THE HORN OF JURGEN WINDCALLER
The Dragonborn
She shrieks again. The puzzle is as infuriating as his whispering in the corner. The jester has taken to watching the shadows as if the dragon will jump out of them at any moment.
"Will you please be quiet?" She snarls to him, while trying to be patient. It is never good to make a follower resentful so early on.
"Yes, Mother." Cicero sits but his eyes shift from one way to the other.
She sighs, then refocuses. This puzzle requires one to walk on each rock in accordance to their placement. When each one is passed the gate up ahead opens. Of course, she tried the easy way, by blasting through the door and the rock with her power. But as she is slowly finding out, her mortal form is far less powerful than her corporeal. Through the Listener she had nearly unending power, but it was constrained.
Here, on the mortal plane she can command it as she wishes, but it is still no greater than the most adept of mages.
No, now she has to use her powers wisely. Good thing she's had nearly an eternity to sharpen her skills. This puzzle calls for the Whirlwind Sprint. Cicero was interfering with her concentration with all his whispered nonsense, which has become more fervent in the last few weeks. But now she had all the peace she could ever ask for.
Her left foot is positioned ahead of her, just so she has a good starting point. The gate up ahead will lift and allow her through if she is fast enough. Cicero might not be able to make it…not a bad thing. On second thought.
She glances at him again. His murmuring is back. It is almost unconscious. She did tell Eve she had no part in his madness and this is further proof. "Cicero." She says in her musical voice.
"Yes, Mother?" His voice echoes in the little cave.
She closes her eyes at the impending headache. "Go stand near the gate. When it opens slip through right away."
"Yes, Mother. Oh! Oh! How clever! The Greybeards wanted us to have this power, just for this moment?" He clasps his hands but obliges and is soon standing by the gate.
"Yes." She says, but her eyes are only for the other side. She calls the shout, it flings itself from her throat across the way, through that opening. In a matter of seconds, she is leaping from stone to stone and straight through the door. Only problem is, the jester is in the way.
She slams into his slim form. He wasn't fast enough so they both go flying into the next room to a heap on the floor.
"Ah! Mother!" Cicero cries from under her. She stands and roughly grabs his forearm. "I told you to be watching." She growls.
"Mother, Cicero was but he saw something in the shadows!"
"Yes, we are still surrounded by draugr and necromancers. Not a problem I presume?"
He keeps quiet after that. That familiar gleam of murder returns in his eyes. Good. He is now focused as he should be.
They approach the next opening, not bothering to slow their pace or keep their footsteps silent. "Remember Child, this is not our main objective. We need to take the rest of Skyrim. This quest, and the dragon, is more or less a distraction. Keep your focus and don't lose it. Every second spent on this nonsense is another second the enemy has to further their defenses."
"We should have killed the Greybeards." He grumbles yet again.
There is no room for argument. The necromancers leap from the shadows, from their work in the next room. Only when they see her do they cower. "The Night Mother!"
"Night Mother, spare us! Let us into the Brotherhood and we will do good!" A man throws himself before her. Bowing. How stupid. His head is in just the right place.
She stomps and her newfound strength caves his head in in a sickening sort of sound. The other necromancer's screech and try to plead. But it's no use. They are ashes in moments.
She reigns her power back in for the next room and sure enough more dragur. This time she uses her fangs and her fists. How fun! Eve enjoyed this power, she liked seeing the blood and carnage through her eyes. This is very satisfying. The blood of a dead Nord is just falling from her teeth when Cicero gasps.
"Mother." The jester breathes. He's never seen her feed before, only felt it.
"Keep going." She commands.
Spiders emerge. They are easy to deal with. And finally, the last room. This is where a word wall is and the Horn.
She pulls on her dress, so it doesn't catch on her feet when she descends the steps. Cicero runs ahead to dispatch of any enemies. The word wall is what calls to her first. But when she finally sees it, she is drawn to the pedestal.
Where there should be a priceless treasure there is a note. When it is plucked from it's resting place, it reads:
Dragonborn,
I need to speak to you. Urgently.
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you.
-A friend.
The note fries in her hands, falling away like so many of the other inhabitants in the cave. "Mother! Was the Horn here?" The jester keeps looking around the room.
"It is gone Cicero!" She snaps, does she have to tell him everything? "This has been a failure." She is shaking with fury over the distraction, but the wall is calming. A power seeps into her bones.
"Go loot for any treasure of artifacts. When that is done, we make way to Riverwood right away." She glances at her hands. The power is simmering just below the surface, a new shout to be unlocked. Become Ethereal. Fitting.
"Yes, Mother. This person who wants us…do they have it?" He bounds up the steps to where she stands.
She smiles sourly, "If they do then you will have the honor of digging their grave. It is not wise to meddle with us like this. Hurry, we cannot waste more time."
Twenty-five pounds heavier, the jester is out of breath. The Night Mother glances down at his hunched form with all the armor and grand weapons bundled on his back. "You don't wish for vampire strength?"
He wheezes, "And fangs? Sleeping in a coffin?" He coughs, "On second thought, that would be nice! Mother are you trying to change me?"
She watches his struggle. He would be stronger. The Brotherhood would be stronger if all the members were changed. But they cannot only rely on the supernatural. If they use that crutch for too long, it will be difficult to change tactics when the enemy finds their weakness. Lord Harkon was a prime example. "No, I was merely curious. Get the things on the carriage and we'll be going."
"Yes, Mother." He wheezes again.
She glides to the front, where the driver is trembling with the reigns in his hands. She gracefully leaps and moves closer to him. "This won't hurt a bit." She promises in a soft voice, then she plunges her fangs into his neck.
The following night Riverwood is in view. The carriage is directed to wait on the outskirts with all the goods they found on their journey. The Night Mother knows how prominent thieves have become. The town is as she remembered it through Eve's eyes. Unmemorable, aside from the fact that it sits near a river. Nothing significant happens here.
The Sleeping Giant is nearly empty at this hour. A few stragglers have their heads to the tables, drunk out of their minds. This is good, they won't see her shadow passing. A woman with sharp blue eyes and hair the color of wheat stands at the bar. Conversing with the bartender. He pauses mid-thought after noticing the Night Mother and the jester right away. His eyes are saucers and if the Blood Flower were closer, she might just smell his fear. He slowly reaches under the table.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The Night Mother says. Softly enough not to wake up the sleeping customers. As much as she despises it, the less eyes on her here the better.
"By the gods." He whispers but Cicero is around the corner and no doubt has a knife to his back before he can blink.
The woman watches her in a different way. A careful resignation. She was expecting this. "You." The Night Mother addresses her, "I would go on with the silly nonsense about 'asking for a room for the night', but we both know we need each other. Tell me where the Horn is."
The woman sends a panicked look to the bartender. "He will be safe with your compliance." The Night Mother adds.
"It's not safe to talk here." She shakes her head after another longing look at the man. How interesting, "Follow me." The girl nearly races to a room near the bar.
"Stay with him." The Night Mother addresses her henchman.
"Yes, Mother."
The door closes behind her. The woman is fierce, she has a certain defiance in her eyes, but it's hard to keep up the façade when cornered in a room by a predator such as the Witch. Her lips curl up with that name. What a silly name. But it's better than others. "The Horn?" The Night Mother questions again.
The woman actually ignores her and opens the nearby wardrobe. "We have no time for a change of clothes." She snaps, "Your answers are needed. Now."
A door unlatches. The woman just glances at the Night Mother. "Follow me, we talk down here."
The Night Mother wants to strangle her. Have Cicero dig her grave as she mentioned earlier. But this is important, if this woman is working with people who could be working against the Dark Brotherhood then it would be good to see all the information she had. Torture her if necessary.
The steps down are creaky and the room inside is more weathered than before. It was probably one of the first to be built. A table with a map sits in the center. So much like Astrid this girl is.
She sighs, "Your name." She needs a better thing to call her than 'girl'. She calls too many other people that name already.
"Delphine." The woman looks up from the map of Skyrim, "The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I am wondering if they are right."
She smiles cruelly, "I can show you if you wish."
Fear flashes over Delphine's face before she resigns herself to a neutral expression. "I believe you."
"That is good." The Night Mother paces around the room, a lethargic circle, right around this Delphine, to show her who is truly in charge here. During that time, she takes in the interior: an enchanting table, chest, alchemy table, weapons. A room for a warrior.
"And the Horn? You are the one who dove into that cesspool to steal it from me?"
Delphine gulps, probably not noticing that the Night Mother hears everything now. "Surprised? I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act."
"Somewhat." The Night Mother murmurs. She brushes her hand along the map of Skyrim, over all the Holds she now reigns over and the others she is working to take.
"You can't be too careful. Thalmor spies are everywhere." The woman across from her spits out quickly. A reason for her meek and secretive demeanor outside.
"The Thalmor." The Night Mother digs in, "Parasitic creatures. This doesn't answer my question. Why do you seek me out? Most citizens are too fearful to even speak my name." She locks eyes with Delphine for the first time. The woman's blue ones widen. The Night Mother knows what she sees. A girl barely at the marriageable age, strong from working in the fields for her modest family. But it's the eyes that betray that exterior.
"I didn't go to all this trouble on a whim. I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Horn, laying it on the table for the Night Mother's taking. "Most people fear you, but I don't want to be your enemy. We have greater ones already. I am giving you the Horn, I need your help. I need you to hear me out."
The Night Mother laughs, "You think the Thalmor have control over me? That they were the ones keeping my coffin? My dear, they desecrated my resting place." She purrs, remembering the day the Brotherhood Sanctuary was raided in Bravil. No one is absolutely certain who did it, but the fact remain the same. She was in Thalmor territory and should have been better protected.
Delphine shakes her head, "No matter. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you…well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you are Dragonborn that is. Before I tell you anymore, I need to make sure I can trust you. I need to know my family and Riverwood will be safe."
The Night Mother sinks to her knees, sometimes she tires easily when there is little blood and the carriage driver was already running low. She props her head up on her palms, a cheeky smile on her face. Delphine looks away quickly knowing she is being goaded. "Go on."
"While I don't agree with your reign, and especially your methods, I still respect you. I respect the Dragonborn."
Finally, some recognition. "Good. You said the Thalmor are after you?"
"Yes. We are very old enemies. And if my suspicions are correct, they might have something to do with the dragons returning."
How boring. How in Nirn would they have the capability to bring back that kind of dead? They're too focused on Solitude and Ulfric Stormcloak to find their head from their…The Night Mother sighs.
"And, if I were to make your problems go away, help you, keep your 'family' safe, you would swear your undying loyalty to me and my cause?"
The woman looks uncomfortable. So much so that the Night Mother cannot resist. She stands slowly, her palms on the table and her face oh so close to Delphine's. "Tell me, dear. You want me on your side or not?"
Delphine is waging a war in her mind. A battle of weighing the scales. The Night Mother loves to watch her squirm and she only laughs. "I am joking. A jest if you would. You don't have to do that…yet. My question is why did you take the horn?"
Delphine lets out a soft little breath. The Night Mother can tell she wants to pull away but she doesn't want to show weakness in her presence. Smart one. "I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable."
"That, we can agree on." She thinks back to how cowardly they were, all they had to do was use some of their power. Their shouts, on the Night Mother and Cicero. They might have had a fighting chance. Instead they chose the path that most take.
"Yes, when you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent. Not some Thalmor plant." She turns her eyes back to the Night Mother's gold ones.
"Right. Now tell me dear, why should I trust you? How do I know this isn't a ploy by my former member or some Daedra?"
Her brow furrows but she answers, "If you don't trust me, you were silly to walk in here in the first place."
The Night Mother grins. How wrong that almost went. One small, wrong, word and pretty little Delphine's head could go rolling. "You amuse me. You show courage where others either show fear or madness. How respectable. And why are you seeking the Dragonborn? Would you seek them if they were not me?"
Delphine ignores the last question. Smart again. "We remember what most don't-that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul. You can do that? Yes?"
The Night Mother giggles and shoots up, dancing in a circle. "Of course! Or else I wouldn't be able to do this." She calls out the shout to Become Ethereal. Her body changes to specter. Delphine gasps. The Night Mother then plunges herself over the table, inches from Delphine's lips. The woman barely moves. "Enough nonsense. What are you not telling me?" Her form becomes solid again and Delphine moves back a few feet. Breathing heavily with terror.
"I, I, fine. Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life."
As expected, there is no other explanation for the amount of dragons, unless their breeding season became incredibly short overnight. "I knew that."
"Did you know they were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors?" Delphine keeps her sharp eyes on the Night Mother who only tilts her head. "The Blades? I remember some mention of them long ago."
Delphine begins to tremble. It is something to find out the person in front of you have lived over two dozen of your lifetimes. "Something is happening to bring them back to life. I need you to help me stop it." Her voice is beginning to shake so the Night Mother responds in the most calm and soft manner she could. Dare she says it sounds maternal.
"What would you have me do?"
"Go with me to the next burial mound. I know where the next dragon is coming back to life. And you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you need to know."
"Tell me the location."
Delphine seems to relax. She returns to her spot hovering over the map. "Kynesgrove. There's an ancient dragon burial near there. If we can get there before it happens, maybe we'll learn how to stop it."
"Done. Let us go now." The Night Mother watches her for her next move.
"I need to get into my traveling gear. Give me a minute and I'll be ready."
The Night Mother smiles, "Take your time. I will go see if my associate has done any damage."
Delphine has an immediate expression of fear but she strangely doesn't rush to the bar to see the fate of her lover. The Night Mother merely glides up the stairs, at a slow pace. If Delphine wasn't ready and rushing at the moment, then neither would she.
"Cicero, Child. What have you done?" She looks at all the spilled alcohol around the bar. Everyone in the Inn is still breathing and alive but not entirely sober.
"Cicero sang songs, Mother! So many songs! He told them to drink! How clever right?! You said not to kill, so I did the next best thing besides binding them." He says from his seated position on the bar. He's as chipper as a child who just passed a test.
The Night Mother steps over the bartender who is asleep in his most recent drink spilled everywhere. "Yes. Good. Get ready we are going on another journey."
"Another quest." His unfocused gaze lights up, "Where to now? More dragons? More deceit?"
"Orgnar!" Delphine falls over his body, feeling for a pulse.
"He is alive." The Night Mother strokes Cicero's hair. He leans into her, "I'm sure it's given you quite a fright."
She stands, "He's just drunk." She sighs in relief. Her eyes look between the Night Mother and Cicero with hesitation.
"A word from the wise, Delphine. Don't get so attached, especially during war time. Now lead the way. We are taking a carriage, but I assume you have a horse? We need to know where we are going and to keep hidden."
Delphine glances back at the bartender then to the others around the bar. "Yes. Let's go." Her voice wobbles but she keeps her posture tall and confident. The Night Mother lets her Child go to retrieve his hat and follows the innkeeper woman out the door.
This is a distraction, an unbeaten path veering off their course. But something tells her this will pay off. The black dragon is still out there, and aside from Eve and the Daedric Princes, he is the only other clear enemy. Not all souls are ready for Sithis yet and she'll be dammed if he takes them from her.
Cicero's Journal Entry
3rd of Sun's Height, 4E 202
Off to a dragon burial mound! How fun and exciting! The new woman, the Innkeeper, is weary. Cicero will keep his eye on her but Mother spoke to her. She reminded her just who she's dealing with. Innkeeper shouldn't be straying anytime soon!