Tap. Tip. Tap. The rain clattered softly on the trees overhead, and the two bandits lounging beside the barrow mound looked up, scowling. "You think it's going to stop soon?" one said. "It's been like this for hours."
"Skyrim has weird weather," the other grumbled, shuffling her hand around. "I'm used to it by now. Are you going to play or not?"
"Fine, fine." The burly Redguard man studied his hand, then laid down a card. "Not my best move. I'll up you three."
"Up your ass, more like." The woman looked up, frowning. "Did you hear something?"
"What?" The Redguard twisted, peering critically around. Nothing moved except the rain battering the trees. "I don't hear anything."
"You sure? Because I swear I heard -"
A javelin of ice flew from the trees, piercing the woman through the stomach. She choked, flopping down onto the cards; her partner lunged up at once, fumbling for his weapon, but too late - he took a fireball to the chest and went soaring back, slamming into a boulder and lying motionless.
The rain pattered softly against their corpses as the dark-cloaked, orange-eyed wizard emerged from the trees, stepping delicately over their bodies. He peered down into the dark coils of the barrow mound, smirking. "Perfect," he said. Then he turned to the bodies and waved a dramatic hand. "Rise, my minions!"
The corpses glowed, then rose slowly to life, staggering; they picked up their weapons with a soundless, dreamy slowness, then stood waiting for orders. The necromancer laughed, delighted; this would be easier than he thought. He already had two allies, and he hadn't even entered the mound yet.
"My loyal subjects," he said. "It's time for us to -"
"Oi, fuckface!"
The necromancer turned, just in time to take a hammer to the skull; it smashed his jawbone apart, and he staggered back, roaring in rage. Fredrik grinned and swung again, and this time he struck the necromancer's neck and crumpled his throat in. The wizard flopped over, clutching his ruined throat; he twitched once, then moved no more.
Fredrik delicately flicked blood off his hammer, watching as the minions fell in heaps of bone and flesh - without their master's magic to animate them, they were corpses once more. "All right, scaredy-cat," he said. "You can come out now."
"I wasn't scared," Auldan said, emerging from his hiding place among the trees and raising an amused eyebrow at his companion. "I just thought you'd like to have the first kill."
"Wise man." Fredrik slung his hammer over his back, then knelt down and rifled through the necromancer's pockets. "Let's see if he's got any good loot."
Auldan watched in weary disdain. "You're going to search every person we kill on this quest, aren't you?"
"Hey, I never turn down free stuff." Fredrik found a bloodstained money pouch and tossed it to Auldan, who fumbled to catch it, grimacing. "And it's not like he's going to need it."
"True," Auldan allowed, and strapped the money to his belt as he looked over at the barrow mound. "So that's Ustengrav. It's smaller than I expected."
"Well, the stories always make things sound bigger than they were." Fredrik rose, wiping blood off his trousers. "Come on, let's go check it out before any more crazy wizards come along."
They headed for the mound, and as they walked Auldan pondered something that had been bothering him for a while. "Fredrik?" he ventured.
The Nord glanced at him briefly. "Yeah?"
"Why do you think the Greybeards want this horn in the first place? What are they planning to do with it?"
"I don't know. Maybe it has magical powers, or something." Fredrik shrugged. "You'd know better than I would."
"It's just... if this is a test of our powers... something doesn't add up." Auldan frowned. "Maybe you were right about doubting their motives."
"Oh, so now you're seeing things my way?" Fredrik chuckled. "After we're already here and raring to punch up some draugr?"
"Well, it may have taken me a while," Auldan allowed wearily. "But I am thinking twice about this. What if this isn't a good idea?"
"You want to trudge all the way back to that damn mountain and ask them?" Fredrik shook his head. "The way I see it, we're committed now. Let's just do it and try not to think about the reasons, or the consequences."
"I can't just decide not to think. That's not how my brain works."
"Oh?" Fredrik rapped his knuckles playfully against Auldan's forehead. "This massive wizardly brain of yours doesn't have an off switch?"
"Ha, ha." Auldan batted his hands away. "Don't do that."
"What, are you worried I'll smush your delicate little bones into skeever meat?" Fredrik stopped then, frowning. "Hey, there's another dead guy down there."
Auldan peered down into the burial mound, and realized that Fredrik was right; there was a bandit corpse inside, streaked with blood and lying against some barrels and crates. "Oh," he said. "I wonder how he got here."
"Drug deal gone wrong, probably." Fredrik hefted his warhammer and headed carefully down the stairs. "Hurry up, mincemeat, I don't like getting rained on."
"I'm coming." Auldan followed him warily, and when he reached the bottom he knelt down to study the corpse. It was an Imperial man, staring open-mouthed up into nothing. "He looks like he died recently. You think someone got here first?"
"Could be." Fredrik touched the man's neck. "Still warm."
Auldan shivered. "Creepy."
"You've seen a hundred corpses and fought a bloodsucking vampire one-on-one, and this is what weirds you out?" Fredrik gave him a deeply amused look. "Maybe the Breton constitution isn't just a stereotype."
"It is a stereotype, you drunken galumphing Nord. Now let's keep moving."
"If you insist." Fredrik tromped over to the huge double doors leading deeper into the burial site, yanking on the handles; they swung open with a slow rumble of metal on stone. "Looks like this is our stop."
"I'm ready." Auldan snapped his fingers, summoning fire into his hands; he led the way into the barrow this time, and Fredrik took up the rear, letting the doors fall shut with a soft thud behind them.
The clattering of the rain faded away as they descended, stepping carefully down a crumbling staircase; around them, the soft orange glow of the torchlight and Auldan's fire lit the tomb's walls with an eerie flame, casting strange shadows on their faces and the floor. It made little cold fingers creep up Auldan's spine, but he tried to hide his fear, seeing the cold determination in Fredrik's face. Clearly the Nord wasn't afraid.
As though reading his mind, Fredrik clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Chin up, wizard."
"Sorry." Auldan shook off the fear and took a moment to mentally brace himself, preparing for the danger ahead. "You were always the brave one."
"I know." Fredrik grinned cheekily. "I'm the best, aren't I?"
"Don't get full of yourself." Auldan frowned then, realizing they were entering a large room with a pillar in the center; around them, huge rock walls loomed. "This is a cave of some kind. I wonder -"
Just then, a soft voice issued from the tunnels ahead of them: "I think we have guests."
Both Auldan and Fredrik reacted at once, diving for cover; Auldan scrambled behind a pillar, and Fredrik ducked down under a pile of rubble. They watched as a conjurer emerged from the tunnels, followed quickly by a necromancer; together they stopped and stared down the two bandits who had just risen from their bedrolls, fumbling for their weapons.
"Now, now," one of the bandits said, cautiously. "Let's not be -"
The conjurer hurled lightning, and the battle was on. Auldan and Fredrik watched in amazement as the four battled each other with flashes of magic and steel, completely oblivious to the adventurers hiding nearby; the conjurer summoned a wolf familiar seconds before being struck down with a cry of pain, and then the two bandits went down, leaving only the necromancer.
The dark wizard glanced around warily, then grinned and snapped her fingers. The three corpses rose and shambled around, now under her control. "Excellent," she said. Then, to the conjurer's gaping-mouthed zombie, "Sorry about your unfortunate fate, Lorick. But now you can finally be of some use to me."
She headed back into the far tunnel with her undead minions staggering along behind, leaving Auldan and Fredrik alone. The two adventurers glanced at each other warily, then rose. "I think we have to follow her," Auldan whispered.
"Guess so." Fredrik shouldered his hammer, grinning. "I like a lady who takes control."
"For the love of Akatosh," Auldan muttered. "Please don't tell me you're attracted to an evil necromancer."
"What? She was kind of cute." Fredrik trailed along behind Auldan, dropping his voice lower as they tiptoed into the tunnel behind the necromancer. "Let's go see what she's up to."
They tiptoed into the next chamber, listening to the shuffling of the draugr just ahead; now they could hear the necromancer again, muttering to herself. "That woman can't be too far away. They saw her come in here a few hours ago - it's only a matter of time before a trap gets her and we loot her corpse. She can't be that tough."
"Woman?" Auldan whispered to Fredrik. "What woman?"
Fredrik shrugged helplessly. "No idea."
They watched from the shadows as the necromancer entered a room lined with coffins, and stopped, peering about. "No draugr left," she murmured, and gestured to her waiting minions. "Come, my pretties. Not too far now."
She headed deeper into the winding tunnels, and Auldan and Fredrik moved to follow - but just then Auldan's foot caught on a stone, and the pebble clattered merrily across the floor. Clack. Clack. Clack.
The necromancer whirled, fire bursting to life in her hands. "Who's there?" Then she stopped, seeing Auldan and Fredrik in the firelight. "Oh! I have more guests!"
Auldan moved to fight, but Fredrik was faster - he drew a knife from his belt and hurled it, in one swift motion. It pierced the woman through the abdomen, and she staggered back, gasping in surprise. Her zombies lurched forward at once, groaning, and Auldan met them head-on with a blast of fire, scorching their withered skin off their bones; they collapsed in a pile of blackened flesh, helpless before the onslaught.
Fredrik drew his swords with a hideous shriek and moved to finish the wizard off, but Auldan grabbed his arm. "Wait."
"What?" Fredrik eyed him. "She's a necromancer. Let's kill her."
"She might have information." Auldan rounded on the wounded woman. "Tell us who you're looking for. Why are you here?"
"Saw a woman come in here," the necromancer wheezed, clutching the oozing hole in her stomach. "Leather armor, looked tough. She killed that bandit by the entrance. Why do you care?"
"What did she look like?"
"I don't know. Breton woman, blonde hair, pale eyes." The necromancer coughed a string of blood. "Please, spare me. I mean you no harm."
"You didn't show the same mercy to those bandits out there," Auldan said, as Fredrik stepped forward threateningly. "Why should we?"
The woman tried to reply, but spat blood, slumped to the ground, and moved no more.
Fredrik lowered his swords, sighing. "I was hoping for a killing blow."
"Well, at least you didn't smash her skull apart." Just then, Auldan noticed something - a book nestled in the wizard's robes. He knelt down as Fredrik went to search the urns, and picked up the tome, squinting to read the dusty title. Immediately a shiver wormed its way down his spine, a cold feeling growing in his gut.
It was Immortal Blood.
He'd heard rumors of this book. They said it was the book of the vampires, a forbidden tome in many places. He'd only ever seen one copy before now, in Urag gro-Shub's collection at the College of Winterhold, and the orc had snapped a warning at him before he could so much as breathe on it. He'd always wanted to read it, even though he knew he might regret it. What terrible, awful, utterly fascinating secrets could such a tome hold? What forbidden mysteries and lost wonders could lie within, just waiting to be discovered?
And, most importantly: did he dare to find out?
He hesitated, checked to make sure that Fredrik wasn't watching, and then, in a moment of sudden decision, he silently tucked Blood away into his book bag. The Nord would never have to know.
The warrior, meanwhile, was focused on rapping his knuckles on the coffins, checking to make sure there were no draugr inside. "I think we're safe this time," he said. "But let's keep an eye out."
"That's what you said last time, just before a skeleton grabbed your hand."
Fredrik shuddered. "Don't remind me."
As they headed further into the tunnels, Auldan couldn't help it; he took the book out, making sure that Fredrik couldn't see the cover - even though he knew the Nord couldn't tell a metaphor from a mouse, and was about as skilled at reading as a brain-dead orc - and turned to the first page. He started to read as they wandered through the tomb, the warrior checking every coffin along the way; they stepped over a few dead draugr, presumably the kills of the strange warrior woman who had been here earlier. Could she still be here, waiting for them at the end of the dungeon?
"Hey," Fredrik said suddenly, making him jump in surprise. "I've been thinking about something."
"Oh? I think that's a new phenomenon for you." Auldan smiled as he turned a page in the book, already drawn into the story. The moons and stars were hidden from sight... "What's rattling around in that Nord brain of yours?"
"You never told me about your family. I've told you plenty about mine." Fredrik raised an eyebrow at him. "What were your parents like?"
"They were, um... they were fine. No complaints." Auldan coughed awkwardly into his sleeve. "Do we have to talk about this?"
"Well, you made me tell you about the Dark Brotherhood and my father and my mother, so this is only fair."
"Okay, okay." Auldan fumbled for what he could say. "Well... I come from the Metonius house, you know that. My parents expected me to grow up to be a nobleman, like them."
"But you didn't want to."
"Of course not. It was stifling, and I wanted to be a wizard and go on adventures."
"Is that all, though?" Fredrik studied him. "Is that really the reason you ran away?"
Auldan opened his mouth to say yes, then shut it. "No," he relented. "It wasn't."
"Well, why then?"
"It's... it's complicated."
They walked in silence for a while. Then Fredrik said, "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won't hate you."
Auldan stared at him, surprised; it was almost like the Nord had read his mind. "I -"
"You don't have to tell me, though. If you don't want to. It's okay."
He hesitated, pondering the risks. But before he could say anything more, they entered the next chamber and beheld their next challenge.
A huge, expansive cavern lay open before them, tinted soft blue by the light of the glowing mushrooms on the walls. It was an extraordinary sight, and Auldan would have stopped to admire it if a skeletal draugr hadn't charged out of the tunnel to their left, hissing and raising a battleaxe.
He whirled and thrust out a hand, blasting the thing with ice. It wavered, shivering, and then collapsed and broke into pieces; he lowered his hand, satisfied. "Well, that was eas -"
"AULDAN!" Fredrik barked, but it was too late. A second draugr had emerged from the tunnel behind them, unexpected given the state of the crumbling coffins, and Auldan turned too slow to dodge its strike. It swung its hammer at his head - and somehow instinct gripped him and he roared words he'd never spoken before:
"Wuld nah kest!"
It was as though a great wind seized him, giant god's fingers yanking him out of the way. He reappeared, gasping, twenty feet behind the draugr; it reeled in surprise, snapping its jaws, a second too slow for him to hurl a fireball that charred it into cinders.
He stood there for a moment, wheezing and marveling at what he'd just done. "The Shout," he managed, when he finally had his breath back. "The one the Greybeards taught me. It does that?"
"Apparently," Fredrik said, clearly as startled as Auldan was. "Why couldn't I have learned that?"
"Well, somebody was intent on storming out of there before he could hear the words," Auldan reminded him. "Or did you forget?"
Fredrik grunted noncommittally. "Whatever. You can keep that one. I like our fus ro better -"
"Careful," Auldan snapped, as the ground shook lightly. "We could bring this whole place down if you say those words too loudly. Our Thu'um is getting more powerful - we can't just go around yelling out dragon words anymore."
"Sorry." But Fredrik grinned, clearly unruffled. "I can't wait to blast apart a dragon with that one. I wonder if it'll peel the skin off his bones."
"That sounds disgusting," Auldan muttered, remembering one of the reasons he'd decided to be a vegetarian in the first place. "How do you even enjoy the taste of meat, anyway?"
"Easy," Fredrik smirked. "It's delicious."
Auldan sighed and looked further down the tunnel, where the first draugr had emerged. "We'll discuss your eating habits later. It seems we have a way forward. Shall we?"
"Lead the way, wizard." Fredrik hummed merrily along behind him. "I need to cook you a good meal sometime, a nice hearty hunk of horker meat. Then you'll understand what everyone gets so excited about."
"Do you even know how to cook?"
"I made you tea, didn't I?" Fredrik pointed out.
Auldan barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Putting a bag in a cup and heating it up does not count as cooking."
"Close enough," the Nord grumbled, stepping over a discarded roll of linen on the floor. "Are we getting close to the horn yet? This place is giving me a headache."
"You sound like my sister on a road trip." Auldan took out Immortal Blood again and opened it to where he'd left off, unable to resist the urge to keep reading. He ignored Fredrik's surprised look in his direction; clearly the Nord was startled, and at first he worried that the man could read after all, and had realized what he was perusing. But then he suddenly realized the truth - he'd never mentioned his sister before. Why had he never mentioned her?
Because you don't like talking about your family, either, a little voice whispered in his head. Just like Fredrik.
He shooed the voice irritably away and said, "Did I ever tell you about my sister?"
"No." Fredrik sounded intrigued. "I never had any siblings. What was she like?"
"Her name was Lenora." Auldan turned a page in his book, ignoring the gentle rattling of his heart; he hadn't spoken about her in a long time. "She was a handful when we were little, but she loved me, and she protected me from my bullies. She was one of my only friends growing up. She taught me my favorite spell."
"Which one?"
He snapped his fingers, and summoned a little ball of glowing white light - a magelight. "This one."
"That's cute." Fredrik swiped gently at the ball, and it darted away from his fingers, winking out. "Where is she now?"
"I don't know. I haven't heard from her in a while." He looked down and focused on flipping through his book, avoiding Fredrik's eyes. "She went... bad. That's part of the reason why I don't like necromancy, and dark magic. Because I don't want to become her."
"You never told me any of this," Fredrik said, surprised. "What happened to her?"
"She wanted to become the most powerful wizard in Tamriel, and gain immortality." Auldan still remembered the light in her eyes, the smile on her face when she spoke of power and the world she would create someday. He had been too young to see the darkness in that smile. "So she went looking for a way to find it. Her search for it led her to a vampire lord, who promised her immortality and power beyond her wildest dreams, and asked for a terrible price."
"By all the planes of Oblivion," Fredrik muttered. "She must have been mad."
"Yes, she was. And she was even madder to agree to it. After that... well, a lot of things happened," he said vaguely, so as not to horrify Fredrik with the details, "and it almost killed all of us. In the end, her short-sighted desire for power nearly destroyed my family, and she fled High Rock rather than face the consequences of her actions. That's why, when I grew up and wanted to travel to the College of Winterhold to learn magic, my parents refused to allow it. They were afraid of me following in her footsteps."
"Oh." Fredrik watched him thoughtfully, careful not to ask too many questions; it was suddenly clear to Auldan that he understood the wizard was opening up to him again, and he wanted to encourage it, not dismiss it. The realization was strangely heartwarming. "I never knew that. Is that why they weren't happy about you going away and learning magic?"
"Yes. It wasn't why I ran away, but it was the first time I ever disagreed with them, and it wouldn't be the last." Auldan looked at the floor. "They were so worried I'd be like her - they were worried that I would crush their hopes again, and bring dishonor to the family name. But I was determined not to let myself be tempted by evil, and I never have been. Not once."
"That's more than most men can say," Fredrik said, clapping him bracingly on the shoulder. "So you really don't know where she is?"
"I don't even know if she's alive," Auldan confessed. "I'm not sure if she fled to Skyrim, or Elsewyr, or gods know where else. For all I know, she's joined some necromancer coven and has forgotten all about me. For all I know she's dead in a cave somewhere."
"But you want to find her." Fredrik searched his face. "Don't you?"
"Maybe." He shrugged, pretending not to care even as his heart ached. "I do hope I find her someday, wherever she is. But I'm not holding my breath. This world is a cruel place to daedra worshippers. Maybe the Vigilants of Stendarr got to her before I could."
"I hope you find her," Fredrik said, simply. "Someday."
Auldan looked wistfully at the place where his magelight had died out. "I hope so too."
"Do you have any other siblings?"
"Yes, I have an older brother. Cain." Auldan closed the book and tucked it back into his book bag. "I haven't seen him in a while, either. As far as I know he's back in High Rock, with the rest of my family."
"What's he like?"
"Strong," Auldan admitted, sheepishly. "A warrior, like you. He stands half a head taller than me and he drinks like a demon - you'd probably like him."
Fredrik grinned cheekily. "From the way you describe him, I bet I would."
And then they stopped. They had wound their way through a significant portion of the dungeon throughout the conversation, noting dead draugr and skeletons all along the way, and now they had just encountered a very strange sight.
Before them stood a closed portcullis, and three stones upright on the floor, each inscribed with strange runes. Auldan frowned, waving his hand cautiously over one of them; it flared with an eerie red energy, and he jumped back in surprise. "Whoa."
"What do they do?" Fredrik wondered aloud.
"I don't know." But Auldan had just noticed something else - the moment he had moved in front of it, the first of the three layered portcullises had opened. When he stepped back, it shut.
"Okay," Fredrik said, slowly; he had realized the same thing. "I may be stupid, but I think we have to run past these stones really fast."
Auldan frowned. "But they turn off when we move away. We'll never make it in time."
"Well, do you have a better idea, Mister Wizard?"
He looked at the stones. Then he looked at the portcullises. "Actually," he said slowly, "I do."
Carefully, he moved to stand in front of the first stone, positioning himself so that he was staring straight down the aisle. He knelt down and took a few steadying breaths.
All the while Fredrik watched, in obvious bewilderment. "What are you doing?"
"Shhh." Auldan closed his eyes, focusing. Then, opening them, he barked, "Wuld nah kest!"
The wind seized him again, and he was hurtling down the hallway at breakneck speed - activating all three stones at once. With a rusty creak, the three portcullises slid open, then slammed shut. And he turned around, delighted, to find himself on the other side.
Fredrik laughed. "That was amazing!"
"Yeah, it was!" Auldan grinned, relishing his victory; then he stopped, realizing something. "Oh," he said. "Shit."
"Oh." Fredrik realized it too. He looked uncertainly at the stones, then at the portcullises. "Er - looks like we'll have to split up, then?"
"Come on, you can learn the Shout from me, can't you?"
"I don't know how it's supposed to work. I don't think I can." He visibly braced himself. "It's all right, Auldan, really. I'll wait for you here. Don't let the skeletons bite."
"Are you sure? I know you don't like draugr -"
"I'll be fine," Fredrik snapped. "Hurry up before I change my mind."
And so Auldan set off alone, a bit tentatively; he suddenly realized he hadn't been without Fredrik at his side in a while. Granted, he'd been alone after their argument yesterday, but still. He steeled himself for a conflict as he entered the next chamber, praying there wouldn't be any more draugr to deal with.
But there were no draugr - only a hallway full of strange floor panels, carved like circles. He frowned, and tentatively tested one with his foot - then yelped and jumped back as fire blasted from it. Clearly he was not supposed to step on these.
"Okay," he said, more to calm himself down than anything. "Don't touch the panels."
It reminded him of an old game he used to play, he reflected as he carefully picked his way around them. The floor is lava, he thought with a wry smile. He wondered if Nord children knew that game, too.
As he went, he whistled idly to himself. The Song of the Dragonborn still lingered in his mind, like a distant anthem. "Dovahkiin," he hummed, stepping carefully over a panel. "Dovahkiin, by his honor is sworn - aieeee!" This as a giant spider fell from the ceiling, and he screamed and flung a fireball on pure instinct alone, pretending not to have been horribly startled. It flew back in a charred heap, and he stood gasping for a moment to let his heart resume beating.
"Gods," he said at last, furious at himself for letting such a stupid thing scare him; it was just a spider, after all. A hideously overgrown Skyrim spider with giant snapping mandibles, granted, but still. "I hate those things."
He stepped over the last of the panels, blasted away some spiderwebs, pulled a chain to open a portcullis, and there, at last, was his prize.
Before him lay a massive treasure chamber, strangely lit and hued with deep blues from the water along the sides, almost as large as the cavern outside; and as he stood gaping at the sight, there was a rumbling sound like a dragon's roar. He lifted his hands instinctively to protect himself, but the sound was coming from the water lining the sides of the room, where huge statues were rising, as though triggered by his entrance. They stopped in place with a loud clunk, and revealed...
...a small, plain altar, nothing extraordinary at first glance. Well, what was I expecting? he mused as he stepped carefully onto the bridge and crossed the water. A gilded sarcophagus? The ancient Nords certainly hadn't been keen on such gaudy decorations, of course, but somehow he'd hoped the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller himself, the legendary hero of the Nords, would have been a little more impressive.
He approached the tomb tentatively, and touched the writing on the base, marveling at how old this must be. Then he frowned, realizing an odd detail. Why was that writing in Daedric, of all the languages?
But that was a mystery for another day. He smiled and looked up, confidently expecting to see the horn clutched in the stone hand protruding from the top of the coffin -
- only to find a small, handwritten note. The horn was nowhere to be found.
His mind went blank for a moment. No. He'd come all this way, braved all these dangers, nearly destroyed his friendship with Fredrik, only to find that some opportunistic, twice-fucking treasure hunter had come here first?
He roared in rage, and snatched the note from the stone hand, nearly tearing it in his frustration. He tried his best to parse the words through a haze of mounting anger.
Dragonborn,
I need to speak to you. Urgently.
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.
- A friend
Auldan crumpled up the note, seething, and threw it into the water. He was less angry now that he knew this mysterious treasure hunter was willing to negotiate, but he still needed a moment to be frustrated that all this effort had been spent for nothing.
Who was this strange woman, anyway? He pondered the issue as he crossed back over the bridge to retrieve Fredrik. It must have been that woman in armor the necromancer had mentioned, but he hadn't the slightest idea who she was talking about. He racked his brain, trying to remember where he'd seen a Breton woman with silver eyes. Surely he'd met her before, surely he'd heard rumors... but try as he might, he came up empty. He'd just have to meet her and see for himself.
He stepped carefully back through the trapped room, walked up to the portcullises where he'd left his friend, peered through the bars to see if Fredrik was still waiting for him, and saw... nothing.
He sighed and said loudly, "It's not funny, Fredrik. Come back over here."
Silence.
Okay, now he was concerned. His heart set up a gentle pattering against his ribcage as he rapped his knuckles on the portcullis, trying to find a way to open it again. There had to be a switch, or a lever of some kind - he cast helplessly around, but found nothing. Perhaps the whirlwind Shout would carry him through walls? But no, that was ridiculous.
"Fredrik," he roared, and the cavern shook with his Thu'um; he injected as much strength as he could into the Shout, praying the Nord hadn't fallen off one of the cliffs they'd passed earlier. "Fredrik, answer me!"
No response.
He gritted his teeth, resolving himself to the only way forward. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and aimed his Thu'um at the metal portcullis, teeth shaking with the force of his bellow:
"Fus ro!"
The cavern walls shook with the earthquake of his Voice, and the metal screamed and crumpled in the middle, but it wouldn't break. He took a deeper breath, ready to try again -
"Oi, you bloody idiot. What are you doing?"
Auldan nearly sagged with relief. Fredrik had wandered back over to the portcullis, and now leaned his elbow casually against the wall, grinning. "You asshole," Auldan said, too relieved to be angry. "Why didn't you answer me the first two times?"
"It was fun watching you Shout yourself hoarse." Fredrik wandered over to the stones to let Auldan back in. "Did you find the horn?"
"Not quite. I found a note from that woman - she must have found it first. She told us to rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant, and then she'd meet us to... negotiate, I suppose."
Fredrik sighed. "Bloody typical. But at least she didn't just swipe it and run." He waved his hand in front of the stones, and opened the first portcullis, letting Auldan step through. "What else did it say?"
"She knew we were Dragonborn, too," Auldan said, recalling the first line of the note. "Obviously she wasn't just an ordinary bandit."
"Well, so what? Everyone's heard by now." Fredrik shrugged. "Or did you forget that we're celebrities?"
"I suppose." But Auldan had a strange feeling that this was going to be more than they'd bargained for. "Let's get out of here. This place is starting to creep me out."
"Seconded." Fredrik opened the second portcullis, and Auldan stepped through, letting it fall shut behind him.
"Okay," he said. "Open the last one."
Fredrik smiled. "No."
Auldan stopped and stared. "What?"
"I don't think so." Fredrik grinned. "This is the only time I've ever had leverage over you, and I plan to use it."
"...What?" Auldan spluttered, begrudgingly realizing that he was trapped between the gates; he could only get out if Fredrik activated the last stone, and the Nord wasn't moving anytime soon. "You little -"
"You heard me." Fredrik smirked, leaning against the last stone - just shy of triggering it, but not far enough. "I'll only open this portcullis on one condition."
"Okay, fine," Auldan grumbled, folding his arms. "Tell me, you stupid thick-headed Nord. What do you want?"
He expected Fredrik to crack another joke, or say something sarcastic. But the Nord suddenly went serious. "Be honest with me," he said. "Completely honest. No lies."
"I've always been honest with you," Auldan said, warily. "When have I ever lied?"
"You haven't. Not directly, anyway. But I think I have you figured out now." Fredrik lifted his arm from the stone and walked over, stopping in front of the portcullis; he grabbed the bars with his meaty fingers. "Tell me honestly, and don't lie. When were you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"You know what."
Auldan stared, baffled. He had no idea what Fredrik was talking about. "I'll need a little more explanation than that."
Fredrik's blue eyes drilled into him. "The real reason you ran away."
"Why are you so fixated on this?" Auldan said, ignoring the cold fist that seized his heart. He couldn't possibly know. Could he?
As though reading his mind, Fredrik said, "I didn't tell you everything, when I took you to Falion to heal you. You figured that out, didn't you?"
"He didn't tell you -"
"He told me," Fredrik said, still watching him. "He told me everything."
Auldan let out a slow breath. "Fuck," he said. "You know."
"I'm not angry."
"You must be. You hate me now, don't you?"
"No." Fredrik released the bars, and walked over to the stone. He waved a hand in front of it, and the portcullis slid open with a soft creak; Auldan stepped through warily, watching the Nord for a reaction. He expected the man to leap at him with his swords drawn, but the Nord seemed perfectly calm. "Your sister. Was it her?"
"Yes."
"I figured it was. And then you ran away because you were ashamed to tell your parents. You didn't want them to see you as a monster." Fredrik studied him. "Then you went to Falion. You had him cure you. That's why you hate soul gems."
"I never want to use one again." Auldan knew the jig was up now; he had no choice but to tell him. "I still think about the man I killed for it. I can never use a soul gem again. Not after how I used that one."
Fredrik took Auldan's chin gently, lifting it to study his teeth. He gingerly poked the sharp canines with his thumb. "You don't have the eyes anymore, but you still have the teeth. Those must not go away."
Auldan stared at the floor. "You can hate me. It's okay."
"Why would I hate you? We've been through too much for that." Fredrik let go of his chin and folded his brawny arms. "We're friends, aren't we? And Falion cured you. You're not one of them anymore."
"Not anymore." Auldan ran his tongue over his teeth, shivering. "Never again."
"You knew that fire was Alva and Laelette's weakness, too. That was the other thing that tipped me off." Fredrik looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm glad Falion found a way to reverse it, but even if you were still a vampire, I'd still adventure with you. It wouldn't change a thing."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" Fredrik clapped a hand on his shoulder merrily, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "You'd never snack on me."
Auldan managed a weary laugh. "No, I wouldn't. I imagine you would taste bad."
"Ah, and now I realize why you're vegetarian, too." Fredrik chuckled. "Because you never want to suck blood again."
"Yes, very clever." Auldan sighed. "Besides, meat tastes terrible anyway. I don't miss it."
"Remind me to make you that horker steak sometime." Fredrik draped an arm around him as they walked back through the dungeon, just like the old days; Auldan couldn't help but smile, despite the fact that the Nord now knew his greatest secret. He'd lost his curse a long time ago, but there were still remnants left in him, the lingering traces of darkness that Falion hadn't quite been able to scrub away. The teeth, the pale skin, the occasional sting when he walked into daylight too fast. He was surprised that Fredrik had put the pieces together - but then again, he'd long ago figured out that the Nord was much smarter than he let on.
"Look at us," he murmured, as they left Ustengrav behind. "The former vampire and the Dark Brotherhood assassin. We're really something, aren't we?"
"Hey, at least we're heroes now," Fredrik said cheerily. "We've left all that behind us now. I'm not going back to my old life, and neither are you."
"Yes. I suppose you're right." Auldan smiled faintly. "Unless you're planning on ditching me again and running back to the sanctuary."
"What? I would never." Fredrik grinned. "I like you too much for that."
"Uh-huh." But Auldan sighed fondly. "I'm really starting to hate how much you've grown on me."
"I'm like a fungus," Fredrik smirked.
"Yick." For the second time that day, Auldan had to try very hard not to roll his eyes. "Too much information, but thank you."
"Soft-skinned Breton turnip farmer."
"Dunderheaded Nordic moron."
They continued to trade insults as they retrieved their horses and rode away from the burial mound, headed back to Riverwood to meet with their mysterious thief. Along the way, Auldan pondered what he'd told Fredrik, and wondered if he might run into his sister again. He had a vague idea of where she might have gone, but he didn't dare explain to his Nord companion about the Volkihar Clan and the vampire lords and all the plans she had told him they would achieve together. "We'll blot out the sun," she had told him, with that fiendish, bloodstained smile. "We'll conquer the world and plunge it into darkness. We can do it together. You and me."
"Never," he'd said.
And she had laughed. "Someday, you'll see it my way."
He hoped that day would never come. He'd promised himself he would never give in to the darkness again, the blood magic and the necromancy and the soul trapping and all of it. He'd never, ever let it tempt him again.
I will save this world, he swore to himself. I'll bring Alduin down, stop the war, and save Skyrim. Not destroy it.
He could only hope it wasn't too late.
A/N: Hi, readers! A few quick clarifying notes for the curious loremaster:
1) Yes, I know that the portcullises in the Ustengrav whirlwind puzzle remain open once you pass them in the game. But I wanted them to stay closed here, because drama.
2) The Metonius family is not part of the official, canonical Skyrim lore, so a lot of the stuff you are now learning about them is invented by me. You'll find out more about their history and members later, but suffice it to say that Auldan's family is... interesting.
