"Dammit!" Erik spat blood onto the ashen shore.
With an overjoyed laugh, Telyra wriggled her fingers at him, taunting him with threats of more weaponized icicles.
"You must anticipate the attack," Miraak chided. "She harbors a great deal of power."
Telyra couldn't help but beam.
"But her attacks have been rather predictable."
She shot a scowl at Miraak. "You ass." Her ire disappeared as soon as she turned back to Erik; his hand wiped the back of his mouth, leaving a red streak across his face, and she took a great deal more satisfaction in it than she cared to admit. As children, he'd always been better with the sticks they swung at each other, his larger size giving him the advantage over her as they ungracefully flailed about. Now adults, now properly trained, she was the better fighter-and magic, she reminded him, still counted as a weapon.
"How is this supposed to help me?" Erik asked as he jumped out of the way of a rogue icicle. "I mean-I suppose dodging is useful, but I figured we'd be actually fighting, not playing target practice."
Telyra laughed again.
"Dodging is a greatly undervalued skill among Nords," Miraak commented. "Or so shows in what I have read. I have not had the privilege to watch those of this era, but I will not allow my teachings to be wasted on one who simply rushes in as though he were a wild boar."
Erik huffed. "It's a little hard to imagine this being useful training when she's laughing like that."
"I'm just making up for our childhood," she remarked, flicking her wrist and sending a small mass of solidified sand toward him.
His sword caught the center and split the sand in half, the now-loose grains whipping past him. "I agreed to do this thinking I'd get something out of it," Erik muttered. "All I'm getting is beat up with nothing to show for it."
Miraak stepped behind Telyra and placed a hand on her shoulder, ignoring Erik's gaze flicking to the point of contact with a raised brow. "I think you have had your fun," he said.
There was a smile evident in his voice; she wished she could see it. "Fine," she said. "I'm about spent anyway." She turned and walked toward the boulder Miraak had been observing them from; settling on the still-warm surface, she leaned back against her hands and let her feet dangle over the edge.
"You should pay apt attention," Miraak said. "Learning the ways of a weapon you do not use is beneficial in defending against it."
She waved her hand. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be sure to enjoy the show."
As he shook his head, Miraak held out his right arm; in a moment, his strange sword materialized in his hand.
Telyra's gaze jumped to Erik; she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. Sparring lacked the same adrenaline rush received when in an actual fight; this was not a life or death situation, but the threat of a great deal of pain was still present, as was the opportunity to overthink and expect such pain. Telyra's attacks were not unrelenting, she held back as one would for a friend… but Miraak was no friend, not to Erik at least, and he'd left even Telyra bloodied and bruised after their spar. She suddenly doubted whether this was a good idea.
"Leave him breathing, at least," she called out to Miraak, only half-joking.
A slight dip of his head told her he heard.
Erik's knuckles were white, and Telyra could practically hear the cracks in his joints as they choked his hilt, tightening with each step Miraak took toward him. She didn't blame him; she'd faced Miraak before in actual battle, and even in their spar he was intimidating to stand against. And now, as he strode across the gray sands, his confidence and experience cast a long shadow toward Erik.
"No magic," Erik said through gritted teeth.
"No magic," Miraak agreed, positioning his sword forward.
The clash of metal echoed in time with the waves, though the water wasn't quite loud enough to mask the sound, Telyra didn't worry much. This had been where she and Miraak sparred, and no one had bothered them then, and her fireballs were far louder. Not that she had the capacity to worry at the moment, completely enthralled by the scene before her.
It was vastly different, watching from the side rather than facing his attacks directly. And while she doubted he would admit it, his certainty with his blade far surpassed that of his magic. With magic, his movements were rigid, not with a lack of grace, rather military-like precision. Forced to mimic his masters rather than be given a basic technique to conform to his own. But with his sword, he moved like a dancer-Telyra could think of no other way to describe it. Legs, arms, body in perfect tandem as his robes billowed around him; she expected such an abundance of cloth to be a hindrance, but he was either used to battling in the outfit, or he was so utterly aware of himself, he knew how to avoid entangling himself.
Erik didn't stand a chance in beating him, that had been known before their spar began, and it seemed like he wouldn't last long, but with each move, the young Nord caught and dodged more of Miraak's blows. Telyra assumed Miraak was holding back, but even still, his attacks were quick and powerful, and Erik was holding his own. Between clashes, she thought she caught the faintest whisper of Miraak's words.
She continued to watch, tempted between cheering Erik on and goading Miraak into his full ability, but she held her tongue. Erik didn't deserve to wind up on the healer's table simply because of her interest-or curiosity, as she mentally corrected herself; it was natural to wonder about an ally's full potential, obviously.
With one final attack, Miraak dislodged Erik's sword and stopped his own just short of Erik's neck.
"You are a quick study," Miraak remarked, returning his blade to his side.
"It wasn't like he came into this with nothing," Telyra said, now able to hear without the tinging of metal grating against her ears. "We've been in plenty of fights."
"And you have likely survived them thus far due to your ability," he said, turning to Telyra. "You have had formal training, and you are dovahkiin, natural strength boosting a trained mind and body." He returned his focus to a frowning Erik. "But you, if given proper training, could be quite formidable. And if you choose to remain at Telyra's side, you will need to be. She will need you to be."
Erik's eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing Miraak before settling into a look Telyra couldn't quite place.
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," she said, waving her arms for emphasis.
Miraak glanced at her. "I simply meant you will need a companion able to protect you should you be unable to do so yourself," he explained, his voice a tad too fast.
"Aw," she teased. "Look at you, caring."
He let out a sigh but otherwise ignored her. "Shall we duel again?"
"Yes!" Erik replied enthusiastically, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as he smiled. "I mean-" His lips fell straight and he nodded. "Yes."
Again, they faced off, and Telyra was content to simply sit and watch as Miraak's words rolled around in her mind. She pulled her feet onto the stone and rested her arms and chin on her knees. It put a smile on her face, knowing some small part of him cared. And it grew as she watched, a feeling of completeness in the three of them being here together; even if their time as a group was temporary, she felt confident this was meant to be. Her efforts were rewarded when Erik agreed to join them in their sparring, further still when Miraak agreed to offer Erik some pointers.
"Why would I want to let him smack me around with his sword?" Erik said.
"It wouldn't be just smacking you around," Telyra replied, rolling her eyes. "He was a dragon priest, he probably has more training than anyone you'd find in Skyrim. You'd be getting as close to formal training as you've ever gotten."
He eyed her. "And why would he even agree to help me out?"
"Because I asked him."
"And he just listens to you?"
"I… I mean, we haven't really…" She pursed her lips. "Please. This is important to me."
Erik crossed his arms. "Why? Why do you want us to get along so bad? I barely even see him."
"Because I don't know how long it'll take to get him out," she explained. "I don't know how long we'll be here, and the longer we're here, the more often you two are going to interact, and I'd rather it not be just silence and dirty looks."
With a sigh, he let his arms fall to his hips. "Fine."
"Really?"
"Yes," he said. "But don't expect buddy-buddy. I still don't trust him."
Her thoughts drifted to wonderings of the future, what would happen after Miraak was freed. Where would he go? What would he do? Would he still try to conquer Solstheim? She didn't think he truly wanted that, but if he had no other direction, no other ideas as to what to do with himself… He should travel, she thought, travel the world and experience the era; though, that seemed lonely and boring for someone like him. Would acting as the hero suit him? Traveling with her and Erik, saving people, stopping Alduin? Telyra found the idea appealing; the thought of not seeing him, not listening to him speak in his strange way, it left a dull ache in her chest.
"You all right?"
She jolted and looked up at Erik and Miraak standing in front of her, swords sheathed-or gone entirely, in Miraak's case.
"You look…" Erik pursed his lips in thought. "You look like you're thinking too hard about something unpleasant."
Telyra smiled and shrugged. "It's nothing," she replied, straightening her legs. "You two have fun? I sort of zoned out, but it looks like you still have all of your limbs."
Erik rolled his shoulders. "Yeah, and each one of them is going to hurt like a son of bitch tomorrow."
She glanced at Miraak who bore no wounds, but his breathing was haggard with exertion. "Why don't you take a breather," she said. She pointed at her pack on the ground. "I packed extra food and water. You both look like you could use it."
Erik plopped onto the ground and grabbed her bag and pulled out a canteen; after helping himself to a long chug, he offered it up to Miraak. He accepted it tentatively, and simply looked at it.
"If you're concerned about the mask," Telyra teased, "you can just lift the bottom. We can look away if you're worried we'll see your chin."
"No, it is not that," he replied. "I… I have not needed food or drink since my imprisonment."
Telyra furrowed her brow. "At all? Even after our fight or our sparring?"
He shook his head slowly, still looking at the canteen. "I do not remain outside Apocrypha long enough for the need to take hold. After our battle, I immediately returned and began to heal. The same for our sparring sessions." Miraak's head lifted. "This is the longest I have lingered on Tamriel. It is a strange sensation."
"Being thirsty?" Erik asked.
"After having not experienced it for so long…"
"Well," Telyra said, the jest leaving her voice. "Take a drink."
He lifted the very edge of his mask and brought the canteen beneath; he tilted back and drank… and continued drinking.
With mirrored looks of raised brows, Erik and Telyra watched and waited until he finished.
A satisfied sigh quickly turned into a surprised gasp as Miraak set his mask back in place and held the canteen down to Erik. "I, er… apologize," he said.
Erik shook it and returned it to the bag when it became obvious it was empty.
"Why don't you sit down," Telyra suggested. "Or do you need to go back?"
Miraak looked down a moment before shaking his head. "I do not need to return," he said. "Not yet." He walked toward her and sat cross-legged on the ground against her boulder, just a few inches from her dangling legs.
"How long are you able to stay outside Apocrypha?" she asked.
"I do not know of an exact time constraint," he explained. "Rather, I feel as though there is a tether keeping me connected to Apocrypha. Regardless of the amount of time spent on Tamriel, the tether always beckons me to return. It simply grows tighter the longer I remain."
"Can you just… ignore it?" Erik asked.
"No," Miraak replied. "I am not in my full power here. That leash is tied to the portion of my being that remains confined to Mora's realm. Sitting here at this moment, I can feel that void."
Telyra gestured for Erik to give her the other canteen as she spoke. "Does it-I don't know-hurt? Or is it just an empty feeling?"
"It is a feeling similar to the recent learning of a loved one's passing," he said. "There are times it manifests as physical pain, but most often, it is a constant hollow feeling."
As she tilted her head back and drank, Telyra couldn't help but think this was good for Erik to hear; maybe after this, the training and the insight into what Miraak dealt with, Erik could have a better grasp on why she wanted to help. Why she sympathized.
"Was that how it felt with Vahlok?" Erik asked.
Telyra sputtered on the water, surprised at the question.
"I did not kill him," Miraak replied, his voice in monotone.
"No, but," Erik said as he gnawed on some jerky he pulled from the pack, "a betrayal is like a death. Your friendship with him died."
She narrowed her eyes at Erik, wondering why he was curious; she shot a glance at Miraak who had his head tilted toward her. A blush crept up her face, feeling as though she'd been caught sharing secrets that weren't her own.
"I read that book," Erik explained, "that one about your battle with him. Telyra told me some of what you shared in an attempt to get me to sympathize with you."
Her look of confusion turned into a glare.
He held up his hands. "I'm not looking to start anything," he insisted. "I just want to hear it firsthand."
"Why?" Miraak asked, the single syllable laced with suspicion.
Telyra groaned; any progress made in their relationship potentially disappearing in the next few moments.
"Nords love stories," Erik said. "I want to hear yours."
Looking between the two of them, she felt the tension building, the challenge in Erik's eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to attempt to diffuse the situation, Miraak sighed.
"Shall I start at the beginning?" Miraak asked.
Erik grinned. "Of course."
"I will not bore you with the ongoings before the start of my rebellion," Miraak said.
Telyra suspected it was more likely he didn't remember.
"But I will preface the story with my dissatisfaction with the treatment from our dragon masters," he continued. "Even before learning of my nature, I longed for freedom. But it had been merely a fantasy until I slayed my first dragon. I admit, I cannot recall the exact reason for doing so-I imagine it drove me to anger, and I drew my blade. Once it fell, the body began to disintegrate, and I absorbed its soul. I had not known, at the time, what happened to me, and I had no one I could ask." He unfolded his legs and placed his feet against the ground, his forearms rested on his knees. "It was shortly after Mora reached out to me. He provided me answers. He provided me an opportunity to escape the dragons' grasp."
"I can't imagine he gave it willingly," Telyra remarked.
With a shake of his head, Miraak replied, "Mora does nothing without cost. I provided him the secrets of the dragons, secrets privy only to me due to my status as a dragon priest. And I provided him my Voice, my identity." His fingers grazed his mask. "My face." He sighed. "I became his champion, and I amassed a following the likes of which exceeded even his expectations."
"He had to have given you more than just an answer," Erik said. "A quick, 'Hey, that thing that happened to you, that means you're Dragonborn,' doesn't seem worth devoting yourself to him."
"Mora is not only a master at gathering knowledge," Miraak said. "He knows how to dissect it, analyze it, twist it for his purposes. With the knowledge of the dragons I provided, he, in turn, taught me how to use the dragons' power against them. He taught me how to apply the power of the souls I gathered, and he taught me how best to gather that power. He created for me a Shout to bring the dragons themselves to their knees." He paused, his head dipping a bit.
"When did you actually rebel?" Erik asked, his eyes wide with interest, or perhaps attempting to see better in the dimming light. "I mean, when did you make it public?"
Miraak looked back up. "In the colosseum."
"What colosseum?" Telyra pursed her lips. "I haven't noticed any arena on the island."
"It was near Forelhost, in southeast Skyrim," he replied. "Suleykgenun, it had once been known. Dragons are fond of displays of power, even among mortals. Only priests or those chosen by the priests could participate, excluding the dragons themselves, of course."
"So, you wanted to show off," Telyra teased, nudging him with her boot.
"I had always been competitive," he explained, a smile in his voice. "And a touch dramatic. Whispers of my treachery had spread, of course, but nothing had yet been confirmed. With Mora's Shout, I used the very dragons Alduin sent to watch over me to spread word that I had not, in fact, defected. No dragon had had a mortal's will thrust upon them. They had no reason to disbelieve them." His head fell back against the stone. "But once in that colosseum, once that dragon lay bloodied at my feet and I devoured its soul, nii lost mindok. No longer was the absolute death of a dragon only possible by another. Chaos ensued."
Telyra, having had enough of her bottom going numb on such a hard surface, pushed herself forward and settled onto the ground beside Miraak. "I would've loved to have seen that," she said. "I've never seen a startled dragon. I bet it's hilarious."
"And terrifying," Miraak remarked, sparing her a glance. "I fled to my temple. The colosseum was naught but dirt and ash that very day."
"So," Erik said, "when did Vahlok come in?"
"Ah." Miraak tilted his head. "I apologize. I fear nostalgia took hold, though I had promised to start at the beginning. Vahlok came to me shortly after. He begged that I return and plead for mercy, but I knew such a thing was impossible. I would not have been permitted to exist after such a display. Even if I had not given myself over to treachery, I would have been killed for my power alone."
In her peripheral, Telyra saw Miraak's shoulders slump forward slightly, and the urge to reach out and provide comfort gripped her; an arm around his shoulders, or his waist, a hand atop his, a gentle squeeze that said nothing but "It's all right." But she refrained, Erik's gaze stilling her limbs. Instead, she leaned just enough to brush her arm against his.
"Vahlok eventually understood to return would mean my death," he continued.
"Why would he care so much?" Erik asked, leaning forward, giving Miraak his rapt attention.
"He loved me," Miraak said, his shoulders falling even further. "As I did him. He was my best friend, my partner."
Telyra's eyes shot to Miraak's defeated form. He hadn't shared that detail with her, but she understood his withholding. Betrayed not only by your closest friend, but your lover as well-worse still when both were embodied by the same person-it was an agony better left unspoken.
"He joined me in my quest," he went on. "Together, we led my following through battle and hardship and sought to end Alduin's reign. I had believed us near-invincible." His legs folded again, and his arms fell into his lap, the movement pulling him away from her touch a moment before he leaned back against her. "And, one day, he vanished. I feared he had been slain or captured, but reports claimed otherwise. I refused to believe at first, but I could deny it no longer when Sahrotaar told me. He simply walked away."
The pain in his voice was palpable, the threat of it cracking ever-present as he spoke the last words. Telyra's chest ached for him. She glanced at Erik whose eager face had grown placid, save for the barest wrinkle in his brow.
"I could not confirm his return to the dragons," he continued, "nor could I believe it. But I accepted his leaving. I thought, perhaps, it had become too overwhelming for him, and he could no longer handle the weight bearing down on us. Still, I could not ignore the possibility of his capture and subsequent torture to reveal my plans. I attempted to make changes as though his knowledge had been handed to Alduin, but Vahlok had always been the better strategist. He anticipated my reaction."
Silence settled among them, even the waves seemed to still as both Erik and Telyra waited for Miraak to continue. She knew what came next, as did Erik, but they were eager to hear the remainder from Miraak himself.
"The original plan had been to strike Bromjunaar," he finally said. "We were to ride together with the might of the rebellion and strike at the heart of Alduin's power. But I decided to send only a portion of my force, instead, to Forelhost. Led by Sahnos, we sought to destroy one temple at a time while I gathered my bearings. I did not want to appear idle or weak after the loss of Vahlok." His head straightened, and he looked forward at the barely-visible ocean. Night had fallen.
"He knew me so well," Miraak muttered. "With my army split, my temple was vulnerable, and a force even larger than the one I had gathered for Bromjunaar invaded my lands. At the head of the battalion stood Vahlok. No chains. No use of force holding him there." His hands clenched in his lap. "He Shouted my name. I could not help but answer. He offered no chance at the question I longed to ask. The moment I stepped foot outside, he ordered the attack.
"The ensuing battle left both armies and my temple in ruin," he said. "But my focus had narrowed to a pinhole filled only with Vahlok. Ours was a barrage of magic and Shouts and raw emotion. I cannot recount the exact details, but one of the few accuracies of that book had been the resulting separation of Solstheim and Skyrim."
"You actually split the land?" Erik asked, sitting up straight.
Miraak nodded. "I called upon every drop of my power, and he did the same. The land around us roared and quaked, and still we fought as though nothing existed but us and our battle. I was stronger, both physically and in the Voice. I managed to disarm him, and he could no longer use his Voice as it had torn through his throat. I held him pinned beneath me."
Her eyes drifted down to his hands and found them shaking. Without a glance at Erik, Telyra reached over and wrapped hers around one of his; his fingers intertwined with hers, but his head remained forward as though he didn't notice. She kept her gaze on their hands, running her thumb along the back of his glove in an attempt to soothe his trembling.
"My blade aimed for his heart," Miraak said, his voice far quieter. "I held it there. I had the opportunity to end it, to end him. But I faltered. My mind conjured images of our time together, and I felt as though I were drowning in the viscosity of our past. He whispered to me, 'Hi fend ni lost sarein,' before pulling his dagger from my neck. I had not noticed him reach for a hidden weapon, nor did I feel the pain of his attack." He squeezed Telyra's hand. "Before death could take me, Mora tore me from Tamriel and trapped me in his realm. The wound immediately began to heal, but it was then the pain settled in."
Again, the three of them fell into silence. Miraak's head lowered, his hand tensing a moment as though he only just realized it was laced with Telyra's; he looked over to her, meeting her gaze.
"Did you ever find out why?" Erik asked. His posture was relaxed now with Miraak's story at an end.
He turned forward once more. "No," he replied. "In my readings, I learned I had sent Sahnos and her forces to their grave. I learned of the destruction of my temple and enslavement of my people-those they did not kill outright. I learned my name was tarnished and eventually lost to time. But I never learned the reason for Vahlok's betrayal."
