Author's Notes: I'm merging this tale into one long entry under the title of Fire in the Sky, as I believe this will make it easier for new readers to find previous chapters and get caught up. It's also easier for me to keep track of views/reviews and whatnot.

Fire in the Sky
Book II: Irons in the Forge
Chapter One: A Fast One

well, then can I roam beside you? I have come to lose the smog
and I feel myself a cog in something turning
and maybe it's the time of year
yes, said maybe it's the time of man
and I don't know who I am but life is for learning
—"Woodstock" by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

24th Evening Star, Year 188 of the Fourth Era

Daggerfall Kingdom, High Rock

Côme didn't know the Redguard woman, but it didn't matter: when those vibrant green eyes filled with fear, he knew what she had seen. But they also held confusion. She had no idea who they were, and thus he hoped that she could be reasoned with and no more lives would be lost by his hand that day. He was not one to believe that such things could be washed away by the New Life Festival, no matter what the priests said to confessors in the moment before they turned away and called the guards.

She squeaked, throwing her hands up, and Côme saw Caïn's hands rise as well; sensed the magicka focusing in his brother's palms.

Mara, guide me, he thought, and rose from his crouch over the body. It took only a nudge at Caïn's elbow to send the lightning bolt off prematurely, and it dissipated into the sweet Iliac Bay air.

The Redguard woman took a huge gulp of air and backed away, but caught her leather boots — she was dressed as an adventurer or mercenary — on the edge of the cobblestone path. She fell with a whump and a cry.

Côme glanced back to Caïn, who was cycling between anger, relief and shock.

"What on Nirn has gotten into you, Caïn?" he said, surprising himself with his volume. He felt his throat protesting from the strain. He never yelled.

Caïn settled on a combination of shock and anger. His mouth twisted as he spat, "She'll turn us in! And what is that—" he thrust an almost accusatory finger at the charred body lying in the grass, "—if not a murder victim in the eyes of the law?"

"Self defense!" he cried, gesturing wildly. "We had no choice — he had no intention of bringing us back alive so we could explain!" He could tell Caïn was winding up for a retort, so Côme brushed past him and approached the woman. Slowly — she was backing up, still looking terrified. Her longbow scraped across the cobblestones. He tried to smooth out his features, look friendly, but he was still shocked himself by what he had done, and how he had gotten so far from home in the first place.

"I'm not — I won't tell anyone — please," she gasped, stopping abruptly as her longbow got stuck in a gap in the road.

"It's okay. We won't hurt you," he said softly. His throat still hurt a little from raising his voice. He glanced back at his stony-faced brother, who huffed and crossed his arms. How did we turn out so different...? "I'm Côme. This is my brother, Caïn. And — well, this looks really awkward, doesn't it?" He paused, sighed, thought about how to phrase it. "I can explain, but you have to promise you'll let me first. Just hear us out."

"Côme!" Caïn burst out, apparently scandalized that his twin had told her their names.

"Hush. She may be able to help us. Just — don't be a barbarian." It had been a point of reference for them, growing up. Don't be a barbarian. Don't be those people. He wondered how barbaric the nobility of Daggerfall looked from the perspective of 'those people' in turn.

He held out a hand. Those green eyes studied him, the face they were set in unreadable, then the woman abruptly thrust her hand in his and used him as leverage to get up from the road.

She stood there a moment after letting go, brushing at her armor. "Very well, I shall listen. Suppose I have to, though thank you for making it seem I have a choice in the matter."

"You always have a choice," Côme said quietly, looking at his hands. From whence the fire came.

The Redguard cocked her head, but she held her hand out, glancing between him and Caïn, who kept his distance. And when he took it, she firmly shook his hand. She wasn't afraid of the destruction his hands had wrought not ten minutes before? Not then, anyway.

"To each their own," she said. "My name is Zahra."

~*~o~*~

3rd Frostfall, Year 201 of the Fourth Era

Hjaalmarch Hold, Skyrim

"Côme?" came the inevitable whisper.

He hummed, letting Zahra know he was awake, but did not open his eyes or move. He was in no danger of falling asleep; the wind howled so loudly outside their commandeered shelter that he was on constant alert. He was okay going without a night's sleep — the night before had been spent in the Moorside Inn, and if the beds were narrow and rickety, at least they were better than Ustengrav's stench of death. And far better than a dome in the ruins of Labyrinthian, with the frost trolls, as he was finding out that night. He'd long become accustomed to dozing while walking if necessary, so he'd make up the sleep later. He was reminded again how far he had come, as it seemed a lifetime ago that he scorned anything less than feather beds every night. From minor nobility in High Rock to fugitive to... well, whatever he was now. Friend of the Dragonborn. Not that spoiled child any more.

"Do you feel that?"

He opened his eyes, though it made little difference until he rolled over and sat up. He found Zahra's eyes across the campfire, where she had been on watch. Arrows and parts of arrows were scattered about her, along with her precious bow and quiver; she'd been making sure her arrows were "balanced," whatever that meant. He didn't know archery and thought that all the work required to have just one shot, let alone many, was tremendous and unmanageable. But, he supposed, magic would seem strange to someone who didn't know it, as well. "Feel what? Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I can't— it's like a pulse, in the earth." She was unsettled, he could tell even in the low light.

"In the earth...?" he repeated, looking down at the ground as if that would help.

Zahra's voice shook. "Tell me I'm not going crazy. It's bad enough that the dragons— well, it's bad enough already." She set aside the sinew she had been holding and placed her palm flat on the ground. Then she abruptly shifted and shoved her bedroll out of the way so she could lie with her ear pressed to the permafrost. "It's something like... a voice? A voice from the earth..."

"No," he said slowly, remembering where they were. "A voice from Labyrinthian."

She rocketed to her feet so fast she tripped over her own bow and fell back again, slumping against the dome wall behind her. "Côme, I heard it." She was shaking like a leaf in a gale, her brilliant green eyes unfocused. "I heard it. It's—" she cut herself off, swallowed hard, then... her voice changed. Deeper, an ancient malevolence. "Dovahkiin, ruz? Hi mindok nid, mal kiir. Hi dreh ni orin mindok veyn hi los..."

Côme was across the room and had slapped her before he even knew quite what he was doing.

Her head snapped to the side with the force of his blow, and she slid further down the wall until she was sitting fully. Slowly, a hand came up to touch her cheek, where he could already see a bruise forming even as he stepped back. He could not believe what he had done.

"What...?" She turned her head, blinked at him in confusion.

His knees buckled out from under him. He gaped at her, barely able to breathe. His mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts. I struck her, struck her, oh Mara, forgive, I struck her, I struck, struck, struck...

"Côme?" she said in a small voice. "What just happened?"

A strangled sound came out of his mouth, though he didn't know what it was meant to be, didn't know what combination of syllables arranged in which order would ever explain that he had been terrified for her when that voice came out of her mouth, and he had acted without thought. "Zahra," he finally managed to gasp. His hands shook.

She reached out and stilled them, turned them over in hers to examine the palms. His right hand was turning red just as her left cheek was. "Did you... I don't remember anything." She was gradually returning to normalcy, as one who has been asleep for a long time gradually returns to full function. She looked up at him, studied him with seriousness etched into every corner of her face. "Ah, you hit me? Was I in a nightmare?"

He swallowed. "I hit you, Zahra." He felt paralyzed, but from the look on her face she wasn't taking it nearly as badly as he had expected her to.

"Why?"

"You were... you said you heard something, under the ground. You were trying to listen for it. Then you started speaking a strange language, in this voice, and it scared me to death, Zahra. I'm so sorry."

"Oh." She dropped his hands, blinked, cocked her head in a way that reminded him of when he was nineteen and they had met near the border with Wayrest so many years ago. Her brow furrowed, and she nodded firmly. "In that case, thank you." She got up, leaving him kneeling on the ground as she started to pack up her things.

"What are you doing?" he asked, getting up slowly and brushing at his knees where the cold of the ground had gotten through his robes to his skin. He had been taught, had it drilled into him, to never, ever, hit a woman. Perhaps he hadn't come so far in some respects.

"It's okay, I understand. You did what you had to do to get me out of it. That said, I really don't want to stay here. There's something evil about this place, there was even before I went crazy." She smothered the fire, which had been burning out anyway, drenching them in darkness. "From the way it sounds it'll be a biter out there. We'll camp in the first available spot away from the ruins. Plenty of pines around here. Shouldn't be hard to find a big one to sit under." She handed him his pack, bedroll attached, and led the way out of the ancient city.

~o~o~o~

Frostfall bore its name well: winter brushed icy fingers across the little ponds and streams of Whiterun Hold; and, in the mountains above Hragyeva, the termination dust crept ever closer. The grass, formerly as lush as a king's carpet, broke under their feet and was brown even where it was not frozen white. Bears roamed in abundance to store up their bellies for the winter; she and Côme pointedly avoided caves and hollows in the mountainside. Bugle calls echoed down the valleys and across the plains: the elk were rutting. They ran across two dead males on their way down the steep valley to Silent Moons whose antlers were caught together, forever. They had tangled to show their dominance to each other, to try to outmatch their rival, and all it got them was a slow death by starvation. A sabrecat was scavenging the carcasses as the two humans passed by under the light of the moons. Zahra felt Mirmulnir tugging at his bonds within her in that moment, cruel victory and pride welling through the wall she had put up between his treacherous soul and hers. The feeling continued well after they had passed the sabrecat and its meals, when Silent Moons was in sight.

Briinah... Zinaazdrem rumbled from somewhere else, adding exhaustion to the torrent of foreign emotions battering her, until Zahra couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up!" she half-screamed-half-Shouted, startling Côme so badly he stumbled back, casting a lightning cloak on instinct. Rabbits fled in terror, birds burst to the sky, the ground trembled — with her Voice, Nirn itself had to submit to her will...!

Mirmulnir laughed within her, and she screwed her eyes shut and breathed deep shuddering breaths through her mouth. "Gods— Kynareth: if this is a blessing then I must endure it..." she mumbled, doubled over like she had run for miles. She knew Côme had heard her by the look on his face when she straightened up, but he didn't not hesitate to shed the spell-aura and embrace her. He rubbed her back, and she let him comfort her, but she was dry-eyed and silent the rest of the journey. She knew it was something that would be discussed when she wasn't around; she also knew there was nothing they could do but offer their shoulders to lean on.

And they would. She knew her friends well.

They spent the night after at Silent Moons Camp, which had not been repopulated since Tac had gone to slaughter the bandits nearly a month before. Zahra hoped he was back from his mad venture when she and Côme arrived home; she missed that special kind of nonchalance he possessed. She did not dare to dwell on the possibility that he wasn't somewhere, wearing that cracked grin proudly.

Silent Moons was just close enough to Hragyeva that they arrived in time for breakfast on the 5th. She could smell János' cooking through the little windows, which were thrown open to let in the crisp air. She sighed in relief as she nudged open the door — Racial Phylogeny was once again sitting neatly on the chair outside, and Zahra took a moment to smile at the book's reassuring presence — just to be immediately engulfed in Tac's warm, sandalwood-scented hug. Here was home. Here was the heart.

No one mentioned the fading bruise on her cheek, though she was sure János at least had figured out where it had come from. Eggs and bacon were marvels after the road fare (and Jonna's overspiced stews), perfect for laughing and staring stories over. Tac was eager to share the story of his encounter with a Daedric Prince again — from Caïn's eye-rolling, the tale had been told enough times to gain many embellishments — and show off his fancy flaming sword. Côme smiled and said it would have come in handy on their adventure, and then of course that tale had to be told. Zahra leaned back, letting Côme be the center of attention for once.

He told the bloody tale, from rumor to resolution, and told it in such a way that Zahra herself would not believe that there was more to it, had she not been there. He deliberately left out Zahra's personal stake — though he had obviously known of it — and kept her grief between them, her reservations. He kept quiet about her anger at Ustengrav and her weakness at Labyrinthian and her break at Silent Moons. What he did tell, though, was what she would have been wary of saying had she been him.

"You were turned?" Caïn said, gagging. He looked horrified.

Oh yes. That little adventure.

Côme narrowed his eyes. "Briefly, yes. I was lucky enough to wake up before it set in fully. I woke cold a few hours after Zahra dragged me out of that hole, and I knew what had happened. Luckily there was an alchemist in town, and she brewed me a cure disease potion before I became a vampire."

There was more to it than that, but Zahra didn't say a word. He was a loyal friend and the issue was resolved. She wouldn't betray his trust, or beat a dead horse.

Caïn stared at his empty plate. "You're never going up against them again," he said quietly.

Maea rolled her eyes, and reached over to smack Caïn on the head. "Oh, do shut up. It's not like you can see them coming most of the time. And," she stayed perfectly prim as János, Briarlin, and even Tac stared dumbfounded at her, "you can't order him around, anyway."

The table relaxed while Caïn grumbled, and Côme continued. Eyebrows were raised in disbelief as Côme revealed that he had been made Thane, but after he had explained that it didn't come with a housecarl and Hjaalmarch was so poor Idgrod had nothing else to give but a title, everyone shrugged and congratulated him.

And then they came to the crux of it.

"Someone just stole it?" Tac said, dismayed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"But why?" Maea, in that disgusted voice of hers.

"Let me say it again, and if someone hits me they're getting a handful of flame cloak. It's. A. Trap."

"I said it first, you idiot."

"And yet I got hit instead of you."

While Maea and Caïn bickered, János looked up at the ceiling, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Riverwood... Riverwood..."

"What, János?" Zahra knew he had thought of something.

"It's just a weird place, is all. Few people have been coming through there since Helgen was destroyed, so any visitors in town are going to stick out like a dragon's tongue bush on the Throat of the World. No, what I'm wondering is if it's a local."

"A local? Who would—"

Tac's chair, previously tipping back precariously on two legs as the man got more and more bored, suddenly slammed back down on the floor with a thunderous smack. "Delphine! Of course!" he shouted, clapping his hands together in glee.

"What?" said Zahra automatically. Then it hit her. Delphine. She didn't think Tac had recognized the pseudo-innkeeper in Farengar's study; but the man was continually surprising her anyway. The woman had been in leather armor when they met for the second time; she was pretty good at the innkeeper act, but Zahra was even better at remembering voices, and she knew the stance of a born fighter when she saw it. Delphine had already proven to be a meddler; who was to say she couldn't have gone through Ustengrav just for... whatever plan she had? And, she owned the inn specified in the note.

Zahra had a sinking feeling this whole Dragonborn business was about to get a lot more complicated.

~o~o~o~

And it was.

Zahra made the relatively short trip to Riverwood with Maea and Briarlin by her side. She would have liked to take János as well, but was wary of leaving Tac alone with just the twins to keep an eye on him. Maea and Briarlin covered her bases well enough. The manmer may have been abrasive and pompous, but she was also extremely useful in a fight with her frost magic and healing, and quick of wit as well. She could sniff out a rat and identify fishy business from halfway across Skyrim, it seemed. As for the Bosmer, it was good to have another archer around, and Briarlin's amused eye-rolls certainly helped ease the tension she felt when Maea wouldn't shut up. He was the best of listeners, easygoing without being annoying.

Zahra nudged open the door to the Sleeping Giant late that morning. The bard nodded to them and went back to his lute. A young Imperial woman was sitting across from him as he played, and she turned as the door closed. Her eyes alighted on Briarlin, appraising, then she went back to fawning over the bard.

Zahra caught the look that went between Maea and Briarlin, but decided it was none of her business.

Just then, Delphine approached, blue dress on, broom in hand, looking the ordinary innkeeper but for her hard eyes. "Here to rent a room?"

Zahra huffed, unwilling to play the charade. "Come on, Delphine, you know who I am and what I need."

The Breton's eyes narrowed dangerously. "No," she bit out, "I don't. Are you here to rent a room?" Her tone said there was no getting around the question; Zahra would have to supply the code.

Well, Zahra wasn't about to bow down to someone who played games with her. She felt her lip twitching, but she tried to keep her face as still as possible when she reached into the pocket in her leather cuirass and produced the note. It had been crushed in Zahra's hand as she left Ustengrav, later rescued by Côme and carefully flattened so the ink wouldn't smudge any worse. As it was, the words had bled a bit, but obviously Delphine recognized the writing when Zahra showed it to her.

Delphine ground her jaw quite noticeably as she lowered her voice and said, "Very well. Follow me." She propped the broom up against the counter where the bemused barkeep stood staring openly at them, and fished a key out of her pocket to unlock a door on the right side of the inn. It opened to an ordinary-looking room, if twice the size of the one Zahra and Tac had rented after retrieving the Dragonstone. "Shut the door," Delphine ordered when all of them were inside.

Brairlin, closest to the door, didn't move, but his eyes flicked over to watch Zahra. Maea folded her arms over her chest and stared Delphine down.

Zahra nodded, and only then did Briarlin do as Delphine had bid.

"You look... different from the last time I saw you."

While she didn't know quite what the other woman referred to, she wasn't about to give anything away. "As do you, Delphine."

"Yes, well—" She wouldn't have appeared uncomfortable to the untrained eye, and thus Zahra knew that this "innkeeper" was much more dangerous than anyone could've thought to look at her, herself included. "—I believe you wanted this?" She produced something wrapped in cloth from her dress and held it out for Zahra to take.

Zahra unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a small horn, carved from the ivory of an an animal she didn't know, with runes that reminded Zahra of the carvings on the walls in Bleak Falls Barrow and at Eldersblood Peak encircling it. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Now she could get back to the Greybeards and— Wait a minute. "What do you want, Delphine?" She kept her voice low and even, not wanting to sound accusatory though it would be so easy to.

"Wait. Not here. The walls are too thin."

Zahra rolled her eyes, and was not as surprised as Delphine probably would have liked when the blonde opened up the secret room. But she followed her down the stairs into a well-stocked basement, complete with a rack of strange-looking weapons, an arcane enchanter, an alchemy table, and a shelf filled with potions and books. A table sat in the middle with a large map of Skyrim, an open book, a quill and inkwell, and a sheet of parchment on it. This last item appeared to be an outline of Skyrim's border with black circles and crosses inside it, marking... something.

Delphine went around the table and leaned over it, bracing her hands on either side of the large map and staring Zahra down. "So the Greybeards think you're Dragonborn, eh? I certainly hope so."

"I'm not sure if I believe you when you say you'd like it to be me. Or is that not it?" Zahra's gaze kept wandering back to the parchment. What could those marks possibly mean?

The Breton snorted ungracefully. "It's nothing personal. Most any Dragonborn would be welcome at this point. We've been looking for someone like you for a long time. I suppose it's good that you happen to be an archer, though."

"Someone like me? Hmm." She turned the mystery over in her mind. 'We.' A group looking for a Dragonborn...

"Well? You've given the Horn back. Surely there is some reason you've forced us to go marching halfway across Skyrim?" Maea butted in, hands on her hips and brimming with the kind of fury only five-foot manmer with righteous-indignation-by-proxy could summon.

Delphine glared, but took a breath and launched into her speech. Zahra crossed her arms, put on a stony face, and listened between the carefully constructed lines.

This cannot go well... and it won't. :)