Chapter Nine: "Dragonrend"
For a moment, there was silence as they all stared at the boy. Under the weight of so many eyes, he drew in on himself, shifting his weight back and forth. "Um…did I do something wrong?"
"Oh no," Esbern responded at once. "We were just a little...surprised. Is the temple in Forsworn hands, then?"
The boy shook his head. "No. I found it a while back." He gestured to the back of the cave. "It's not as shallow as it looks; there's a shelf back there that hides a tunnel, and it goes way back. None of the grown-ups have ever explored back there." He grinned. "I did, though."
Delphine knelt down, smiling at him. "How did you find it?"
He shrugged a little. "It was a couple years ago; something went wrong up front, an' the Briarheart was really mad. He didn't care who he hurt, he just wanted to hurt someone. Seeve fought him at the front, let us kids scatter."
"Who is Seeve?" Esbern asked.
The thirteen-year-old answered. "She's the one who used to take care of us—the one who had to run a month or so back.
"Anyway," the boy continued, scowling at Esbern and the older girl, "I went into the back and found the shelf; just kept going back. It opens into another cave, an' I could see there was a big old building behind it; but I couldn't get it open." He frowned. "There's a great big shelf of rock closing it off, and a long gap in between. I could see the pillars that would open the door, but I couldn't turn them."
Esbern nodded slowly. "In that case, it would seem that all we need to do to find the Temple is—"
Delphine raised a finger sternly, frowning at Esbern before turning back to the boy. "Lad—oh." She stopped. "First off, what's your name? It feels a little odd to be calling you 'lad' all the time."
He shook his head and shrugged again. "I don't have one yet. Kids don't get their names until they're old enough to leave the cave."
Drizzt inhaled so hard he hissed—then flinched when Ravenlight's hand tightened more than was comfortable.
Delphine did not react noticeably. "That won't work for me," she said. "How about Castor? That was my brother's name; you remind me a little of him when he was that age."
"Castor." He tried the name and smiled. "I like that!"
"Good!" They shared a smile for a moment, then Delphine continued. "What I wanted to ask, Castor, is could you show us the building? It's very important."
He paused, then nodded. "I—I guess." He moved away from the others, then looked back at him. "Are you coming with me?"
The thirteen-year-old bit her lip, then shook her head. "Not yet. I still have to make sure no one's been hurt…Castor." She smiled fleetingly. "I like that too. Maybe we'll be along later. This place sounds like it might be a good place to hide."
Esbern looked at her unhappily.
The walk through the hidden back of the cave took no more than a few minutes before they came out into a sort of hidden grotto. It was open to the sky, and sunlight fell in golden rays around them, illuminating three ivy-covered humps and a large, flat stone slap on the other side of a deep, steep-sided gorge. As they stepped out onto the grass, Castor gestured around the area as if he'd built it himself.
"Here it is!" he declared proudly. "Neat place, isn't it?
"It is." Ravenlight looked around, seeing the carvings on the other side of the gorge that indicated there was a building there. "Castor, you mentioned pillars?"
He pointed to the ivy-draped lumps. "They're under all that ivy. I found them the first time, because I wondered what was under there, but I couldn't turn the pillars."
Drizzt, Ravenlight and Delphine stepped forward, stripping the vegetation away. The revealed three-sided pillars were weathered and pitted, but their symbols were still clear. Esbern walked around the nearest one, then smiled.
"Ah! Here we are; see this symbol, the one that resembles a dragon? It's the sign the Blades in the ancient times used for the Dragonborn. I believe this is the one that will open the gate."
Ravenlight gripped the pillar and muscled it into position. Badly-weathered bearings shrieked in protest, and it gave reluctantly; but it gave. Drizzt fought the second one, then he and Ravenlight twisted the third around. The moment the symbols were in the correct facing, the massive slap creaked, then fell to bridge the gorge with a stunning crash. Castor jumped back with a squawk.
"Wow! That was loud!" Then he stepped forward, peering curiously at the dark entrance revealed. "Can I go inside and see what it's like in there?"
Drizzt looked up in time to see Esbern dash across the bridge, closely followed by Delphine. "I guess I don't see why not."
"I do." Ravenlight's hand shot out just in time to keep him from running headlong after the Blades. "You can go in with us, but don't just run ahead. I doubt the ancient Blades left this temple undefended, and I don't want you to run into any traps they may have left. Stay close to Drizzt or me, all right? We'll be able to notice anything dangerous."
"Traps?" Castor's eyes widened, and he nodded. "All right."
A dim call floated back to them across the bridge, and she sighed. "Sounds like they ran into something already. We're coming!"
A short walk brought Drizzt, Ravenlight, and Castor up to the others. The Blades stood in front of a large patio, lit by several of the eternal braziers. Ravenlight and Drizzt took one look and instantly understood the situation.
"Another trap," Drizzt muttered.
"Not so much trap as puzzle," Esbern corrected gently. "The ancient Blades did not want to cut off access to the Temple so much as guard it from those who had no business being there. There will be a way across this floor."
"What's wrong with the floor?" Castor asked, halting in mid-stride.
Ravenlight, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the symbols printed on the square tiles, answered. "Those tiles are the same as ones I've seen in Nord barrows. Step on the wrong one, and you'll get jets of fire roaring around your legs. Not pleasant. But…" She stepped forward. "There. The Dragonborn symbol again. It was right last time, so I'm going to take the chance."
A cautious chance. She pressed one foot carefully against the tile, testing to see if it would give under her weight. It remained solid, and she stepped onto it. "These are the right ones, all right," she said aloud, then looked back at Drizzt and Castor. "Don't follow me," she warned, her eyes focused on the boy. "I'm going to look for the way across, but I may have to backtrack, and I don't want someone behind me to get knocked over or shoved onto a dangerous tile. There's probably a way to shut the trap off once I'm across, so wait for that."
Everyone watched in silence as Ravenlight made her way across the tiles, moving quickly and lightly. Once she did have to backtrack, muttering under her breath about false trails; but after that, she had no trouble. In less than five minutes, she was across the patio and on the solid floor at the other side.
She'd already seen the chain on the far wall. Pulling it—which was thankfully easier than turning the pillars had been, since this mechanism wasn't exposed to the weather—resulted in a grinding clatter that echoed off the walls. Both Elves flinched and clapped their hands over their ears, barely noticing as the tiles slid over, shutting off the trap. Esbern, unable to contain his excitement, dashed past them; Delphine pursued him. Castor hesitated, looking between the Drow and the Bosmer.
"Is it okay?" He had to repeat the question a few times, since it took a moment or two before they could hear again.
"I suppose," Drizzt said, shaking his head slightly as he tried to get rid of a persistent little buzz in his ears. "But stay fairly close."
Considering that their early warning had been accurate, Castor obeyed. He appeared a bit over-awed as it was; staring wide-eyed at the high walls around him as he followed the Elves. Then his mouth dropped open and he stopped dead, a breathless, "Wowwww," escaping.
The room was impressive: with a high ceiling and spiraling carvings down the walls. A large chest stood in the center of the room, and a face almost the height of the wall loomed impressively over it all. Delphine was investigating the walls, frowning a little; Esbern crouched over a circle of black stone about five feet in diameter.
Ravenlight looked around. "If this is Sky Haven Temple," she said dryly, "I have to say, I'm not that impressed."
"Of course not," Delphine snapped. "This is only the threshold. But it may still be a dead end."
"It's still cool," Castor said, his eyes locked on the massive face. "That's big."
Drizzt nodded. "It is. But I think I...I think I agree with Ravenlight." He had also seen bigger—most recently, the statue of Meridia.
"It isn't a dead end," Esbern called. "Ravenlight? Could you come over here?"
Obligingly, the Bosmer came, looking curiously down at the circle. "What's that?"
"A blood seal." Esbern rose to his feet, groaning as his back and knees all protested audibly. "Oh, gods, I'm getting too old to move like that."
Ravenlight also crouched, looking at the carved surface of the stone—and noting that it had several old stains in several places. "What is a blood seal for?"
"It's a lock," the Blades archivist explained. "Enchanted to respond to the application of blood: more specifically, your blood: a Dragonborn's."
"Ah." Ravenlight now understood what the stains were. "That actually makes sense," she mused. "If you were leaving information for a certain person, you'd take steps to insure that only that person could get in. And the Blades were leaving knowledge for a Dragonborn."
Drizzt came closer, his eyes narrowed slightly. "How much blood is needed to open this seal?"
"Only a few drops," Esbern assured him. "Less than might have been spilled in the battle with the Forsworn."
Ravenlight gave Drizzt a resigned smile as she knelt on the seal, tugging her left gauntlet off, and secretly regretting having given away the well-sharpened dagger in Dragon's Bridge. Sunfang was too large for this sort of task; but her belt knife wasn't as sharp as it might have been. Which means this is going to hurt more than I'd like. If she was going to encounter more blood seals, she decided, she was going to start keeping a better knife on hand.
She pressed the badly-sharpened edge against her palm and drew it down. It took a little more force than she'd expected to break the skin, but she managed it on the first try, sending bright red drops spattering down on the stone. She kept her face impassive; cutting herself with a dull knife hurt more than she expected, and her hand was fairly sensitive. But she didn't need Castor terrified, or Drizzt worried. She clenched her hand, spilling more blood down onto the seal, and cast a quick healing spell to deal with the wound and pain.
Nothing happened at first, as the blood darkened and soaked into the porous stone. But then, as Ravenlight stepped off the seal, a rumble shook the room, and all eyes shot toward the immense face, which had started to move: lifting up to reveal the doorway into the ancient temple. She had to admit: that was impressive.
She expected Esbern to dash forward into the room, as he had previously. But, to her surprise, both he and Delphine remained where they were—both turning to her.
"Dragonborn," Esbern said respectfully, "this place has been waiting for you for centuries. It is only right that you should be the first to enter."
Delphine nodded in agreement. "We would never have come near this place without you," she said. "You above anyone else have the right to this temple—and the knowledge it holds."
Drizzt said nothing, but he nodded when she glanced at him. And she noticed that his hand rested on Castor's shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but enough to keep the excited little boy from darting forward. She nodded back, then turned and stepped forward, accepting their gift.
She'd seen more remarkable structures; older, larger, more dangerous, more beautiful…but somehow, there was an air to Sky Haven Temple that overshadowed everywhere else. Perhaps it was a slight sense of waiting she felt, waiting that was finally fulfilled. Perhaps it was the simple fact that for once, she wasn't entering with her sword in her hand and her every sense straining for danger.
And then, as she came up the stairs, she saw what they had come for.
"The Wall!"
That was truly impressive. It covered the entire back wall, every inch of it bearing intricate details. Alduin appeared three times; flanking it on both sides, and battling three powerful warriors in the center. Ravenlight approached, her lips parting slightly in awe as she stared at it.
"Amazing," she whispered despite herself, approaching to see better.
Footsteps came up behind her, and she heard all four of the others react in their own way. Esbern cried out in excitement, then ran past her to examine the wall more closely. Delphine's response was a more sedate, "Impressive," similar to Drizzt's almost inaudible, "By the gods."
Castor, still uneasy about dragons after the frost dragon earlier, squawked in surprise and darted back down the stairway, before realizing that the realistically-portrayed beast was only a carving. After that, he came up again, sheepish—but still nervous about the Wall.
"Magnificent," Esbern raved, gesturing to the figures on the relief. "I believe over seven centuries have been depicted on this wall, depicting every major event in Tamrielic history! Look here; on the left side of the wall is the Dragon War, with Alduin reigning supreme over all. This large carving, in the center—" He gestured to the massive image, which was probably the first thing anyone who approached the Wall saw—"here are the Tongues, the ones who defeated Alduin, engaged in their battle with him. And it seems…" He leaned forward and broke off with a surprised exclamation. "That's odd."
"What's odd?" Delphine had her arms crossed, not interested in a piece-by-piece description of the Wall's intricacies. "And please tell me it's relevant to why we came here in the first place."
Esbern scowled at her. "Oh, very well. Some people simply cannot appreciate this beautiful work for what it is. It seems that the Tongues defeated Alduin by means of a Shout. Look here, at the warriors facing him: there are words coming from their mouths to indicate that they used a Shout."
"They used a Shout?" Ravenlight leaned forward a little, peering at the unfamiliar marks. "Did they record which one it was?"
The old Archivist leaned in until his nose was almost touching the graven rock. "It appears to be called 'Dragonrend'."
"Dragonrend?" Ravenlight frowned. "I've never heard of one called that." She frowned, pensive. "I wonder where I'd be able to learn that one."
"Perhaps the Greybeards might know," Drizzt suggested. "Didn't you say they were masters of the Voice?"
Ravenlight squeezed her eyes shut. "I actually wasn't going to mention them," she muttered, as Delphine erupted.
"The Greybeards! Those—well, maybe they'd have something useful for you up there in their isolated little monastery. I wouldn't put much faith in them, though!"
Drizzt looked over at the Blade in surprise. "Do you not like them, then?"
"If it were up to the Greybeards," Delphine said hotly, "the Dragonborn would do nothing but sit up there on their mountain with them! They have done nothing—about the civil war, about the dragons returning, about anything that has happened in Skyrim for the past two hundred years! What good is having that sort of power if you're not going to do anything with it?!"
"Actually," Ravenlight said dryly, looking over her shoulder, "Arngier said in so many words that their path was not mine. I don't know if they'd know this Dragonrend shout—but you're right, Drizzt. They may very well know where to find it." Suddenly she stopped talking and turned, scanning the entire room. "Where's Castor?"
All other thoughts vanished from everyone—except possibly Esbern, who was back to his inch-by-inch examination of the wall. Drizzt, who was closest to the stair, darted back and looked down. "He was right behind me, I thought!"
Delphine looked around the walls, eyes narrowed. "Where would he be most interested in going, I wonder?"
Ravenlight sighed a little, then stretched out her left hand and concentrated, calling a strange blue glow into both her hand and her eyes. She turned slowly, scanning then entire room. "I see him," she said—a little cryptically, since she seemed to be facing a wall. "There must be a room back there; he's up on the second story."
Drizzt was the first up there. She might have stood and watched as his blue-glowing form entered the room, then darted—shockingly fast—over to the smaller blue glow. But she wasn't as skilled at Alteration as she was at Destruction, let alone Restoration, and keeping the Detect Life spell up for too long drained her magicka reserves.
She hated doing that; while she didn't rely on magicka the way some mages did, draining her reserves left her dizzy, and sometimes slightly nauseous. A few moments of vertigo were a small price to pay for saving someone on the brink of death, but less so when all she was doing was watching someone through the walls. She released the magic as her head started to spin, and leaned as casually as she could against Alduin's Wall.
As she did, she noticed that she was almost against the far right of the wall, where Alduin faced a lone figure. She frowned, turning toward it, and focused her gaze on the single warrior. Something about it…she reached out and touched the carved image.
A jolt blazed up her arm and into her body. Startled, she jerked back, and was several feet away from the Wall before she realized that the dizziness was entirely gone. Eyes narrowing, Ravenlight mentally touched her magicka reserves, and realized that they were entirely full. More than that, the fatigue typical after a fight was gone as well—as were the aches and pains that came with a cross-country ride on top of a fight. She felt fresh and wild, ready to fight again.
She felt the way she did after she'd absorbed a dragon's soul—only this came without the battle to gain that soul. And that felt…
Ravenlight shuddered and moved away from the carving as she suddenly realized who it depicted. It was the Last Dragonborn, facing down the World-Eater.
It was her.
Drizzt emerged from what appeared to be an old armory, herding a sulky Castor in front of him. "You're lucky," he scolded, "that I got in there when I did. That sword is still sharp, and you could have cut your fingers off, grabbing the blade like that."
"I was fine," Castor grumbled. "Kids get hurt all the time. No one cares!"
"On the contrary," Drizzt answered sternly, "my companion and I care a great deal. And while Ravenlight is an excellent healer, I doubt she can reattach fingers. Now, you don't have to stay in sight the entire time—but stay out of the armory!"
"Fine," Castor sighed. But the look he gave the Drow was less resentful than curious—as if he wasn't really sure why the Elf would care. It was as if having an older warrior—and a man at that—worried about him was a pleasant novelty. Remembering what he had gone through as a child, Drizzt suspected the latter. And it worried him.
"Keep an eye on him," he muttered as he passed Delphine. "Aside from the one the girl mentioned earlier, Seeve, I don't think anyone's ever been concerned about him. He may put himself into danger just to see if we're serious about it."
Delphine rolled her eyes. "You're not familiar with small boys, I take it? He can't be any worse than Frodar back in Riverwood—the little pill. I'll take care of him." She walked up to Castor, beckoning for him to come with her. "Come with me," she called. "Let's see what all's in this old place."
He went willingly.
Drizzt wandered over to Ravenlight again, chuckling a little as he realized that Esbern was holding forth on the details of the Wall again, regardless of whether or not he had an audience. The lecture might have been more interesting if the Drow had any idea of what the archivist was talking about. "He's really interested in this, isn't he?"
Ravenlight didn't answer. Surprised, he looked at her, realizing then that she was staring, wide-eyed, at the last carving to the right. "Ravenlight?"
"That warrior," she answered, nodding slightly toward the form in question. "Look at him."
Drizzt obeyed, frowning a little as he tried to see what was so unusual about that particular carving. Then he realized something. "Is that Alduin he's facing?"
"Yes." She hadn't moved. "It is."
He looked back at her, finally understanding. "That's you, isn't it? Or who they thought would be you."
She nodded. "The Last Dragonborn." Her voice was tight, almost brittle, and her gaze remained fixed on the image.
His frown deepened. This wasn't like her. "Are you all right?"
She shivered suddenly, turning away from the wall. "No. Let's find someplace to start a fire; I'm hungry."
A few moments of searching the other rooms turned up an old kitchen. The hearth was empty and cold, so the pair spent a few more minutes gathering wood. Once they finally had enough, Ravenlight crouched down and placed her hand on the logs, fire swirling down until they kindled.
The spit and pot rack had been moved to the wall beside the hearth. As Ravenlight worked on the fire, Drizzt muscled the iron rack closer. She glanced up at him and moved the side, giving him room. Unusually, she hadn't said a word the entire time, seemingly focused on her task.
He looked at her carefully as he set up the rack, hanging a few of the nearby pots on it. "Do you want me to fetch you anything?"
"No. I have what I need." She opened her pack, pulling out a variety of meats and vegetables. "Plenty here for a stew."
"What are you making?" He leaned against the wall, watching her carefully. It wasn't like her to be this taciturn.
"Venison stew." She moved mechanically, cutting the meat and vegetables, and filling the pot with water from an indoor well. "There should be enough."
He watched her for a moment more, as she seemed to be trying to ignore him. Finally he decided to get to the point. "Is there something bothering you, Ravenlight?"
For a moment, she didn't answer. Then she exhaled long and hard. "Yes," she said. "Everything's just...piling up. I'm worried about the children—Castor and his friends. I'm not looking forward to going to High Hrothgar and telling the Greybeards we got information from the Blades, especially if the feeling between Blades and Greybeards is mutual. And even if I do learn Dragonrend, I'm still wondering...will it be enough?" She closed her eyes. "And then there's that...blasted Wall. Something happened when I touched the image of the Last Dragonborn. I can't explain it...not well, anyway. It was as if...as if I received the power I get from a dragon's soul, without having to hunt down and destroy the dragon first. It was...scary."
"Scary, how?" He came up beside her.
Again, she was silent for a moment. And when she spoke, her voice was quiet. "It was something I could get used to. Addicted to. I don't want to become...dependent on that sort of power. I don't even want to experience that more than once, because if I grew addicted to it, if I came to...rely on it...that would be bad."
Drizzt had a sudden, inexplicable vision of someone who had become addicted to easy power: a man in maroon robes—he thought it was a man, anyway, though the heavy robes could have hidden any sort of figure—his entire face hidden behind an eerie mask with slits for eyes and stylized tentacles at the base. There was a distinct air of menace about the figure, and he had to agree with Ravenlight: addiction was not a good thing. He looked back at her, praying that he had not seen the future. But there was a world of difference between the mask-wearing being and the slim Elf slicing leeks into a stewpot.
"Do you want that sort of easy power?" The words came unbidden.
Ravenlight turned toward him, startled, and he realized he'd been quiet longer than he'd thought. Then she pursed her lips a little, mulling the question over, and finally shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't. If I have to gain that power, I'd rather be...tired and wounded and facing the body of my foe when I received it. I'd rather know I'd made the world a little safer by removing a dragon from it."
He nodded. "I'm no expert on addictions," he said, "but I think that to become addicted, you have to...desire a part of it. Easy power, in this case. That you don't want it may help protect you in the long run."
She looked at him again, then smiled, her face growing softer. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you for that."
Ravenlight was quiet for the rest of the evening. Despite Drizzt's encouragement, she still felt small and inadequate compared to the massive problems looming over her, and she wanted to be alone to brood. Fortunately, coming from a large family made surreptitiously avoiding others almost habit— and the doing was, ironically, made easier when Caster vanished shortly before sunset, then returned ten minutes later with the rest of the children in tow.
Quickly fixing enough food for seven hungry children took her mind off the enormity of her task; and had she needed to help with tending and keeping them out of trouble, quite likely her dejection would have faded. But the Forsworn children—with the exception of the three-year-old and Castor—were all too afraid of adults to give much trouble, and Delphine had them all in hand only a few moments after they arrived.
In the confusion, it was easy for her to slip away to the courtyard above the temple. She made her way to the outcropping at the edge of the cliff and sat, gazing with unseeing eyes out across the land.
She didn't know when she realized she wasn't alone. She didn't have to look to see who it was; there was no one else who would have just sat nearby in companionable silence. A little smile touched her lips.
"You're almost as quiet as your cat," she said.
"Habit," Drizzt answered behind her. "There have been many times in my life where moving silently was vital. Are you planning to sit out here all night?"
Ravenlight shrugged. "Maybe. I've done it before."
"Staying up and brooding?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Staying up. Brooding's fairly new." She sighed, leaning her head back. A cold wind ruffled her hair. "I don't think I've ever let myself really think about how...crazy this all is."
"Crazy how?" Drizzt sat beside her, glancing at her for a moment, then looking up at the half-clouded sky.
"One person. Maybe I have a dragon's soul, but I'm just one person. Up against Alduin, the World-Eater." Ravenlight shook her head, drawing her legs up and resting her chin morosely on her knees. "The Tongues were the greatest heroes of their age, and it took three of them to defeat him—and they didn't defeat him forever, either. Even if I can find their Shout…how on earth do I even have a chance against that kind of menace alone?"
Drizzt put his arm around her shoulders. "You don't haveto stand alone," he said. "I don't know how I came to this world—but I think I know why. You need a true companion to stand beside you. And I will stand beside you to the end of this."
Ravenlight's eyes filled with tears, but a real smile appeared at the same time—the first for several hours. She uncurled, resting her head against his shoulder. "It's been a long time since I had a…a real companion," she admitted. "Ever since I left my family, I've been alone. I guess...I must have got used to thinking of myself as alone."
"Being…something no one else is would probably start making you feel that way," he admitted. "Believe me, I may not be Dragonborn, but…well, a goodly Drow is probably just as singular. It took me a fair number of years before I stopped believing I wandered alone—even after I had friends and comrades." He sighed. "But no one should stand alone—not even the world's only hope." He glanced at her. "Especially not the world's only hope."
"Thank you." Ravenlight wiped away a tear trickling down the side of her face. "It's good to know that…that I have someone to help. That it's not all on me." She looked up at the twin moons, eyes misting again as she remembered similar conversations with her oldest brother, Wolfgold. Admittedly, she hadn't known she was Dragonborn at the time…but it was good for a girl struggling to become a woman to have a steady shoulder to lean on, and a strong pair of hands to hold on to when the road got rough.
This felt comfortingly like one of those evenings, long ago; when Wolfgold would find her in the top branches of their village tree, sobbing over something that had happened earlier in the day. Where Swiftdeer might try to explain how trivial whatever happened was—and Sparrowwing would 'take her mind off it' by pulling some outrageous prank—Wolfgold never tried to fix the situation. He would just sit beside her, being there if she didn't want contact, or wrapping her in one of his wiry arms if she did, and let her cry herself out.
She didn't need to cry herself out tonight. But it was good just to sit there with her companion's arm around her shoulders; letting her know that she didn't have to carry this alone.
She didn't exactly wake up the following morning, so much as realize that the sun, far away and still dim across the mountains, was rising. And that there were birds in the area: perhaps a hundred peeping and twittering rock warblers, which had evidently been flourishing in the protected courtyard for centuries. They were all over the trees, hopping through the branches and quarrelling in the way of all songbirds. And, she noticed, a smile stealing across her face, one pert male was sitting on Drizzt's knee, singing his heart out.
Ravenlight wasn't sure if her companion was awake or not, though he'd have to be a pretty sound sleeper not to notice the tiny bird shrilling less than three feet from his face. But she didn't want to turn too sharply to look; she found the sassy little creature quite cute, and didn't want to scare it off.
A few seconds later, though, all the birds took flight at the same moment. Knowing that neither she nor Drizzt had moved enough to scare them all at once, Ravenlight looked over her shoulder to see who had come into the courtyard. It was the thirteen-year-old Forsworn girl, her frost-burned arms salved and bandaged, her bone knife stuck through her belt. She nodded when she saw them.
"Delphine was wondering where you went," she said. "She also wanted to know when you planned to leave, so she'd know not to look for you."
Drizzt removed his arm from Ravenlight's shoulder, grunting a little as stiffened muscles objected to being used. "Ah—ouch. We were out here all night, weren't we?"
"Looks like it." Ravenlight stood and helped him up. She was more used to sitting and waiting for hours at a time, and wasn't so stiff. Then she looked over at the girl. "We'll probably leave in about an hour. By the way, do you have a name?"
The girl hesitated, then shook her head. "No. And—and that's why I came to find you." She took a step forward, her fierce green-brown eyes locked on them. "The others are having Delphine and Esbern name them. And that's fine. But I wanted—I wanted…" She took a deep breath. "You two are the ones who freed us," she said. "You killed the hagraven and the Briarheart. I want—I want you to name me."
Drizzt and Ravenlight exchanged glances. Then all three looked up as the shrill cry of a hawk rang out overhead, and both spoke at the same time.
"Hawk."
"What?" The girl lowered her eyes, obviously startled.
"Hawk," repeated Ravenlight. "For a name. Do you like it?"
"I…" She considered. "Yes. But…why Hawk?"
The Wood-Elf chuckled a little. "For starters, you look rather like one: fierce and ready to fight if you must, with bright, keen eyes, and a wild beauty. For another, there's very much a sense that you belong to the wilds, like a hawk."
The newly-christened Hawk smiled. "I—in that case, I-I like it." She smiled at them, then blushed, wheeled, and dashed back into the temple.
Drizzt chuckled. "I don't think you need to worry about the children," he said, glancing at Ravenlight. "It looks like Delphine and Esbern have them well in hand."
She smiled. "Looks like that to me, too," she agreed. "Good to let that weight off my shoulders, too."
The farewells were mercifully brief. Delphine and Esbern were busy with sorting out the temple and finding tasks for the children. Drizzt simply called out that they were going, and then waited by the exit. Ravenlight, however, stopped by Delphine.
"I'll be back to let you know what we find," she said. "I don't know when, but I will be back to let you know."
Delphine nodded. "All right. I don't think I'll have time to worry, not now." She bent over and picked up the naked three-year-old, who'd been wrapped up in a fox pelt she'd had in her pack. "We need to make a run to Markearth and get you some clothes," she said, tickling his neck until he giggled. "Divines watch you on your path, Ravenlight."
Ravenlight bowed slightly. "And yours, Delphine."
"So," Drizzt asked as Andahar cantered along the road, "what's the quickest way to High Hrothgar?"
Ravenlight chuckled a little. "Through Whiterun, then on toward Riften. You've seen where it is, I can assure you."
He glanced over his shoulder at her, lifting an eyebrow. "I have?"
"You can't exactly miss it. High Hrothgar is on the Throat of the World—the tallest mountain in Skyrim. We skirted around it on our way to Riften."
"Ah, I remember now." It had been rather hard to ignore. "So why the stop in Whiterun?"
She chuckled dryly. "Besides the chance to sleep in a bed I don't have to pay for? I need a new bow, and better arrows. My current one just isn't powerful enough to take on what we've started facing."
Drizzt grimaced, remembering the Daedroth. "Hopefully we won't meet conjurors summoning Daedroth very often."
"I share that sentiment," Ravenlight muttered. "Once in a lifetime's enough for me. I'll let someone else do the Daedra hunting. I've enough on my plate with being Dragonborn; I don't need to emulate the Hero of Kvatch as well."
"Who?" Drizzt looked at her blankly.
"Oh—that's right." Ravenlight ran a hand through her hair sheepishly. "I keep forgetting you don't come from this world. The Hero of Kvatch was the one who went up against the Mythic Dawn during the Oblivion Crisis; the one who helped Martin Septim. The songs speak a lot of the Oblivion Gates he closed—portals into the realm of Mehrunes Dagon. He had to have been good at killing Daedra for that; the Gates were swarming with the beasts." She shook her head. "A particularly good bard came by our village once when I was about ten, and he told several lays of the Hero of Kvatch and the Oblivion Gates. Sparrowwing claimed he would tell the best ones after we children went to bed, so one night he and I snuck out of bed to listen to him."
He glanced back at her. "What happened?"
Ravenlight exhaled. "When the children were around to hear, he didn't embellish what the Hero found on the other side of the Gates. When we weren't around—or when he thought we weren't around—he embellished. Liberally. The fight scenes were also more graphic. I had nightmares for several weeks after that." She chuckled ruefully. "Mother was not exactly sympathetic."
Drizzt was silent for a moment, gazing at the road ahead without actually seeing it. Finally, he spoke. "Unsympathetic how?"
"Oh, I didn't say unsympathetic. When I woke up screaming about rivers of blood and Dremora Lords, she came to my bed and comforted me, holding me until I knew that my dreams weren't real and I was safe. But she would also point out that I wouldn't be having nightmares if I hadn't sneaked out to listen to the adult's stories!" Ravenlight paused, re-hearing the question, and this time catching the odd note in it. "Drizzt, is something wrong?"
She wasn't sure how he could turn away from her when he was sitting in front of her, but somehow he did, his shoulders hunching slightly and his head bowing in remembered pain. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
For a moment, he didn't speak. When he did, his voice was low. "I almost…envy you your childhood," he admitted. "I wish that the—the demons I experienced were only dreams…and that I had had a mother who would have…comforted me, protected me; let me know the darkness wasn't… wasn't real…" His voice broke, and Ravenlight's heart broke with it. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
"No wonder you…understood the Forsworn children so well," she said. "I am so sorry, Drizzt. I am so sorry."
He smiled a little. "Your turn to give comfort, then? Thank you." He looked up, this time seeing the rolling beauty of Skyrim instead of the bleakness of Menzoberranzan. "We're well-suited for each other, it would seem; solid where the other is broken, strong where the other needs support."
Ravenlight chuckled, squeezing him a little. "Better-suited than two arrogant fools who refuse to believe they are broken and need support. And probably stronger for it, as well." She looked up and smiled. "We're coming to the Whiterun plains now; what would you say to a run to clear our heads?"
Drizzt smiled. "Hold on tight!"
Ravenlight was no stranger to speed. She was herself faster than most of the horses of Skyrim, and was fast enough through trees to even outrun raiding Khajiit. But what happened when Drizzt shook Andahar's reins and leaned forward was like nothing she'd ever felt before. The unicorn tossed his head, reared back a little—
And the land around them blurred. Wind beat in her face so hard that tears ran down her cheeks, and she clutched tight with both her arms and her legs. Exhilaration ran through her veins with her blood, and she would have screamed with delight if the wind had let her.
She had only gone this fast before in her daydreams. Even the lightning-quick bursts from the Whirlwind Sprint weren't like this. She unconsciously tightened her arms around him, her eyes sparkling with silent glee.
It should have been terrifying. She should have clamped her eyes tightly together to avoid seeing how fast they were moving, the way the ground and sky blurred together. But it wasn't frightening. Andahar was completely in control, his every move sure. And the Whiterun plains had few to no cliffs steep enough to be a danger. The rills and drops that rippled the landscape were no challenge for the unicorn, any more than the variations in branch size and width had been for her when she raced through the trees in Valenwood.
Even the more ordinary dangers of the plains posed no threat: Andahar moved too swiftly. They passed right by the nose of a sleeping saber cat, which didn't even have time to lift its head before they were well past, and dashed right through a giant's camp before the giants—or the mammoths—knew they were there.
Finally, as they neared Whiterun Stable, Drizzt drew Andahar to a halt. Ravenlight was finally able to catch her breath—and that was when she realized that she had been laughing breathlessly for some time. He looked back at her, grinning.
"Enjoyed that, did you?"
She nodded, still trying to get control of herself. "Oh yes. That was fun!"
Drizzt laughed and dismounted, stroking the unicorn's neck. "Well, it's not something we'll be able to do every time. Even Andahar can't do that more than a few times a month; it'll exhaust him."
"Makes sense." Ravenlight slid off as well, patting the silky hide before Drizzt dismissed his mount. "Besides, enjoy something like that too often and it probably won't stay special. We'll take it easy on our way to Ivarstead."
As usual, the pair parted ways almost as soon as they entered Whiterun's gates. Ravenlight went straight into Breezehome; Drizzt, remembering a recent, chilly night spent under a pile of furs in an ice cave, went to Belethor's General Store to purchase his own bedroll.
It turned out that he didn't appreciate the Breton's sense of humor. But it also turned out that Belethor was glad to let the bedroll go at a lower price to get the dark elf with the dangerous eyes out of his shop without incident. Muttering to himself, Drizzt stopped by Breezehome to store the furry mat, then headed to the Drunken Huntsman. He needed to talk to someone honorable—and he knew Ravenlight was probably busy.
She was: down at the smithy, having purchased moonstone, steel, and malachite for her newest project.
The smith in Solitude was right: malachite was tricky to work. But the end result was worth it, as she tested the swing of her new sword, and the pull of the ornate bow. The balance and weight of the sword was equal to Sunfang's, but the edge was much sharper than the elven blade. And the bow had a far more powerful draw. Her first test shot against a straw-and-wooden target sent the arrow almost five inches through it—twice as deep as her current one.
And that, she thought, pleased, was with the elven arrows, rather than the stronger, sharper glass ones. She had no intention of using her expensive new arrows on anything she didn't intend to eat—or, she amended, anything she didn't need to kill before it killed her.
All she needed to do now was enchant both bow and sword. And name them. She saw no point in letting a good name go to waste, as it had been barely three weeks since she'd crafted Sunfang; she would simply transfer the name to the new sword. And it would help that she planned to use the same enchantment. But she would have to come up with a new one for the bow.
"Have you ever been to High Hrothgar?" Drizzt perched lightly on the chair by the firepit, looking curiously at the Bosmer behind the counter.
"All the way to the monastery?" Elrindir shook his head. "I'm afraid not. No one has been all the way to the monastery for centuries—save for your friend the Thane, of course." He smiled at Drizzt's surprised expression. "You think her being Dragonborn is secret? We don't trumpet it about, but we do know. The guards who saw the first dragon killed talked—and we saw who left the city after the Greybeards called."
Elrindir's eyes suddenly flicked to the back of the room, and a fleeting frown crossed his face. He bent over, straightening the arrows and quivers beneath the counter, which made them rattle. Under the cover of the noise, he spoke to Drizzt. "I'm going to ask you for a destination. Give me a false one." More loudly, he said, "So, where are the pair of you heading after your pilgrimage?"
Drizzt had no idea, so he simply picked the city that, out of all of them, they were least likely to travel to. "Windhelm," he answered. "She received a message from there while we were on the road."
"Ah." Elrindir straightened. "Business in the Grey Quarter, then?"
"I'm not sure," he answered. "Whatever it was, she wasn't pleased to receive the letter."
The Bosmer shopkeeper laughed. "I imagine! She has no love for Ulfric Stormcloak or his followers—and less for how he treats her kin. She may have some hopes of repairing some unfortunate's current standing."
Drizzt smiled. "That would be very like her. I've never been to Windhelm; what should I expect there?"
Elrindir launched into an account of the ways and customs of what he called 'the second-most frozen city in Skyrim', his words suggesting a fair amount of bias against it. But then, if what he said about the treatment of the Argonians and the Dunmer in the city was true, he had reason for his bias. He carried on in this vein for several moments, then looked past Drizzt again and stopped. "He's gone. Hopefully he believed it."
"Who?" Drizzt looked in the same direction, as if the shadows would reveal who had hidden in them.
"I don't know who he was," Elrindir said uneasily. "I've never seen him before. But he had an air that made me nervous; predator's eyes, for one thing, and an…unusually squashed nose. Hiding in a hooded black robe. He got a little too interested when I mentioned the Thane."
Drizzt frowned. "We've been having trouble with both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thalmor," he said. "I wonder if he's connected with one of them."
"Well, he wasn't Thalmor," Elrindir said, his sloe-black eyes narrowing. "I don't know what he might have been. He was eerie, whatever he was; that's certain." He glanced uneasily at the Drow. "Wherever you travel these coming days—be watchful. And tell the Thane what happened here."
"What other factions are there in Skyrim?" Drizzt asked that evening as he sat at the bench with Ravenlight and Lydia.
Both women turned curious eyes on him. "Besides what?" Ravenlight asked. "Offhand, I would say there are about three score of them—and I'm probably forgetting a few."
"Thalmor and Dark Brotherhood, I mean," he amended. "There was someone strange in the Drunken Huntsman earlier; he worried Elrindir enough to make him ask me for a false destination."
"Odd," Ravenlight mused. "Did you get a look at him?"
Drizzt shook his head. "I didn't know why Elrindir asked until the man was gone. But he gave me a description: predator's eyes, a squashed-looking nose, and wearing a hooded black robe." He paused. "Actually, Elridir said he was hiding in the robe."
"Predator's eyes?" Ravenlight's eyes widened. "Did you ask him what he meant by that?"
Drizzt shook his head. "No, I didn't think to. Why?"
Ravenlight pursed her lips uneasily. "I almost wish I'd gotten closer when I was hunting Movarth," she muttered. "Almost. Not truly, but almost."
"What?" Drizzt was secretly gratified to see that Lydia looked almost as baffled as he did.
Then Ravenlight explained in one, chilling word. "Vampires." She glanced between them. "They have what can be described as predator's eyes. And I've started hearing rumors that they're becoming more active lately."
Drizzt swore. "You think that's what Elrindir saw?"
"I don't know," Ravenlight said. "I've never seen vampires with squashed noses. But…the fact that he was hiding in a hooded robe and had predator's eyes is unnerving." She glanced at Drizzt. "What destination did you give?"
"Windhelm," he answered. "I know you hate that city, and are unlikely to go there."
"Got that right," she growled, her hand clenching around her tankard. "But…I don't know." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "If you think that man was interested enough to need a false destination…I'm not sure whether we should avoid Windhelm, or make a stop there and find out just who that fellow was."
There was silence as they looked at each other. Then Ravenlight sighed and stood. "I'll have to sleep on it; but there's no point in making a decision before going to High Hrothgar. I have to find what I can about that Shout."
Lydia nodded. "Finding out how to stop Alduin for good is more important than worrying about some stranger. All the same; I have a friend in Windhelm. I'll send a letter to him and warn him that there may be someone strange and possibly dangerous in the area."
Ravenlight nodded, a briefly nasty smile flitting across her face. "Let's let the other Tongue deal with it, if it is a vampire." And I hope he ends up with fangs in his rump.
She regretted the nasty thought the next morning. Apparently, someone hadn't been pleased about it, and had taken the opportunity to either punish her for her spite—or to give her a warning. To make matters worse, the dream had been disjointed and confused, showing her strange images: a woman in a stone casket, an ominous, mist-shrouded castle far out at sea, an old stone fortress slowly beginning to bustle again with life…and glowing orange eyes; bared fangs; bloody remains.
Ravenlight didn't wake up screaming. But it was a near thing.
"My Thane?" Lydia stood, looking at her worriedly. "Are you all right?"
"Bad dream," Ravenlight answered, rolling to the edge of the bed and rubbing her forehead. She wasn't sure if the headache was from the dream or her reactions to it. "Not about Alduin this time, either."
"Is that good or bad?" Lydia cocked her head.
"I don't know." Revenlight decided the headache was not going to go away by itself and cast a quick healing spell. "I think this one was about vampires—and I really hope it wasn't an omen. Where's Drizzt, do you know? Bannered Mare?"
"Not this time. He decided he'd rather stay here. I helped him spread the bedroll on the floor by the hearth."
Ravenlight grimaced. "I wish this house had more beds. I hate that he has to go to the Bannered Mare—or sleep on the floor." She stood and grunted. "Of course, if you're tossing and turning all night, a bed's not much help. Ouch."
"Are you two leaving today for the mountain?" Lydia asked curiously, picking up a pair of light boots that had been tossed to the side the previous night.
Ravenlight nodded, removing the teal-blue tunic she'd slept in. "Yes. It's an all-day journey to Ivarstead, even when riding, and then the climb to High Hrothgar will take most of another day." She sighed. "Gods above, I hope the Greybeards don't hate the Blades as much as Delphine seemed to hate them. I don't trust my words enough to try to calm them down."
"What will you do if that proves to be the case?" Lydia set the boots beside the bed.
"I don't know." Ravenlight pulled her breastplate on over the leather shirt. "Hopefully I can convince him that the end of the world will inconvenience him more than the existence of two people almost as concerned about the Thalmor as they are about the dragons."
"Hopefully." Lydia frowned. "But I'd be careful about that if I were you. Some people can be blindingly stubborn about what's important and what's not when their views are challenged."
