Author's Note: Bit of a temporal jump, here!
Also, a note on the dragon language: I have had a real fight with how to do this that wouldn't drive me crazy or force readers to translate endless lines of dialogue. The dragon language will appear in bold italics, no matter who's speaking (Alduin, a no-name dragon, Bellona herself)—words with emphasis are underlined. When the dragons (specifically) are speaking Common, it is bold but not italicized (to imply that their speech is just that much bigger than everyone else's). Most of the untranslated dragon speech is just what appears in-game.
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"Sahloknir - Local legends claim this is the dragon buried in the mound near Kyne's Grove, slain by the Nord hero Jorg Helmbolg in the First Era."
~Atlas of Dragons, Compiled by Brother Mathnan
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My dried venison and waybread nearly went up my nose as the dark shadow shot over us. I'd flung myself face-first onto the ground before I remembered to look up for the source of strangeness. To my horror, the big, black dragon from Helgen swooped low, rapidly swinging back to the undisturbed burial mound Delphine and I had come to investigate.
I got to my knees, slipped my backpack off, and shoved it against the stone against whose lee we'd been lunching. The need to act pounded in my veins while my head screamed that I was completely insane to do anything but run and hide.
To her credit, Delphine made the approach towards the mound almost shoulder to shoulder with me. In essence, she didn't make me go first. We slipped as close as we could, watched the great black Alduin, scales winking in the sun, hover in the air, his massive arm-like wings beating the air, feet pedaling slowly to keep his balance.
I had the notion that it took strength for a dragon to hover like that, even if it seemed an easy feat for Alduin.
"SAHLOKNIR! ZIIL GRO DOVAH ULSE!" Alduin's words, uttered in a low tone that seemed to in my sinuses, infused with power.
My mouth ran dry as I watched, uncomfortably aware that at some point we were going to have to fight. Looking at him, though, feeling the power that resonated in his words…it seemed like a damn bad matchup. I felt fragile, and tiny, and not very scary.
A little lizard compared to His Dragonishness.
"SLEN TIID VO!"
"Steady," Delphine hissed in my ear, gripping my upper arm, "I don't know what's happening here. Watch and wait."
I nodded my agreement, not even irritated by her attempt to control a situation she knows little about. This isn't something to rush into. "He called the dragon by name," I translated quickly, "and…something about flesh and time. Dragons are ridiculously literal." Although I meant this to be humorous, the situation killed any amusement I might have felt, leaving me with the impression of: ain't that the truth?
"GOL JOT KREN!" The mound's surface shattered under Alduin's Shout.
For a moment there was silence, except for the mighty beat of Alduin's wings.
Suddenly the ground began to shake. The cracks in the earth of the mound grew wider, the mass collapsing inward, cratering, before our eyes. From out of the earth crawled a dragon's skeleton, fighting and struggling. Like the skeletons I'd seen thus far, it held together magnificently without flesh or sinew. Black smoke curled from the mound, or maybe just from the ground, wreathing the bones which slowly obscured. The smoke began to solidify, spinning flesh onto the bones, scales onto the flesh, until, within minutes, a very dusty, healthy-looking dragon sat stretching his neck and tail in opposite directions so his spine popped with the sound of hailstones on a roof. He beat his wings a few times, lazily, as if to shake them out.
All in all, he looked like he was just waking up after a very long, sound sleep.
The longest, soundest kind, some might say.
And yet the Rester in me remained puzzled: I didn't feel anything unnatural in the way Alduin raised this dead dragon. No swirls of vile-feeling power, no strange sacrifices or preparations. Alduin simply told the dragon to wake up—more or less—and the dragon did it. I still wouldn't call it natural, but it's more natural in some respects than what necromancers do.
And this puzzled me.
The newly-awakened dragon shook himself, then looked up, as if realizing he was awake and what that meant. Thedragon lowered his chest to the ground in an unmistakable bow, his chin almost on the ground as he spoke. "Alduin, thuri!" the dragons' voice was higher, and didn't seem to rattle my soft tissues.
"What's he saying?" Delphine demanded.
"He's recognizing Alduin as his superior," I hissed back. "I don't…I-I think he's asking if it's time to…return to power? Or a rightful place?" Clearly my dragonspeech is not nearly as good as I thought it was. Damn it all.
As Alduin began speaking, I squinted, wrinkling up my nose as I tried to translate the words. Fortunately, dragons speak rather slowly, their words rolling and undulating like...the way I imagine hills would pass beneath a flying creature. Up and down and over and over. "He says yes…and I guess this Sahloknir is a kind of lieutenant. He said something about champions and allegiance."
Alduin's next words froze my blood. He sniffed the air, then landed with a thud that rocked the ground, his head swaying on his scaly neck. He gave a fierce exhale, showing all this teeth then, ignoring his companion's query as to what had his attention, he called softly, "Dovahkiin."
It was almost a compulsion, a challenge that was hard to ignore. Part of me felt sure that if he had called my name, or put a little more breath behind 'dovahkiin,' I would have stormed out to meet him in response to it. As it was, I just felt the tug, an urge to move and to test my Thu'um. The idea of doing so, however, was ludicrous.
I tensed, promising myself I'd have someone teach me how to hide so that enemies couldn't smell me. The idea of going out there and 'speaking' with Alduin terrified me…but I suspected that if I didn't play along he'd just start incinerating everything in sight in hopes of catching me in the flames.
There was too much malevolent amusement in his voice for me to think he was being anything like friendly. More likely, he just wanted a look at the opposition. "Stay here," I muttered, every muscle in my body shaking as I removed my cloak.
"Are you insane?" A grip like a vise caught my arm.
"He knows I'm here! He wants a word. Just stay put…try to-to think of a good plan." I grunted, then got up, stepping out of hiding and reluctantly moving so the two dragons could see me.
They didn't immediately start breathing fire at me, and didn't seem inclined to do so right this moment. They just waited there like two scaly mountains, Sahloknir with his belly close to the ground, Alduin towering proudly over him. An overlord and his toady, both blinking bright, malevolent, eyes at me.
Deep in my gut a burning sensation began, a sense of distaste of being looked down upon because I was small and scale-less.
I inclined my head, "Alduin. Sahloknir." It took effort to speak up, not to mumble, and not to betray fear (or resentment) if I could help it. My body was treacherous, though: fine tremors rocked every muscle, my fingers and toes went cold. Clearly, fear would have won out over resentment. "I offer you…greetings."
Oblivion's teeth they're big! And the idea of fighting two dragons at once…
Sahloknir burst into laughter at this, as if my attempt at the speech of dragons was hilarious beyond reason, like a parrot stringing together words it knew by rote in a way that imitated conversation. He stopped when Alduin hissed softly, indicating the moment for hilarity at this puny Dragonborn was over.
Sahloknir immediately shut up…but his tail lashed as if in irritation. Not quite a sycophant, then?
Alduin, himself, did not laugh. He sat very still, except for the flick of the end of his tail, studying me with cruel red eyes. It was strange looking at a dragon and being able to read his posture, as I would with a fellow human or elf.
"So. You are Dovahkiin," he mused to himself. Alduin sniffed the air, snapped his teeth several times. He'd stopped by the time I realized he was tasting the air, as if it could tell him something about me. "I sense little of the dragon-kind in you."
Then, to my surprise, he switched to the Common tongue, which I didn't immediately recognize: he made it as sonorous and sinuous as his own language, without the excess of hissing I expected and with very careful enunciation. "You do not truly know our tongue, do you?" he asked disdainfully, smoke rising from his nostrils in little coils. . It seemed to me that speaking Common—probably the language of slaves in his day—was unpleasant for him…and meant as an insult to me: I wasn't fit to defile the language of the dov with my mortal tongue.
Nice fellow.
He didn't wait for me to answer, "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah." More smoke gushed from his mouth on the exhale, bring it with it a smoked carrion-smell.
Alduin abruptly jumped into the air, a catlike motion that nothing as big as he is should have been able to manage. I staggered back, filling my lungs to Shout at him—though my mind remained blank at which one would do me any good. He caught himself at the apex of his spring, beating his wings and lifting off the ground.
"Sahloknir. Kill this mortal."
Something in my mind gave way, a rush of hissing disgust for this overgrown worm. "Kill me yourself, coward. I'm only mortal,"I shot back, my lip curling, even as the danger of my situation remained foremost in my mind. The words rumbled in my chest.
Alduin actually missed a beat of his wings, hissing softly. Whether this was because of my challenge or the butchery of the language in which I issued it, or the gall of rattling the air with my own Thu'um, I wasn't sure, but he didn't seem to like it.
Sahloknir turned his head on his long neck to look at Alduin, as if to see how the black dragon would take the insult.
Alduin snarled something I didn't quite understand, but deduced it was the equivalent of 'bring me her head when you're done.' Obviously a dragon would have trouble with something as small as my tongue, so head with tongue still attached was second best.
Sahloknir inclined his head as Alduin rose, shooting away from us. The black dragon twisted and undulated in the air and, although I knew he was an ugly, wicked creature, I couldn't help but admire the sight. Something that big should not be able to move so easily and freely.
It also irritated me to watch, stoked the fires of resentment, knowing I was earth-bound in a wingless state.
This resentment caused the part of me that's more dragon than human, to burn hot at any and every provocation. Most notably, I railed against this show of disdain, of underestimation, or downright rudeness. If you want something done right, fool, do it yourself.
Sahloknir's invitation to 'come play' was met by fear being eaten up by a sour temper.
Sahloknir was on the ground, showed no signs of intending to ride the air and try to kill me at distance. I flung up my hands as he laughed, wrenching magicka from the air, feeling my hands grow numb. I pushed, as if shoving a great weight in the dragon's direction. The spell's release left my hands so full of pins and needles that my fingers were as stupid as if they'd been asleep.
The spell is one that Resters like to use on vampires*. Vampires resist traditional paralysis, so we use something that 'weighs them down' until they can't move. In this case, the spell found its mark: Sahloknir's left wing. The dragon yelped, realizing he'd lost the use of that appendage.
One cannot fly with only one wing.
He tried to step forward on it, but it immediately crumpled under him, as useless as if I'd numbed it. Suddenly I wasn't so funny anymore.
I was ready for his fiery shout, dropping to a knee, throwing up a hasty ward before shouting, "FEIM!" at the top of my lungs. My body suddenly felt light, as if it didn't exist, as if I were simply a collection of thoughts nestled in a translucent vaporous shell.
The ward shattered, but my semi-corporeal state let the heat and a few tongues of flame pass right through me, and no harm done.
He seemed so surprised that I was still standing when he was finished, physical form coalescing and completely unharmed, that he drew back his head and hissed at me.
No, by this point I wasn't funny at all.
I drew my sword then wished I hadn't.
Sahloknir spat fire at me again, and this time all I could do was Shout "FEIM!" again and throw myself to one side. Even without the ward, the spell to erase my corporeal components worked beautifully. It was strange to see a gout of fire passing through me, but instinct and the need to act took over.
I threw myself behind one of the rock formations as the Shout wore off. My throat seemed uncomfortably tight, a reminder that, while dragons can Shout all they like, mortal limitations hampered me.
Damn it all.
The thought made me furious and, for once, I grabbed onto that fury, drank in the strength it brought, the way if burned away fear, leaving me angry but competent. I hope.
"So," Sahloknir hissed as he lumbered forward, "the little hero can play the game."
"You can always give up!" I barked, the words rattling my lungs but not the air. "Alduin ran! No shame in following his example!"
Sahloknir screeched at me, a wordless sound at such blatant defiance and disregard for a creature so superior to myself that it wasn't worth calculating out. The sound was enough to make every muscle in my body want to lock up, but it also gave me a deep, muscle-freeing sense of satisfaction. So I can get his hackles up.
Not so lowly and not worth noticing if I can succeed in angering him, huh?
I laughed, and laughed loudly. "Is that the best you can do? Screech at me? Are you truly so inarticulate?" and therein lay the implication that lack of articulateness translated to weakness for a dragon.
Fire enveloped rock behind which I hid. "FEIM!" This time the fear showed in my voice: the short-sleeved jacket I wore scorched at the sleeves, the mail on my arms becoming uncomfortably hot before the Shout put me out of reach of harm.
I waited for the fire to stop, then screamed as the world suddenly shook. Sahloknir's face appeared, upside down, over the rock. Apparently he'd pounced on it, like a cat, and now peered down at me, grinning. His greedy eeys glowed as his snout drew dangerously close, close enough for me to count his teeth and the strings of saliva dripping from his tongue.
With another scream, this one of fury, I lunged forward, sword in both hands and drove it into his throat.
The blow wasn't on target, so it was not devastating, but it did leave a deep and painful puncture.
Saloknir gave a gargle, jerking back. It would have worked better for him if his neck wasn't craned, for the jerk smashed his nose into the ground. I put a foot against his throat, wrenched my sword loose, twisting as I pulled and, with another shout, made to drive it into the soft underside of his jaw—a target I'll probably only see once in my life.
It didn't work: Sahloknir screeched and wrenched away from me, falling onto his side, twisting and rolling as he struggled against a deadened wing and a hole in his throat.
I popped up to see Delphine, curved sword slick with blood, dancing out of the way of Sahloknir's tail, at which she aimed a spinning slash that took the tip clean off. Apparently she'd slipped up behind him and hamstrung him while he wasn't watching.
"FUS RO DAH!" I barked and Sahloknir, unbalanced and reduced to two working limbs, rolled over with a clatter of scales. "Wing! Slice his wing!" I barked, charging towards Sahloknir who was, by now, trying to get away.
I didn't think it needed to be done: I just didn't want Delphine fouling another killing blow. She was underfoot; anger seethed in my guts at the thought that she'd cost me a particularly marvelous killing blow. The dragon within me screamed that this ended one way and one way only: in death. Letting him go wasn't an option, he knew too much about how I fought, would tell Alduin all about it. Besides, he was the sort to play possum, to strike the instant I let my guard down.
A sneak.
The knowledge of this particular dragon wasn't mine—it came from those 'hand me downs' belonging to one of the dragons whose souls I already had.
I blocked it out, found it as easy as blocking my own memories. Harder to block out was the excitement at the fight, of testing my mettle against this creature, of proving myself superior. Especially after he'd been so rude.
Sahloknir didn't have a choice at which of us—Delphine or myself—to kill first. It was me, it had to be me, otherwise he was deader than dead.
Again, I countered his fiery shout by rendering myself immune to harm. His breath had become short, product of fear and pain, leaving his attacks sporadic, less prolonged than they had been.
"No, Dohvakiin, no!" he finally called, attempting to curl up on himself, turn himself into a big, scaly ball, hiding behind his wings.
It's a trick, my hand-me-down memories hissed. He'll want me close, then flatten me. Nothing fancy, just all that scaly weight rolled clumsily on top of me, crushing me.
"Peace, little hero-thing," he called, finally falling back on the Common tongue, with which he seemed less comfortable than Alduin.
"Delphine! STOP!" I snarled.
"What?" she shouted, drawn up short y the resonance of power in my voice.
"BACK OFF!" I roared, voice full of Thu'um. For once, it didn't bother me, though Delphine backed up hastily. My blood sang in my veins, whished in my ears. I had the upper hand and knew it. And this scaly worm would know it before he needed to know no more…
Sahloknir peered out from beneath his wing, the leathery veil lifted just enough that he could see me. "I can taste your Thu'um, little hero-thing, Dovahkiin, and it is strong—strong like the mountain-roots," he wheedled. "Strong enough to challenge His Lordship, strong enough to best him." The words came in a singsong, flattering tone, wheedling, even.
He lay near a large rock formation which, although small compared to the dragon, might be just enough for him to catch on if I hit him with another Unrelenting Force. He'd stick, unable to finish rolling over and, if I'm close enough, I can spring in while he flails and be done with all this.
I need to be a little closer. "That's a change of heart, Sahloknir." I announced archly. "But a moment ago I was hardly worth your time. A mouse for to torment for your own amusement."
"Ah, that is true. But you have proved your mastery, little hero-thing," Sahloknir answered, "and I am yet living. I smell the air. I feel the pull of the wind. I taste the world and know that it has changed."
His words hit a chord with me.
I did the same thing I did when Kathutet seems a little too essential, when I realize I rely on his information and insight without actually weighing it: I forced myself to be strong, to be steely, and not to feel attached, sympathetic, or otherwise friendly.
I trusted my hand me down memory more than I trusted this big, scaly hulk.
"I have no wish to return to the ground and the darkness. Spare me, little hero-thing, and I shall serve. Serve, and serve well."
As if to underscore the point he was making, he uncurled himself slowly, so he lay perpendicular to me as I moved slowly towards him, his chin on the ground, hunched and hunkered like a whipped cur.
The answer to how I could turn his cheap tactic back on him came to me in an instant. "I like the sound of that," I declared after a moment of what I felt to be theatrical hard thinking. I strode up to him, aware that if I'm not fast I'm a smudge on the ground.
Sahloknir twisted his serpentine neck to watch as I approached his shoulder.
Then, with a hiss of triumph he threw his weight towards me.
"FUS RO!" the Shout knocked his weight back the other way. Unbalanced, he fumbled for a moment, during which I took my sword in both hands and jabbed with it, sinking it as deep as I could into his ribcage, refusing to let go as he thrashed. Lightning crackled around me as I pulled magicka from the air, from my own deep reserve of it, and sent the spell flowing through the sword, to ravage the dragon's less well-protected innards. I forced the power into a ball, a ball that existed purely within him, drawing power from me, whether I was in contact with it or not.
Contact simply meant a more efficient transfer of energy.
The dragon jerked and thrashed, finally knocking me away, but the damage was done. I hit the ground hard but held the spell, body tense as the seed of destruction planted so neatly did its gruesome work.
Finally, amidst a cloud stinking off charred meat and rusty iron, the ground shook as Sahloknir collapsed. He twitched, then stopped moving altogether.
"Stay back!" I rasped to Delphine, who had moved, sword at the ready for a killing strike. "He's tricky…"
Panting, I got to my feet, checking for broken bones. I hurt from landing so hard on the stony ground, but I didn't seem to have anything worse than bruises.
I narrowed my eyes, tensing as the telltale signs of death began to manifest. Part of me waited expectantly, eager to know whatever Sahloknir had to pass on, to add it to my reserve of knowledge for fighting dragons, knowing I would need it.
The Rester in me cringed as, once again, I interrupted the orderly cycle of life and death.
I must not learn to anticipate this!
Delphine dragged me out of my inner turmoil as she came running up to me, her armor flapping as she moved. She stopped, sword loose in her hand, her expression caught between shock and enthusiasm. "I…it's true. You really are Dragonborn…"
She'll use you. Kathutet's words echoed warningly in my mind. But was he telling the truth or was he trying to taint my expectations? I bit my lip, cursing myself for having accepted his words at the time without reservation. Azura warned me that the greatest dangers were the ones I left myself open to.
"I…owe you some answers," she said stiffly, as if embarrassed about her earlier rudeness. "Don't I?"
"You do," I answered thickly before limping up to Sahloknir's skeleton and resting a hand on his bony snout. It seemed obscene to say 'go in peace, go with speed' since he was part of me, now. My dragonish impulse was the one I ended up going with, "You were a clever bastard, Sahloknir," I whispered to the bones, "I'll give you that."
I did feel better. Maybe he would have preferred that sort of remark to anything else.
I dropped to the ground, leaning against his skull and squinting up at Delphine, a shadow against the sky. I still ached, which made me suspect that bruises defied the minor healing the soul-absorption brought, just like they tend to do with Restoration spells.
Delphine took a knee before me after wiping down and sheathing her sword. I looked around for mine, then realized I'd have to sift through Sahloknir's scales to do it. Scales, I realized, that were a pretty shade of dark slate. I picked one up, stowing it in a pocket. Not to wear, not to turn into a weapon or armament, but just to have.
"I know I probably didn't pick the best way to introduce myself. But old habits... you know," she offered tensely.
"No, I don't know," I answered wearily. "But let's-let's just start over. For the sake of not sniping at each other all the way back to Whiterun."
It was true: our conversation on the way to Kynesgrove invariable dissolved into snarling and sniping at one another. She wouldn't answer any of my questions but expected me to answer all of hers. I refused to do so, dancing around until she got angry and shut up.
"That's…generous of you," and she sounded as though she meant it.
"So, who are you and what do you want with me?" I asked, realizing that my gear was waaaay over by that other rock. The gear with my canteen and something to supplement my interrupted lunch.
Damn it all.
I pushed myself to my feet as Delphine dutifully answered my question. "I'm one of the last remaining members of the Blades."
"The who?" It sounded vaguely familiar…but I couldn't place it.
Delphine winced, "Exactly. Very few people remember us at all, anymore."
"The Thalmor seem to. I'm assuming that's why they want you," I declared. "DAMN IT ALL!" I shrieked, Thu'um rattling the words as the stone upon which I stepped suddenly shifted, not having been as anchored as I thought, sending me staggering forward. I stumbled, tripped then yelped as my ankle turned under me, dumping me on the ground again.
"Are you all right?" Delphine demanded.
"Twisted the damn thing," I grunted, getting up. "Lend me a shoulder, will you?"
Delphine did so and helped me hobble back to the rock.
I collapsed by my pack, realized I'd forgotten my stupid, stupid sword, and then decided I didn't care. I opened my pack, produced a roll of bandages, then unlaced my boot. "You were saying about the Blades?" I prompted, disgruntled with my own foolishness.
"A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer of them all," Delphine narrated.
I stopped her, scowling, "The Thalmor want dragonslayers?"
"Like I said: a very long time ago," she answered with more patience than I'd have credited her with. By this point, she reminded me of a certain stern but not unkind brother in the Order of Julianos.
I nodded once, then subsided, knowing full well that if I kept interrupting her I'd never get anything out of her at all. Nothing coherent, anyway, and this time it would be my fault.
I began wrapping my ankle, forcing myself not to ask questions or insert comments.
"For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose, for another Dragonborn to guide and guard. Now that dragons are coming back, and now that I've found you, our purpose is clear again," Delphine concluded.
The relief at having purpose again was genuine enough, I thought, and evoked sympathy for her situation…although some of her story doesn't really tally. Didn't the Blades have purpose while they were waiting for the next Dragonborn? I mean, they lasted two hundred years, didn't they?
Having become accustomed to her paranoia, I decided to hold off on the question about what she'd been up to and why she bothered joining an order whose main purpose was defunct. By a couple of centuries.
I pondered this as I finished the loose end of the bandage, then pulled my boot back on, lacing it as tightly as I could, knowing the compression would help.
The last Dragonborn Emperor died about two hundred years ago. The Order of Julianos taught basic history to all the children in its care. The last of the Septim line battled Mehrunes Dagon and won, thus ending the Oblivion Crisis. The commemorative dragon statue still stands in the Temple of the One in the Imperial City.
So I've been told; I've never seen it.
"Besides what you've told me, what else do you know about these dragons?" I asked, fishing out my canteen and drinking deeply. The water soothed my throat, made me realize how hot my skin felt.
"Not a damn thing," Delphine grunted. "I was just as surprised as you to find that big black dragon here."
"Alduin," I declared, irrationally irritated by her not using his name, "his name is Alduin…and if you don't know anything about him…" I eyed Delphine. Breton that she is….and I don't know how long she's been in Skyrim.
Delphine scowled. "We'll…need to confirm that."
I rolled my eyes, but shrugged. 'Confirm that,' indeed. She lost points with me for doubting the expert opinion.
"Don't roll your eyes like that," Delphine growled, "there are other explanations."
"Name one," I grunted.
"Thalmor."
"Naturally," I grunted, snorting as I pulling out a piece of waybread and beginning to nibble it. Seems like everything boils down to the Thalmor with her. She's got a massive case of tunnel vision. How in the Deadlands are the Thalmor supposed to bring back dragons? Especially Alduin? I know they're bad news, but this is a little…far-fetched.
Then again, I corrected myself, Alduin's return sounds pretty far-fetched in itself.
Still…summoning Alduin would be giving the Thalmor far too much credit.
-B-
*I'm using the Oblivion rule that vampires cannot be paralyzed.