"Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings together, but do so with all your heart." Marcus Aurelius
Chapter XI
Luke looked around the battlefield as Imperial Legionnaires and Stormcloaks slaughtered one another. Luke glanced up and noticed a black form in the shadows of the darkening sky make an appearance. Red eyes swirled to the front of the shadowy form. The sound of thundered rumbled across the battlefield as the form chuckled.
"Foolish mortals, your deaths will serve me greatly!" a voice boomed across the battlefield.
A pulsing white light overtook the battlefield as Luke kept watch. Luke lifted an arm to block the light as the pulsing intensified until the white light flashed around him and then stayed. Once the sting of the bright light faded, Luke noticed there was nothing but white light surrounding him now. Luke cautiously walked in whatever direction his feet took him until a golden light appeared in front of Luke, which caused him to stop. The golden light pulsed with life before solidifying into a golden dragon that now stood before him. The dragon cocked its head to the side and looked at Luke with a golden eye. "It has been awhile, hasn't it Dezheim," the dragon's deep voice boomed.
Luke closed his eyes as a forgotten memory burned through his mind. He gave a slight wince and then glared at the Divine god of Time. "Akatosh," he spat.
Akatosh chuckled and lowered his head so that one eye was level with Luke's. "I see you are still a little bitter about this whole situation that you are in," the god of time spoke.
"Of course I am! Because of you, I've been forced into a kill or be killed environment once again." snarled Luke his voice increasing with each accusation. "Because of you, I'm a fucking pawn in a game that I never wanted to be a part of! Because of you, every hope I have in going home is based off if this 'Dragonborn' can save the world! Because of you, I've lost any semblance of the man I was trying to be back home! I've reverted back into this heartless killer that I don't want to be!"
Akatosh's eye narrowed in anger and he let out a gust of smoke from his nostrils. "Are you quite finished, mortal?" he boomed. Luke snapped his mouth closed. "I have bestowed upon you a great power in order to ease you into the situation that I have thrust upon you! Pull yourself out of that pathetic temper tantrum and realize that there are things at work in this world that are bigger than you are! Stop whatever pity party you're throwing yourself in this moment and focus on the bigger picture!"
"Bigger picture?" yelled Luke. "There wouldn't have to be a bigger picture if you hadn't brought me here! For fuck's sake, are all of you deities this self centered?"
"I'm not here to debate with you, mortal!" Akatosh snarled. "I have brought the Last Dragonborn into this world to kill my firstborn! The Scrolls have foretold of that final battle happening and out of an act born of pure desperation, I pulled you from your plan and gave you purpose!" A look of shock erupted onto Luke's face and the Divine chuffed in response. "Of course I knew what your plan was, do not act so surprised. I should have told you that when I first met you all that time ago, but I was more concerned about giving you the tools to succeed in this world."
"Tell me something," Luke said softly. "What's the real reason that I'm here?"
"Because I believe that you are the wildcard, so to speak, that Alduin and others cannot anticipate nor have dominion over," Akatosh answered. "And because you were seeking purpose before the end."
"What others?" asked Luke cautiously, ignoring the last part.
"The Daedric Princes are an example for one, they are less likely to make a claim on your soul."
"Even if I've become one of their Champions?" Luke asked. "I did have beast blood for almost a month."
"I meant unwilling claim, you willfully ingested the beast blood, and if it had been unwilling the outcome would've been different."
"Are you going to wipe this conversation from my memory as well?" Luke sighed.
"I will. The same provisions are still in place."
"Can you at least tell me when I'll meet him?" asked Luke.
"Meet who?" Akatosh antagonized with a mirthful glint in his eye.
"You said that I'd get my memories back slowly when I meet the Dragonborn."
"My boy, who said anything about a man?" Akatosh said as he started to fade.
Luke woke to a pounding headache and a feeling of confusion. He felt as if he couldn't remember something and that something was important. With a groan he peeled himself off of the stone bed and tried to work all the kinks out of his body from his restless sleep. Luke cast a quick healing spell and quickly strapped on his armor along with his weapons. Once he was sure that he had everything, Luke made the bed as best as he could before heading out into the dining area.
Other patrons gave Luke odd glances as they took in his golden armor and interesting sword. Luke bought a loaf of bread and paid to have his waterskin refilled. Kleppr gave Luke a quick onceover and leaned across the counter. "Are you the new Harbinger?" he asked.
"What gives you that impression?" countered Luke.
"The golden armor and odd sword at your hip are giving you away," Kleppr answered holding out the loaf of bread and filled waterskin. "There's also talks about the bandit groups that you've defeated."
"That's all it is, talk," Luke said as he took the items.
"What's the Harbinger doing all the way in Markarth?"
"Business," Luke answered with a hard look in his eyes. This must be how innkeepers get their rumors, they just fish for anything that's out of the ordinary.
Kleppr shut his mouth and nodded his head in goodbye before quickly turning to another patron. Luke shook his own head as he exited the Silver-Blood Inn. A shuddering sigh slipped past his lips as he looked up at the sky. Luke briefly closed his eyes before focusing on the crowd that was gathering across the street at the local vendors.
Luke made his way to the gate and thought about all the things he had done since arriving in Skyrim. He gave a quick shake of his head to rid himself of the dark thoughts that were slowly starting to encroach upon his mental state. Luke reached into a side pocket of his pack and pulled out a map of Skyrim. He looked for the orc stronghold of Dushnikh Yal. He found it and meticulously plotted his course. Once he was satisfied that it was going to be a straightforward route, Luke placed the map back in its place. Luke let out a small sigh and reached for his waterskin. He took a quick drink and squared his shoulders mentally trying to prepare himself for whatever trouble he was undoubtedly getting into.
After an hour of walking, Luke eventually came to a bridge and saw a ghostly apparition. He glanced to his right to see a waterfall and saw that the apparition was moving further south. Once Luke caught up to the ghost, it disappeared as if it was getting conjured somewhere else. Luke kept his head on a swivel and noticed that the ghost somehow jumped further ahead.
Luke let out a curse as he ran to catch up again. The same thing happened again, only this time when Luke found the ghost, a bear was standing in the middle of the path trying to swat at it. The bear focused its beady eyes on Luke and let out a snarl before charging.
Luke quickly sidestepped the charging beast and unsheathed Dawnfang. The bear stopped and turned to face Luke, who once again stepped to the side. He quickly plunged Dawnfang through the bear's neck and crinkled his nose in disgust as Dawnfang ignited the bear's fur. Luke pulled Dawnfang from the bear's neck and watched as the bear fell to the earth. With a smooth and now practiced motion, Luke cleaned Dawnfang's blade before sheathing the weapon. Luke unsheathed his dagger and knelt next to the fallen bear. He removed the claws and stored them in his pack before standing up.
Luke turned his gaze to where the ghost was still standing. The people at the inn mentioned that the man was a Breton knight, but from what I've gathered here in Skyrim at least, there are no such things as knights, Luke thought to himself as he made his way to the ghost once again. I'll never understand this place.
After following the ghost up a hill, walls of an orc stronghold appeared at the top. The ghost took a sharp turn to head west and like a lost puppy, Luke followed. After climbing up another portion of the hill, away from the stronghold, Luke cursed as multiple Forsworn swarmed over the hill and charged down at him. He quickly drew Dawnfang and shrugged Ysgramor's shield into position.
The Briarheart reached Luke first and quickly attacked with an axe and sword. With a fluid flourish, Luke stepped to the side and separated the head from the body. The next Forsworn that reached him took a more cautious approach before launching into a fierce hurricane of blows. Luke managed to deflect the blows with his shield, and whatever attacks he missed where deflected by his armor. He managed to lock this Forsworn's blades between his shield and body and quickly brought the Forsworn into the line of fire, literally. The last Forsworn reached the fight and launched a steady diet of fireballs at Luke. With the Forsworn trapped in between Luke and the fire as a human shield, she quickly dropped her weapons before dodging the incoming fire. Luke blocked the fireballs with his shield and winced as the metal became uncomfortably hot.
Luke focused his attention on the spell casting Forsworn and advanced as quickly as he could, dodging magical attacks as he went. The Forsworn drew a dagger and let out a blood-curdling screech as she advanced. The Forsworn and Luke exchanged attacks and counterattacks before Luke saw his opening. He slipped through the Forsworn's defense and stabbed her through the heart. The Forsworn's eyes got big before blood sputtered out of her mouth. Luke pushed the body away with his shield and turned in time to catch an attack on his shield from the remaining Forsworn.
The Forsworn attacked with a vengeance and immediately put Luke on the defensive. He winced as the sharp edge of the Forsworn's sword found weak spots in his armor. Luke stopped retreating under the blows and stood his ground before going on the offensive. The Forsworn dodged and parried as the fight took them up to the crest of the hill. She blocked his incoming attacks with practiced ease and soon went back on the offensive.
"YOL!" Luke shouted as the Forsworn slipped past his defenses and slipped a dagger in his side.
The Forsworn let out a shriek as she caught fire and Luke took the advantage and ended the fight with a well-placed stab through the heart. Luke let out a pained grunt as the motion shifted the dagger lodged in his side. Luke watched as the lifeless body of the last Forsworn hit the ground before he stabbed Dawnfang into the ground. He pulled the dagger from his side and quickly cast a healing spell to staunch the bleeding before pulling out a healing potion from one of his packs side pockets.
After downing the contents, Luke let out a relieved sigh. He searched the bodies of the fallen Forsworn and frowned as he read a letter that he found:
We've killed the traitor and given the knight's heart to the mother. She's gone back to Karthspire to perform the ritual.
We'll stand watch until she returns, and drain the blood of any knights who interfere.
Luke let the letter fall from his hands and looked to see two more bodies that he hadn't noticed before. One looked to be in iron armor and the other was in steel. The knight in the steel armor had a note clenched in its right hand. Luke took the note and read that as well:
We've received reports that the Beldama witches have resurfaced in the Reach.
I'm calling upon all willing and able knights to cleanse the land of witches, hags, and Reachmen. Remember always the death of our sworn brother, Simon Rodayne, for the Order of the Crypt, and for all of Shornhelm.
~~ Knight Captain Rainore.
Luke stood and approached an altar looking rock that had a shrine dedicated to Mara and a couple of lit candles. A steel sword and shield rested against the altar and a grave captured his attention for the briefest of moments. He rolled his neck and once again pulled out the map of Skyrim. A frown marred his face when he saw his destination. I must be getting suicidal again, Luke thought. I was told that Karthspire was a Forsworn encampment. I should just leave it well enough alone and head back to Whiterun. Luke let a humorless chuckle slip past his lips as she moved away from the grave. I should but I'm not going to.
After another hour of walking and another half hour of fighting, Luke looked down at the dead Hagraven at his feet. Luke sluggishly reached for a health and a stamina potion before greedily downing the contents of the vials. The potions helped Luke feel better, but he could still feel the fatigue deep in his bones as he approached another altar and plucked the knight's heart from it. Luke braced himself for another long hour back to the knight's grave and trudged along.
Once Luke got back to the gravesite, he placed the knight's heart in front of the shrine of Mara. He watched as an odd light encompassed the heart and watched the heart rise off the shrine. The heart floated to the knight's grave and dropped down into it. Luke backed off a couple of paces and watched as two apparitions appeared, swathed in purple light. The pair faded, leaving behind armor on the shrine. Luke gathered the armor and placed it in his pack. He looked at the fallen bodies of the other knights and buried them next to their comrade. Luke stumbled over to the fallen Forsworn and buried them as well; it felt like the decent thing to do considering he had snuffed out their lives.
With the burials finished, Luke looked up at the red colored sky as the sun began its descent. Luke let out a sigh and made his way to the orc stronghold. He was met with the same brusqueness from the orcs of Largashbur. Luke explained to them what happened with Yamarz and Malacath before they declared him blood kin and let him into the stronghold. He soon found himself in discussion with Gharol, the blacksmith of the stronghold, and asked her about the armor he had picked up from the knight.
"It's an intriguing set of armor," she said. "It's made from Ebony and definitely a Spell Knight armor set."
"Spell Knight?" Luke questioned.
"I know little about their order, so I would be unable to tell you anything about them," Gharol answered. "What I can tell you is that this is a very good set of armor, probably the best that you'll ever come across. They even have enchantments placed on them."
"They do?"
"The helm is enchanted to give you resistance toward magic, the cuirass is enchanted to help you with heavy armor, the gauntlets allow for you to use less magicka while casting Restoration spells, and the boots are enchanted to increase your stamina," Gharol explained.
"Thank you for the insight," thanked Luke.
Gharol waved of the thanks and asked Luke about his travels around Skyrim. He indulged her curiosity and explained how he somehow became Harbinger of the Companions. Once his tale had ended, without divulging that he wasn't from Tamriel, Luke asked the smith a question, "Would I be able to train in smithing with you for a while?"
"How longs the while going to be?" Gharol asked with a raised eyebrow.
"However long you'll have me."
The forge-wife of Dushnikh Yal paused in thought before letting out an almost defeated sigh before replying, "I'll give you some training, but in return I need you do deliver something for me."
"What do you need me to do?" asked Luke.
"When my daughter Lash chose to leave the stronghold, I forged a sword to channel all my shame and grief. Honor me by bringing my daughter this sword, outlander."
Luke gave the smith a nod and Gharol stood up to head over to a chest. She pulled out a sword and walked back over to where Luke was seated. Gharol handed the sword over to Luke and said, "An Orc blade is a very personal thing. Anger, regret, pride. All these things are put into our steel. Lash will understand once she gets the blade."
"Where is your daughter?" asked Luke.
"Last we heard she was in Karthwasten."
Ten days later, Luke was sweating up a storm at the forge in Dushnikh Yal. Gharol was barking orders in the forge left and right as she watched Luke attempting to make a dwarven sword. Luke beat the blade a couple of more times before placing it back into the fire and watching for signs that the metal was approaching the appropriate temperature for quenching. Once the metal got up to the correct temperature, Luke pulled the blade from the fire and quickly plunged it into the water next to the forge.
A billow of steam erupted as the hot metal made contact with the water. Luke pulled the blade from the water and held it up, making sure that the blade was straight. Luke let out a relieved sigh, as the blade hadn't picked up any warps or bends during the quenching. Gharol held out an impatient hand and Luke handed her the blade. The forge-wife grabbed a file from her waist and scraped it along the edges of the sword. She seemed satisfied with the outcome and handed the blade back to Luke. "You're definitely improving quicker than I thought you would for a Breton," she said. "If you keep up this pace, I'm sure that you'll be able to forge Ebony armor within the year."
"Thank you, Gharol," said Luke.
Gharol opened her mouth to speak when they heard Arob call out from one of the watchtowers. "Hold outlander, you have no business here!"
"I've come looking for the Harbinger," a voice called back. "I have a message for him from Vilkas."
Luke wiped the sweat from his brow and headed out of the forge. He climbed up the stairs that led to the watchtower that Arob was standing guard at and looked down to see a courier standing at the entryway of the stronghold with his hands in the air. The courier saw Luke approach and his eyes lit up. "There you are, I've been looking for you," he said reaching into his side pack and pulling out a letter. "I have something for you, your eyes only."
"I'll be right down," Luke called down to the courier.
Luke made his way down the stairs and to the courier. The courier handed Luke the letter and quickly turned and left. Luke opened the letter and a frown marred his face. Luke jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look at Gharol.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I have to go back to Whiterun," answered Luke. "But first I need to stop in Falkreath and deal with an issue there."
"Well, good luck Blood-Kin and I hope that we can meet again."
"Thank you for the lessons, Gharol," said Luke sincerely. "I'll do my best to find time to smith when I'm not busy."
Luke approached Falkreath with a dark cloud hanging over his head. Vilkas' letter had warned Luke to be careful as more people were snooping around Jorrvaskr trying to find out who the new Harbinger actually was. The only thing that was really making the Companions nervous was the fact that they caught a scent of death around a Dark Elf who was asking for me. Vilkas said in his letter that the person had black and red leather armor under his clothing. Luke didn't know what that signified, but he was willing to bet that it wasn't a good thing. Vilkas also said that Farkas was waiting for him in Falkreath, more specifically Dead Man's Drink.
Luke opened the door to the inn and saw Farkas sitting at a far table, away from any other patrons and facing the door. Farkas' head lifted when he heard the door open and Luke saw him cautiously sniff the air. The Nord's eyes widened and held shock as Luke approached. "Harbinger," he mumbled.
"Farkas," Luke nodded as he removed the helm and sat down across from the Nord.
"What's with the new armor?"
Luke shrugged and answered vaguely, "Part of the adventure I sought out in Markarth."
"Hmm," Farkas harrumphed crossing his arms. "Too flashy for me and not my style, but it looks like it works well for you."
"Why are we meeting here instead of back at Jorrvaskr?" asked Luke getting right to the point.
Farkas shook his head and leaned forward in his seat. "Jorrvaskr is being watched too closely to have you come straight back," he said.
"Watched by whom?" asked Luke.
Farkas looked around the in and slipped Luke a piece of paper. Luke raised an eyebrow and took the paper before unfolding it. The only thing on the paper was a black handprint. Luke's eyebrow went further up his forehead as he looked at Farkas. "It's just a handprint," he deadpanned.
A look of worry etched itself onto Farkas' face and his eyes widened infinitesimally. "You really don't know what this means?" he breathed.
"No," replied Luke. "What the fuck does a black handprint have to do with anything?"
"The Dark Brotherhood."
Luke gestured with his hand for Farkas to continue. "Meaning?"
"They're a group of assassins, we don't know what it means but they're sending you a message of some sort."
Luke steeled his face to hide his shock and said evenly, "All this fuss over a message. I'll be fine Farkas. We should head back to Jorrvaskr."
"As you say, Luke."
Luke stood up and motioned for Farkas to wait there as he started to follow Luke's lead. Luke made his way to the barkeep and ordered two meals and ales. The barkeep moved out from behind the bar and Luke felt an odd sense of déjà vu hit him, although he new he was thinking back to his time in Riften. Sylvana, Luke thought with a small smile. I wonder what she's up to. The smile was replaced with a frown almost immediately. Never mind, going back there would be a bad idea. It's impossible for her to know who I am and where I actually came from, but she somehow knows that I'm not who or what I said I was. Luke was pulled out of his thoughts as the barkeep came back with the food and drinks. Luke left the required amount of gold on the bar and took the food and gave a brief thanks to the barkeep.
Luke returned to Farkas' table with the food and sat down after setting the bowls and bottles on the table. "Might as well have a good hot meal before we head out, eh?" Luke said cheekily.
Farkas shook his head and gave a small smile. "You do know that we could stop at Riverwood, it's a good halfway point from here and Whiterun," he said. Luke shrugged and Farkas got a hard look in his eyes. "Why are you so reluctant to come back or stay at Jorrvaskr?"
"Because I don't like staying in one place for an extended period of time, I feel this constant itch to keep moving and seeing Skyrim," Luke answered. "I came to the Companions in order to learn how to better defend myself in this land, not become its leader. Kodlak chose the wrong person to succeed him."
Farkas let out a sigh and set his spoon down before taking a hearty drink from the ale. "We are rarely ready during the moment of our choosing," Farkas said solemnly. "That's something that Kodlak always used to tell Vilkas and me. We all saw great promise in you otherwise we never would've taken you into the Circle. Kodlak meant for you to take the mantle of Harbinger, dreams have a funny way of changing one's fate."
"I'm not a leader," Luke whispered. "No matter how much I picture myself to be one or thought of myself as one, the reality is I'm not cut out for it. I need to find myself first, I keep having this nagging suspicion that something is out there waiting for me and I need to find it."
"I'll inform the Circle once I get back then," Farkas said smoothly. "Whenever you're ready, we'll be there for you shield-brother."
"Thank you Farkas."
The rest of the meal went on in silence between the two men as more patrons started to grace the inn. Luke finished his meal with a content sigh and took a swig from his ale. He felt he should be worried about this Dark Brotherhood, but he just couldn't find it in him to care. The only thing that Luke was feeling at the moment was a sense of dread and destruction. He couldn't place it, for it felt as if an impending doom was hanging over the heads of every man, woman, and child in Skyrim. He gave himself a quick mental shake and focused on the present.
Farkas once again engaged Luke in conversation and they spent the rest of the afternoon talking, until the sun started its slow descent towards the horizon. Farkas stood from the table and bid his shield-brother goodnight before heading towards a rented room. Luke too stood up and made his way to the exit of the inn.
Once Luke was outside, he looked up towards the darkening sky and took a deep breath. As he released the breath he was holding in, Luke felt his shoulders relax and a sense of calm replaced the dread. Luke put the helm back on and headed out of Falkreath with a new sense of purpose that he couldn't explain.
Author's Note:
Happy New Year everyone! I hope that 2021 treats all of you better than 2020 did. A very special thanks goes out to Killer999, Swinup123, hshsjoseph, SagelyGuy, PitBullBytes,and Exim Black for the favorites/follows. It means a lot.