21
Itagaki's dream.
This was all as it had been, all as she remembered. Every grain of sand. Every drop of blood. The heat of the day and the cries of the dying. It had burned into her memory, seared into it and she would never forget this day.
Her liege lord, her chief, was dead. His head a foot away from his prone body, staring at her with empty eyes. Nineteen of her brothers and sisters, on each side of her, also lay in the scorching sunlight. Headless. Dead. And she, with blood drying from the cut above her eye, knelt in the sand, hands tied behind her, stared with undiluted fury at the man before her.
He held her sword, the sword her father had forged for her, with the blood of her tribal compatriots still dripping from the blade, examining it.
"A strange sword. Too thin. Too light. But it removes heads as well as a real sword." He used the tip of the sword to lift her chin. "To think you killed three of my best warriors with this toy."
"It would have tasted your blood if I had not been surrounded." Her throat was dry from the day's fighting, yet she was still able to growl her hatred at this man.
"My offer remains the same." He was the chief of a great tribe. A man forcing other tribes under his control, but her tribe had defied him. "Return to your people. Tell them to kneel before me, or I will take the heads of every man, woman and child and I shall make you watch before you die."
She looked at the head of her chief once more. She had given her life in service of that man, respected him. Loved him, even. He had honour, but where had honour got him now? Headless. His army crushed. And now his people threatened with the same fate. Her people.
Something caught her eye. Something that wasn't how it should be. She couldn't describe it. Couldn't see it, but something was there. Something not right.
"What say you?" Her mind returned to the memory. Playing out as it always played.
She had tortured herself with this decision for so long. It was her shame. She should have refused and died with honour, as her fellow warriors had, but she had thought of her people. Of her ageing father. She thought of the children.
The rival chief removed her sword from beneath her chin and squatted before her, looking deep into her eyes. He did not look like an evil man. He thought uniting the tribes, by diplomacy or war, was the best for them all, he had said as much. Strength in unity.
Her people had refused, although some had counselled hearing this chief out, and they had sealed their own fate. Join the united tribes, or have their tribe wiped from the face of Nirn. She couldn't countenance losing her friends or family. Little was she to know that in saving them, she would lose them.
"I will tell them if I have your word they will not be harmed." She dipped her head, incapable of hiding her shame.
"You have it. But a payment must be made for your defiance and the warriors you killed." Without any warning he slid her own blade into her. It entered her side, exiting through her back and was then removed. The chief wiped the blade and returned it to its scabbard before sliding it and the companion sword into her sash. "If you ride fast, you should reach your healers before you die. We are even, now. Get her a horse!"
She still felt pain from that injury, to this day. The memory of her own sword slicing into her body would never go away, nor the pain of betraying her liege lord or her people. It was this moment, this event, that had formed her pact. To find redemption, even forgiveness, for this act.
"You shame yourself, Itagaki No Sha-Aram!" This was wrong. This did not happen. The decapitated head of the man she had followed as chief was speaking to her! "You shame your family. You shame your tribe. There will be no forgiveness for this."
Itagaki looked around. She was no longer feeling the pain from the hole in her side. The victorious chief had stopped as he had been walking away. The warriors that had surrounded her were not moving, nor were the carrion birds in the sky. Everything had stopped except her and the head of her former chief.
And still something nagged at her subconscious. Something familiar, or, at least, something that felt as if she had heard of in some other time, some other place.
"I shame no-one! I saved the lives of my people!" Her hand slipped to her side. Even the bleeding had paused. "He was true to his word. My people live on. They are safe and if shame must be borne by anyone, it should be mine alone!"
"They live under the yoke of others! They kneel to a false chief. How is this not shameful?" The face of her former chief curled in spite. "They are nothing, now, because of you!"
"They are alive!" Her fist pounded into the sand. The strange feeling washed over her again. The 'something' was observing her. How she knew knew this was beyond her understanding, but she knew it. And then she remembered. Remembered other discussions of other dreams. "Who are you?"
"I am your chief!" Behind the head of the chief, his body began to rise. A sword, that was not there before, was in its hands.
"No. No, you are not." She grew in confidence. Sure of herself that she knew what was happening. "You are an interloper. An invader in my dream. You are not my chief, this is not what happened. Who are you?"
The "chief's" body raised the sword above its head, preparing to cave in Itagaki's skull, but she was also prepared. She pulled the companion sword from its scabbard, turned it around and plunged it deep within her stomach, slicing from one side to the other, twisting it and ripping upwards. She watched, as if from some far away place, as her intestines tumbled from her.
"This is my dream. My mind! My body!" She felt no pain. She felt light. Relieved. At peace. "I choose how I die and I choose how I live. I will not feel shame for saving my people!"
She fell forward, the companion sword dropping to the sand beside her. She felt the edges of her vision cloud and lose focus and, for the final seconds, she saw the face of her 'chief'. It held a look of intrigued curiosity.
She had defeated it.
ii. Öenthir.
Supposed to be almost spring in Skyrim, the snowstorm had other ideas and Winterhold hunkered down to try and outlast it. It had been two weeks, now, since they had left the confines of Onzngknd's tomb. Over a week to find a suitable wayshrine to transport from and days stuck in Skyrim's capital city while the storm did its best to ravage any hope of continuing their task.
Öenthir pulled her thick woollen cloak tighter around her, the fur hood almost completely covering her face as she tracked her way back through the empty streets to the Broken Axe inn where they had been staying. It had been through necessity that she had left the confines of the inn to find the local apothecary to find ingredients for the Argonian salve for Itagaki's wound, now almost healed. The scar would remain, but, thanks to the salve, was less severe than it would have been.
The inn was, she considered, the best they could find, but Nords cooped up inside during the storm did nothing positive for their demeanours and, upon opening the door, relishing the flash of heat from within, it was clear that tempers were beginning to flare.
"Say something again. I dare you." It was Tilly's voice and Öenthir shook her head as she wondered what was happening now. "Honestly, I'm not bothered if I cut off your balls or have another pint of mead, either is fine, but you say anything about her again and there'll be new meat on the menu."
The dark elf was stood behind a tall Nord with long, black braided hair, one hand gripping his throat, beneath his thick black beard, with fingers like a claw and the other hand holding a knife, casual and relaxed, at the man's groin. Several other Nords stood around them, hands curled into fists.
Öenthir could see Revna, sat at a table part way through eating her broth, a meek, embarrassed look upon her face and, unnoticeable to anybody but Öenthir, Itagaki stood half-way down the stairs, her hand resting upon the hilt of her companion sword.
"Let it go, little elf." Revna dipped her head and tried not to look at anybody. "It's fine."
"I don't think so. These milk drinkers ..." To emphasise her point, Tilly jerked the hand holding the knife. "... think they can insult my friend? Those days are over. She's more of a Nord than any of you lot and I want you to apologise."
"I'm sorry." The Nord mumbled, trying to lift himself on to his tiptoes.
"Not to me. Idiot. To her." Tilly tightened her grip on his throat. "And feel free to be as formal as you possibly can be, eh?"
"Revna of ... of Ingrstad. Daughter of Asta. Daughter of Adira. I humbly beg your forgiveness." The Nord's eyes tried to look behind him to see if that was enough.
"Well, don't we all feel better after that? I know I do." Tilly released the Nord's throat and moved around to his front, her knife gone in an instant. She stared up into the Nord's eyes and then patted him, with no lightness, on his testicles. "No hard feelings, eh?"
Tilly flopped down onto the bench beside Revna, stealing some of the Khajiit's bread. They were soon joined by Itagaki and then Öenthir herself, after she had removed her cloak, shaking the snow from it and her boots.
"And what was all that about?" Öenthir signalled to the serving girl, pointing at Revna's empty bowl of broth and holding up one finger.
"Apparently, Stiig over there used to bully our big oaf here until she embarrassed him in front of all his friends and he's held a grudge ever since." Tilly thought that was enough, but Öenthir's raised eyebrows caused her to elaborate. "Oh. Well, he called her a fake Nord, said she didn't deserve to wear her sword or her armour. I disagreed. The only one allowed to insult my furball is me. And you two. I suppose."
Öenthir rolled her eyes and thanked the serving girl as she placed a bowl of broth and a cut of bread in front of her. From an absolute loathing of Revna to defending her and calling her 'my furball' all in less than three months. Things had changed. Much like the armour the Nord had mentioned.
Revna had put away the Scorpion Black armour as soon as they reentered Skyrim, changing back into her intricate carved and forged Nord armour, with its fur and red woollen under-armour. The Khajiit had said it was due to the words of Dukhat that changed her mind, but Öenthir surmised that she also didn't want to draw attention to herself in the place she called home.
She paused while eating, the spoon held before her mouth. She hadn't thought about Dukhat and his betrayal in a couple of hours, now. She still found it hard to believe if she hadn't witnessed it with her own eyes. Heard it with her own ears. Her most trusted mentor, working against her. It had devastated her.
She felt her hand curling into a fist and the first itching feeling of magicka channelling through her. Forcing herself, she flattened her hand on the table, dismissing the magicka from her body, and tried to continue eating, allowing the constant buzz of the inn's common room to fill her ears and help to push away the anger she felt for the old Breton mage.
"When the storm finally ends, how far to this man, Corhan?" Itagaki had, as she usually did, moved the conversation back to planning, to strategy, to marshalling assets. "Our time begins to run short."
"It's a day to his hunting lodge and then another day, from there, to Deep Frost Barrow." Revna had called over the serving girl to refill her mug of mead. Tilly eyed the girl with appreciation but stopped when she saw Itagaki's stare. "If anyone knows anything about that place, it will be him. We are ... old friends."
"'Old friends', eh?" Tilly made an exaggerated wink.
"No! Nothing like that!" It was the usual embarrassed bluster from the Khajiit whenever anyone mentioned anything that even implied sex. Öenthir smiled but changed it to a scowl at Tilly for playing games with their friend. "He helped me when I needed it the most. Perhaps old friends isn't the right way to describe it."
"Relax, sister. The dark elf is trying to embarrass you. Again." Itagaki gave Tilly a sharp tap on her arm.
The Redguard had started calling Revna 'sister' not long after returning to the Red Spine village. Öenthir didn't know if it meant as a 'sister-in-arms', or as a more intimate, familial way, but it felt right, somehow. The Khajiit, whether she knew it, or would even admit it, was the lynchpin of their little group.
She was the first to lend a shoulder when needed. The first to offer advice, or only an ear to listen. She had stayed steadfast at Tilly's bedside when she was ill, and never strayed far from Itagaki while she recovered. She had protected them all at one point or another and, without saying a word about it, was loyal to them all. It was Revna that had held them together when things threatened to unravel.
So, yes, 'sister' was the perfect term for her.
Öenthir wondered what perfect term the others could use to describe her. She looked at them all, now. So close to ending this. So close to having the binding removed and regaining their freedom. She wondered if they would remain friends, or if they would go their separate ways. And, when she thought about it, how sad would she be if it was the latter?
iii. Itagaki.
She had stopped touching the scar. Almost. It was only a scar, she told herself. Only another story in her life as a warrior. These things were always expected. An inevitability if one lived long enough. She didn't know why it had bothered her so much. She considered it had something to do with the attention she had received from Tilly. Not wanting to lose that connection.
She had nothing to worry about on that score. Due to the storm, the inn, overcrowded, had few rooms available and she and her friends had to share a room, taking it in turns for two of them to share the bed and two sleeping in bedrolls on the floor. The night she had spent in bed with Tilly had been satisfying. Not in a sexual way, but in the way she held her tight and smoothed her hair until they fell asleep. It felt right.
The day the storm finally broke saw the inn empty so fast, they had no sooner awoken and paraded downstairs for breakfast than the four of them were almost alone in the common room. Revna, immediately after eating, what seemed like, the whole of the food that was on offer for breakfast, had embarked to the local stable to check on their horses. She seemed to hold genuine care for the welfare of the horses that had carried them so far.
The rest of them prepared themselves for the journey, packing their things and buying food supplies from the innkeeper for the final part of their journey. Öenthir left soon after to find a clothier she had seen when searching for the apothecary, on the face of it to buy thicker cloaks for Itagaki and Tilly, but more like to see if there was anything 'fabulous' to wear in this climate, too.
"How are you feeling?" Tilly had spoken to her often, but she had tried to keep the conversations away from personal matters. The dark elf glanced sideways at her as she filled her pack. "Not just the scar, but, you know, your dream?"
"I do not think my dream was as bad as yours and Öenthir's." She rolled the twin Argonian hammers into her bedroll. "It was meant to provoke me, but I remembered your two dreams. It made me realise that it was not real. But it did help me to understand myself better."
"You got more out of yours than I got from mine." Tilly looked at Itagaki and a sadness crept into her eyes. Something Itagaki had never seen on the dark elf. "All mine did was make me think stupid things. Painful things."
Itagaki did not say anything more on that. Revna had intimated that Tilly's dream was the cause of the dark elf pushing her away in such a brutal fashion. It still hurt that she would do such a thing, but now, after what she experienced with her own dream, she could understand the reasoning better.
"Look what I found!" Öenthir barged into the room, throwing a pair of thick, sturdy cloaks towards Itagaki and Tilly, and doing a dramatic pirouette before them. She was wearing a very fetching long coat made of soft leather dyed a delicate purple and topped off with fur cuffs on the sleeves and a wide hood, lined, again, with fur. "The fur is ermine! Isn't it just divine?"
"It's a coat. Congratulations." Tilly was teasing the mage, of course, but Öenthir didn't seem to care.
"Oh, pish! It's gorgeous and you know it. And ..." She dug into her pockets. "Matching gloves!"
Itagaki thought the little Bosmer was about to squeal in delight, but she stopped short. It was good to see her so happy after the terrible disappointment about her mentor. Itagaki couldn't begrudge her a little happiness.
"Where do you get the money for all these clothes?" Tilly stroked the ermine fur hood and tried to hide the fact that the feel of it was impressive.
"I get paid a stipend by the Mages Guild, as part of my job finding books." She slumped at the thought of the Mages Guild. "I suppose that will probably stop now. There's no way they'll believe me about Loremaster Dukhat and I can't go back and act like nothing is wrong if he's still there."
"There is always the College, here in Winterhold." Itagaki saw the mage's face screw up in mock disgust. "Borgun's mage, Dirgan, said he would sponsor you, did he not?"
"They're little more than hedge wizards." The Bosmer dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. "And it is freezing up here!"
"Freezing? I think it's bracing!" Revna was full of the joys of spring as she entered the room. "The horses are ready. The stable-master did a fine job of looking after them. A fine job. I love your new coat, Wen."
Öenthir rolled over on the bed, kicking her legs in the air and poked a playful tongue at Tilly. Revna had only proved her point about the coat and Tilly smiled in return. It was so good to see everyone finally enjoying each other's company after all the little gripes and petty feuds. They may finally make it as a team, in time for their most difficult test.
"Are we all ready?" She swung her pack onto her back and checked the position of her swords in her sash. "If we want to reach Revna's friend before nightfall, we should leave now."
Revna picked up both hers and Öenthir's packs and nodded. Tilly made a meal of picking up her pack, pretending to find it upsetting that Revna hadn't picked up hers. They were all ready. Ready to face the final test in this long quest. Ready to put an end to it.
"Dammit." Tilly dropped her pack and headed for the door. "I need a slash."
iv. Tilly.
The cloak Wen had bought her was thick and warm, but holding the reins without gloves on diminished the warmth a bit too much. She tried wrapping her hands in the cloak, but it made holding the reins difficult. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't. She hated Skyrim!
The was no way on Nirn that this was spring! The cold was biting, the wind made it worse and snowdrifts covered the trails that were laughably called roads, making progress difficult for the horses. They whinnied and snorted as they forced themselves to lift their legs and fight their way through banks of snow, sometimes three or four feet deep. Worse when they passed raised areas of ground where the snow had drifted into larger banks against the higher points and crags.
She felt like she would, after a fashion, miss the splendour of Winterhold. Even though she had seen little of the capital city, its sprawling winding roads with tall buildings teetering on the edge of the Sea of Ghosts, as if the city was daring the sea to challenge it, seemed lively and vibrant. Ignorant Nords insulting her friends aside, the people were warm and friendly, even to a dark elf like herself. But they had, for some bizarre reason, taken against Revna from a young age. They were an eclectic people, that was certain.
"The wolves are a bit excited today." She had heard several howls in the near distance. "We're not likely to be attacked by them, are we? I like wolves. I'd rather not have to kill any."
"The wolves are sweet puppies. You've nothing to worry about them." Revna turned in her saddle and gave Tilly a wicked smile. "It's the Sabre Cats you have to worry about. They'll tear you apart for fun. The giants will knock you seven ways to Sundas if you go near their mammoths and the mammoths think it's fun to go near travellers so that the giants will knock you seven ways to Sundas."
"You have a way of making people feel at home, sister." Itagaki watched the surroundings even as she smiled at Revna's colourful descriptions.
"It's the duty of any Nord to be enthusiastic about all things Skyrim." The Khajiit manoeuvred her horse around a deep snow bank. "I mean, look at it! Isn't she beautiful?"
If she was honest, Tilly would admit there was a stark beauty to their surroundings. Snow-capped mountains towering in the distance. Snow covered trees glittering in the mid-day sun. Snow graced ruins seemed to be in abundance. Snow. So much snow. Beauty, she decided, was overrated.
"It'll be Summer soon and all this snow ..." Öenthir waved her gloved hand in a dramatic arc at the landscape. "... will probably still be here. Just a little less of it."
"I know! Magnificent, isn't it." Revna completely missed the sarcasm in Wen's voice and they all chuckled at the Khajiit's enthusiasm about her homeland. "You may laugh, but when the Divines created Skyrim, they saw it was perfect and cloaked it in snow to preserve its perfection. Skyrim is the jewel of Tamriel!"
Revna rode with her cloak open, flapping behind her in the wind, not seeming to feel the chill of the day. Even Itagaki, stoical, steadfast and not prone to show weakness, held her cloak closed tight.
"This hunter friend of yours, Corhan, are you sure he will be able to help us?" Itagaki took a second from keeping her eyes searching for things that may attack them and glanced at the Khajiit. "More importantly, can he be trusted."
"That old fart has no interest in gold, so he can't be bought. He doesn't care about things happening in the world, so he's not a fanatic and if he was going to kill you, he wouldn't bother lying to you first. I don't know if I trust him, but I don't distrust him." The Khajiit stretched in her saddle, relieving her back. "But if anyone knows anything about Deep Frost Barrow, it's him. He's older than the rocks and twice as hard. He's been around, that old man."
"Good to know." They lapsed into silence for a while after that.
Tilly wondered if she was the only one that had noticed a distinct change in the Khajiit since reentering Skyrim. She was more boisterous. More enthusiastic. More talkative, for certain. It was like someone had lit a lamp and shined it upon her. She loved her homeland. A genuine love. Loved it with a passion, despite the rejection she suffered her whole life by its people. At heart, she really was a Nord. Proud, loud and stubborn, quick to fight, even quicker to drink. She couldn't be more Nord if she were blonde without any fur.
Tilly wondered if that was why she found herself feeling sad for her big oaf? To spend an entire lifetime fighting for acceptance, only to face rejection time and again, and knowing that, despite everything she had seen and done, no-one would even know how much she had shown the best of what Skyrim could offer. What an example of a Nord she had been. The cat, for certain, wouldn't tell them.
Tilly considered paying a bard to create songs and stories about her, only for fun. Have them tell of Revna, Scorpion Black reborn that cleaved a troll in half. That fought and defeated a dread necromancer. Revna, who faced down a giant Dwarven monstrosity. And make sure the bard told those stories in every bar and tavern in Skyrim, to drive it home to those who had pushed her away. Revna would hate that, which would make it even more delicious.
She finally admitted to herself that it was good that she and Revna had become friends. They were both very alone, usually, even in company, but Revna was a good friend to be alone with. The best.
v. Revna.
The ravine was a bottleneck, guiding travel down towards a blind turn ahead. Revna had brought the group to a halt, dismounting and looking around. Her eyes focused and intent. A few sparse trees dotted the floor of the ravine and, of course, snow drifts covered the ground.
"We should lead the horses." She knelt beside one tree, examining around the base without disturbing anything. "We have to be careful. Corhan is tricky and paranoid. There'll be traps."
With gentle swipes, Revna moved the snow from around the tree revealing a thin length of string attached to a stick in the ground. Looking back to make sure her friends were at a safe distance, she leant back and tapped the stick, pulling her hand out the way, fast.
The string, bereft of its attachment, snapped back across the ground, sending snow flying into the air, followed by a rumbling from above at the other side of the ravine. Several large rocks fell from high upon the cliffs above, crashing to the floor sending puffs of snow in all directions.
"Point taken." Itagaki dismounted and led her horse forward, looking up to the top of the steep cliff where the rocks had fallen from. "Tilly, I know it is not the same, but you must have steady hands with your thievery skills, correct?"
"Well, yeah. I suppose." Tilly sat in her saddle looking bemused until it dawned on her what Itagaki was asking. "You want me to try and disarm any traps you find, don't you?"
"None of us have experience with traps, but I assume your skills would be more useful than ours." The Redguard continued to look at Tilly, letting peer pressure mount until the dark elf threw up her arms in defeat, dismounting from her horse. "Good. Now, let us be careful. Only walk where the one in front walks."
"I can use my flame spell to melt the snow." Since practicing with the Sap Speaker at Red Spine village, Öenthir had been using her spells more often. Making rain for water, lighting camp fires, using her Mage Light at night. She seemed to be almost desperate to be of use.
"That might be a good idea, but many of Corhan's traps won't be revealed if there isn't any snow." Revna tried to give the mage a comforting smile.
They made their way through the ravine, Revna identifying traps and Tilly doing her best to disarm them as they went. It didn't help with one trap. A spike pit that they had missed almost swallowed Tilly, only for Revna to catch her arm in time before she fell down onto the wicked looking spikes below.
That was enough to make the party even more wary and progress slowed even more as they turned the bend seeing the valley beyond. Several disarmed or avoided traps later, they emerged into the valley where they could see Corhan's hunting lodge, almost dead centre of the open area with a fifty foot space surrounding it where someone had cut down the trees to give a clear view of anyone approaching the lodge.
"Your friend does not seem to have left his home in some time. Or not been here in some time." Pointing at the snow surrounding the lodge, Itagaki kept her eyes roving around their surroundings. "The snow has not been disturbed in days."
"That's not like him." Revna gazed at the lodge. There were no lights inside and no smoke trailed from the chimney. It looked empty. "He usually hunts every day. It's how he makes a living."
"Maybe he's dead?" Tilly caught Revna's scowl of disapproval. "I know it's a bit insensitive of me, but you did say he was old. Maybe he's having his drinks in, what do you call it? Soddenground?"
"Sovngarde. Maybe you're right. Maybe not." Revna couldn't help feeling saddened at the idea of old Corhan passing the doors of the Great Hall. Somehow she didn't think he had. She couldn't quite put her finger on why. She knew, somehow, he was still kicking around. "We should still move carefully. Dead or not, he'd have left a few surprises in his lodge for any visitors. Welcome or not."
"You could wake the dead with all the noise you make." The voice came from behind.
Itagaki was first to react, her long sword was already sweeping in an arc before anyone else had even begun to react, but even she was too slow. Before she had even brought her sword to bear upon the newcomer, she found a spear tip pointing at her throat.
The man holding the spear was a curious vision. About as tall as Revna, or a little shorter, he wore old, worn, furred leather armour that seemed a couple of sizes too big for him. His skinny, lithe arms held the spear with confidence and bright, intelligent eyes shone from a face framed by a big, bushy beard that hadn't seen care, or a comb, for a long time. A bald head capped an old, weather worn face.
"Corhan! You old goat! Put the spear down." Revna's heart sang to see the old man was still very much alive. "Is this any way to greet visitors?"
"Depends on the visitors." With reluctance, Corhan lowered his spear but kept his eyes on Itagaki until she sheathed her sword. She, likewise, didn't take her eyes from him. "I suppose you'll be wanting some supper? Bloody people. Always disturbing an old man."
Corhan, without giving any sign of an invitation, proceeded towards his lodge, muttering to himself. He stopped at one point, scratched his head, poked the snow with the butt of his spear and then, with great care, made a wide step over where he had poked, before continuing on.
Revna looked at the others who all stared at her with the same questioning looks. She shrugged. What could she say that the old man hadn't shown in such a perfect fashion? He was a mad old coot, but he was good at what he did.