Chapter 24

And You Will Know The Truth

"Courage is the resistance to fear, the mastery of fear- not the absence of fear."

-Mark Twain

The people of Kynesgrove are an odd sort.

When Alduin was just past their village they were losing their minds. Now that he was gone and the dragon he revived was re-killed, they immediately went back to business as usual.

Delphine and I expected chaos. The inn was empty. We took a table and placed our orders. Delphine ordered herself a cod dish with steamed potato and cabbage, and a mug of mead. I asked only for two full cups of water and a piece of bread that I did not take more than a few bites of.

"So," she said as the wench left to get our orders readied. "You held up your end of the bargain. I owe you."

I said nothing. My heart thumped dully in my chest and I was dreadfully exhausted.

She placed a large pouch on the table and pushed it towards me.

"That is the Horn, as promised. I included some extra gold as well, since you didn't up and leave with it during our travels or the fight."

I felt the spaces where my eye teeth had been before. I could swear I felt something there. Two somethings. They were reasonably sharp. Sahloknir's tail must not have left a clean break on either. I would have to get those pieces removed too.

"No doubt you have questions. Lay them on me. I will answer them as best I can."

"How long have you been a Blade?" I asked hoarsely. Delphine blinked.

"How long? I've always been a Blade. I learned our ways growing up, and I've survived much of what our world has thrown at me."

She leaned in somewhat. "Between you and me? I killed every single would-be assassin sent after me. The Dark Brotherhood, the Thalmor, and the Shadowscales all tried. Every one failed."

I blinked, and wondered for a minute if mother knew this woman, or if, perhaps, she was why mother was so secretive about her abandoning of the Shadowscales.

Our drinks came then, and Delphine took a sip of her mead.

"What is the end game of the Blades?"

She set her mug down and stared me in the eyes.

"The complete destruction of every dragon on our planet. They enslaved us once upon a time, kid. If we sit back on our laurels, they will no doubt do so again. That's why I need you. I can't kill them for good if their souls remain within their bodies."

"Can you not take their souls into a gem?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Blades have tried that throughout early history. The gems break every single time and the soul escapes back into the body. There are myths of the dragons actually cursing the gem wielder and transforming him or her into a draconic body for the soul to inhabit. Only the Dragonborn can trap them."

I blinked again. Did they expect me to steal the soul of every dragon I come across? Sooner or later the dragons will get the better of me.

"I know what you're thinking. We don't expect you to serve as the janitor for these mistakes of Akatosh. We just want you to do your part while we do ours. We are researching ways to seal away dragon souls that do not require your intervention, but it's a slow process."

She took another sip of mead.

"Very slow."

The food came. Though the bread smelled delicious (freshly baked), I made little effort to eat it. It was not due to my teeth; I had no appetite and food had been tasting less and less appealing these last few days. All I was interested in was drinking something. Water just wasn't cutting it anymore.

She sighed.

"I suppose I also owe you an apology. I believed you to be a sheltered babe when I met you. You proved me wrong. How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen."

She chuckled. "Akatosh chooses when to awaken his heroes well. You'd have a significantly harder time were you my age."

Hero? I would not call me that.

"What does your family do, anyway?"

"We brew alcohol."

"Don't tell me you're a Black-Briar."

I squinted at her, but chose not to confirm or deny. I forced myself to take the first bite of my bread. It tasted like dirt.

"What's next?" I asked. Delphine was all business again.

"I believe you'll take the horn back to the Greybeards next. So, allow me to be the first to warn you: Be mindful of them. They will teach you how to Shout, yes. There is no one better. However, they are pacifists and will want you to promise to never use your power in combat."

Oops.

She leaned in a bit. "Between you and me? I think they actually want Alduin to return or the world to end. They're fantastic teachers, don't get me wrong. They're just too pacifistic for their own good. I doubt they even know how to wield a blade anymore."

I could argue against that, given my short spar with Arngeir which ended with my blade in his hand.

"Pride leads to undoing."

She scoffed. "Tell them that. Anyway, I'd advise you to be mindful of them. Don't buy into their hug a rainbow crap or you'll only doom yourself and the rest of us to fall to Alduin. Let them down gently, though. They're quite sensitive."

"You speak as if you know them well."

She finished off her mead.

"As if. Once you're done with them, I ask that you return to me in Riverwood. We have much more to discuss and to do. The local blacksmith owes me a favor. I'll have him make up some far more durable armor for you. Consider that your reward for following orders."

I looked to the armor I was currently wearing. It took only a moment before I gave a nod. It served me well, but it needed to be replaced soon.

Delphine stood then, and tossed a few more coins on the table.

"My treat. Stay safe out there, kid."

I said nothing else, and she patted my shoulder as she passed. I stared at the bread on my plate with a scowl. I usually enjoy bread. I've lived off of little else before.

I took another bite of the bread and grimaced. It still tasted of dirt. I reached over the table to the remains of Delphine's meal and took a piece of cod.

Dirt. The potato? Dirt.

The cabbage? More dirt, though granted I've never liked cabbage.

I decided to get myself up and approach the innkeeper. I intended to ask if there was a doctor in town I could talk to.

Instead my legs buckled under me and I immediately collapsed to the floor. No one helped me, and I did not ask for any to help me. Someone could have taken the pouch, horn and all, and I would have been helpless to stop them.

None attempted.

It took me ten minutes to get myself back into the seat, where I slumped against the table like just another drunk.

I may have fallen asleep for a minute, but was stirred when someone did try for my bag. With the burst of energy afforded by my "nap" I drew an arrow and drove it into his bicep. He immediately fled, arrow in his arm and all, but without my bag.

Finally I stood, supporting myself against the table. My legs buckled again but the table helped me stay up. I forced some strength into them and trudged over to the innkeeper. I was in no condition to head back to Ivarstead right now.

I must have looked a sight with my shield arm hanging limp but gripping the bag given to me by Delphine. I only hoped Lydia was faring better than I was. I finally made it to the innkeeper. She took a step back when I leaned my weight on the bar.

"Is there a doctor in town?" I asked her in my raspy voice. She blinked.

"There was. Bandits killed Dr. Wellbrigher not three days ago."

She gave her head a shake with a sigh. "Shame. I swear he knew a cure for everything. Why, just last week-"

I gripped her wrist with my hand, and turned it over so her palm was up. I shakily dropped ten coins in it, several of which clattered to the bar and the floor below. I did not care.

"I need to stay the night. Please tell me there is a room free."

She nodded quietly, and then pointed to her right.

"It's yours until tomorrow evening. There are a few books in there, a lyre, and a spot to lay your head."

She handed me a key.

"Would you like me to wake you?"

I shook my head and turned to the door. I could feel the life leaving my legs again and I leaned heavily against the bar. The innkeeper picked up a metal jug and a cup, and accompanied me to the door. It took me a few moments to get my hand to stop shaking enough to just get the key in the lock.

When I finally got it sorted she led me inside. It was a very small room with a few books on a nightstand next to the bed, a table and a chair. Above the table was a shelf and on it rested an urn. The innkeeper set the jug and the cup on the table and helped me out of my armor, which was set into a chest at the foot of the bed itself. She locked it and handed me the key.

"If you need anything, shout."

I said nothing else, instead pulling myself under the covers but lounging against the pillows of the bed. I picked up one of the books on the nightstand and eyed the cover. There was a symbol on the front resembling a wolf on the prowl and text beneath it. I opened the book to a random page and I tried to focus myself. I tried to call upon the dragon I am told sleeps within me to help me do the one thing I always had wanted to do.

Turns out, he is as clueless as I am.

I do not know how long I stared at those pages, trying to make the words mean something to me. I just know that I was unsuccessful. Eventually I put the book aside. My chills had returned and I pulled an extra blanket over my body. I cursed whatever disease was ravaging me and I uttered my nightly prayers asking to be spared torment should I not survive until morning.

With that, I shut my eyes and expected never to open them again.

I was amazed when I awoke from my dreamless slumber. There was no light coming into the window and I remained dreadfully thirsty, but my fever must have broken overnight, for I awoke in a cold sweat.

I cautiously placed my bare feet on the floor and tested my strength. My legs were weak, but I could stand on them again. I spared a look at my body though. I had not eaten much in the past several days as the taste of food became less pleasant to me. I had lost a lot of muscle and looked to rapidly be becoming a skeleton. Sure enough, when I looked in the mirror, I saw that my eyes and cheeks had sunken in somewhat as well and I was pale, though I did not seem to be as bad as the night before. Black bags were under my eyes.

I suppose the sleep helped boost my body's inner strength against whatever this illness was, though it would only be a temporary boon.

The first thing I did upon standing was take the jug of water left to me when I rented the room and I drank half of it. Food was left for me on the table and I felt hungry. It was a simple meal of rice and bread. Bland, but it would do. It was still steaming too. I sat at the table and took a spoonful of the rice and placed it on the bread- I've always done this with bread and rice together. Don't judge me.

I took the bread to my mouth and bit off a piece, hoping for the best.

It tasted of sour dirt. I actually gagged on it, but managed to swallow the mouthful.

When the food hit my stomach, I could actually feel it immediately reverse course. I vomited into the first container I could get a hold of, which unfortunately happened to be the urn on the shelf before the table. Thankfully, it was empty; must have just been a family heirloom as opposed to a final resting place. Not much came up anyway.

I cleared the bile from my tongue with some water, which did not seem to bother my stomach, and I felt where my eye teeth had been before Sahloknir knocked them out. The points he had missed grew further. While still fairly small, I was pretty sure once you lost your second set of teeth that was supposed to be it. Was this another aspect of being Dragonborn?

I looked back at the plate of cooling food and sighed. My stomach was hungry but I could not eat anything without gagging. However, I knew I needed the energy to get back to Ivarstead, and so I forced myself to eat what should not have been the most vile meal I ever had to eat.

I vomited again into the only container I could swiftly reach, which was once again the urn, but I did not lose everything I ate. With a sigh, I closed the urn and put it back where I found it.

Now there was something in it at least. I wonder if they ever noticed...

I stole a look out the window. The sun had set. I'd been asleep the entire day. I felt as though I had as much energy as I was going to get, so I collected my items, refilled my water bladder, and left the innkeeper an additional five septims for exceptional service or for damages, whichever was more apparent.

I was accosted as soon as I was out the door by a man with an arrow in his arm. He gripped both of my arms and threw me to the ground, where he started kicking at me. I did my best to block his strikes, but one gave me a nasty black eye and another bloodied my nose before I could catch his foot and pull him to the dirt.

I maneuvered around his attempts at breaking free until I got to his unmolested arm and I trapped him in the stiffest arm bar I could muster.

He let out his shout of agony and worked on getting me off his arm, but I had him pretty good. With his free hand, he gripped a rock from the dirt and caught me in my forehead with it. I didn't make a peep, but I was forced to loosen the grip. That was going to leave a welt.

The loosened grip was enough for his escape. He scrambled to his feet and I mine. The man coughed hard, but this did not lower his aggression.

He had longer scraggly hair that looked like it hadn't been washed a day in his life. His beard was unkempt and filthy, and his clothes fared little better than his body. The nicest thing he had was a scarf, which looked either newly purchased or made or both. The man himself was a walking skeleton.

I recognized the arrow in his arm.

"Serves you right for trying to steal from me," I said.

"I was desperate. That wasn't personal."

He charged me again and I ducked a punch and trapped his other arm with my own.

"But this is," he said.

He escaped my grip and kicked me hard in the gut, but the pain was of little consequence. The air did not escape my body thankfully.

I was surprised by this man to say the least. He looked half dead and my arrow remained wedged in his arm, yet he fought through the pain like an expert. Neither of us drew blades, and he gave as well as he got.

I charged him one more time. He had a rock in hand and I had my shield up, expecting him to throw it. When he didn't, I went with a swing at his head.

He did the same with the rock. We hit each other in the head simultaneously, and crumbled.

I awoke several hours later in a daze. My helmet, already badly abused and poorly kept, did not provide enough protection from that attack. It was the least of my concerns though. I seemed to be in a shallow grave with dirt being shoveled over my body.

I threw my hand up with great force, scaring the gravedigger. I sat up and eyed him.

"Do you not know how to take a pulse?" I asked. It was the man I'd been fighting with. He coughed into an arm and shrunk away from me while doing so. When he finished coughing, he slowly looked back at me.

"You looked of the dead. Pale as the snow and cold as it too. I figured you were all in."

I pulled myself to my knees, and the man offered me a hand to get up. I took it and inspected myself for anything missing. Everything was in order. He'd planned to bury me with my shield over my body.

"Sorry. I thought you'd died. The rule in Kynesgrove is shallow burial with a wooden marking."

He gestured to my grave marking, which was simply two sticks tied together with words carved in them. He coughed again.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"Here lies an unknown warrior."

I felt at my head. Other than a lump and a headache, I didn't feel too much worse for wear. I was groggy again and I felt more numb than anything else. My body was on pins and needles, as though my blood was not flowing. I felt my neck, and my pulse weakly responded with a steady beat.

I looked to the man. He didn't seem like he wanted to fight anymore. Blood had dried at his nose and he had two black eyes in addition to the arrow in his arm. He coughed.

"Why did you try to take my goods earlier?"

He looked past me to the path out of Kynesgrove.

"I am try-"

Whatever he had meant to say was interrupted by another coughing fit. He turned away from me and stumbled away while coughing.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"No," he said when he was able to again. "No. I just want to get back to Ivarstead, but I've got no money to my name for a coach. It's where I was born. It's only right if that's where I get buried."

"I too am going to Ivarstead."

"To die?"

I gave a shrug. "Maybe."

"We're all going to die one day. That's what makes life great."

I gave a nod.

"Do you want to go with me to Ivarstead?" I asked. "We may as well travel together."

He coughed. I offered him my bladder of water. He declined.

"I can't pay you, kid. I have nothing to give you."

"I'm going there anyway. It makes little difference to me," I said. The man was silent for a few moments.

"Might do better if this damned arrow is removed. Can you give me a hand with that?"

I gave a nod. He sat down next to my grave and extended his arm to me. This was a skill I'd been taught by my people, not by mother. One of the helots was given a live arrow for a training session one day and I was tasked with removing it from my friend's leg while the other trainees beat the helot to death.

First, I poured a bit of water over the wound. It had long since scabbed over. I moved the arrow a bit to break up the scabbing and then snapped it fairly close to the flesh. I left myself enough to maneuver, but it would be easier to move now.

He swore under his breath and started coughing away from me. I offered him the remainder of the arrow to bite down on. He took it.

It generally causes more damage to pull an arrow out than to push it through. Pulling it out adds a higher risk of opening an artery on the way. Essentially, you should think of it as an insane piercing.

I started pushing through, even as fresh blood began to leak from the entry wound. He was groaning loudly and cursing through the arrow and coughing.

In spite of it I saw no sign of the arrow head coming from the other side of his arm. I doubled down on the force I was exerting, all while hoping the shaft wouldn't snap on me.

The man himself finally took a hand from the dirt and started applying pressure as well. Finally, I saw the arrow head begin to poke its way out the other side. I stole a glimpse at his face. Not a single tear or betrayal of pain. I was impressed.

Finally I got through and pulled the arrow from his arm.

He lay back and spat aside the arrow shaft, breathing heavily and coughing. When he was done, I offered a hand to help him stand.

"So, will you take me?" he asked.

I gave a nod. The man spat into what was supposed to be my grave and gestured to all of me.

"Sorry for that. I appreciate you doing this."

I nodded again, and he clutching his arm and me shuffling my feet went off onto the path back to Ivarstead.

Men die in such ways.

End of Chapter

3,700 words. And in a few weeks too.

I had a bit to drink by the last third of this chapter. Sorry about that.

Next chapter Mia Tuk and Sproule skip to Ivarstead while singing "Don't Stop Me Now" and doing skate tricks like it's 1868.

Alternatively, next chapter covers them just going to Ivarstead.