Kynesgrove was barely a village – a small settlement that boasted a few fine buildings left over from more prosperous days, stubbornly holding on to the memory of those days. Sygynn had never been there, but she had seen it from afar, back when she was still a child, on one of the rare occasions she was allowed to go with her uncle to transport pelts to the various homesteads near Windhelm. Otr had even pointed out the fabled ancient barrow to her, telling her with all the joy of a young uncle of the dragon buried beneath it. Even then, Sygynn knew he thought the barrow empty – for who truly believed the dragons had existed?
As they neared the thin line of buildings, interspersed with the tents of the miners, Sygynn felt her spine stiffen. Delphine evidently felt a similar tension, for she had slowed her normally brisk pace, her head swiveling back and forth in a calm but alert surveillance.
"Ever been here before?" asked the Breton, her voice jarringly casual. Sygynn shook her head, though she knew the Breton didn't really care to hear her answer. This place may have been classed as a 'sleepy' little community, but the silence that now met them was of a different sort…an uncomfortable sort.
They had reached the fencepost of a small garden plot outside a longhouse, evidently a relic from an earlier age in the town's fortunes. A well-tended plot, but empty at the moment. Delphine had paused, her head raised, as if scenting the air.
Sygynn stood slightly behind her, letting her eyes flit back and forth along the narrow road and the scant treeline behind the town. To the north was the rocky outcrop that lifted away towards Windhelm, and the mound. The silence was unnatural, and unbearable.
Delphine, as if desperate to break it, whispered in a rasping tone, "Something's wrong…"
Something was indeed wrong. It had put both women on edge, and neither noticed the third woman running from the longhouse until she was almost on top of them. She was blanched white, her eyes wide, her pants of exertion and terror rasping in time with the slap of her feet against the packed earth as she ran to them.
"No…no, stay back! A…a dragon!"
Sygynn felt the resolution of the tingling along her spine, and turned her gaze back to the crest of the hillock. A few moments of silence, broken only by the woman's shuddering breaths, and Sygynn asked in as calm a voice as she could muster, "A dragon is attacking Kynesgrove?"
The woman's face registered mild annoyance amid the terror, as if such questions were irrelevant, "Well…not yet, but it flew over the town and landed on the old dragon mound." She clutched at her skirt, kilting it to her knees, "I don't know what it's doing up there, but I'm not waiting around to find out!"
Delphine, who was also looking towards the hill, made a movement with her hand, "Go, get out of here. We'll see to this."
The Kynesgrove woman stared aghast at the two strangers – evidently strong warriors in their own right, kitted out in full battle gear, but no match for a beast of legend. She could only give out a nervous, frightened laugh before resuming her flight.
Sygynn, not once glancing at Delphine or the fleeing woman, adjusted the straps of her sword belt. She narrowed her eyes, putting a tough gruffness to her voice that covered the tremble of fear, "Well…we found a dragon for you."
The Breton was already moving past her, her stride assured and resolute. Sygynn envied her.
"C'mon, hurry. It might be too late."
The mound was just beyond the limits of the settlement, at the northwest boundary-stone. Sygynn, despite having the longer stride, fell behind Delphine's determined pace and lost sight of her briefly as she crested the rocky hilltop. The Breton woman was already pressed to the sheltering outcrop, peering around to view the mound – and the huge creature hovering above it. Sygynn was stricken to stillness, then instinct drove her limbs onward, and she ran, bent double, to join Delphine in her hiding place.
"Lorkhan's eyes! Look at that big bastard!" Delphine's voice, normally so controlled, quavered a little with emotion. She crouched with her mouth open, clearly at a loss, before gathering herself again and whispering with admirable steadiness, "Keep your head down…let's see what it does."
Sygynn felt her skin prickle and her hair stand on end. That huge black form, the distinctive whoosh of leathery wings through heated air, and that rasping devilish breath – it was the same dragon that had heralded all this madness. She remembered the stab of horror she had felt to see the dragon in Whiterun – more than one dragon, a devastating prospect. But now she felt that she would have preferred to see yet another creature, or maybe ten, for the prospect of facing down this one alone did not strike her as favorable. Something told her this one was worse than any number of other dragons.
These thoughts did not last, for as the creature vomited forth its hideous speech, the mound beneath it began to rumble, as from a shifting of the earth. Sygynn, wild, threw a panicked glance at Delphine, who was gripping onto the rockface to quiet her own trembling limbs. The Breton only looked at her briefly, shaking her head and mouthing rather than saying, "Steady." Then, gathering more strength, she whispered more audibly, "I don't…I don't know what's happening. Let's watch and wait."
Sygynn had turned her gaze back on the dragon, but she heard Delphine add, more to herself, "This is worse than I thought…"
Far worse. Like some horrible blasphemy of birth, the mound heaved, shuddered and then split, a great gaping rift yawning to the open air. As the two women watched in horrified fascination, the upper lip of the rift groaned and rolled, and out from the blackness reached a bleached, skeletal…thing. Then, with nightmarish speed of movement, the thing slid forth, into the clear air. Sygynn felt her breath leave her, her vision go blurry with the stab of utter terror that sight gave her.
It was a creature made entirely of bone, spines and jagged teeth. She recognized them, vaguely – such a horrible shape had been left in the fields outside Whiterun. But this one was moving, a sickening simulacrum of life animating the very form of death. Sygynn found herself reaching out to grip at the Breton's shoulder, as if she feared the woman was missing the import of it all. Delphine did not react beyond a widening of the eyes, a stiffening of the jaws.
The thing had crawled free of the mound, shaking gravemold from its skeletal form, and the huge black dragon, still hovering with easy power in his wings, rumbled in what must have been approval, pleasure. Then, he craned his great neck forward and let forth another string of blood-curdling speech, his breath firing the air.
It all happened so quickly, and Sygynn could only watch in horror as flesh seemed to sprout along the bony frame of the creature below. She had skinned and butchered so many beasts in her life, Sygynn's eyes marked with unspeakable horror the reversal of the process. Muscle formed along the bones, sinews grew forth like vines, blood pooled in the air, and at last, scales sheathed across the powerful form – all in the mere space it took to draw breath.
"Gods…oh, gods," she heard the other woman whisper, as if it had been torn from her throat.
The newly formed dragon was stretching his limbs with all the delight of a cat flexing in the sun, shaking experimentally and gazing up at the one who had given him life. A deep, hacking laugh (there was no other description for the sound) and the grounded dragon then bowed his head, rumbling with undoubted reverence in that unknown and unbearable tongue, "Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleysksejun kruziik?"
The black dragon lowered himself, but did not land, content to hover with slow, languid flaps of his great wings. Sygynn saw him nod his massive head, approving, before thundering out to his subordinate, "Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir."
"Two dragons…" Sygynn whispered to Delphine, though she had nothing to follow it up with, and suddenly lost her tongue as the black creature, without any warning, turned his gaze towards their hiding place. Both women froze, rigid, racked with terror and uncertainty. Sygynn held her breath, her heart slamming hard against her mail and the rockface she was pressed against so fervently. Surely he did not know they were there…
And yet…
"Ful, losei Dovahkiin?" Sygynn felt her throat clench, her lungs seize up. The two points of devil-flame were boring into her, and the creature's hideous voice seemed to rip into her very guts. She almost staggered, instinctively shrinking back. But she made no more efforts to hide. The dragon knew she was there.
Dovahkiin. That was what the Greybeards had called her. And now this creature was calling her by the same name. This was the same dragon from Helgen. And he…recognized her. He knew her. Somehow he knew who and what she was.
"Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi." The creature, still hovering above the mound and the grounded dragon, writhed his neck back in a gesture that could only be described as mocking. Then he spoke again, but to Sygynn and Delphine's shock, it was in words they both knew, however hideous and devilish the intonation.
"You do not even know our tongue, do you?" There was a huffing sound over the steady beating of wings, and Sygynn realized the beast was laughing at her, "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah."
The Breton woman glanced sideways at the Nord. She herself was shaken to the core by the devilish voice, but could not help a meaningful look, as if to say, 'Aye, so you'd better prove him wrong, girl'.
The first dragon, evidently no longer taking any interest in the mortal woman down below, turned his deathly gaze back to the dragon crouching devoutly before him. He jerked his head, rumbling a brusque order, "Sahloknir, krii daar joorre."
The other dragon made a strange sound that must have been gruesome joy, and a shiver ran through his shoulders and wings, a shudder of anticipation, of ravenous delight. With startling agility, the creature leapt into the air as its master turned himself away and took his leave – obviously he had no further business there.
Sygynn, her eyes still fixed on the diminishing figure of the giant black beast, clenched her fists in a combination of frustration, confusion and frank terror. He may have looked like the other dragons, but there was something far, far worse about him, something she could never put into words. It was like a smell, an unknowable repulsion. But for now, she must deal with this new dragon.
Fine…the Breton wants a dragon fight? She's got one.
The creature was climbing into the air, his head slowly tracking to the small mortal below. She ducked back behind the rocky outcrop, and the dragon laughed with cruel delight, bellowing out, "I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice and despair!"
"Polite bastard, eh?" Delphine laughed, unashamed of the quaver in her voice. She had unslung her bow, rising to one knee and rotating on her heel towards Sygynn, who had already drawn her blade. She was holding it before her almost contemplatively, the muscles in her forearms tensing spasmodically, her chest rising and falling with her consciously measured breaths.
Delphine waited for a few moments, calming her own voice before speaking again, "So…what do we do?"
Sygynn's head snapped to the side and she glared at the Breton woman, quirking an eyebrow despite not having the luxury of sarcasm, "This was your idea!"
Delphine shrugged, ducking down lower as a tremendous shriek rent the air. Both women shielded their heads, then glanced up to see the pale dragon pass over them. Delphine gazed in a mixture of terror and wonder, then forced her eyes back to Sygynn, muttering, "You're the Dragonborn. You've done this before. So c'mon…how do we kill it?"
Sygynn kept her eyes on Sahloknir, who was lazily wheeling around the hamlet, as if shaking stiffness from his reborn wings. She shifted her grip on her sword, speaking with a firmness she did not fully feel, "It's after me. I don't know if it even knows you're here. I'll keep it occupied and you take as many shots as you can. The main thing is to get it down on the ground."
Delphine snorted as she nocked an arrow, "Huh, that sounds like the last place we want it, but you know best." The skepticism was plain, but her hands were trembling a little. She snuck a worried glance at Sygynn, who was still tracking the dragon's movements. Delphine had to admit – this woman had suddenly seemed to swell with a brand of confidence she had never seen before. It wasn't brashness or bravado – there was a grim determination in her icy eyes. In the moment that giant black brute had turned his evil eyes on her, this woman had…changed. It was as if she had woken up.
The dragon was making his way back towards them, and Sygynn motioned for Delphine to conceal herself, while she stood up from the shelter of the rock and stepped into the open.
"Wait…wait, no, you can't be serious!"
Delphine watched in frank horror as the woman began walking out towards the remnants of the mound, removing herself from any cover. Her face was turned towards the dragon, and her posture was clearly one of challenge.
"You're no good to me dead! What are you doing?" Delphine hissed, but the sound and wind of wings ripping the air over her made her duck her head again, swiveling her body and drawing back her bowstring, training her sights on the huge form as it passed overhead.
The arrows (three shot with a precision and rapidity that Sygynn would have admired had she seen it) pinged pitifully off the dragon's hardened sides. Delphine cursed, nocking another arrow and getting her breathing under control. She needed to aim for the belly and eyes, the softer skin of the neck. She spared a moment to look for Sygynn, seeing her standing, legs in a wide, solid stance, still staring intently at the creature as it wheeled over them. What was she doing?
Sygynn's eyes were squinted against the glare, and she felt her throat constrict shamefully before she managed to gather control again. "Come on, you overgrown lizard!" she barked as loud as she could into the sky, feeling her voice strain, fearing it would crack pathetically with the terror she could not deny, "Come on and face me! Come down here and face me on the ground, if you are so mighty!"
The creature evidently heard her, for that strange, demoniac laugh answered her words. He wheeled over her again, his head craned towards her. A sudden blast of fire hurled towards her, and Sygynn was forced to make an ungainly leap to the side, feeling the scalding heat brush along her entire body as she did so. The flames, and whatever dark essence came with them, seemed to simply swallow up the frost-coated grass, leaving a giant hoofprint of black stubble behind. Delphine had beaten a retreat, eyes lowered.
"Dovahkiin…you are grounded. I am not. You shall die crawling."
The black speech iced Sygynn's blood, but she forced her limbs to move, aware of the creature hovering overhead. He was toying with her, that much was evident. Her whole life of combat had been one of making use of such attitudes. Men twice her size would laugh at her, elves had viewed her as a rustic simpleton, and now this dragon saw her as no more than a fraud.
Fine. I can work with that.
She regained her feet, catching a quick sight of the Breton woman. She was unimpressed as well, still crouched behind her outcrop. Sygynn might have imagined the disappointed resignation, but she wouldn't be surprised if the woman was thinking she had made a terrible mistake.
Shout, you ice brain. Do what the old men said to do.
The dragon was still hovering, enjoying the squirming worm beneath him. He had no intention of killing her quickly. He was enjoying his return to life, to power, to dominating mortals. This so-called mortal hero was providing ample entertainment, and he would allow her a few more writhings of life, of suffering.
She set her feet firmly, raising her face to the sky and the creature, blotting out the early winter sun. She slit her eyes, taking a few breaths. Delphine, from her vantage point, could only stare in amazement as the Nord woman, suddenly calm, her limbs going almost slack, craned her head and spine back. What was she doing? Taking a nice, long look at the thing that would snap her up in one crushing bite? Her sword was almost dangling at her side.
Sygynn let her eyelids droop. Everything slowed until all she was aware of was the rise and fall of her own breast as she took several long, pensive breaths.
The Voice. The gift of gods.
"You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North…"
Don't think. Just do it.
Sygynn drew in her breath, and craning her head back as far as she dared, she pushed everything within her outward, feeling that strange rushing up from her belly and through her chest and throat as her tongue, forming the words instinctively, molded the air around her into a devastating storm-like blow. She dug her heels into the ground, thrusting forward with her shoulders as if to propel the shout with even more force.
"Fus…Ro Dah!"
Above her, Sahloknir had reacted with initial scorn, but was suddenly, violently, buffeted sideways, one wing flexed painfully backwards as if colliding with an invisible cliff face. A pained, surprised roar, and the creature righted himself. He veered slightly, and Sygynn sensed that his intention to toy with her had altered – for now he hissed down at her with a note of real fury, "Dovahkiin…your Voice is no match for mine!"
Sygynn saw the Breton woman running towards her, and she threw out her arm, shouting frantically, "No! Stay back!" It was just as well, for the dragon, arcing his body and then bending his wings close to his sides, began a rapid diving descent towards her. Sygynn heard another thundering rasping roar, and she threw herself sideways, feeling the rush of blinding heat skim past her, scorching the ground around her. She continued her lateral motion, seeing in her periphery the giant creature pouncing upon the spot where she had been standing like a monstrous bird of prey, claws grasping and gouging huge furrows in the ground. A buffeting wing swung just over her head, not touching her but still knocking her flat.
Delphine had fallen back as the dragon clawed at the earth, her limbs going rigid with terror, but only for a moment. It was distracted. And it was grounded, at least for now. She drew back another arrow, taking careful aim for the creature's eye. She loosed her shaft, and was gratified to hear a pained indraft of monstrous breath. But the monster still did not turn its attention away from the Nord woman.
Sygynn had managed to regain her feet quickly, brutally aware of the giant head snaking towards her. She saw it jerk and heard the impact of an arrow – Delphine. Sahloknir reacted, but did not turn away from his target, and Sygynn knew she had to act quickly. One of the huge foreclaws was lifted, snatching at her, but she brought her blade up to parry the claw. She felt her arms shudder at the impact and was rewarded with another pained noise from the dragon and the sensation of yielding against her blade – one of the claws sheared off, spiraling into the air and landing a few feet beyond her.
The dragon, evidently stung by this loss, backed away with an agility that belied his size. Evidently he did not relish his position any longer, and sprang into the air again, forced to wobble awkwardly before he could regain a proper height.
Sygynn was bent, almost kneeling, snatching a few gasping breaths. She was already blown out, but all she had done was rob the creature of a claw – had angered it. She heard the Breton calling out to her, her voice muffled from the thrumming of blood in Sygynn's temples, "Come on, get back here!" A pause, then a more panicked tone, "Quickly! Here he comes again!"
This time the dragon was skimming at a steep angle, clearly intending to strafe over her and snatch at her with his claws. Sygynn straightened, blowing out an almost resigned breath. Hiding would do nothing but prolong the inevitable, and she ought to act while she still had strength, however flagging. Calling upon her reserves, Sygynn turned and sprinted with all of her waning strength, frantically throwing glances back over her shoulder to gauge the dragon's distance. As he drew ever nearer, Sygynn saw him sharply pull up and extend his lower limbs, claws primed. She weaved as best she could, throwing an arcing cut over her head. She felt her sword drag harmlessly across the armored hide as the creature passed within an inch of her, and the force knocked her to her knees. Luckily, such a large beast could not do anything but continue past her, forced to awkwardly hop a few times to stop from going nose-first into the ground and regain the air. It gave Sygynn just enough time to get back to her feet and grab a few gasping breaths.
Sahloknir had climbed high again, slowly wheeling back towards Sygynn, sending out an angry, barking laugh. Delphine yelled something, but Sygynn could not make it out, nor could she even see where the Breton was anymore. She was still panting furiously, her arms deadweight, her knees trembling. She had utterly blown herself out with that sprinting dash. But the dragon could keep that up all day. A second pass would see her snatched up like a rabbit in the talons of a hawk. Unless…
Now the Breton woman's words were discernable, as she had run closer, nocking another arrow to her bow, breathlessly urging Sygynn, "C'mon, head back to the mound! We've got to get under some sort of cover or that thing will sweep us both up with a single bite!"
Sygynn's face must have looked ghastly, for Delphine's eyes widened with a sort of horror when she met her gaze. The Nord slowly shook her head, dragging her palm across her brow, her sword practically dropping from her fingers. Her voice, when she spoke, was unnaturally low with fatigue, "No…no, I've got to try something." Then, rallying somewhat, she jerked her head at Delphine, her voice regaining some strength, "Head back that way – whatever you do, don't get anywhere in front of me."
Delphine stared wildly at Sygynn. Had she snapped? Had her brains ruptured from the maddening force of the dragon's roar or wings? Or was that strange, sudden calm a symptom of something else? Against her best judgement (though who could truly judge a situation so foreign as a dragon attack?) Delphine shrugged, taking a few steps back and leaving Sygynn with the parting shot, "Whatever you say, Dragonborn. Let's see if you can pull this off…or if it kills us all."
Sygynn may have given a thin, humorless smile at this, but it was hard to tell. Delphine turned, sprinting for the meager cover available. The dragon was rapidly closing on their position, but was entirely focused on Sygynn. Delphine turned her head to look as she ran, and saw Sygynn take a few steps before taking up a solid, determined position directly in the furious creature's path. Gods…was she just going to let it kill her? What about her insistence on grounding the monster? Was this some foolish attempt to stare down a dragon? A useless gesture of defiance? Delphine turned, skipping backwards a few paces, unable to resist watching whatever madness was about to unfold before her.
Sygynn had taken up a defensive posture, her feet staggered, her sword held upright, left shoulder thrust towards the rapidly approaching dragon. Maybe she was a fool to even attempt this – failure meant instant, violent death. But if it worked…
Sahloknir was almost upon her now – she had mere seconds to act. She saw the monster's flaming eyes fixed on her, his jaws open, his claws flexing in preparation. To him, she was already dead. She was merely the corpse of a pathetic fraud, who dared to call herself the Dragonborn.
Dragonborn or not, I'm the Harbinger of the Companions, dammit! She shifted her grip on her sword, widening her stance and tensing her shoulders, her teeth grit so tightly she felt her jaws crack. Sahloknir opened his jaws fully, a savagely triumphant roar already thrumming in his throat.
Sygynn drew in a deep, rasping breath.
This one is for Kodlak.
Sahloknir had only seen her use the unrelenting force of the dragon language, and was not prepared when the mortal, practically in his claws, flashed forward with devastating speed, an even more devastating familiar cry, and a piercing agony struck the creature's shoulder.
"Wuld. Nah…Kest!"
The roar of haughty victory transformed into one of horrified pain, and all balance was thrown off as Sahloknir's left wing tore from his body, half-severed by the blade and then ripped fully away by the force of movement.
Delphine saw the dragon go down in a sudden red mist, and one wing was flapping crazily behind it as a giant furrow of earth hid the rest of it from view. Sygynn, who had been standing directly in front of the dragon a second before, all but impaled on its claws, was now a good hundred yards beyond it, her sword dripping crimson. Sahloknir was writhing in anguish, his remaining wing pounding against the earth and his tail lashing wildly behind him. The shrieks were horrible, and Delphine had to clap her hands over her ears as she ran forward. Sygynn had turned back to see her work, and was already running back towards the felled beast, flicking blood from her eyes. She slowed her pace as she neared the creature and his crushing spasms of agony, leaping back as the tail swung savagely at her legs.
Delphine, positioning herself in front of the monster's head, began unloading arrow after arrow into the beast, gratified to see some of her shots remain fixed in the tough scaly hide while the others bounced harmlessly off. Sygynn stood watching as the dragon, still too agonized from his maimed wing to even bother with the arrows, batted rather feebly with its remaining forelimb at the Breton woman. Sygynn had to admit – this woman had real courage. She didn't even flinch backwards, simply ducking aside to avoid the badly aimed blow, still unloosing arrows at the beast's head. While he was momentarily distracted, Sygynn managed to find a way through the flailing limbs to reach Sahloknir's flanks.
Delphine, running low on shafts, had drawn her blade and moving guardedly towards the writhing creature. She saw the Nord leaping over the wrack of limbs, sword out, eyes covered in blood but still flashing with impressive zeal. Delphine suddenly sensed that she was no longer needed here, and let her sword arm droop, content to watch Sygynn.
Sygynn, in a lull in the dragon's agonized movements, lunged towards the join of his belly and forelimb, shoving forward with all of her weight flung against her sword pommel. She felt her ribs groan for a brief, terrifying moment when the sword blade seemed to flex against the dragon's hide, then with a hideous crunching sound, it slid violently into the beast.
Sahloknir gave out another shriek, but this one was far worse than any he had let loose before. Sygynn had pushed until her hands, still around the hilt, were slick with the inky ichor of the brute and her chest was against the shivering sides. Still screaming, the dragon jolted his sides violently, and Sygynn felt her sword ripped from her grasp. She turned to see the huge head darting at her, maw open, blood and fire sizzling at the back of his throat. More on instinct than anything else, Sygynn acted as she should have when faced with a charging bear. She seized her axe from her belt, leaping sideways and just missing the sinuous neck as it passed back her with a hot wind of blood and fury.
She had a mere breath to react. Sygynn seized hold of one of the horns on the beast's head, yanking herself up and over his neck. Sahloknir almost barked in rage, arching his neck down in an effort to dislodge the unwelcome weight. Sygynn held fast, and hooking one leg across the neck, she brought her arm and the axe swinging down with all the force at her command. She felt her sides jar as she put her whole body, as much as she could in her awkward posture, into the swing.
Delphine, having watched the whole spectacle and moved forward just as the creature seemed to be regaining strength, instead went stock still when the Nord woman, seemingly going mad, leaped atop the dragon's head. She stood, open mouthed, watching as the sunlight flashed on an upraised axe blade, before it disappeared with a violent hacking motion. The dragon's cry deepened into something that might have been words, but Delphine once again had to clap her hands over her ears. She saw the axe raise again, and come down again, over and over, as the woman hacked industriously away at the creature's head, aiming for the eyes, the join of the mouth, the temples. The longsword hilt protruding from the beast's side was the true death blow, but the axe seemed to beat any further throes into abeyance. At last, the bloodied head gave a violent jerk, and Sygynn was flung clear. She landed clear of the wreck, miraculously unhurt save for deep bruises and scratches.
The dragon was no longer thrashing his tail and writhing his remaining wing. The great sides still shuddered, quivered, the head at a strange angle, the jaws twitching hideously as guttural sounds, like labored breathing, came from the palpitating throat. The sounds and the movements slowly lessened, until at last, Sahloknir lay motionless, lifeless. The dragon was dead.
The Breton had limped to the Nord's side as the creature had been slowly bleeding out its life. They both stood, panting, holding their sides, all but leaning against one another in their exhaustion, their relief. When the dragon went completely still and silent, Delphine could only turn to the woman who had killed it, her face blank, tight-lipped, almost afraid. Then she whispered in a hushed tone, a mere breath, "I'll be damned…you did it!"
Sygynn glanced at Delphine, as if she had not heard her. But after a dazed pause, she made a strange, noncommittal movement of her head, speaking in a muted voice, "We both did it."
At any other time Delphine would have scoffed, but now she just passed over the woman's ingenuous remark, her voice growing stronger as her breath returned, "That was well done. Well done indeed." She looked toward the huge creature's body, then to the several advancing figures from Kynesgrove – no sense moving in secrecy anymore. "Come on, I've been wanting a closer look at one of these buggers."
She began to move towards the huge corpse, still staggering, with Sygynn following almost meekly behind her, automatically tending to her axe, when Delphine suddenly stopped. A wave of heat seemed to explode out from the dead dragon, and the creature's skin began to glow, as with fire, but with no flame.
"Wait…what's happening?"
Just as Delphine had seen the creature given flesh by the other dragon, the crackling line of unearthly flame that seared along it seemed to reverse the gift. With startling rapidity, the dragon's form was swallowed up in a silent fire, or else the fire was not silent but merely drowned out by the sudden wind that sprung up, as from the earth. Delphine and the other bystanders were forced to take a step back as…something…reached out from the dead thing's crumbling form and danced around the Nord who had killed it. The roaring was now too much to bear, and several of the Kynesgrove natives turned and fled, hands clapped to their ears. But it was only a moment, and the otherworldly wind subsided as swiftly as it had risen, leaving the dragonslayer untouched, but vastly changed.
Sygynn gasped, as though she had just emerged from a deep dive, and half stumbled forward, but did not lose her footing. She regained her balance, turning a weary eye to Delphine, who stood a few paces in front of a knot of villagers. All faces were of uniform expression – awed wonder and reverent terror. The woman that stood in front of them was almost fainting from exhaustion, blood and gore spattered, but with the sudden whirl of energy that had seemed to dance around her, her ice-blue eyes began to glow with an unknowable fire. Skyrim itself seemed to hold its breath for her.
There was a heavy, sacred silence. No one dared to speak or move, and only the Nord woman's heavy breath could be heard. She looked about to fall to her knees, but stared defiantly up at her onlookers, digging her blade into the earth and propping herself up, eyes flashing with weariness and triumph equally mixed.
Delphine's voice was so low Sygynn almost didn't hear it, "So you really are…I…it's true, isn't it?" She stepped forward, then halted, as if afraid, but her sturdy nature overcame her fear and she continued forward.
"You really are…Dragonborn."
The woman stared wearily at her, leaning heavily on her sword hilt. Then, she gave a toothy, sarcastic smile, shaking her head as if embarrassed by all the sudden solemnity.
"Maybe…but right now, I'm damned thirsty."