Chapter 7: The Dragons and the Humans

The dream was still vivid in her memory. She herself still wasn't quite sure if any part of the dream was reality. She had had many dreams like that for the past few nights, living more as a part of them than in the reality itself. She lay down on a soft mattress that her imprisoners prepared for her, stretching her arms to its edges. This was by no means a bad life, but it almost equaled to no life at all.

She closed her eyes and tried to relive the dream again, slowly getting addicted to the sweet sensation of the wind in her face and the birds either desperately running away from her or trying to catch up with her without any success.

She was standing on top of a cliff. Below her, a river came down in a roaring waterfall, the diamond drops of water sparkling in the sun. A willow grove spread out from around the pond below it, the slender branches slightly waving from one side to another in the summer breeze. The river then meandered through a plain scored only by smaller bushes of juniper. A few miles to the left, the ground rose steadily into a mountain ridge whose highest peaks were covered in the white caps of snow. At this time, they turned the crimson color of the setting sun.

She spread her wings and took off the cliff, soaring to the sky above. Excitement took over her as she felt the wind swirling around her. She felt the cold fresh air against her warm body and a thrilling shiver came down her spine. At a time like this, she didn't have to think about pointless things. All the worries she had, all the worries of the world, she'd left behind on the ground. On that ground that was meant to be walked on by the small and weak creatures who didn't have wings. She used to know their weaknesses. She had been one of them once, striving for mere survival. But not anymore.

She flew into a stream of warm air and watched a pair of sparrows deep down below her. She could fly higher than any bird could ever hope for, guard the land and all that was below, own it, rule it. Not even the mighty condors could compare to her. She roared as she took a dive in the waterfall and felt the icy cold water refresh her warmed-up body. She went down in an elegant spiral before soaring up again. Oh, the joy of the absolute freedom. The beauty of gliding the wind streams aimlessly, watching over the vast land below. The power one could feel just by looking around at that wondrous land, so far below and yet still at the grasp of her claws. She savored it all, basking in the delight of her might. She could stay like this for eternity.

Suddenly, a voice called to her. It was a deep soothing voice of a man who had lived through many hardships in just a short time, left with scars on his soul. He must have been a very powerful man during his life, but that life had ended too soon, unfulfilled.

"Wake up, my child," he said softly. "Come back from your sweet dreamland. You have gotten too accustomed to the visions I sent you, but this is not you. You are someone else, and, as much as you may find it unlikely, you are needed back where you come from. Wake up, my child."

Lucia opened her eyes. Sun was shining dimly through the tall, narrow windows of the vast round room that had become her prison, casting a rich palette of colors upon her face and the walls made of pale wood whose origin she did not know. No-one had spoken to her in ages. The only contact she had received the last few days was the sliding sound of a small window that led to the corridor outside. Her guards put some food on the parapet below it every morning and evening. She always returned the dishes there after finishing her meals but that was about the only exercise she was getting lately. And the only real thing that happened during the day.

She had been having visions. A lot of them. Visions of flying like a dragon, roaring like a dragon, setting things on fire and racing with other winged creatures. The world was at her disposal in her dreams, allowing to be commanded by her, its very roots bending at her voice. She hated having to wake up. No-one had ever hurt her here but maybe getting hurt would at least be something. There was absolutely nothing in her life. Not even her life as a beggar had been this bad.

She knew living in the dreams wouldn't get her anywhere but she didn't have anything else to hold onto. She kept reliving them more and more, straying away from reality which, strangely enough, seemed more and more foreign and sinister to her with every passing day. And now she even heard voices.

"Are you awake?" the soft voice echoed in her mind. "Can you see the tangible world around you? Can you feel it? Can you touch it?"

She laughed to herself, shivering at the sound of her own voice which she hadn't heard for a while.

And now I'm going crazy, she commented in her thoughts. Maybe I'll lose my mind soon enough.

"You are not crazy," the voice said. "I decided to contact you because you are needed and you have the potential to become very strong."

"Who are you?" she asked aloud. "Is my own mind playing with me or are you some kind of phantasm plaguing me?"

"A ghost would be the closest description, although it is not quite accurate," he said, his deep voice resonating in Lucia's head. "I was destined to become the Emperor of Tamriel once, but life sometimes has a way of shifting people far from their original purposes."

"The Emperor of Tamriel? Speaking to me? No, I definitely must have gone crazy," she shook her head in denial. Dreams were one thing, but hearing strange voices was never a good sign. There were stories about people hearing strange voices and these people had never met a good end. If she would be lucky, the perfidious Daedra would only claim her soul after she had died in their service, which would, naturally, involve a lot of most unpleasant experiences.

"Why is it that every time a child is chosen, they suddenly turn into an adult and deny everything they consider beyond the reach of reality?" he asked, his voice now sounding like a rustle of the wind.

"I don't understand," she said simply.

"Of course you don't, my child, of course you don't. But I have come here for a purpose. The savior of Skyrim has chosen you. She is not aware of it yet, but you are the one who will help her achieve her goal. And for that, you will need power."

"The savior of Skyrim?" Lucia asked curiously. Then her eyes widened. "Mama!" She so much wished to see her, the golden-eyed lady who had taken her out of the streets and provided her with everything she could have ever dreamt of. Now she was in danger. Lucia had known the moment the frightful pale-skinned elves with pointy ears had come and seized the family, sparing no-one as they had ordered her and the rest to lead them to her. Luckily enough, her mama never stayed for long and she wasn't particularly loquacious about what she would be doing.

"Yes, that would be her."

"Can I see her? Is she hurt?" she asked, sudden eagerness in her voice.

"No, you cannot see her yet. And no, she is not hurt. Yet. As long as they keep you here, she will not be hurt."

"Then I have to stay here?" Lucia sounded puzzled, a slight disappointment reflecting in her face.

"For the time being, yes. But you have to start training soon. Training so you can aid your… mother in her quest."

"What should I do?"

"You have to understand the very essence of the dovah. The dragons. And the essence of your kind as well."

"Your kind? Aren't you a human too?"

"Yes and no. A soul changes when its host body does, and the body reflects all that shapes a soul. Back when I was alive, dragon blood ran in my veins, just as it runs in the veins of your mother. We Dragonborn are always balancing on the edge of two worlds that have very little in common. Only in death can we truly comprehend our existence as a whole. And so your mother needs help if she is to fulfill her destiny."

More confusion reflected in Lucia's face.

"But what am I supposed to do?"

"You will need to stay by her side and remind her of who she is and who she isn't. A Dragonborn is a mighty being. She has all the advantages of a dragon with the sole exception of being able to soar. But she also shares their weaknesses. There is a way to overcome them, but for that, she needs to stop thinking like a dovah and start thinking like a mun."

"Ah," she fouled impatiently. "This doesn't make any sense. Why am I even listening to you? You're just something my mind created on its own."

"Your fantasy must be running very wild then, if it is capable of constructing a speech you yourself do not understand," the ghost remarked patiently. Lucia could swear she sensed a chuckle in her own mind.

"Get lost," she sighed. "I'll just stick to sitting here like an idiot for the rest of my life."

She felt as if the ghost inside her closed his eyes. His presence, however, did not disappear.


Aislinn opened her eyes. She was staring at the shaded damaged ceiling of the corridor that had almost become her burial site. She tried to turn her head but her whole body was numb and throbbed with every attempted movement. She let out a silent moan as the throbbing spread in her head.

She heard a movement nearby. Before she could even start thinking of its source, a whisper reached her ears.

"Lass," a voice said.

Just what had happened? Where was she? She forced her mind to work faster. That's right. Markarth. Dwemer ruins. And Brynjolf had been with her the whole time.

"Am I dead?" she asked shakily.

"Gods," a sigh of relief came out of Brynjolf's lungs. "You're alive. I almost thought I'd lost you there."

"Sovngarde is not such a bad place, you know," she said, half teasingly, half seriously.

"The timing of your jokes is absolutely the worst," he said grimly. "How are you feeling?"

"I've felt better. What happened?"

"A slide happened. The elves happened. Some kind of seizure of yours happened. Everything that could possibly go wrong just went ahead and did so. You were… I don't know what happened to you. You stopped moving. Stood there, right under the falling rocks, then fell down without a warning. I had to go back and carry you out of there. A second later you would've been crushed by those boulders. Oh, and the entrance door is blocked. At least the elves don't have a way to get to us now, but given the fact that we're trapped here, I don't think that's something to be happy about."

Aislinn closed her eyes. She remembered a feeling of hopelessness, a feeling of not being able to do anything. A stunning sensation that spread through her body like a venom which it perhaps was, almost preventing her from breathing, let alone moving. Brynjolf had to risk his life to save her. He could have died there. Just like that bard.

But why? A seizure? Was she sick? No, that wasn't it. She tried to concentrate. It took her a while to recollect all the fights they had been through. The guards. The betrayal of Muiri. The Shouting, the wild escape to the Hall of the Dead, through the Understone Keep and finally here. The Understone Keep. The arrow that almost shot Brynjolf down. Her Shout to stop the time. And the reason Brynjolf couldn't react quickly enough to dodge the arrow.

"There was some kind of mist up there in the Keep," she said.

"It was all weird back there. I couldn't see a thing. But you… how did you do it? One moment you were behind me, the next you were in front of me, all the stinking Thalmor down at your feet."

"A Shout," she replied. "To stop the time."

"You can… you can stop the time with a Shout?" his eyes widened in astonishment.

"Only for a while."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, sorry," she apologized. "That probably doesn't make any sense. It's a while for me. For you, it's like no time has passed at all."

"So you can… freeze the rest of the world?"

"I guess you could say it like that."

"You know… you can be pretty scary. I wouldn't want you to be my enemy."

She chuckled.

"They would have gotten me if it wasn't for this Shout," she said silently.

"Maybe, aye. There were quite a few of them."

"Not maybe," she opposed, shaking her head in emphasis. "Most definitely. It's that mist that made me lose control over my body. There's something weird about it."

"Why didn't it affect me then?"

"Because it only affects dragons and those with dragon blood."

He stared at her. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"Apparently. Do you remember the rotten dragon bones we found in my house?"

He nodded slowly.

"And maybe you also remember Llewellyn mentioning a strange mist," she continued.

Another nod.

"I don't think it's a coincidence. And if I didn't use that Shout, the effects would have gotten to me before we could finish the elves. The arrow that was supposed to kill you literally saved me."

"The… what?!" he stared at her in shock, slowly and unwillingly realizing to have been at death's grasp without even knowing it. "You stopped time to save me?"

"Oh… you didn't notice… yeah, I guess I did."

"I… guess we're even then," he exhaled.

"We'll never be even," she whispered. "I owe you for just coming with me, not to mention the number of times you saved my life."

"I don't think it matters anymore," he said softly. She gulped and her face turned bright red as he suddenly leaned over her and looked her in the eyes. His gaze was full of concern but the sudden proximity got the better of her, filling her head with wild thoughts, making her forget all the pain and throbbing her body was going through. She rolled over to get out of his reach and quickly sat up. The moment she did, her head went spinning and she gasped.

"Careful now," she could hear Brynjolf's concerned voice approaching. "Don't strain yourself."

He put his hand on her back to support her from behind.

Too close! she screamed in her thoughts. Don't! Get away from me! My heart's going to burst into pieces!

Being weakened and almost unable to move, she thought it unfair for him to lean so close. He made her feel secure, always protecting her, a silent guardian who always managed to be there for her. So why was it that he also made her feel most insecure?

"Are you all right, lass?" she could hear the urgency in his tone.

And now I scared him.

"Yeah," she replied slowly. "Can you… let go of me?"

"I'm sorry…" he took his hands off her. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," she shook her head. "I guess I'm just a little jumpy. So much has happened…"

"Yeah," he agreed. "So much that I have a hard time to believe it myself."

"I have no idea what to think about the people around me anymore," she confessed bitterly. "One minute I gain unexpected allies and the next a person I thought I knew betrays me."

"That alchemy student?" he asked.

She nodded and took a deep breath. A clump of emotions and gathered energy settled in her chest and she felt an irresistible urge to vent them.

"That blasted daughter of a fatty troll mother of a bitch," she grimaced.

He raised a brow in surprise. "What did you just say?"

"The stinking skeever tailbone! The slippery-sloppery ugly ooze of a slimy netch! The smelly rotten buttcrack of a puffy giant! The bloody dung of a fetid chaurus!" she was spitting curses one after another. "Oh, I feel so much better now," she concluded after a while of swearing, sighing contently.

Brynjolf roared with laughter.

"You just made it to the number one spot in my list of the most foul-mouthed people I know," he grinned at her.

"You have a list?" she asked, amused.

"No, but I can always make one."

She laughed.

They rested for what seemed like a few days. They had no track of time and soon learned to count it in the steam puffs that kept coming from a vent of a gilded round machine nearby. "The dinner will be ready in a hundred puffs," was the most common sentence between the two of them. A hundred of puffs. It could be about half an hour but none of them was sure.

They kept exploring the area. The slide blocked the entrance to the main part of Nchuand-Zel but it seemed a new passage had opened at the end of the corridor, even if it was just a crack, straight opposite to the blocked entrance from the Understone Keep. They smiled at the strange coincidence and decided to be on their way once Aislinn regains some of her strength. It took about twenty thousand of steam puffs until they finally packed their things and headed for the unknown.

Due to the fallen rocks, the path was narrow and they sometimes had to crouch one after another or jump over some of them to be able to proceed. Not too long after they had left the entrance corridor they encountered several automatons. Slightly annoyed, Aislinn usually Shouted them down. She managed to find a dwarven bow near one of them but since she had no arrows, she couldn't use it.

"If I recall correctly, you can use some magic," Brynjolf remarked after one of the fights. "Why don't you ever use it on them?"

"Magic?" she laughed. "You expect me to use magic? Believe me, you don't want to see. I worked on my healing spells and I can do enchantments pretty well. But other than that, I utterly suck at it. Hey, don't you dare mention that in the College of Winterhold. It took me quite some effort to become an archmage there. Even if I didn't really come there with that in mind."

"Archmage?" Brynjolf wondered, amused. "You?"

"Well…"

"Haha, you're seriously the best!"

"Hey, don't laugh at me!" she snapped at him jokingly.

"That's what I call a master thief. You can convince an entire university to make you an archmage. With just a few cheap healing spells. I think I know why we call you the boss," he kept laughing, if just to tease her.

Aislinn glared at him.

"So," his tone changed to curious. "How did it happen?"

"I guess I was just in a wrong place at a wrong time. And people just love to dump all their work onto me so it was my job to clear the Saarthal ruins of the draugr horde that was occupying it. Then it went one thing after another. A mysterious sphere of light, the disaster in Winterhold and everything else. The previous archmage died in the process so it was decided I would take his place. Somehow people tend to think that I should be their leader."

"Me included," said Brynjolf with a smile.

"So…" Aislinn turned serious, "do you think I should unite Skyrim?"

Brynjolf stopped walking at once and gave her a pensive look.

"This is a completely different thing," he said slowly. "Leading a guild or an institution requires a lot of paperwork and the ability to kick your henchmen in the butt if they do something wrong. Even if it's a bother, it's doable. But to unite Skyrim… it's just so risky. There will be so many people who would gladly use you and take your place when everything's over. So many fights that you have to win and even more of them requiring you to rely on a bunch of people you don't even know. You noticed it before. People will want to use your power to reach their own selfish goals. They don't really care about you."

"Some of them do," she objected.

"Some of them, aye. But most of them don't. They just want you to save their sorry ass. "

Aislinn sighed. She was sure there was something else that Brynjolf wasn't telling her but she didn't know how to ask him. The image of a bard who had never met her before, lying on the ground with an arrow coming out of his back, flashed in front of her eyes again. She clenched her fists and started walking again. Brynjolf followed her, watching her with a worried expression.

They walked around a corner and saw a large machine with metal bars in its center. It seemed like the path continued on the other side of the bars.

"What's that?" asked Brynjolf, pointing to a set of structures which looked like pillars with horizontal weathervanes at their bottom, resting upon what resembled giant demijohns.

"Tonal resonators. Now this might be a challenge," she said, her eyes studying the structure of the machine in front of her.

There were eight of them. Unwillingly, she stretched out her hand and shot a stream of fire at the one on the left which made Brynjolf give her a curious look. A lid opened on the wall close behind them and a beam of light shone upon a stone right above the bars. She hit the next one and three other lids opened causing multiple beams appear at once. Two of them met halfway and bounced from each other, lighting two small areas elsewhere. Their light did not reach the stone.

"I see," Brynjolf gave an understanding nod. "So that's how it works. What a curious race, these Dwemer."

They worked together until eight beams of light shone on the stone and the bars slid down to let them pass.

"This is unbelievable," Brynjolf whispered. "I wish we had this kind of intelligence in the Guild."

Aislinn chuckled as they walked through another corridor and a door appeared before them. At its feet, several dwarven spiders lay in pieces.

"There are some that are much more challenging than this one," Aislinn said. "And they usually mean you're getting to some kind of an ancient secret that absolutely cannot be discovered."

Brynjolf laughed.

"And in this case, you really are," a voice came from the direction of where they were headed. A dagger appeared in Brynjolf's hand as if it had always been there but Aislinn put her hand on his.

"I think this one is all right," she said.

And she was right. A dark-skinned man came out of the door and Aislinn recognized the Redguard silversmith of Markarth, Endon.

"So, you made it here in one piece!" Endon's voice sounded thrilled.

"Just barely," Brynjolf said brusquely. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Now now, no need to get angry," Endon tried to calm him but it seemed to have a completely opposite effect on the thief.

"I don't like your smile and I don't trust you," Brynjolf hissed. "Do you know how much it took us to get here?"

"I can imagine," Endon replied. "It was already bad enough when I escaped. But I had to, believe me."

"Then how come you're expecting us?" Brynjolf snapped. "Isn't that a little suspicious? Believe me, if it wasn't for the lass here, no thief from the Guild would bother coming all the way down here. We're not like the Dark Brotherhood. We play it safe."

"Oh I was surprised too when I heard she would come," Endon threw up his hands.

"That sounds even more suspicious."

"Brynjolf, please, let him explain," Aislinn addressed his companion with a pleading look.

"All right then," he submitted hesitantly.

"I don't have much to explain," Endon said. "But I think my client would want to see you."

"Your client? She's here?" Aislinn stared at him.

"Yes, she is. Right this way," Endon nodded toward the door behind him.

"Then let's go see her," she commanded.

They followed Endon through the door and down another vast corridor. Steam ascended from the gilded pipes on both sides and several dwarven statues decorated the walls, their face damaged to the extent one wouldn't be able to tell them apart. At the end of the corridor was a door leading to a small square room. There was a stone table in the middle of that room. A hooded figure was sitting on a golden chair next to it.

"The Dragonborn," said a sweet female voice. "At last."

Her hood slid down and revealed a face of an Altmer woman, probably the most beautiful woman Aislinn had ever seen. Dark black hair framed her delicate face and soft features. She was looking at Aislinn with eyes like two sapphires in the sun, bright and deep at the same time, her gaze showing traces of astuteness and intelligence. Her fair skin seemed to lighten up the whole room.

Elegantly, she took a few steps toward Aislinn before Brynjolf blocked her way.

"An Altmer," he hissed. "An Aldmer!"

"I am no enemy of yours," the elf said softly. "It is true that I am officially a part of the Thalmor but in fact I work against them. There is a reason why I asked the Guild to retrieve the pearl claw. I could have taken it myself if I wanted to since we had it in our possession for quite some time but there is no point in me taking it. However, the Thalmor keep a close eye on their own people. They would have noticed right away if I contacted the Dragonborn on my own and they would probably seize this opportunity to capture you. And that's why I had to do it this way."

"I don't understand," Aislinn shook her head, stepping aside so she could look the elf in the eye. "You contacted Endon here in Markarth so he sent a message to Delvin. It was up to Delvin whom he's going to send for the claw. He didn't even know it was a claw. How were you so sure that it would get to me?"

"Because I know the Dragonborn is the leader of the Guild. I left the instruction to retrieve the claw but didn't say anything else, so unless I contacted you again, you had an unfinished deal on your table. You didn't know where to find me, your only clue was Endon and there was a mysterious package in your possession. The Guild is sure to inform their leader of such a thing. And I know you would recognize a dragon claw in your hands."

"Do you realize that what you just said sounds like an unbelievable child story?" Aislinn asked. "Why should we trust you?"

"Well, there are two answers to this and you're not going to like either of them. First, I know you wouldn't miss a chance to explore a Nord tomb which is sure to have something useful for a Dragonborn. Second, you don't really have much choice."

Aislinn clenched her fists.

"What are you scheming?"

"Scheming? Well, if you think that saving Tamriel is scheming…"

"Saving Tamriel? Of course, no big deal. In fact, I'm quite used to it," Aislinn couldn't help a biting comment. "What is it this time?"

"The thing is," the elf said in a silent voice, "that unless you devour the soul of the World-Eater, he's going to keep coming back."

Aislinn and Brynjolf both stared at her in disbelief. She had to be joking.


Another chapter finished! I think with this, the story I originally wanted to write has finally started for real.

And made a dream of mine come true. I finally made up some fantasy swears, yay! Huh, I'm still not too confident about my English so maybe it was a facepalm after facepalm for you, but I hope that's not the case. :D

I received a few nice reviews from you guys here and via PMs. Thank you so much! :)

And one final notice - my free time is over and I'll have to start working again so the new chapters probably won't be coming so quickly. Even so, stay tuned. :)