I've saddled up on Annie and been making my way towards Riverwood for about an hour. It's kind of cold. I can't tell if it's because of the season or because I've gotten soft.
Writing on horseback is not as comfortable as in a cart. I think Annie is anxious about something, but I can't tell what it is. The weather seems alright, at least.
Another hour and we're almost there.
...Is something burning?
Saya quickly closed her journal and strapped it onto her belt before grasping Annie's reins. The horse switched to a gallop, hurrying towards Riverwood, where a tall black pillar of smoke rose into the skies and darkened the snowy white clouds above. As she neared the village, she could hear and see the commotion going on within: people running back and forth from the river with buckets, shouting commands or warnings, dragging people out of the buildings. The Dragonborn did a quick mental tally of the people she could see - noting Alvor, Sigrid, and Dorthe in particular - before dismounting and running inside.
"What's going on?!" She yelled, a few heads turning at the new arrival. The heat was absolutely palpable, and she could see now that only one building was actually burning - the Sleeping Giant.
"Thane Indoril?" One of the guards turned towards her, giving her a quick salute. "We are trying to evacuate everyone from the inn. A group of people entered the building a few minutes ago, then suddenly fire started spewing from the innkeeper's room like it was Dagon's oven. Before anyone could tell what was happening, the straw roof caught on fire and…"
She raised her hand, stopping him. "Have the innkeeper and the old man that was with her been evacuated yet?"
He shook his head. "No. They're the last two that are not accounted for. One of the central supports collapsed when the fire originally started. We couldn't clear the rubble before the lunatics started attacking people."
"What of the culprits? I need details - how many were there, are they still inside, did anyone catch what they look like?" Her tone was getting progressively more exasperated as she kept talking. She should've been here sooner.
"There were three, all of them went inside. Don't think anyone slipped out." The guard pointed at the burning inn. "We couldn't see their faces, they only got noticed when they put on these bizarre masks-"
Saya didn't listen any further. Without another moment's delay, she drew a deep breath and rushed into the building. The inside really was like an oven - the bright fires stabbed at her vision as they gnawed at the furniture and devoured everything flammable. She could also see the support beam the guard mentioned - having burned off one end, it now lay as a charred pillar in the middle of the inn, crushing the bar table as well as multiple seats, and blocking off the entrance to Delphine's room with a wall of flame.
"FO!" The word of power left her lips with a gust of freezing wind. The icy breath immediately engulfed almost half the inn, hoarfrost growing on the red-hot wood before immediately melting and turning into steam, starving the fires. The Dragonborn lowered her head closer to the floor, catching her breath. If she inhaled too much smoke, it would be bad news. The best option would be to somehow vent all of it outside, but…
The Dunmer shook her head. She still had another twenty seconds before she could really do anything. She slung the pack off her shoulders, reaching inside and digging out the gilded black mask. Immediately after donning it, she felt the sensation of heat subside and her breath ease. Her eyes no longer watering, she could look around with clearer vision. Immediately, she spotted two of the cultists, both of them dead: one was crushed by rubble, the other - bleeding out on the floor, a knife sticking out of his back.
Saya looked around, considering the options she had, and then turned her head upward, to the patchy ceiling above. She took a few steps back, making sure she was not in the splash zone before releasing a full-powered Unrelenting Force. A sharp rumble shook the entire building and the thunderous shockwave blasted through the windows, shattering the glass and allowing the smoke to start flowing out of the building. She figured Orgnar wouldn't be mad if it's for a situation like this.
Now that she had some room to breathe and move around, she approached the door to Fortunata's room. Taking a better look at it, there was some space that she could squeeze in since the flames impeding her were now extinguished, but then she considered that Fortunata and Esbern might still be inside in gods-know-what shape. Instead, she grabbed onto the pillar and pushed it down, making it crash completely onto the floor so she could easily step over it if needed. Once that was done, she pushed open the door and entered the chamber.
"Don't-" The woman's voice was stern and sharp as soon as she heard the door hinges creak. Saya saw Fortunata, sitting on the floor, pointing a curved blade at her. To say she didn't look her best would be an understatement: the torn clothes, blood-soaked hands and sleeves, and messy hair made it known that whatever had transpired took her by surprise. Esbern stood by her side in a similarly messy state, clutching his cane with both hands. The Dunmer took off her mask raising both hands into the air in mock surrender, and the Breton immediately relaxed, lowering her weapon. "Oh, it's you. About time."
"Now now, this is not the time nor place…" Esbern tried to diffuse the situation, straightening his back, but Saya interjected before he could continue his attempts.
"I'll give you all the excuses you want later." The Dragonborn shook her head. Lively as ever, this one. "But preferably when there are less pressing issues at hand. We need to get out." She offered Fortunata a hand. "And while you're at it, a rundown of what happened would be appreciated.
"Masked bastards took us by surprise is what happened." The woman coughed, wiping her mouth and pulling herself up. A familiar and quite unpleasant smell hit her nostrils when the distance between them closed, and with a closer look Saya could notice burn marks around Fortunata's body - mostly the arms and the side of her face. "Must've left the basement unlocked by accident. One of them came in and before either of us knew what was going on, he pulled out some scroll and everything exploded into fire. I flipped over the table to protect us, for all the good it did, and then skewered him as soon as I got the chance." She lifted the sword demonstrably.
Esbern's shoulders sank at the mention of the basement. "And of course, by that point everything had caught on fire. All the books, all the catalogues, all the notes and accumulated knowledge…" He whined, distraught to say the least.
At that point, Saya's eyes widened. "Wait, doesn't that mean…?"
"That the map is gone?" Fortunata finished. She glanced knowingly towards Esbern. "He grabbed it the moment that guy entered the room. The corners might have gotten a little tan, but otherwise everything should be fine."
The Dragonborn sighed with relief, the tension immediately sapping from her body. "Good. In that case, we should-" There was a loud tearing noise behind her back. She slowly turned, looking out of the open door and seeing yet another blackened wooden pillar, severely damaged and this close to collapsing. "-get out. Sooner rather than later."
Thankfully, no more convincing was needed.
The crowd outside was much bigger now that the panic was subsiding and the building wasn't burping plums of smoke every two seconds. A lot of injured people all around, but thankfully no casualties. Most folks got off with a slight burn or a few bruises, but the few that were in more difficult condition got the best treatment available at the moment. Even Lucan pitched in with his healing potions.
Truly, the world is ending. Oh, wait.
I sent Kura over to Whiterun with another letter asking for whatever support was available. The loss of a structure like this wasn't debilitating but it would hurt Riverwood a lot, and the more assistance they got the better. Hopefully Proventus is feeling generous.
I also checked in with Alvor and the others. They were at home at the time so they're completely fine. Little Dorthe was scared out of her mind, though. I don't blame her. Something like that happening out of nowhere and an adult would be scared, let alone a child.
I gave Fortunata and Esbern a few hours to recuperate. When they're ready, we will have to think about moving out of Riverwood.
Saya's hands trailed across the Thief's guardian stone as she reminisced about the first time she'd come across it. How Hadvar told her about them, and how he comically tried to conceal his bias towards the Warrior. She snickered, shaking her head and giving the approaching Fortunata and Esbern a quick look, the latter riding on her horse. After a short discussion, the group had decided that strategizing openly in the middle of a village, now that the basement was busted, would be unwise - especially if there were any unmasked cultists around to eavesdrop. The first place that came to Saya's mind were the Guardian Stones: not too far off, but not anywhere the locals would go often.
Fortunata still looked like she was adjusting. There was slight scarring on her cheek, which would make her liable to getting more easily recognized, and she was quite vocal about that particular complaint. As her own armor was fucked up beyond repair in the explosion, she was wearing a temporary replacement that Alvor was kind enough to provide at Saya's request. Not for free, of course.
"Alright, now that we are away from prying eyes…" Esbern hopped out of Annie's saddle and cleared his throat, reaching into the bag on his side. From it, he produced a small piece of parchment, about the size of a book page. Then, he proceeded to unfold it, revealing a map of sixteen such sheets that the two Blades had carefully stitched together. The result was a large map depicting none other than the province of Skyrim - though, rather outdated. Some newer villages were completely missing off the map, the names for others differed, and overall the document looked quite old.
"Okay, that's something." The Dragonborn inspected the map, which was carefully laid down on a clear spot on the stone platform. It was a little problematic to read, with the worn script and whatnot, but otherwise comprehensible. "And… Have you managed to figure out where it actually leads?"
"We were in the middle of that." Fortunata huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back on the Warrior stone. "Then, we had unexpected guests. I wrote you the letter as soon as we put together the whole thing, but we weren't going to pick at it until you came."
"Uhuh…" The Dragonborn nodded slowly, though with a bit of apprehension. She was expecting a jab at her coming late, but its lack of presence almost threw her for a bigger loop. She continued looking at the map, looking for anything she could latch onto. It didn't seem to be anything special, but… "What are those dark spots?" She pointed at one of the edges, where the parchment seemed to turn multiple shades darker. Now that she took a closer look, that entire side seemed a notch off the general color. "Did you spill something on it?"
"Hmm? Oh, this." Esbern glanced down, waving his hand. "That was the side facing the basement door. Must've gotten caught in the blast. Thankfully, it didn't actually light on fire. Now that would be a disaster."
Saya hummed, thinking. She touched the dark spot on the map with her hand, almost like feeling it out. The texture itself felt strange against her fingers. It almost didn't feel like paper, though it was similarly thin. It was too rough, and strangely wrinkly for something that was kept inside of a book for most of its lifespan...
And that was when it hit her.
"Hey, could you give me that stone over there?" Fortunata looked over to where Saya was pointing and leaned down, tossing the small pebble over. The Dunmer caught it and put it in the middle of the map, pinning it down to the floor before taking a few cautious steps back.
Both of the Blades visibly flinched when a stream of flame burst from her palm, engulfing the paper whole. The stone and the floor around it were scorched black, and the parchment was fluttering wildly, only barely held down by the improvised paper weight. This continued for a solid few seconds before Saya clasped her hand and the flames disappeared, all three of them turning to the place of impact. Esbern looked almost disturbed, Fortunata surprised, and Saya - positively smug. The surrounding roots have completely burned away, the stone was covered in a layer of dark ash and dust, and so was the map - but it wasn't burning.
Saya removed the stone and picked up the map, shaking it off, confirming her suspicions. The material itself turned black, but the more she waved it around, the lighter it became - almost like its color was changing depending on the temperature. She stopped before it could return to its original shade to avoid having to reheat it, and placed it back on the floor as the entire group gathered round, barring the horse which was currently eating some grass off the path.
"And here we go." You could practically hear the grinning in her voice. The map was completely inverted: the background turned black, like charcoal, while the writings upon it were a light yellow, like aged leather. It was still depicting Skyrim, but the smaller villages and settlements disappeared, leaving only the hold capitals and geographical landmarks from the past iteration. The first new addition was a multitude of small marks that looked like dragon skulls were drawn on various locations of the map - ones that Saya and Fortunata noticed to be the same locations as the ones on the Dragonstone. The second addition was an icon of the Empire's insignia - a stylized dragon inside of a diamond shape with two blades under it - just east of the Reach capital, on a mountain known as the Karthspire.
"Karthspire. I know that place, passed through it a few times back in the day. Do you know it?" Fortunata turned to the Dragonborn, who nodded. She had only seen it from a distance, but she knew the general location from her trip to Markarth. "Good. Then we can either travel together, or-"
The conversation was interrupted by Annie, who suddenly stepped back and started neighing out of the blue. Saya turned sharply, her ears twitching from the sound of rustling grass. The word "Laas" left her lips and her vision lit up with the energy of surrounding creatures. She could sense Fortunata and Esbern beside herself, Annie right in front of her, and one more person rapidly retreating off into the woods. Without a second's delay, she took off right after them.
Now, credit where credit is due: the man could run. But he did not have the advantage of knowing exactly where he was going and where his pursuers were, so in just a few seconds Saya had circled around where he was going and cut him off with a tackle. There was a dull noise as the man's masked head hit the tree behind him and he suddenly stopped resisting, falling unconscious from the blow.
"Did you get him?" The Breton woman asked, approaching along with Esbern. She squinted, noting that he wore the same mask as the people back in the inn. She reached out to stop Saya, who was midway through pulling out her weapon. "Wait. We should interrogate this one. Maybe he knows something about the attack."
The Dragonborn looked back, squinting. "Knows something? He's wearing the same mask as the corpses, and the same mask as the people who ambushed me at Ustengrav. He's just a fanatic."
"And fanatics love nothing more than converting others." Esbern pointed out. The Dunmer sighed, standing up begrudgingly but still unsheathing her sword in case he got any funny ideas and tried to run.
Fortunata, meanwhile, took off his mask, revealing the person underneath. It looked to be a regular-looking Imperial with short black hair and a slight scruff, like he hadn't shaved for a few days but hadn't exactly let it grow out consciously. Otherwise his appearance was mostly unremarkable, though of note was his build - he appeared to be quite strong, as though he was used to manual labor.
A minute or two passed before he finally awoke. He looked quite dazed initially, before looking up at the group in confusion, rubbing his forehead. "Where… Am I?"
Saya was not impressed. She lifted her metal boot and stomped down on his lower leg. A little more force and there would be a crunch. "Skip it. Your buddies are already dead. Answer truthfully, and you won't follow them quite yet." The man was screaming and hyperventilating, trying to lift her foot off his leg but struggling to do so from his position. She gave way, moving it just a little so he'd stop screeching. "Now, from the top. Who the fuck are you, who are you working for, where did you come from. In order."
The man gulped, looked up with shaky eyes at the other two members of the group. Neither of them looked particularly sympathetic, so when that realization dawned upon him he started to speak. "My name is Ancillus- Ancillus Sopor! I'm a sailor, I work for the Eastern Empire Trading Company! I- who are you people?!"
Okay, now the Dunmer was puzzled. She looked over at Fortunata, who only shrugged back at her. Esbern, on the contrary, stood on one knee, leaning towards him as a sort of comfort. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"I…" Ancillus put a hand on his forehead, and for a moment it looked like he was in genuine pain. He grunted, scowling. "I… I was at a port. We had just arrived at… Gods, I don't remember the name, it- it was some kind of trading town on an island! I was loading off shipments and the captain told us that we were going back soon. Told us…" His eyes drifted around as he tried to remember. Suddenly, he noticed the mask that Fortunata was holding and pointed at it. "That! He told us that some people were asking to come with us- paid really well. Never showed their faces, all of them wore masks - like that one you're holding. Then once my shift was done I went down to my bunk and… Now I'm here."
This time, the entire group exchanged confused glances. It wouldn't be so bad if it had just been a lie, or if he was just saying select phrases to save himself. But it was obvious he wasn't lying, and that he was physically struggling to remember. The Imperial looked genuinely distraught, looking between the three of them with pleading eyes. For a moment, the thought of them needlessly torturing an innocent man out in the woods crossed their minds. What he was going through, having suddenly been torn out of his life only to be confronted with this.
Fortunata sighed. "You-"
Her words were cut off by the sound of Saya's sword swinging through the air, chopping clear through his neck and embedding the edge into the tree behind him. Ancillus' face was frozen in his last expression - his eyes glimmering with faint hope shining through the terror and bewilderment. The redhead grunted, pulling her sword out and letting the head roll off onto the grass while the other two Blades stared at her, dumbfounded.
She glanced at each of them. "What? He already told us what we wanted to hear." Without waiting for them to come to their senses this time, the Dragonborn wandered off back to where the road was, only looking back when neither of them immediately followed. Fortunata and Esbern were staring at her with shock and discomfort, but neither of them said anything. She sighed.
"I can get to Karthspire on my own, you know, but I would still appreciate the company. Now, are you going to stand there all day?" She asked, her voice completely unchanged from when they were talking earlier.
There was a second of hesitation, but the Blades followed. If only to escape the atmosphere of the situation.
I wasn't going to let him go. I'm not the kind of person who lies all the time, but I have no qualms about it when I think it's necessary. Besides, I never promised to spare him to begin with.
Regardless of whether he was telling the truth, he still overheard where we were going, and maybe discovering his dead buddies would've led him to go after us. Or, worse yet, he could've gone and joined those dragon cultists and fed them information about our objectives. I'm not taking that kind of risk.
The trip was unpleasantly quiet. I guess what I did was out of the blue. But they'll move on eventually.
We spent the night at a hunter's camp. There were some kind folks there. Apparently it's something akin to a community hut for any hunter to come by and take refuge and rest if needed. We aren't hunters in the conventional sense of the word but… It's nice to sleep under a roof, even out on the road.
Alright, lights out. Tomorrow, Karthspire.
Sundas, the 2nd of Sun's Dusk, 4E201
Travel was quiet. Eerily.
I was expecting Forsworn, maybe some highwaymen. Hell, even wild animals would've been a relief. But it was just nothing. Somehow, that stressed me out the most - having to keep watch as we go, looking out for any and all dangers, only to find none. Paranoia incarnate.
Some drunkards happened to be on the way, suggesting we drink, but they were politely refused. That little distraction aside, we moved essentially without stopping and reached Old Hroldan by sundown. At that point, we actually turned off the main path and went uphill, towards the inn. We weren't intent on staying. It's just that the other option was a bridge straight to Karthspire, which would be leading us directly into a very densely populated Forsworn camp.
Knowing that, we went to flank it instead.
When Atoakh first joined the Forsworn, he was still very young. It was an impulsive decision, one that he really didn't think about until after everything was already done. Like many others, he was driven by emotion. Some desired vengeance, some - justice. Atoakh's only desire was safety. He remembered still, when his home was full of tension. When the men of the Empire were at the city doorstep, and you could feel the palpable terror choking you every time you took a breath. Yet, despite the flaming stones flung by catapults and the generals barking their orders, life continued within the walls. Careless, joyful, yet with an underlying fear that all of this might end in just a second.
Atoakh remembered well when he first heard it. He was a lad of less than ten winters, yet even now, twenty five years later, the memory was singed into his mind like a brand on a cow's leg. The sound of thunder under clear skies. The falling gates, the screaming men and women. His mother grabbed him by the hand, and they ran - right into the hands of men in blue cloaks. From behind his mother's skirt he watched the slate walls be painted crimson. From within a cage he watched them take her as she begged him to close his eyes. From distant bushes he watched upon their camp after his escape, after their own allies turned against them. And all the while, the images haunted him at night - women and children, hanged from the walls of Markarth, and their men's severed heads stuck on spikes while their bodies rot below. And his mother, the kindest and most beautiful woman he'd ever known, watching him with a still gaze, unblinking, while the rest of her body lay separately, spilling warm blood into the cold black earth.
He did not become a warrior. No, Atoakh thought it wasteful to throw away his life on something like that. He was no fighter, and the only "weapon" he could ever wield was his hammer. Yet even then, it was much better used here, in the calm. Somewhere he could simply chisel away, crafting masterworks of bone and wood, of strewn skin and sinew - tools of war and of protection. Tools that would take lives so that lives could be saved. Tools that would keep him busy, and keep him out of the battlefield, and it worked - in the past two and a half decades, the man had not seen a single corpse other than those of animals. He did not see a single person butchered the way he butchered a deer or a boar. He did not see a single drop of blood spilt in vain, and for every one he wasted he would whisper a prayer in apology. And he did not see a single severed head, with its haunting gaze that would chase him in his nightmares and remind him of the day he lost it all.
Until today, that is.
Mother Varana was a strange woman. Atoakh never spoke to her much, but then again, nobody except the wise women did. Witches stuck by one another, and everyone preferred it that way - a hagraven is an unsettling sight no matter how used you are to it. There was more than just one odd Reachman who would sometimes idly ponder slaying her to make himself sleep better at night. And yet, for all of that talk, Atoakh never thought he would actually see one dead. Much less decapitated, with her motionless, bird-like head stuck in an expression of confusion and pain, rolling down the stairs and bumping into his foot.
The man jumped, knocking over his chair. A horrified noise escaped his contorted mouth and he kicked the head away on pure instinct. His entire frame shook as his eyes darted around, his hand wrapping tightly around his hammer's handle. And when his eyes found what he was looking for, he went still, mouth agape. Whispers rang out throughout the camp's lower levels, Forsworn looking at each other and at him until they all, one after another, turned to look where he did.
A person leapt down from the wooden balcony, and Atoakh practically felt his spirit leave his body as he watched her straighten her back. The man was paralyzed with fear while the red-headed elf stepped towards him, regarding the man with a cold, almost uncaring gaze. Two others emerged where she once stood - a blonde woman, clad in leather armor and armed with a curved blade unlike any he had seen before, and an old man in civilian clothing, holding an ornate cane. The red-eyed woman squinted, as though confused at his lack of aggression or attempts to flee.
She sighed and walked past him, shaking her head and grumbling something unintelligible under her nose. Atoakh did not know how to react. She just… Walked into his home. Killed the wise woman. And now she was just… Leaving?
His fingers tightened around the hammer handle and he turned around. "GRRAAAAH!" Atoakh cried and ran towards her, lifting the tool above his head with intent to smash this invader's head in. She half-turned, grasping his forearm and twisting it before a sudden sharp pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before spread through his abdomen. The man's eyes drifted down and saw a black sword plunged into his entrails, his red blood spilling onto the silver ornaments.
"Couldn't just run, could you." Saya commented dryly, pulling Stormblade back out of his gullet. The Reachman collapsed onto his knees, dropping his hammer and clutching his stomach, as though trying to stop the bleeding. She regarded the sad sight for a moment before grasping her weapon with both hands and delivering a single cut along the neck, cleaving the man's head right off and ending his misery then and there. "Get over here, you two!" She shouted over to the Blades, who were making their way downstairs.
"Give it a minute. Just because Esbern's almost your age doesn't mean he can pull off the same landings as you." Fortunata quipped, standing by the Dunmer's side.
"When I was your age, Fortunata my dear…" The old Nord grunted, rolling his eyes. It was quite annoying to be reminded of his state, though he had to admit that she was right - he was getting quite old. Going into an area like this was already a risk, but one that everyone knew they had to take.
Saya snickered. "When I was your age…"
The banter above starkly contrasted the atmosphere below. The Forsworn were all frozen in their places, half out of fear and half out of shock. The more zealous defenders were holding their weapons with white-knuckled grasps, almost foaming at the mouth to charge in and rip the outsiders into pieces. And yet, they did not. There was a confusion in the air as dozens of eyes all looked upon the Dragonborn. Waves of whispers echoed across the crowd. Nervousness, intimidation, confusion, indignation, disgust - all of these emotions left their lips as discordant murmurs. Saya's ear twitched, occasionally picking out an individual word or two.
"No, it- it can't be!"
"Is that the Spirit Queen's…?"
"...but an outsider?"
"The great Sower…"
"Look there, can't you see it-"
"...has the Queen's Band-"
"-WATCH OUT, IN THE SKY!"
A singular shrieking voice cut through the whispering crowd. All eyes turned towards the leaden clouds, and the unease from before exploded into total panic. The bright orange form was barely a blur as it descended from the heavens like a meteor, crashing through the wooden platforms of the Reachman camp. Homes were turned into splinters, people - into mincemeat, and a great splash of water sprayed across all but the farthest corners of the area.
Saya wiped her face, her brows furrowed and the grip on her sword as steady as ever. Every Reachman around the camp stormed off, running for whatever was on their minds at the time - be it their weapons or their lives. The Dragonborn, however, only watched, staring into the murky waters of the Karth. From within, the assailant emerged, spreading its wings and letting out a rumbling roar that echoed across the hills before it turned to the Dragonborn and their eyes met. Its scales were a bright orange with an ivory-colored underbelly, while the top of the creature was a deep lapis blue. What stuck out to Saya as unusual was the shape of its body - unlike the other dragons she'd seen so far, this one possessed no horns to speak of, and its back lacked the customary spikes. Instead of them, its head, neck, and tail were covered in horizontal spines with thick membranes strewn across them, not unlike dorsal fins of a fish.
"Ni motmahus. You were easier to find than expected." Its voice was hushed and had a note of sleazy, slippery confidence. Its azure eyes squinted while its lips stretched into a self-assured smirk. "Zu'u Naakfeynrath. My lord has ordered your extermination. Have you any last words?"
Saya narrowed her eyes while the two Blades stepped closer to her. Fortunata turned to the Dunmer. "Any ideas?"
The Dragonborn shrugged. "A few. Can you keep it occupied?" The Breton wordlessly readied her blade. The Dunmer chuckled. "Alright. When I give the signal, stop attacking it. You'll know when you see it."
With that confusing instruction out of the way, the Dragonborn dissipated into a whirlwind. The dragon hissed, looking around frantically as it crawled out of the river. "Nikriin…" It growled, before finally sparing some attention to Fortunata and Esbern. The older man had his cane raised, watching the creature with a tired look, while Fortunata stood almost protectively in front of him. "So, you are the grah-zeymahzinne of the Dovahkiin? How appropriately… Underwhelming."
"You are quick to judge by the first impression." The older man said, smiling. The female Blade stepped forward, readying herself. "Allow me to correct that."
Naakfeynrath cocked its head. Esbern tapped the floor with the cane and suddenly, the dark wood lit up with magical glyphs and he pointed it towards the dragon. Its eyes widened slightly and it quickly raised its wings, covering itself as an arc of lightning shot out of the cane. The pulse bounced between each and every droplet on the dragon's shiny wet scales, sending small convulsions through its muscles. Naakfeynrath growled, shaking off the sensation and lowering its wings. Much to its annoyance, neither Esbern nor Fortunata were anywhere to be seen - though still quite easily felt, as the latter drew her katana across the creature's ankle, thrusting the blade through the thick skin and cutting through tendons and sinew like paper.
"Why you…!" The dragon recoiled, not expecting something this small to pierce its hide. It raised its foot, intending to stomp down where Fortunata was, but yet another spell impacted it from the side. A blast of ice shards all cut into its wings and torso like shrapnel, pushing the dragon off-balance and making it stumble to the side while Fortunata narrowly avoids the beast which collapsed onto its stomach.
Then, the entire battlefield seemed to come to a halt.
Every Shout creates sound, as the name implies. However, it is not only the speaker's voice that it carries. Each Shout has its own sound, like a mark of its supernatural nature. For most, such as Unrelenting Force, it is but a quiet rumble or an echo. For Storm Call, it is a thunderclap. For Fire Breath, it is a crackle of flame. For Whirlwind Sprint, it is the blowing wind. What they heard was none of those.
It was not loud or grand, but drew their attention more than anything else could. It was subtle yet unnerving, like a single drop of blood on a clean outfit, a knife hanging on the hip of an orphan, or a barely noticeable hobble of the old man you'd just bumped into on the street. It was like an alluring whisper, one that reached your very soul and gently embraced it, almost lulling you to sleep until it slowly turned into a cold iron grip around your neck.
"Krii." The single word sent a chill down everyone's spine, even if none but two of all the beings present knew its meaning. Saya emerged from the water, Stormblade clutched firmly in hand, and before the dragon could acknowledge its own situation, she attacked. Running up its flat, fin-like tail, across its smooth back, and sliding down its wide neck, she grabbed onto its eyelid and tugged on it, forcibly opening the beast's eye. Then, she raised Stormblade above her hand and plunged it straight into its pupil.
Naakfeynrath wanted to scream. Unbearable pain flooded its mind unlike anything it had experienced, thoughts vanishing and replaced with pure noise. Millions of incoherent plans of retribution sprung forth, the desire to crush her, kill her, eat her, burn her, destroy her, rip her apart. And then, in an instant, they all vanished - and he didn't even have the time to thrash before he collapsed onto the earth.
After a millisecond of delay, the eyeball Saya stabbed burst like a balloon and blood sprayed outwards like a fountain. What was supposed to be a wound looked more like a crater, the eye socket chipped and cracked and the flesh within turned into a bloody mess of mincemeat and liquid. And as Saya pulled out her sword, in the deepest part of the dead creature's head, one could see a pale pink pulp that used to be a brain, now completely destroyed.
The Blades looked upon the sight before them with a vague sense of unease. They had seen some grotesque things in their time of service, but this was definitely not a sight either of them had the displeasure of experiencing. Meanwhile Saya did not appear to at all be bothered by it, approaching the corpse and touching it with her hand. Fortunata was already familiar with what happened next - how the mangled body unraveled and melted into solid light, and how that light flowed into the Dragonborn's chest.
For a moment, the Dunmer seemed dazed, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. This happened last time, too - there was always a weird sense of simultaneous vitality and exhaustion that came after the devouring. Nevertheless, she always seemed to come to her senses, sooner or later. And so she did, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding and brushed away her soaked hair.
"Well… I guess that's done." She sighed and stepped over to the river, dipping her sword into the water, letting the current carry away the blood before sheathing it. Another few seconds passed and she suddenly clenched her jaw, hugging herself for warmth that was very quickly leaving her. In hindsight, diving into the cold river in the middle of fall did not seem like such a great idea, and the shivers that made her shake in her boots made it abundantly clear that her body agreed. Finally, she turned to her companions. "L-let's get out of here. I n-n… Fuck, I need to throw t-this off me."
Finally taken out of their repulsed stupor, Fortunata nodded. "Y-yeah. Let's… Esbern, if you would?"
The old man nodded. "I believe I saw a bridge this way. Come, it's a quick walk." He said, and the two women followed him as they crossed the river and finally entered the interior caves of the Karthspire.
There was a briarheart warrior inside. Fortunata made quick work of him. Thankfully, a campfire was already lit inside so all that was left for me to do was drop the armor, change into something dry, and warm up.
Neither of the two had really said anything to me after what happened back at the camp. I thought they'd moved past the cultist thing, but now I'm wondering if I just gave them more things to be uneasy about.
I really did want to let the Forsworn guy go, though. Not my fault he decided to try and kill me instead. The hagraven was supposed to be the only casualty. We talked about this.
I think it'll be fine. I'll get over it, they'll get over it. We have more pressing matters at hand.
The entire place is rigged with traps. I am not surprised nor disappointed, but just a little annoyed. For once, I would like a dungeon without any traps. Though the lack of undead is definitely a big plus.
This temple seems to be completely rigged in a way that screams "everyone who's not a Blade - fuck off". There are these elaborate puzzles and code locks all over the place but they're solved in seconds if you just know what each symbol means.
i.e., if you're a Blade. Or an associate, at least.
"Ah, and there it is!" Esbern exclaimed, rushing on into a chamber he spotted through the overgrown vines. The two women hastily followed him into the room and promptly stopped where they stood as the sight reached them, too.
It was a much bigger space than any of the previous areas they had gone through. Instead of claustrophobic corridors inserted into tight crevices and tunnels within the hollow mountain, they now found themselves in a place that was entirely artificial. Brick-like textures were carved into the flat walls and floor, allowing moss and fungi to creep into the tiny fissures and make them their home. In the middle of a chamber was a large structure of three stone rings around a small circle, stained with some kind of dark liquid. The rings were surrounded by four stone columns holding up extinguished braziers. Finally, in front of it all, as though overlooking the structure, was a massive stone head depicting a male human with a stoic expression.
"Well that's… Not creepy at all." The Dragonborn commented, putting a hand on her hip. As if to add to the creep factor, the sculpture was completely lacking in eyes, instead possessing two empty cavities in their place. She couldn't help but wonder if there was something in there at one point or another, seeing as how the eyelids appeared to be slightly chipped. "Who's the big guy?"
"Reman Cyrodiil." Fortunata said, walking around Saya to keep up with Esbern. "That name gets hammered into your head pretty hard when becoming a Blade in peaceful times."
"Yes, yes. You can see how the ancient Dragonguard revered Reman the First - this entire place is a shrine to him!" The old man laughed almost giddily. "He ended the Akaviri invasion in the First Era, if you recall. After the so-called 'Battle' at the Pale Pass, the invaders recognized him as Dragonborn and willingly brought themselves into his service. This was one of the turning moments of the Second Empire's founding."
"...Which is a very fascinating history lesson, but not exactly what we came here for." The Breton sighed, shaking her head. She pointed at the head. "That thing is a temple door if I've ever seen one. And if the architecture makes even a lick of sense, then it has something to do with those rings on the floor."
Saya stepped up, examining the mechanism. She attempted to push or pull the stone rings, but they all seemed to be firmly locked in place. Standing in the middle also functionally didn't help, but she did notice that the central element was slightly lower than the others. "That does make sense, but I don't see any kind of keyhole or anything." The Dunmer sighed, squatting in front of the object. "Hey Esbern, any ideas?"
Esbern, who had previously been muttering something to himself as he inspected the sculpted torch columns, suddenly sprung to attention. He looked at the contraption before him for a long few seconds, scratching his beard in thought, before he clasped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, how wonderful! So remarkably well-preserved, too…"
"What is it?" Saya raised a brow. She was starting to understand Fortunata's attitude towards the old man's historical enthusiasm.
"This, my dear," he pointed towards the rings, "is a blood seal. Another one of the lost Akaviri arts, replicated only once by the great Battlemage, Zurin Arctus. It is a special lock, one that cannot be opened by any means other than the single intended one - by letting it taste blood. No doubt, the blood of a dragon..." He turned to Saya. "Or one who would pass for a dragon."
Saya's ear twitched. But of course. She stood up with a tired sigh, taking off one of her gloves and pulling the ebony dagger off her waist. "You better be right…" She mumbled, eyeing Esbern. The man did not respond, and so she drew the blade across her palm and squeezed it, allowing blood to spill from her hand and onto the stone seal.
The next moment, everything began to move. The four braziers all lit up and the mechanism they surrounded started to click and move, the three rings aligning in a pattern which they now recognized was painted in the splatters - the Akaviri symbol for the Dragonborn, the twin dragons and a downward arrow between them. The Reman sculpture began to lift off the floor, revealing a small crevice where the chin was resting before the entire thing slowly tilted back to reveal a passage deeper into the ruin. Flames rapidly lit up on the walls of the corridor, as though beckoning them all inside.
The entire group exchanged a glance while Saya healed the cut on her hand. After a silent conversation, it was Esbern who spoke up. "You are the first to unlock this temple in hundreds, if not thousands of years. You should have the honor." He gestured at the door.
The Dragonborn looked at him with an expression that conveyed an emotion that everyone understood but nobody could really verbalize, like a bizarre mix of annoyance and strong desire to jokingly choke someone half to death. So instead of trying, she simply accepted her fate and accepted the shady halls' invitation, walking inside. The walls, from what she could see, were decorated with intricately crafted bas-reliefs. Nothing but abstract imagery to her, though she could vaguely recognize some shapes - mostly people, dragons, and swords.
Esbern's lecture on the nuances of sculptures' cultural style and foreign influences had gone unheard by her as she left the corridor and entered the main chamber, at which point she audibly gasped and the sound had echoed off every single wall of the positively enormous chamber. It was an entire cavern but... "Tamed", civilized. The rough natural shape of the stone bled seamlessly into artificial structures, countless pillars and arches and stairways that filled the entire place. Braziers seemed to almost grow out of the floor, carved from ancient stalagmites that littered the cavern prior to its discovery. The definite centerpieces of the room were a long, narrow table shaped like the blade of a straight sword, with a few surviving chairs surrounding it. On the opposite side of it, directly overlooking the table, was the object of their search - Alduin's Wall.
It was everything she'd imagined and more. A full 50 meters long and almost thrice as tall as she was, it was a high relief that almost pulled her in with its imagery. On the left, images of the distant past. Dragons flying overhead, flames spewing from their maws as men walked beneath, going about their lives: building temples, entering or leaving houses, tilling the soil, burying the dead. A bit further, the men became restless - warriors now rode on horseback, their swords raised into the sky. The entire image seemed to tilt upwards, the land beneath their feet becoming a steep mountain that stretched into the clouds. In the middle, three warriors stood, one woman and two men, their lips parted as their breath reached the divine beast in the middle - one that, even in stone, Saya could recognize to be Alduin. His mouth was open, his teeth bare, and yet she could tell that it was not in anger, but in pain. His entire shape looked as though it was dragged downward, his mighty wings embracing the entire wall on its edges. And then, in the remaining third, she saw history. Some that she was familiar with, some less so. The Numidium, standing with its burning gaze looking off into the distance, its chest empty. To its right, the Red Mountain with smoke and ash spewing forth from it, forming into the face of a man with three eyes. Further still, a vision of a Tower with the letter Oht overcasting it - an Oblivion Gate.
Finally, her eyes drifted downward, where the images seemed to be pulling in her gaze with a hypnotic quality. Two sides of warriors clashing against one another, one clad in the armor of an Empire, the other - in cloaks draped over Nordic garb. Beneath them, corpses - flesh and bones, all lying in identical piles, regardless of what side they were on. And then, the final fragment: an image of armored men and women, their blades raised into the sky, standing behind a warrior confronting Alduin once again as Thu'um spewed forth from their mouth. Their liege was armored, depicted in the middle of his strike as the dragon's flaming breath engulfed him, and yet… They were featureless. And as her consciousness tried to fight this sudden dissonance, this discrepancy between the detailed faces of the others and the faceless figure, she suddenly realized:
That was meant to be her.
"Shor's bones… Here it is! Alduin's Wall, and- and so well-preserved!" Esbern exclaimed, all but laughing from eagerness to explore every little detail of the relief. Somewhere behind him, Fortunata was already rolling her eyes. "I've never seen a finer example of early Second Era Akaviri sculptural relief- no, perhaps First Era, even…"
"Esbern, please." The Blade sighed. "We need information. Not a lecture on art history. That can wait until later." Indefinitely later, but she omitted that particular part.
The older Nord cleared his throat, a bit indignantly. "Yes, yes. Let us see what we have here… Ah, and there it is." He approached the center of the wall, the part depicting the three warriors and the World-Eater. "Here, you can see Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of the wall. The conclusion of the legendary Dragon War, when the ancient Nords of the Merethic Era revolted against Alduin and his Dragon Cult. You see, here he is - falling from the sky. The Nord Tongues - masters of the Voice - are arrayed against him, Shouting simultaneously."
Fortunata frowned. "Wait, so you're saying-"
"They defeated him with a Shout." Saya finished, her fists squeezing tightly. There was a peculiar tingle in her chest, one she could not exactly explain. But looking upon the wall, it almost felt like it came… Alive, in a way. Like a strange deja vu, as though she had seen this happen already…
"Have you ever heard of such a thing?" Fortunata touching her shoulder shook Saya out of her thoughts, making her realize that the conversation was still going on behind her. "A Shout that could knock a dragon out of the sky?"
The Dunmer shook her head. "No, nothing of the sort. Although…" She pursed her lips. "Arngeir might know. Him or one of the other Greybeards."
Fortunata's expression immediately turned sour and she turned around, huffing in frustration. "I was afraid you were going to say that. I guess there's nothing we can do, then. Fine!" She threw her arms up. "We'll have to get the Greybeards involved."
The Dragonborn smiled wryly. "You really hate them, huh."
The blonde whipped around, staring daggers at the other girl. "And for good reason. If they had their way, Tamriel would've been in shambles and you would be up there, sitting on their mountain and talking to the clouds. The Greybeards possess one of the most important powers in the universe, but they're so afraid of their own power they refuse to use it! Just think about it!" She stepped closer to Saya, stomping as she went. "Have they tried to stop the Civil War? Or Alduin? Even the Great War - they could've done something, anything, but they didn't. And if Tiber Septim followed their example, we would probably not even be alive. There's always a choice and a risk, and those who abuse their power can become villains - it's true. But living in fear of your power is even worse, because villain or not - people die because of you."
By the time Fortunata finished her speech, she was almost directly in front of Saya, who was just marginally taller and staring down at the fuming Breton. The redhead sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking her straight in the eye. "You don't need to tell me. I'm done with fearing what I can do. I won't be like them." The tone of her voice was low and precise, with each word delivered with a quiet emphasis as her eyes practically gleamed with the brazier's flames behind the two of them.
Fortunata gulped quietly, moving away from her. Seeing the tension in the room, Esbern continued talking as if nothing had happened. "Now, look here." He pointed at the last segment. "This, this is the prophecy that is said to have brought the Akaviri to Tamriel in the first place, in search of the Dragonborn. In older times, all of us remembered it by heart, passing it from generation to generation. Do you remember it, Fortunata?"
The Breton smiled, shaking her head. "Hazily."
"You never were a diligent student." He chuckled before clearing his throat and speaking.
When misrule takes place in the eight corners of the world
When the Brass Tower walks, and time is reshaped
When the thrice-blessed fail, and the Red Tower trembles
When the Dragonborn ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns
Upon the Last Dragonborn.
There was a moment of silence as the weight of those words sank into the atmosphere. Saya stood there, motionless, staring at the wall as emotions stirred within her. Amazement. Expectation. Intimidation. It was a feeling of turbulence, but one that was hopeful for what would happen afterward. She smiled.
"Well, let's go look around the temple, then. Who knows what kind of other things the old guard might have left here."
The Blades looked at each other and they, too, smiled together.
"Yes, I suppose we should."
"Just don't turn it into another three hour lecture when you find a particularly 'well-preserved' chair."
"I will do no such thing!"
The conversation grew distant as laughter echoed across the halls of the Sky Haven Temple. The Dragonborn watched the two of them wander off to explore, and after throwing one last glance at Alduin's Wall, she followed suit.
The place was already beginning to feel a lot like home.
