AN: Well, here it is! The finale of Part 1. Stay tuned for a one-shot teaser between the time Part 1 ends and Part 2 begins. Be sure to "follow" my profile in order to get an alert for future story postings.
As always, comments/critiques/reviews are always welcome either publicly or privately. When those of you who are playing catch-up finally get to reading this chapter, please let me know what you thought of the story as a whole! Also, take the opportunity now to ask questions – I will answer them in an Author Note in the teaser chapter (but will not give away spoilers!)
Many thanks to my beta-readers/consultants timeywimeyspaceywacey and KiraMackey, who have been great help and great friends. Credit must be given to timeywimeyspacewacey, whose character Indis, when absorbing a dragon's soul, also absorbs the dragon's personality. I had a different idea of what would happen, but as the ideas are similar, I wanted to tip my theoretical hat to timey.
Finally, I will leave you with this, hopefully in itself a little teaser: the one-shot that I will post sometime after this chapter is posted will be called: "Dragonbane".
Chapter 54 – Disillusion
Ever since being ripped from my old world and pulled into Skyrim, Earth songs would occasionally pop into my mind – perhaps a symptom of homesickness. It happened quite often while I was studying at the college at Winterhold. I would be practicing my aim with lightning magic and suddenly start singing songs I didn't even like anymore, like "I Saw the Sign" by Ace of Base, which I had not even listened to in perhaps a decade. Not the entire song – I didn't even remember the entire song – but just the chorus played in my memory. Not even just the chorus – no. Three lines repeated over, and over, and over and over in my mind whenever that damn song resurfaced from my deep memory. I recalled shooting at the white, glowing orbs of energy to the rhythm of the song while I sang, badly, the already bad tune.
"I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, and I am happy now I'm living without, I left you – oh, oh oh oh…
I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, and I am happy now I'm living without, I left you – oh, oh oh oh…
I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, and I am happy now I'm living without, I left you – oh, oh oh oh…"
I had often found myself singing Earth songs in English to Flavia while she was nursing. It wasn't baby songs or lullabies, just songs that I liked, and that I missed hearing. Yrsarald never said so, but I knew my singing probably hurt his ears. I wasn't exactly tone-deaf, but I definitely could not sing. Why Yrsarald actually asked me to sing sometimes was beyond my comprehension. Still, Flavia seemed to enjoy the aural entertainment. Whenever I sang songs to her, I did so as if they were a lullaby, despite occasionally wanting to get up and dance to my own rendition. The day she turned one month old, I had peered into her dark, velvety blue eyes and sang, slowly, one of my favorite songs.
"Stop callin', stop callin', I donwanna think anymore. I left my head and my heart on the dance floor…."
Flavia loved Lady Gaga.
Outside of Calixto's repossessed house, I stared at the guard, who stared back at me. At that moment, another random song popped into my mind. I silently scolded the mental phantom of Ani DiFranco for trying to distract me.
Generally my generation wouldn't be caught dead workin' for the man. The song played in my mind, demanding to be heard as I lifted my gaze to the sky. Generally I agree with them; trouble is you gotta have yourself an alternate plan. I saw no sign of a dragon.
"Deborah?" I heard Aldine call to me.
"What if there were no damsels in distress?" I spoke aloud in English.
"What?" Aldine asked.
That's when I heard the roar, deep and voluminous and terrifying.
Dragon.
Dragon.
Images flashed in my mind of Helgen and of all the dreams that I had had over the last two years. Fire, destruction, death.
I ran, ran as fast as I could, forgoing my cloak which remained inside Calixto's house. The rock which I had pocketed repeatedly crashed against my thigh as I bolted around houses and down snow-covered streets toward the palace. Toward Yrsarald. Toward Flavia and Bird. I had to convince myself that Marcurio was safe, far away in Shor's Stone where a dragon had already attacked. Lightning rarely strikes the same place twice, I tried to convince myself.
I had just entered the courtyard in front of the palace when I crashed into a guard. We landed in a heap in the snow.
"Shit, Deb, I'm sorry." It was Hrina. She helped me stand. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. Did you see it!?"
"Yeah, a dragon flew in from the west, then headed south. It only flew over the city for a moment."
A southerly wind carried a roar.
"I have to go," Hrina said, shouldering her bow and running toward the south city gate.
I ran into the palace. Yrsarald was in the main hall with Ulfric and Galmar. "There you are," Yrsarald said, running to meet me and wrapping his arms around me.
"I was at that house with the history scholar. I ran after the ground shook." I turned to Ulfric. "The dragon flew south. What do we do?"
"WE do nothing," Yrsarald said sternly, holding my upper arms and glaring down at me. "You stay here. I'll round up people to get inside the palace. The stones are stronger, here."
"Yrsa!" I used the nickname for him that he told me not to, not in front of "the men". I didn't care. "I am a mage! I can help! Can arrows even enter a dragon's skin!?"
"Our guards are about to find out," Ulfric answered.
I then turned and walked up to Ulfric. "You remember. Helgen had archers and battlemages. I can do this!" With my final words I formed the concentrated ball of lightning that Wuunferth had taught me. If I didn't release it, its energy would be resorbed into my body. One, maybe two hits with this ball of lightning and I was sure a dragon would drop dead from the sky. For the moment, I let the energy resorb.
Ulfric and Yrsarald exchanged looks, silently holding a conversation about me, no doubt.
"Ulfric!" I squealed.
"Go," the Jarl's deep voice reverberated in my head. "But not without guards to shield you should the dragon decide you would taste better roasted…."
I glared at Yrsarald a moment before turning and running toward the palace doors.
"Wait!" a voice called. I turned to see Wuunferth, shuffling towards me as quickly as he could. "Take this," he said, handing me a silver necklace with a circular pendant. The pendant was shimmering a pale blue.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It will help." Wuunferth gave a tiny smile. "Now, go!"
I had made to leave, but I stopped myself. I turned to see Yrsarald, gazing in my direction, a dismal look on his face. Tossing the necklace over my neck, I trotted up to him and leapt into his arms for one final, desperate embrace; I had never felt a kiss so exquisite. Pulling myself away from Yrsarald in that moment was perhaps the hardest thing I ever had to do.
As I ran, the rock in my pocket continued to bruise my flesh as it was jostled along the way. Two guards tailed me. By the time I had reached the main plaza of the city which stood just inside the southern gate, the roars from the south had stopped, and guards had re-entered the city. They stood, stunned, looking at one another and at me.
"What?" I asked. "Is it dead? Did you kill it?"
"No," a guard said before removing his helm. He wiped the sweat and the clinging blond curls from his brow. "An orc did."
"An orc?"
"A big one. In strange-looking armor. He…," the blond guard looked to his comrades. "I-I'm not sure what happened."
"What do you mean you're not sure?" I asked the guard.
"He shouted it out of the sky…," a black-haired woman said, half-sitting on a rock ledge built into the city wall, a dazed look in her eyes.
"Shouted…?" I recalled my conversation over a year ago with Stenvar. Yelling. Shouting. The Dragonborn can shout. Ulfric can shout. Dragons and dragon hunters went together. Dragonborn. Dragonborn. There had been rumors of a dragon hunter; it was an orc. An orc was the Dragonborn.
"He was so big. I'd never seen anyone that big before," the blond guard recalled. "The dragon landed on the field south of the stables. The orc just walked right up to the thing and killed it before it even had a chance to breathe fire at him. He moved so fast. The end of his warhammer just… just crashed right into its skull. I-I thought dragons were supposed to be… practically stone, that no weapon could kill one."
"Obviously the legends were wrong. It's just an animal," another guard said, "just a big animal."
More guards came in through the south gate and stopped when they saw us. They had already removed their helms; they looked like they'd seen a ghost.
"Malfrith, what is it?" the blond guard asked one of the guards who just arrived.
Malfrith, a strong blonde Nord woman, stared at us, mouth agape. "He's… Dragonborn. The orc. He's Dragonborn. The dragon, it's… gone. Gone. Its skin just vanished. Just its bones are there. H-he's still there, now, collecting the dragon's teeth. There's a Dragonborn…." Malfrith's eyes glazed over and she turned and walked away toward the Candlehearth inn.
The group of guards and I exchanged looks. I finally spoke. "I will tell Ulfric." I was mostly relieved that I didn't have to face a dragon, but admittedly a bit disappointed. I had truly felt ready to defend the city with whatever training as a mage I had.
I didn't get far from the main plaza when another roar sounded from the sky. I looked straight up, following the sound. Nothing. I looked around the horizon of the city walls. Nothing. I clutched the pendant Wuunferth had given me, wondering if I was truly ready for this, ready to use my magic when it mattered, alone, not fighting alongside a dozen other mages.
The roar sounded again, louder, from the west. I turned, watching, waiting. Guards spread out from the plaza in various directions. Some made their way to the ramparts, ready with loaded bows for their chance to down a dragon. I walked, slowly, across and around the plaza, waiting, heart thudding hard enough to hear.
And then it came again, closer, but not close enough for me to attack. A green dragon swooped down over the city, breathing a steady stream of fire. The dragon disappeared to the east and then returned, a thunderous roar escaping its maw that shook the ground beneath me.
Gathering my wits, I brought forth my powerful ball of lightning, letting the magic recycle itself within me until I was ready to aim. Don't miss. Don't miss, Wuunferth had said. Missing would result in an enormous waste of my magical energy, and I didn't have any magical potions in my pocket to help restore it. Eternal moments passed before the dragon swooped again over the city, but it was too fast for me to aim well enough to feel comfortable shooting.
A thunderclap echoed through the stone-lined streets, and I wondered if a storm was brewing above the overcast sky. I saw the dragon again stop and hover over the north. The palace. Again I ran north, knocking over a guard as I did so. My lips were beginning to chap and my fingers beginning to freeze in the cold, but I had to help. As I ran passed stone houses, catching glimpses of the occasional wooden structure set aflame, the dragon flew south again over my head, and swerved to the east.
"SHIT FUCK," I shouted in English, but continued north to the palace, to the place I wanted to protect most.
I heard the roar above me, northeast of me.
Run. Run. Don't slip on the snow-covered stone.
Another thunderclap sounded – it came from the north, from the palace. Nearly out of breath when I arrived, I saw Ulfric standing in the courtyard, Galmar and a suite of guards by his side, loaded bows at the ready. Yrsarald was ushering into the palace a stream of terrified citizens.
I readied my ball of lightning once more as I kept my eyes on the white sky. The dragon reappeared behind and above me, hovering, roaring furiously until a thunderclap sounded to my left and the dragon jerked, seemingly in pain. Despite the ringing in my ear distracting me, I let go of my concentrated ball of lightning. The magic hit the dragon on its belly, garnering a squealing, high-pitched roar from the beast. Arrows flew, but most fell back to the ground, failing to pierce the dragon's hide.
The dragon flew off to the west, roaring once more. I put my hand to my left ear and gave it a rub, wondering what had caused it to ring. I looked to my left at Ulfric, who had his eyes on the sky. Thunder came from the west just before the dragon returned, again spewing fire.
"SHIELDS!" someone shouted, and I was instantly covered by a circle of heavy steel.
I was staring into the face of a terrified guard. "Are shields truly good against dragon-fire!?" I asked him.
"Wuunferth made them fire-resistant after Helgen," he answered. I turned my head to examine the shield closer. Indeed, the metal shimmered red, an indication of its enchantment. The necklace Wuunferth had given me was also enchanted, but I couldn't tell with what.
The shield above me disappeared when a roar sounded from the north. The dragon was relentless. I readied again my lightning ball, waiting for it to hover once more. I was standing behind Ulfric when the dragon reappeared over the palace and stayed there. I watched as Ulfric tilted his head up to the sky and thrust his upper body forward as if spitting at the beast. Thunder then vibrated the ground and rattled my bones. Ulfric had shouted at the dragon. Shouted thunder. The lightning magic resorbed into my body as I stared at the Jarl.
Wuunferth had by then emerged from the palace and began sending bursts of frost at the dragon's wings. The dragon roared and suddenly struggled to keep itself aloft; I then noticed small tears appearing in the wing membranes. "WINGS!" I shouted. "AIM FOR THE WINGS!"
I abandoned my goal of shocking the dragon to death and opted for damage. I knew a frost spell; I could do what Wuunferth did. I raised my hands and sent forth a steady stream of ice at each of the stunned dragon's wings. I heard another thunderclap sound in front of me. Ulfric's thunderclap. The dragon had started to fly away but the thunder stopped it long enough for more arrows and frost to hit their mark. Finally, the dragon began to sink. It tried to remain airborne, frantically flapping its massive, mangled wings, but eventually descended slowly to the southwest of the palace, toward the marketplace.
"MARKET!" a guard shouted. Everyone ran toward the square, which wasn't far from the palace.
When we arrived, the dragon had landed on top of several kiosks and had begun thrashing about, shattering anything not made of stone. It breathed its fire breath in one direction, thankfully away from us, but its spaded tail was a giant fly swatter, and we were the flies. We couldn't get near it.
I stood back and sent forth a mix of lightning and frost, hoping to cause both nerve pain to the dragon and damage its skin at the same time. Ulfric was beside me when he sent forth another thunderous shout, again on my left side, causing more ringing. I would have to smack him later, if we survived.
Several guards took opportunity of the temporarily stunned dragon to leap onto it, avoiding the tall fin and various spikes protruding along its spine. I held off using my magic momentarily. The guard's axes hacked away at the dragon, concentrating on its wing joints and tail. The dragon squealed. I once more sent forth magic, lightning bolts from both hands, concentrated on the dragon's head. Fry its brain. Short-circuit its nervous system.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ulfric take his white-shimmering axe into his hand, walk toward the dragon's lower neck, reach down and back, and swing the axe forward and up. The blade sent a shockwave through the dragon's body, its enchantment perhaps interacting with my lightning magic. Finally, the dragon stilled. Ulfric removed his axe violently, bringing forth a spurt of dark blood. The Jarl turned and gazed at me, face rock-steady and splattered crimson-black.
Moments later, Yrsarald arrived, grimacing in pain from the overuse of his bad leg.
"How many?" Ulfric asked him.
"Five, last I heard," Yrsarald answered him, and then nodded toward the dragon. "Dead?"
Ulfric gave a small nod, and then turned back to the dragon. Slowly, he walked up to its skull, staring into an open, glassy, fist-sized reptilian eye. Without warning, the Jarl lunged at the dragon's neck, his lightning-enchanted axe landing between two small spines. He swung the axe four times into the dead beast, eventually severing the spinal cord and neck muscles. The heavy head flopped to one side. The Jarl then swung his axe a fifth time, aimed at the head, and I wondered if this was for the number five that Yrsarald had reported. Five dead?
His anger spent, Ulfric turned away from the butchered beast and fell to his knees in the middle of the market square.
I approached the bloodied Jarl. "Are you injured?" I asked him. Ulfric shook his head. I looked around the square. "Is anyone injured?" Silence, and shaking heads. "At the palace?" I asked Yrsarald.
"Wuunferth is healing them," he answered.
"Well, good," I said. I was exhausted, anyway.
I then turned to the dragon. I had never seen one up close, and I imagined neither had anyone standing there today. Branching from the back of its head was a row of lethally sharp spikes connected by a membrane, similar to what paleontologists thought a Triceratops had, but smaller and more delicate. I stepped closer to its head, tentative, almost expecting it to not actually be dead despite being decapitated. I reached out and touched its snout, running the pads of my numbing fingertips over the stone-cold, scaled flesh.
"Viinturuth! Krii dovahkiin! Krii dii prodah kriid!"
"Voth fus Zu'u geblaaniin hin uthhe, Alduin!"
The sting I felt on my fingertips startled me and I jumped back. As I stared at my hand, my vision went white.
Pain. I felt nothing but pain. My heart stopped and started and tiny knives stung my body.
"Fus Ro Dah."
The words of my kin came from below. A force struck my body and my breath stopped momentarily.
Anger. I felt nothing but anger. "Yol." I watched the tiny mortals beneath me cower behind shields as my fire breath threatened to lick their delicate flesh off of their bones.
And then it was cold, too cold. I burned from the mage's ice-touch. I screamed as my wings cracked and ripped. The dragon-soul below me joined the old mage in destroying my ancient body.
"Nid!" I had to land. The pain was confusing and instinct led me to a large open space. "Funtaan! I have failed you, brother. I welcome death. Bring forth the mortals' blades and the dragon-soul's jaws. I will be one with Bormahu again. Meyz! Naak dii sil, dovahkiin! Mu kosiin gein!"
I was screaming. I knew I was screaming; I could hear myself. Hands were upon me, holding me, but I did not know whose. I could not see. Everything was white. Everything was pain. I felt as though Flavia was crawling back up inside me but not stopping at my womb. Something was inside me, swirling around every bit of me. Every nerve was exploding.
"Faaz!" The foreign word entered my mind and was forced out of my mouth by the entity that had invaded my body. My skin was ripping apart; my bones were shattering. My memory shot to Yrsarald, shifting into his beast form, and I knew that this was what it felt like for him to become a werebear.
I heard my name being called, but it was not my name.
"I am Shine Hammer Rage!" I shouted at those who called me Deborah. "I am a warrior of fate! I am power! I am vengeance! Zu'u naakiin hein qethhe!"
Mortal hands held my wings, keeping me from the sky. I was powerless against their grip in this tiny, useless body.
And then I saw my bones, my own bones, disassembled and naked on the stone ground. It was finished. I was with the dragon-souled one; she had stolen my life.
"YRSA!" I screamed.
"Deborah, I'm here." The man's voice came from beside me. He was holding me, supporting me, but I was soon on all fours, vomiting up water and then dry-heaving.
"It hurts," I choked, spitting the acidic mucus from my mouth. My vision was blurry from welled tears.
"I know, honeybee, I know." Yrsarald was stroking my mussed hair and rubbing his palm up and down my robed back.
"There was thunder," I muttered. "Thunder and lightning and ice…." I wretched again, spewing forth nothing, not even air.
"What the fuck did you do!?" boomed a voice in front of me.
I looked up, feeling the mucus drip in strands from my mouth to my neck as I did so. The overcast sky turned the figure standing almost directly above me into a dark silhouette. "Who…?" my weak, rasping voice asked.
The figure crouched down to meet my level and took my jaw in its giant hand. I saw pale yellow-green eyes flash at mine before I jerked my face away.
Yrsarald sprung forth. "Get away from her!" my furious protector shouted.
The figure said nothing, but I watched his feet retreat several paces. My vision finally focused, and I was able to see that the figure was an orc. An orc in dark grey heavy armor, holding a warhammer. A sword that looked curiously like a katana peeked out from behind his back. Part of his face was obscured from my view by curving cheekpieces on his helm, but I saw his tusks. My breath caught and I choked again. Yrsarald knelt at my side once more, and someone else walked forth toward the stranger. I heard whispers behind me.
Dragonborn.
Dragonborn.
"You'd be wise to stay away from the mage," I heard Ulfric's deep voice say.
The orc stepped forward, once. "And who the fuck are you, her father?"
"That's Ulfric Stormcloak, orc," a woman's heavily-accented voice shouted from behind me.
I lifted my head again to gaze at the figure before me. The orc stood still, his warhammer hanging from his right hand. Then, in a matter of nanoseconds, the behemoth lifted his weapon, advanced upon Ulfric, and swung. Still dazed and weak, I watched, helpless, as the end of the orc's massive warhammer smashed into the side of Ulfric's head.
END BOOK ONE
