and Emlen was sure he would need help. But his feet moved shoulder width apart, and his sword leaned off to the side, and a great shout issued from his throat – "FUS RO DAH!"

The bandits blasted back and slammed into a rock. The sickening crunch of their bones could be heard just past the resonance of the Dovah's voice. They both lay still on the ground.

Emlen was in shock. She vaguely recalled being told that this man had used a shout to heal her, but she hadn't quite realized…his soul was most certainly intact.

She moved forward in the silence and checked the two men. One of them was still breathing. He looked to her with hopeless eyes, left in severe pain to await his slow death. She pointed her arrow right at his forehead and looked into his eyes. She knew he wanted her to. "Talos be with you," she murmured compassionately but the arrow did not release from her hand like she had planned. She lowered it. His blue eyes filled with disappointment and fear.

She kneeled and set her bow aside. "What are you doing?" Lydia's voice reached her ears but she ignored it.

She pulled out the strongest healing potion she had and poured it down his throat. He closed his eyes. She raised her hands over him and began to whisper a healing spell. His limbs adjusted to the right angles. Skin knitted over the wounds. His body relaxed.

After a long minute, she stopped using the spell. She ran her hands over his body, checking each bone. His eyes opened and he sat up and inspected his body. His eyes met hers, his filled with shock.

The bandit stared at this woman – this angel. Surely that's what she was. Her beautiful eyes were filled with pity and compassion. Her hair in a loose side braid. She wore grey armor that he didn't quite recognize. But it was her face and hands that he was focused on. Her gentle fingers touched his cheek.

"Who are you?" she asked him.

He was speechless for a long moment before he managed to answer. "Aaron," he stuttered out.

"Aaron," she echoed. Her voice was sweet and clear and beautiful. "Yes, but who are you? Where are you from? Don't you have a family? Why did you become a bandit?"

He shook his head and then stumbled out an answer. "I was born in Solitude… I left my wife and child in Whiterun and I joined up with some bandits."

Her eyes filled with sorrowful disappointment and he felt horrible. "You left your wife and child? Didn't they want you to stay?"

He shook his head and moaned slightly. "I was a horrible father and a skooma addict. My wife kicked me out because she felt I was a danger to keep around our child."

"And your child?"

He actually began to cry, but he felt no shame in front of this angel. "Oh, my little Mila," he moaned. "I love her so much. She was my little girl. I was never good enough for her, but she adored me. I always tucked her in every night…Oh, my poor little Mila."

He saw the angel's brow furrow. "You're…Mila's father? Carlotta's husband?"

He nodded. "You…you know them? How are they?"

The angel offered a shrug. "They sell fruit and vegetables at a stand in the Plains District. There is something…" She trailed off, as though she might not tell him.

"What is it?" he asked desperately.

"Well, Carlotta is very pretty, you see…and she's being persued by multiple men. I mean, most of them seem to think your dead, but they really want her. Of course, she's been spurning them all, but if she hits financial problems and needs help she won't have a choice…"

"No," he said, pained.

The angel sighed. "But I guess you can't do anything. I mean, you're a bandit. And a skooma addict. What's the chance you'll find a legitimate job? Or give up your skooma just for Mila and Carlotta?"

"I will!" he practically begged. "I'll do anything for them!"

"Well, this is your chance!" she said emphatically. "Your second chance. I doubt you'll get another. Get your backside to Whiterun, get a job as a guard or a hunter or a salesman, take care of your daughter and win your wife back."

He nodded, his body shaking. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

She stood and grasped his hand and pulled him up. "Can you walk?"

He nodded. "Then you best go," she told him. She handed him his sword. "Don't die on the way there."

He nodded again for what must have been the fiftieth time. "What if they want to arrest me for what I've done?" he asked, distressed.

"Hmm." She seemed to think for a long moment. "March straight up to Dragonsreach and approach the Jarl. Lay your sword at his feet and beg for his forgiveness. Tell him that the Dragonborn sent you, saved you and told you to do all this, and that if he doesn't believe you, you can wait in the dungeon until I return and I will stand for you."

He stared at this angel. "Dragonborn?"

"The Dragonborn," she confirmed gravely.

"Thank you," he repeated softly. He turned and marched with grand determination to Whiterun – to home.

Odahviing watched the man go. He glanced at Lydia. The whole scene had been moving and he was shocked. He certainly hadn't known the Dragonborn had such compassion.

Emlen reached them and looked at Lydia. "Carlotta's lost husband. Can you believe it?"

Lydia stared at her. "Emlen…I'm proud of you. You did something amazing today." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Why did you do it?" Odahviing asked. He needed to know. He was not absent of compassion, but he felt nothing for those who intended him dead. He wouldn't have even gave him a merciful death – rather spat at his face and let him suffer.

Emlen shrugged. "He wasn't trying to kill me. If I could save him, I wanted to. He's not just a bandit – he's a man. And I think at least one of the Divine's must have been involved. I mean, what's the chance that Carlotta's husband was just passing by here, and that he would survive such a horrible injury, and that I could heal him at all? Our fates were linked."

Odahviing nodded, but he didn't understand. Emlen looked a little different, standing there. Had he never before seen her heart?

They walked on, and the sun was just beginning to set by the time they reached the great cave. It was large enough for a dragon to fit through easily, but sloped down until they were deep under the mountain, under miles and miles of crushing, suffocating rock. With a few sparing glances towards the sky, they entered the cave.

Immediately, they were confronted with a wave of fear. Emlen choked, Lydia almost ran, and Odahviing shuddered. But Emlen managed to whisper something and they calmed. "That's how come this place hasn't been raided," Emlen noted. "People flee before they even see anything."

"Do you think there are any more traps?" Lydia asked warily.

Emlen didn't answer, but continued in. Luckily, there were no more traps.

The massive inner chamber was filled with desks and alchemical ingredients and, of course, the replica of Dragonreach's trap. It still sat on the ground. Ten feet away from the trap was the slap of rock that the Dragonborn had been tortured on.

Odahviing turned to Emlen and watched her. Her breathing was shallow and her hands were shaking as she scanned the room. Wordlessly, she pointed to a chest that was pushed against several rocks.

Lydia went to it, and pulled out a set of moveable black armor, intricately designed. She also pulled out a black bow and a quiver of arrows. She brought them back to Emlen.

Emlen grasped her things and ran her hands over them. She slipped down until she was sitting, her back pressed against a rock. She breathed slowly, in and out. Her pupils dilated and her gaze darted all about, catching onto something and then yanking away from it.

"Are you going to be okay?" Lydia asked cautiously.

She was silent for a long moment, eyes filled with awful pain. "I…I snuck in," she managed to say. Her eye's sought out Odahviing's and locked in, staring so intently at him as though he held her lifeline. "I snuck in with an arrow at the ready and I came to this cave and I searched for him and…and…and I fell. I couldn't move at all. My entire body was paralyzed, and breathing had become hard and I couldn't even speak or turn my head to look. He was there, and he was taunting me And I was so afraid –" Her voice broke but she barreled on. "He put me on that rock and he pulled my armor off and left me in my chemise and I couldn't fight him at all and even when the spell wore off he used magic ropes to bind me and hold me down and I tried so hard to get out…He said he knew that I could shout for a dragon. He said he knew, and if I did it, he wouldn't hurt me. But I saw the trap and I knew at least part of his plan and I couldn't do it. I had to be stronger than he. I told him I wouldn't ever do as he wanted…he laughed at me."

Her voice broke and she dissolved into tears, a single leaf left on a wintered tree, alone and shaking, and waiting to fall. Odahviing's chest tightened up oddly. He didn't like to see her like this – not a child, not this strong child. This never should have happened to her, of that he was certain.

They sat in awkwardness for a long moment, Lydia gently brushing back her hair but understand there was nothing she could do for the girl. Odahviing shuddered inwardly. He wanted to…he wanted to… He couldn't identify the odd urge, the strange feeling in his arms.

A memory came to his mind of a father pulling his forlorn child into his lap as Odahviing observed from many miles away, atop a mountain, laughing at the odd human customs of touch. And again, a similar ritual when a man took a woman to be his wife and their lips touched and he hung onto her and cried for joy.

His body acted on its urges of its own accord. He sat in front of her and tugged at her arms until she crawled into his lap and sobbed into him and he wrapped his arms around her. She was a warm little thing. Certainly, it wasn't the first time he had held her from necessity. But it was the first time he noted the touch – his sensitive skin, her pulsing body and tiny beating heart. Her body still shivered and wracked with sobs, but he felt it calm like a storm that slowly died down. She stopped shuddering, and her breathing slowed so that he thought she might have fallen asleep.

Just as he was wondering if he should deposit her and make camp, or wake her up and get moving, she shifted, never having slept at all, and pushed out of his arms. Her eyes were weary and sad, and slightly confused when she looked at him. Her hand dug into her hair and she pulled it out of the braid it was in and then passed her fingers through until it lay all around her. It was crimped in loose waves from having dried in the position.

"I heard somewhere that mages always keep journals. We need to look around. Might find something useful," she said abruptly. She turned away from them and began a methodical, slightly mechanical search. He joined her and soon the three of them were spread out throughout the cave, knocking over odd books like Aedra and Daedra and The Oblivion Crisis.

Finally, Emlen called out that she had located it. They all gathered, sitting on various rocks. Before she even pulled it open, she said, "His name is Eleutherius."

"And you know that, how?" Lydia asked.

Emlen waved the book, which was made of random pieces of parchement with holes near the top and bottom, with pieces of leather as the covers, all bound together with rope. A shoddy, homemade thing as though the wizard didn't have enough time to go journal shopping. "It's on the front," she said dully.

She opened it up, and read in a careful, steadied monotone, as though trying to pretend she didn't care what it said.

13th of Morning Star

Successfully contacted Mehrunes Dagon at his shrine. He deigned to allow me, his faithful follower, to carry out his deeds within this plane. The dragons within Skyrim are the perfect oppourtunity.

Need to gather the Eight Dead Souls hidden in Nordic Ruins. Power can be used to forge Anathema at Forsaken Crypt.

Dagon gave spell to turn man to dragon and dragon to man, assuming I can make it work. Takes more power to turn man to dragon. Takes scales crushed in the blood of the dragon to make the spell work.

Dragonsreach has the power to trap a dragon. Have to study trap.

"He was trying to turn a dragon into a man?" Lydia asked, horrified.

"It's worse than that," Odahviing said. "He's trying to turn a man – probably himself – into a dragon."

Emlen shook her head. "Why?"

"Mehrunes Dagon is the Lord of Chaos. What other reason does he need?" Odahviing said darkly.

"And what is Anathema? And the Black Diamonds?" Emlen asked.

"Only one way to find out – keep reading," Lydia instructed.

18th of Morning Star

Went to Whiterun; stayed with the lovely Ysolda. She showed me the third piece of Anathema that she keeps underneath a floorboard in her home in a small box.

She told me that the Dragonborn used a shout to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach recently. Rumor has it that the dragon will now come to the Dragonborn whenever she calls. May be only way to capture a dragon.

The trap is constructed to capture a dragon round the neck and stretches out to hold his front legs. Will have to reconstruct it. Ysolda says she knows someone who can help.

"I can't believe Ysolda is with him," Lydia said, shaking her head in disgust.

Emlen shuddered. "How many people does he have on his side?"

"Keep reading," Odahviing prompted her.

30th of Morning Star

Finished the trap. Smithed the metal pieces myself. Managed to set it up. Need to capture Dragonborn.

Ysolda told me she often does work for the Jarl, clearing out caves of bandits and necromancers. Will start attacking passerby to gain her attention.

9th of Sun's Dawn

Been luring passerby with illusion spells. Killed them all immediately. No reason to waste time with them. Disposed of bodies in different cave. Been studying ancient spells.

The Dragonborn will come soon.

10th of Sun's Dawn

Captured Dragonborn. She won't suddender easily. Have to be sure not to kill her. Starting with some basic fear spells.

Emlen dropped the book. It fell with a soft thump onto the floor. "I think we heard enough," she said tightly.

Lydia squeezed her shoulder. "I'll read it. We still don't know why Hunter was…" She trailed off, her brow furrowing. She grabbed the journal and flipped through it. "He captured Emlen because he wanted to make her call for a dragon…and the spell…and…" She looked straight at Odahviing. "Didn't you…didn't you say she called…?"

Odahviing glared at her. She swallowed. "Your name isn't Hunter, is it?"

"My name is Odahviing," he responded darkly.

Lydia shook her head. "Oh, gods. Oh, gods," she murmured and she backed away from him. "That's why you can shout. You have dragonblood."

"A dragon's soul, more like. This flimsy form could not hold blood so thick – the name simply comes from human stupidity." He spoke condescendingly, as he knew far more than she. And likely, he did. He was much older.

Emlen worried at Lydia's reaction. Would they all respond the same? If word got out, would there be a call for him to be hanged?

"It must be kept quiet, Lydia," Emlen said urgently.

Lydia ran her hands through her hair. "Shouldn't the Jarl be alerted?"

Emlen shook her head. "Of course not. This hardly concerns him. I'll alert him about Eleutherius and Ysolda, but Odahviing will be left out of this."

Lydia hesitated, but nodded. She stared at Odahviing as though he crawled out of Oblivion itself. "How can you even move…in this form? I mean, you're a dragon! Shouldn't you be…falling all over the place?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it obvious? If Eleutherius changed into a dragon but couldn't move, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Obviously, the spell made the transition easier."

She still looked weary. "Did he not help Alduin in an era long ago?"

Odahviing scowled. "Have you not helped your own people attack and kill dragons? And why? How do you know it is not the dragons who ought to rule rightfully, and that they may even rule you better than you can rule yourselves? Why do you side against them at all? For the simple sake that this they have sided against your species. I aligned with Alduin as he was my natural leader. But now, I have chosen to align myself with the Dragonborn and I will not forsake her."

Lydia seemed slightly surprised, but still slightly scared as though he might sprout wings and attack her with fire.

"We will discuss this no longer," Emlen said, trying not to put too much thought into Odahviing's last sentence. "Lydia, if you breathe a word of his identity…" She couldn't think of anything to threaten her with. She wouldn't kill her. They both knew that. But Lydia seemed to understand her. "We need to return to Whiterun with haste. Ysolda must be confronted."


Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long. School started, and I've hardly had time to keep up with the latest vlogbrothers videos, let alone write. I hope this has chapter has been better than some of the previous. Thank you so much for all the reviews - I love getting encouragement and constructive criticism, and you've all made me delighted. I apologize I couldn't respond to the reviews. I'll try harder this time. Thanks for reading!