Chapter 7. Dragonborn

When Holger entered the south wing of Dragonsreach, he found the door to Farengar's study open. A flickering light shone through the gap and a hurried voice was speaking. The door didn't make a sound as Holger entered.

Besides the court mage himself, there was a woman in the study, dressed in armour and a hood. She stood hunched over a book on the table and the wizard was standing behind her, staring down over her shoulder. The both of them were oblivious to Holger's presence.

"Don't forget, Farengar, that time really is running low. We aren't discussion theoretical problems any more. The dragons really do have come back." The woman's voice was stressed, direct, and all business. Neither of them seemed to notice Holger as he walked nearer.

"Yes, yes," Farengar replied, less hurried than she. "You shouldn't worry this much. Only one dragon has been sighted this far, and how sure are we that it was really there? Although... the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Let me show you something else I found." He was searching through a stack of papers on the end of his desk. "It's very intriguing... I think your employers may be interested as well."

Just as Holger thought this was actually an interesting conversation to listen to and he shouldn't make his presence known, the woman looked up. Farengar was still searching for his papers, mumbling on, not noticing Holger. The woman, her face now visible, was too small and delicate to be a Nord. Her features were also too fine, and Holger had lived too long with a Breton woman not to recognise one.

"You have a visitor," the woman said shortly as she stared at Holger, quite intently, as if he shouldn't be hearing this story.

Distracted, the wizard looked up from his search. "A yes, it's Holger! I see you have returned from Bleak Falls Barrow? Well, you didn't die, it seems."

"I am certainly still alive. And I came back with what you requested," Holger replied, untying the pack from his back. The stone was huge – it was heavy and when he found it on the body of the long dead king he thought it near impossible to take it back to Whiterun. He was immensely glad for the borrowed horse, but he still needed to move the stone from the caverns to where he had left the animal.

It was odd to think of what else happened back in the room where he killed the Draugr – or so they were called, he was told. The Draugr had startled him the first time he saw one raising from its grave. He had known of necromancy, but he also knew of the natural occurrence of after-life. Sometimes, if the person that died, either died defending something, or was so much filled with hatred, it would carry out its duty or revenge after dead. He didn't know which was the case with these undead, but it was clear he had to kill them, or he would be killed by them instead.

But then, in the big cavernous room where he killed the Draugr King, he had stood in front of a tall, curved wall. It intrigued him, and it seemed like it was calling out to him, soft whispers. It was a desire almost stronger than anything he knew before. He simply had to know more about it. The writing, the words, they had seemed strange to him, foreign, yet familiar, as if something he had known but forgotten. He had seen flashes of memories – not his memories, but the memories of what he thought were the Draugr King's, of the moments before his dead. The whispers had turned to light, had taken him over, and there had been a wind, wind without air moving, and then it had been over. He still wasn't sure if he had imagined it or not, but there had been a word that haunted his mind ever since.

Fus.

He carefully put the stone on the table. He had studied it well. He didn't know what the text on the back of the tablet meant, he was rather sure that there was a map on the front, a map of Skyrim. There were stars shattered over the map, marking who-knows-what. As far as he could tell from the damaged stone, there were 21 marks.

"No small feat," the wizard replied, but what intrigued Holger was the woman. She was looking at the stone with such intent that he was sure she knew what this meant.

"This is Delphine, my... associate," Farengar introduced. "It was her who discovered the location. I'm still quite curious how, since she so far declined to mention it. But, the information was correct after all."

"I told you I cannot tell you that, Farengar," Delphine replied. She stopped for a moment to study Holger. Even though she wasn't exactly young anymore, she still held herself in good posture. "Nice work," she complimented. There was a little bit of admiration in her voice, but most of it was still stiff.

"Holger here has asked me to tell him more of what I know about dragons," Farengar said. "Now you're here, Delphine, I thought you would be a great addition to my story."

"Why?" the woman replied, looking at Holger. "Why would you want to know more about dragons?"

Holger had the nasty feeling there was a lot more to this woman than she seemed. "I have a simple curiousity about them," he answered. "I was at Helgen when the dragon attacked the town."

"You were?" the woman asked, and for the first time, her tightly furrowed brow loosened. "So you have seen the dragon, and now want to know more about them?"

That was only part of the story, but yes. He had dreamt about Dragons for as long as he could remember, yet he never had much opportunity to extend his knowledge about them. He was almost thrilled by the thought that these two people were the source of information, and that finally, finally, he would understand more about the mythical beasts.

Just as he wanted to reply to the affirmative, Ireleth, the Dunmer housecarl of the Jarl, entered the room, looking rushed. It was clear something had happened, for all the other times he had seen the woman, she had been rather collected.

"Farengar, you are required at once," Ireleth called. "A dragon has been sighed nearby." When she noted Holger, she turned to him. "You should come, too."

"A dragon?" Delphine repeated.

"Yes," Ireleth replied, turning to the woman. "If you can fight, you would be most welcome too."

"Sure," Delphine answered.

The three of them followed the Dunmer woman, whom was turning to the right and heading for the Jarl's small meeting chamber. A guard joined them, the one that delivered the message of the dragon sighting.

"A dragon? How exciting!" Farengar called as they ran.

Holger thought there was nothing really exciting about it, as he remembered the rampage, the wounded villagers, those that didn't survive. If he could help it, all dragons would vanish from Nirn instantly and leave everyone at peace.

"I'd take this a bit more seriously, if I were you, Farengar," Ireleth answered him sternly. Holger secretly agreed.

"But where was it seen? What was it doing?" Farengar asked.

"At the Western Watchtower," Ireleth replied. "But if it decided to turn on the city, who knows what will happen... Who knows if we can stop it?"

The Jarl was already waiting in the room. He was staring at a map of Skyrim, deciding what would be the best course of action.

The guard repeated to the Jarl where the dragon was seen.

"And it sure was a strange sight, sir," the guard concluded. "All it did was fly in circles, he did, as if he was waiting."

"You've done well," the Jarl said. "You can go to barracks and rest, and when you are there, tell to all of the others to arm themselves, and make sure everyone has a bow. Tell them to meet Ireleth at the City Gate."

"I have already given the order, sir," Ireleth said.

"Always one step ahead of me," the Jarl said with a reminiscent smile on his face. "Don't fail me, Ireleth." She nodded. "And you, Holger, I know you are not mine to command, but even so I will ask you to go with Ireleth. You are one of the only ones here who has met a dragon before."

"I will go," Holger said, without thinking about it. "But my daughter, I need to know she's safe."

"She will only be safe when the dragon is killed," the Jarl answered, and Holger could see the truth in his words. The Jarl turned to Delphine. "And pardon me for omitting the ceremony, madam, but you look like you can fight, and will be most welcome to join."

"I will," she said with a nod of her head.

"I should come along," Farengar asked his Jarl. "I would very much like to see this dragon."

"No," the Jarl replied shortly. "I cannot afford to risk both you and Ireleth. I need you here with your mind to come up with ways to defend the city. You can watch from the balconies, if you really want to see it. And one last thing, Ireleth," the Jarl called as the woman was on her way downstairs. "This is not a death or glory mission. I need to know what we are dealing with."

"Do not worry, my lord," Ireleth said, turning around. She flicked a small smile. "I am the very soul of caution."

She descended the stairs on a run and Holger and Delphine followed her. Dimly, Holger wondered if Ireleth had said it in sarcasm or truth.

It was messy, to find their way towards the city gates. The civilians seemed to have spotted the dragon too, while now it was nowhere to been seen. People were running on the streets, and here and there a child was crying. Even though the Whiterun guard was usually pretty well prepared, it somehow took quite long to gather enough force.

While Holger stood waiting at the gates until all the guards had arrived, Ralof turned up. He was dressed in his armour, a bow strapped to his back and an axe at his belt.

"Don't worry about Milly," he told Holger. "It wasn't a nice fight, but I made sure she remained in the castle. I said she could watch from the balconies, but that she needed to go inside if something happened. I tried to stress on her that she needed to follow any orders given to her and not do anything foolish."

"Well," Holger replied. "At the very least I'm happy it was you having this discussion with her, not me. If only she does what she is being told for a change."

Which would almost take a miracle.

All of the guards had arrived and they took to the tower. It was a messy sort of undertaking, for most of them were twitchy and tended to look up to the skies and as a result, didn't see where there feet were carrying them.

As they reached the tower, it was more than clear that the dragon had done more than just flying around in circles. Bushes had been set on fire, illuminating the ruined guard outpost. The tower itself was still standing, with only a part of the wall missing, but the surrounding buildings that housed the guard and held supplies, were utterly destroyed. The earth was moist, so the fire didn't spread to all of the vegetation. As they walked among the ruins, they noticed bodies of the guards scattered among the wreckage. Some of them were laying there, eyes staring unblinkingly to the star-strewn skies, but others were molested by either the dragon or fallen debris, some of them hardly recognisable as a human being at all. One of them was on fire and the smell of burning flesh was heavy in the air. Whether it was the smell or the sight, one of the guards retched.

Besides the loud cracking of the fires, it was silent in the field, as only night can be silent. If anyone spoke, it was in whispers, as if a sudden loud noise could wake unforeseeable things. Ireleth commanded her guard to check for survivors, but it was in vain.

Holger, Ralof and Delphine, not being part of the guard and any of their training, scanned the field themselves. The moon was bright enough to see the parts that weren't illuminated by fire.

All were in anticipation, for where had the dragon taken refuge? Would it come back, or had it flown to the next place, further invoking havoc to Skyrim?

There was a roar, the sound of wings, and after minutes of walking around aimlessly, anticipating the worst, the dragon came back. It soared into view, its body lit by the moon.

To Holger, it was like meeting an old acquaintance. There was no doubt this dragon was different than the one from Helgen, yet it seemed as familiar. It was smaller, with less spikes and of a lighter colour. It moved as supple through the air as one might move in water, soaring over the tower, observing the scene below.

It was odd, Holger realised. He heard a scream behind him, and saw people move with fear, yet his own mind was strangely blank. Clear. There was no fear as he beheld the dragon, and there was none of the shock he had felt in Helgen. It was as if he knew how the dragon would move, what it would do.

Just as he expected it would, the dragon flew low, and breathed fire over the scared guards, and flew up again. It was as if the beast tested his prey, was determining if this was an easy kill or not. The dragon roared, and to Holger, it seemed like he was speaking. He was taunting them. He didn't seem impressed by those hunting him. It would be an easy kill, the dragon called.

The dragon soared low over the grounds and grabbed one of the guards with its talons. The man tried to hack and slash at the creature's legs, but it was in vain. The man screamed. A loud snap was audible. The lifeless body dropped downwards and hit the soil with a force. The dragon had claimed another life.

Ireleth mustered her scared guards, commanding the best archers to move up to tower, to get a better advantage point. Arrows rained down upon the beast, some repelled by the hard scales, and others impaling the flesh. Holger took his own bow, but he had never been a good archer. He aimed for the softer flesh on the beast's neck. Somehow, he knew the scales were thinner there.

Mirmulnir. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew this was the name of the dragon. There was no mistake.

Mirmulnir sped to the tower, and with his wings high behind him, he grabbed one of the archers in his claws, breaking the man's spine. He called out in pain, but Mirmulnir only seemed to revel in the sound. He rose in the air, and when he was high enough, he dropped the man to the ground. With a yell, followed by a loud drop, the man died. Holger ducked away as the dragon breathed fire again, shouting to the guards.

Another guard was the new victim. Mirmulnir soared through the air and bit the man, pulling him up in the air. The man's bloody legs fell down, detached, as the guards yelled for their unfortunate comrade.

There was more and more fire all around and it was difficult to find a steady footing among the rubble. The idea that if they weren't careful, they could step on one of the unfortunate victims held everyone at guard when stepping around.

Slowly, the arrows impaling him drained the beast's health. He became tired, his breathing deeper, as he finally landed on the earth.

There was no doubt in Holger as he ran for the beast. Only dimly he was aware of Ralof calling his name, telling him to take distance. He threw the bow down and pulled his sword.

Before either of them attacked, he and the dragon stared at each other. The moon shone on the bloody scales, red mixed with jade. There was a deadly beauty, an unforeseen grace in the monstrous creature.

Then it spoke to him. You are brave. Balaan hokoron. Your defeat brings me honor.

His defeat? But no, it would be him to defeat the beast, not the other way around.

He'd known all along what he needed to do. As the dragon shouted at him, breathed fire, he dropped down, avoiding the fire, and hurried forwards. He held his sword high above his head, thrusting the weapon into the dragon's throat. As it sank in soft flesh to the hilt, the dragon screamed out. Holger hurried on, pushing the sword forward with all his strength.

The cut was deep and wide. Blood showered over Holger, almost blinding him, but he endured, pulling his sword along. As he felt the life ebb from the dragon's body, he jumped away, rolling on his side to avoid the fallen dragon and not to get its weight on top of him.

Somewhere in his mind, Mirmulnir cried.

Dovahkiin! No!

The dragon was dead. Holger panted as he got to his knees, looking at the body. Flames erupted from the skin of the beast, eating its flesh. The heat washed over his face, but he was unable to look away. Then the flames died, leaving behind clean, white bones that shone silver in the moonlight. And there it came, the wind without moving air that slashed around him, whipping him, engulfing him. As he closed his eyes at the intensity of the feeling, images washed over him, springing alive like a candle's flame.

Mirmulnir had been old, awoken from years of quiet slumber, high in the Jerral Mountains. There had been the presence of another one, the one that awoke him, calling out for him to join his kin.

Words of the strange language surged through his head, swerving around his mind, one word in constant repetition.

Fus. Fus. Fus.

But somehow, he knew what it meant now. Force.

He had fallen to all fours and looked up to find Ralof bended over him.

"Are you okay, mate?" the younger man asked, uncertain.

"I – I'm fine," Holger replied, for that was true. He might be tired, but he felt refreshed, strong somehow.

He rose to his feet and took the sword that was lying around the dragon bones. Ralof observed him silently.

"I don't mean anything by this, mate, not after you killed that dragon, but you look like an utter mess," Ralof stated kindly. "I know it's not your blood, but still."

Ralof dug up a ragged handkerchief from a pocket and handed it to the older man. Quite bluntly, the man was right. Holger wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, but his hair and beard and cheeks were still shining with a fair amount of dragon blood. He took the rag from Ralof and tried to clean himself the best he could.

"Milly would do me something, for clearing away all this," he noted. "I guess dragon blood must have at least twelve alchemical abilities and incredible valuable."

"Don't forget it's supposed to be extinct," Ralof added.

"Yes. Supposed. But not quite," Holger finished.

The rag was stained with the blood so much that it was useless to try and clean himself further with it. As he tossed it aside, one of the guards approached them, his face struck with disbelief.

"I – I cannot believe it," the man said in clear wonder. "You – you must be the Dragonborn."

Holger looked up, sure that he had misheard the man, but he was still looking at him in startled admiration.

"What do you mean?" Holger asked, not sure if he understood the man at all.

"You don't know the legends?" the guard replied. "But you are a Nord. There used to be a time when dragons roamed the lands, powerful and dangerous. The Dragonsborns were the true killers of the dragons and stole their powers after death. And I believe that is what you just did – you absorbed the dragon's power. We saw how you killed the beast."

Holger gazed at the man. Well, yes, he knew of the stories, but they were almost considered legends. Absorbing the dragon's power? That wasn't something out of real life, was it?

Yet... Born killer of dragons? He had known how the dragon would act, known how he moved. He had dreamt of dragons as long as he could remember. But absorbing the dragon's power? Now what? Was he now able to sprout wings and fly away?

"Well, it's easy," the guard answered. "You'll know if you are the Dragonborn by shouting. According to the legends, only the Dragonborn can shout without training, like true dragons do. Try to shout."

The guard looked at him in nervous excitement. What did he ask him to do? Shout? Well, he certainly could yell, but he doubted he would breath fire like the dragon.

Fus.

The word came to his mind, the simple syllable, the answer to this mystery. The word was more than just a word. It had a power behind it, it was a shout.

Holger opened his mouth and uttered the word.

"Fus!"

A force, something not quite magical but similar somehow, exited his body, loosened his mind. It moved away the air, as if the air itself had turned solid and could be used as a weapon. The guard staggered on his feet, as if he had been pushed by the wall of air.

"It's true," the man gasped, regaining his composure. "You are Dragonborn, there is no doubt in it."

Holger's head was strangely clear as the constant drumming mystery of the strange word had finally been resolved. Everything made sense somehow.

"Dragonborn?" Ireleth said in disdain. The surviving guards had gathered around her. "You shouldn't blabber about things you know nothing of. I just know I don't need a magical Dragon-killer. For me, it is enough that somebody kills the dragon – legendary or not. And yes, that is what you did, Holger, with mythical powers or without. We should all trust in the powers of our arms, the strength of our muscles, not in the magic of tales and legends."

"But, it was shouting what he did," one of the guards protested. "There was no doubt about that. I think you really are the Dragonborn."

Ireleth turned to Holger. "Well, that certainly wasn't an easy fight, and I've surely seen my share of battles. I'm not sure about anything of this Dragonborn business, but I am sure glad you were with us. Your strength and courage is admirable. You should get back to Dragonsreach. I'm sure the Jarl has something to say to the man that killed the dragon. Tell him all that happened here, so I can take care of the wounded and fallen."

Ireleth herself had some burn wounds herself, and she seemed immensely tired.

"I shall," Holger replied. "And Ireleth... You were excellent at commanding the guards."

Ireleth looked up, and flashed him a tired smile.

"Thank you," she said.

Then Holger remembered Delphine. She knew a lot about dragons, right? She might be able to tell him more.

But she was gone. Nowhere could he find the Breton woman. She wasn't among the guards, she wasn't among the bodies, it was as if she had disappeared. Well. Then he needed to go to the other person who was with knowledge of the dragons; Farengar. And he needed to need to know if his daughter was alright, and tell her that he was alive and well.

He turned to Ralof. Ralof was standing to the side, his arms folded over each other. He nodded and both of them turned to walk back to the city in silence. As they reached the little stream, Holger bend down to wash his face and hair. The water turned red.

"What do you think?" he asked Ralof as they continued their way.

Ralof took a moment of contemplation before he replied. "To me, that seemed a pretty real shout, and I know how a shout looks like. Jarl Ulfric is able to shout too, but only after years of training. Only a Dragonborn would be able to shout without any form of training."

"I know something about shouts," Holger replied. "I've heard the stories of the war. But I never did receive training myself. I'm not sure how I performed the deed, truth be told."

"Sure sound to me as if you are the Dragonborn. And well, mate, it is also pretty coincidental that your arrival in Skyrim is at the same time a Dragon returned. It's dead now, but who says there will not come more?"

Holger shook his head. "This dragon was different from the one in Helgen. That one had been more... powerful. I can tell somehow. That one is still alive."

They neared the stables, as suddenly the air shook with a force and a deafening sound shattered the skies, resonating in your very bones.

DOVAHKIIN!

Holger looked up to the sky. The sound seemed to come from above, but there was nothing there. But at the same time, the voice came from beneath him, behind him, within in.

"Did... Did you hear that?" he asked Ralof, not believing what had happened.

"I did, but I'm not sure what it means," Ralof replied, a frown on his face. As nothing more happened, they continued their ascent to the city hill.

"I wish the world was flat," Ralof complained after the first set of stairs.

"Not much of a sight if it were," Holger replied with a grin.

"That might be true," Ralof answered a tired smile on his own face.

The city was mostly deserted. The villagers were inside their houses, and the guards were scarce.

As they entered the keep, a blur of burgundy and copper rushed towards them, stopping a few feet in front of them.

"Dad!" Milly called. "You are alive! But... There is blood all over your armour." She looked worried as she observed him.

"It's not mine," he replied. "It's the dragon's."

"We saw him land," Milly replied in a small voice. "So, he died, didn't he?"

"Your fathers work," Ralof replied with a grin.

Milly looked back to him, her eyes big.

"You killed it?"

"I did."

He continued his way to the throne were the Jarl was sitting, but he didn't miss the little moment Ralof and Milly shared.

"I'm glad you're safe too," she said to him, quietly.

"Of course I am," Ralof replied just as quietly, as if he couldn't hear it. "It takes more than a dragon to kill me. And we had your father, of course."

He touched her arm, and Holger didn't miss the look Milly gave him. It was a look that made him think of her mother, before they had been married.

He swallowed the thought.

"I'm glad you're back alive," the Jarl said, leaning forward. "What happened to Ireleth?"

"She's tending to the guards," Holger replied. "She's mostly unharmed."

"That is fortunate to hear. Yet tell me, what happened?" the Jarl asked. "We have been watching from the balcony, but it was too dark to distinguish anything."

"Holger killed the dragon," Ralof replied, now standing next to him. "He slashed the creature's throat."

The Jarl looked taken aback. "Really? Well, that certainly is mighty accomplishment. You deserve a place among the hero's of Whiterun. I'm glad the dragon lies slain."

Farengar was standing next the throne. "There is more than that to what happened on the field, am I right?" he commented. "Did something strange happen when the dragon died?"

Holger was taken aback at this. How could the wizard know this? What else did he suspect?

"You did not miss the call, did you?" Farengar explained. "It were the Greybeards, calling out to the Dragonborn. You said you killed the Dragon. Are you Dragonborn?"

"I think I might be," Holger replied earnestly, not knowing what the wizard meant by Greybeards.

Milly detangled herself from Ralof's arm and turned to him.

"What?" she demanded.

"I see," Farengar replied. "I take it you do not know what the Greybeards are?" Upon the negative answer, he continued. "The Greybeards are the masters of the Way of the Voice. They live secluded from society, high on the slopes of Throat of the World, the tall mountain to the east. The Dragonborn is supposed to have unique innate powers, to be able to shout without any training. There has been one in a very long time. In truth, the last person the Greybeards summoned was Tiber Septim."

"You should consider this a greatest honour," the Jarl replied.

"But... Greybeards?" Milly asked, sounding alarmed. "What do they want with my father?"

"Something happened when the dragon was killed, and whatever happened, the Greybeards must have taken notice," the Jarl explained. "If your father truly is the Dragonborn, they merely want to train him, teach him how to use his gift better."

"And if they think Holger is the Dragonborn, then who are we to disagree?" Farengar added.

"So, that is my way? I need to go to this place – High Hrothgar?" Holger asked, not sure if he liked the sound of any of this.

"You should, and you should hurry," Farengar said. "There's simply no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It really is a tremendous honour."

"It is," the Jarl agreed. "But not now. You first need to rest, and you have to let us honour you for killing the dragon. I'll call for a glory feast tomorrow. You can leave the day after tomorrow, early in the morning."

"There's no need for a feast," Holger replied, dreading such society gatherings. "Really, I'm glad the dragon is dead, I don't need to be honoured."

"Nonsense," the Jarl insisted. "There is no hurt in staying a day longer to get what you deserve."

Holger couldn't really refuse that. This was a Jarl, after all. No matter how much he hated fancy parties, there was nothing much to it than to endure it.

"You can rest in one of the family guest bedrooms. I'll call for a tailor in the morning to measure you an outfit worthy of a dragon slayer."

O, by the heavens, no. A feast was as much as he could handle, but being dressed in puffy clothes was too much. Before he could protest, the Jarl turned to Milly.

"And you too. You deserve the honour too."

"But I didn't do anything," Milly replied anxiously, glad to be out of focus.

"Nonsense," the Jarl said. "You are the daughter of the dragon slayer, you deserve as much."

Which was kind of ridiculous, but silently, Holger felt morbidly happy they were also dragging Milly through this. She hated all of this as much as him, and if they could share in this agony, it was better than enduring it alone.

"Follow me," the Jarl directed.

As Holger began to follow, Milly turned around to Ralof.

"Get me out of this," she growled to him, her voice low, so the Jarl wouldn't hear.

"O no," Ralof said, a large grin on his face. "I think I'm going to enjoy this too much."