Divakiin!

by Speaker-to-Customers

A disillusioned WWE Diva (OC) makes an unwise wish and finds herself transported to a world where the fights are unscripted, to the death, and there's nowhere to shower afterwards. Hopefully a new spin on an old concept.

3. Beg, Steal, or Barrow

Three: Beg, Steal, or Barrow

"By day… a mild-mannered innkeeper. By night… she fights crime."

Delphine frowned at Rhiannon. "What?"

"Nothing," Rhiannon said. "It's just… a surprise seeing you here and you being such a… deadly fighter."

"I'd rather that didn't become common knowledge," Delphine said. "I have… enemies."

"Don't worry, I'll keep my mouth shut," Rhiannon said. "I wouldn't want to get on your bad side. So, what are you doing here? Did whatshisname, Lucan, ask you to get his Golden Claw back?"

"Is that why you're here? No, I'm after something called the Dragonstone." She bent down and began to rummage through the possessions of one of the dead bandits.

"The Jarl's wizard asked me to find that," Rhiannon said, "but, as far as I'm concerned, if you want it you can have it."

"I was going to give it to Farengar Secret-Fire myself," Delphine revealed. "We're… pooling our research. If you take it to him that will save me a journey." She pointed to a wooden chest that stood beside the bandit's camp-fire. "There should be some loot in there, maybe even the Dragonstone, and neither of these bandits seem to have the key. See if you can get it open."

Rhiannon looked at the chest. It was fastened with a crudely-made padlock. She considered simply smashing it open with the mace that lay beside the fallen male bandit. That would take a lot of effort, though, and she thought she might as well try subtlety first. In D&D she would have had a set of Thieves Picks & Tools; here she had nothing like that, but she did have her manicure kit, and from what she knew about medieval locks they were very simple and nothing like as hard to crack as modern locks. She set about probing the innards of the lock with her cuticle pusher and her nail file and it only took a few seconds before the lock clicked open.

"Nice work," said Delphine. "Let's see what we have there." The chest proved to be almost empty. A few coins, a silver necklace, and a few thin metal probes that were, presumably, part of a Thieves Picks & Tools set. "Disappointing," she said. "I was hoping for some potions. You can never have too many healing potions." She took everything anyway but handed them all to Rhiannon. "I gather you lost most of your possessions at Helgen so you probably need these more than me. Let's move on."

Beyond the bandits' little camp was an opening that led to rough-hewn steps going down. The two women descended into a winding tunnel. It was surprisingly well lit; burning braziers and lit candles provided adequate illumination and there was no need to light a torch.

"The bandits must have explored deep into the barrow," Delphine remarked. "I doubt if they will have taken the Dragonstone, they would have been after more obviously valuable loot such as gold and gems, but it is a possibility."

"You didn't see a Drow among those bandits, did you?" Rhiannon asked. "That's who Lucan said had stolen his Golden Claw."

"A what?" Delphine stopped and stared at Rhiannon.

"A… Dark Elf," Rhiannon said, realizing that the name 'Drow' mustn't be used in this world.

"Oh, a Dunmer," said Delphine. "No, all the bandits I slew were human. Either the Dunmer has gone elsewhere or else is deeper within the tombs."

They reached a large chamber with the exit barred by a lowered portcullis. A lever, presumably the opening mechanism for the portcullis, stood in front of it. A dead bandit was sprawled beside the lever.

"Poison darts," Delphine explained, after a cursory examination of the body. "The lever is trapped. It is not safe to open until the puzzle lock has been deactivated." She showed Rhiannon where three small pillars, each bearing symbols depicting various animals, stood at the side of the chamber. "These need to be rotated into the correct combination. Those stones up there, and down there," she pointed, "show which symbols are the right ones."

"Why have the answer to the puzzle in plain sight?" Rhiannon asked. "It seems a little pointless."

"It killed this idiot," Delphine said. "Perhaps the idea was to kill off the hasty and the foolish. Perhaps the purpose is to bar the way to mindless creatures, like the draugr, rather than to keep out reasoning beings. I do not know, and the ancient Nords are long dead and not available to answer the question. We must just take things as they are." She rotated the pillars, so that the symbols of two snakes and a whale faced the little arrows carved into the bases of their supports, and then operated the lever. The portcullis slid upward and the way onward was clear.

"You're a bit of a puzzle yourself," Delphine remarked, as they went through the doorway and into the room beyond. There was a lever on the wall, presumably to operate the portcullis from that side, and an alcove in which was another chest. "Hadvar said you were an amazing fighter," Delphine continued, as she opened the unlocked chest and found a potion bottle within, "and you came here alone, which implies you're confident of your abilities. Yet you'd never seen a Nordic puzzle lock and you're looking around at everything with your eyes as wide as those of a startled deer. How much adventuring have you done?"

"None," Rhiannon admitted, "and I'm not an amazing fighter." She was feeling a little inadequate after seeing Delphine's virtuoso performance. "Not with weapons, anyway. I'm a professional wrestler, and an actress, and I'd only used swords in m… in plays, on stage, before yesterday. And I wouldn't have come up here if I'd known there were lots of bandits. I only knew about the… Dark Elf, and I thought I could cope with one."

Delphine's eyebrows climbed. "And yet you impressed Hadvar, and he knows his business," she said.

"I got lucky a couple of times," Rhiannon said. "I'm good with my bare hands but that won't count for much against a sword."

"You'd better let me take the lead, then," Delphine advised. "Are you any good with that bow?"

"Only against targets," Rhiannon confessed. She didn't count the giant because it had been so large that she could hardly have missed.

"Well… just do your best, and try not to hit me," said Delphine. She led the way down a wooden spiral staircase. Halfway down the stairs they were attacked by three creatures resembling rats the size of Labrador retrievers.

Delphine killed the first but the other two leapt across the central gap, bypassing Delphine, and one went for Rhiannon while the other turned to attack Delphine from behind. Rhiannon gave her attacker her left-hand blade to bite on, stabbed the other creature in the hindquarters with her right, and then finished off her attacker as it recoiled from its unpleasantly hard and sharp meal. Delphine turned and delivered a finishing thrust to the beast that Rhiannon had badly wounded.

"One dead and one crippled in the time it took me to kill one," Delphine said. "You're better than you led me to believe."

"One of them pretty much ran straight into my sword, and the other turned its back on me to go for you," Rhiannon said. "What are those things? Giant rats?"

"Skeevers," said Delphine. "Related to rats, I believe, but worse. Not much of a threat if you're armed but their bites carry disease. Their tails can be used in some valuable potions but in the raw state they're not worth much. I'm not going to bother taking them but you can if you want."

"No thanks," said Rhiannon, shuddering at the thought.

At the bottom of the stairs they emerged into a chamber with, beyond it, another corridor descending further into the barrow. Delphine stopped to examine something that lay on a stone table in the center of the chamber.

"A scroll of Fireball," she remarked. "I'm surprised this has just been left here. I would have expected that Dunmer to take it. Perhaps the bandits didn't get this far." She paused in the act of stashing the scroll away in a pouch. "Although someone did. I can hear a voice from up ahead."

Rhiannon listened and heard, faint and far off, a male voice that seemed to be calling for help. Delphine didn't rush to the rescue but moved on slowly and cautiously. Rhiannon took her cue from the more experienced woman and followed suit.

"Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?" called the voice. "I know I ran ahead with the claw and I'm sorry. I need help!"

A veil of cobwebs obscured the corridor ahead. It was easy to brush aside but further on the entrance to another room was blocked by a dense mass of web. It reminded Rhiannon of the webs she had encountered on the way out from Helgen, where five giant spiders had lain in wait, and she said as much to Delphine.

"You're right," Delphine agreed. "Be ready for a fight." She sliced through the webs and stepped through the gap.

They found themselves in a large chamber that was shrouded in webs from floor to… ceiling. Rhiannon almost shrieked in horror as she looked up and saw a spider the size of a Smart car lowering itself down on a strand of webbing.

"Stay here and use your bow," Delphine ordered. "And try not to hit me." She drew her katana and charged.

Rhiannon managed to control her shaking hands and string her bow. Delphine was already in combat, slashing at the horrible creature, and managing to keep it from plunging home its huge fangs. Rhiannon nocked an arrow, took aim at the spider's abdomen, and loosed. And again, and again, each shot seeming to come easier and more naturally than the one before, and the arrows struck home well clear of where Delphine was dodging and slashing.

And then the spider scuttled around, on legs that must have spanned at least ten feet, and positioned itself on the far side of Delphine. The swordswoman maneuvered to try to give Rhiannon a clear field of fire but the spider moved further around and Rhiannon had no clear shot. She dropped the bow, drew her swords, and ran to assist Delphine.

It wasn't necessary. Delphine's blade cut through one of the spider's limbs and then, as the spider lurched and staggered, drove her sword between the fangs and deep into the arachnid's head. It uttered a high-pitched hissing shriek, its legs gave way, and it flopped to the ground and lay still.

Delphine pulled free her katana, wiped it, and slid it back into its sheath. "And again your performance exceeds what you led me to expect," she said to Rhiannon. "Your arrows injured it severely and made it vulnerable to my strike. You are overly modest, girl."

Rhiannon sheathed her swords. "I'm trying to be realistic," she said. "It surprised me too. Maybe it's something to do with that… Warrior Stone thing that I touched. Hadvar said it would help."

"Ah," Delphine said. "Yes, that would explain it. Not everyone can benefit from the Guardian Stones, though. T… the Divines must approve of you."

Rhiannon retrieved her bow and returned to the large chamber. She wondered what Delphine had been going to say instead of 'the Divines' but decided not to ask. The voice that had called for help was shouting again, yelling "Cut me down!" and she looked for the source.

A man was trapped in the webs on the far wall, entirely wrapped in spider silk, unable to move. A closer look revealed him to be one of the same race as the Jarl's bodyguard Irileth, grey-skinned and sharp of feature, but with a thin black moustache rather than bright ginger hair.

"You did it! You killed it!" the Dunmer exclaimed. "Now, cut me down before anything else shows up."

Rhiannon moved to obey. Delphine was less willing. "Not so fast," she said. "First hand over that claw you stole from Lucan Valerius – and explain why you stole it."

"Do I look as if I can reach my pouch?" the Dunmer pointed out. "Cut me down first."

Delphine's katana came out and slashed away the webs. The Dunmer dropped to the ground, revealing that behind him had been a passageway, and immediately whirled and ran for it.

Rhiannon went after him and caught up within a few strides. She grabbed him by the collar of his armor and jerked him backward. He tried to resist but couldn't pull free. As she dragged him back into the chamber he abandoned his attempt to pull away and instead grabbed for a dagger at his belt. Rhiannon seized his arm, wrenched it around until he dropped the dagger, and then slammed him to the ground face-first. She dropped onto his back, hooked his arm with her left arm whilst maintaining her grip with her right hand, and applied a Fujiwara armbar until he cried for mercy. She eased off on the armbar but kept him pinned.

Delphine touched the point of her katana to the Dunmer's nose. "Ungrateful wretch," she said. "Now, why did you steal the claw? Lucan tells me almost nothing else was stolen. What's special about his good luck token?"

"It's the key to a fortune," the Dunmer explained. "The treasure of the ancient Nords lies within, in the Hall of Stories, with a puzzle to keep out the unworthy. But the legend says that if you have the Golden Claw the solution is in the palm of your hands."

"Hand it over," Delphine commanded.

Rhiannon released the arm-hook, although she kept hold of his wrist, rose to her feet and pulled him up after her. The Dunmer, grimacing, dipped into his pouch and extracted a gilded object the size of a human hand but with three long claws, resembling those on the front paw of a velociraptor, and a rod at the back presumably to act as a handle. Rhiannon thought that it looked like a back-scratcher for Jurassic Park fans with a masochistic streak.

"Hmm," said Delphine, taking the claw and examining it. "Three Nordic symbols. Bear, moth, owl. They must be the answer to a puzzle lock that doesn't have the clues in plain sight. That answers your previous question, Rhiannon." She turned a stern gaze on the thief. "Your friends are all dead. Get out of here and thank the Divines that we're not killing you too."

Rhiannon released her hold and the Dunmer ran off in the direction of the staircase. The two woman set off the other way, following the route by which the Dunmer had tried to evade them, and came to yet another chamber. This one had a number of large ceramic urns standing against the walls and, on a raised plinth, smaller urns that reminded Rhiannon of the canopic jars in Stargate: SG-1. Hopefully these wouldn't contain any Goa'uld in stasis. There was also a large gem, as big as a Cadbury's Creme Egg, on a stand like a candlestick.

Delphine examined the gem. "A Common Soul gem," she said. "Empty, unfortunately, but still worth something. You might as well have it. Come on, this way."

Rhiannon followed. She was a little worried about reaching a zone where the oxygen had been used up, as there were candles and braziers burning and they kept going down, but then she noticed that there were ventilation grilles set into the walls and her worries receded.

And, indeed, that proved to be the least of the things she should worry about. On they went, down a sloping passage with niches in its sides, in which were… mummified bodies. Grey-skinned, withered, with teeth showing behind shrunken lips. The passage leveled out, and widened, and then one of the mummies moved. It climbed out of the niche, stood up, and raised a sword and shield.

"Draugr!" Delphine hissed. She moved to engage it but then two more of the dead climbed from their alcoves and attacked.

The next few seconds were a frantic whirl of action. Rhiannon drew her swords and slashed, parried, and slashed again. She was vaguely aware of Delphine doing the same but her attention was concentrated on the hideous things attacking her. Then all three of the walking dead were down, hacked to pieces, and Rhiannon dropped her swords and sat down.

"Ni all hyn fod yn wir!" she wailed, and began to cry. "Dw i eisiau mynd adre'. Dw i eisiau mynd adre'!"

"Pull yourself together!" Delphine snapped. "You did well there. You slew two of them as I was slaying one. You're not a coward. Get up and stop crying."

Rhiannon wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and felt that it was wet with tears. "I want to go home," she said again, this time in English. "None of this can be real. Dead people don't just get up and try to kill you. Only on TV or in the movies. I want to go home."

"Then go home," Delphine said, "if you're not up to it. I can carry on from here."

Rhiannon fished a cloth from her pouch, luckily not one already bloodstained, and wiped her eyes. "I can't," she said. "I don't know how to get back. I made a wish, and I ended up here, and there are two moons and dragons and walking dead people and giants and giant spiders and it's all horrible."

"Two moons? How many do you think there should be?"

"There's only one moon and it's the proper size," Rhiannon said. "This must be another planet and I don't know how to get back to Earth."

"Earth? Where's that?" Delphine asked.

"A different planet," said Rhiannon. "We have microwaves and the Internet and hot showers and flush toilets and mobile phones and the spiders are the right size and dead people stay dead."

"I didn't understand any of that," Delphine said, "but I can understand how the draugr could be a shock to you if you've never even heard of them before. Come on, stand up, and pick up your swords. You say you… made a wish?"

"I wished to be a champion somewhere it would really mean something," Rhiannon said, "and the next thing I knew I was tied up in a cart on the way to get my head chopped off. I was in a nice hotel room in Philadelphia and then it was all different and horrible."

"What do you mean, a champion where it would mean something?"

"I was a wrestling champion but it was all fake," Rhiannon admitted. "We have to arrange the fights in advance, otherwise we'd be getting injured all the time, and I was only champion because it was planned that way. I was scheduled to lose the title next week." She got to her feet and retrieved her swords.

"Well, judging by what you did to that…" Delphine began, and then cried out and fell to her knees. Behind her Rhiannon saw the Dumner, holding a sword and a dagger, raising the weapons again after stabbing Delphine.

"Die, bitch!" the Dumner growled, kicking the wounded Delphine aside and heading for Rhiannon. He attacked with a lunge and Rhiannon parried in a move straight out of the stage-fencing course she'd taken at drama school. The thrust she delivered with her left-hand sword, hitting him under the ribs and driving through to burst out of his back, was not. She pulled the sword back, a gout of blood burst from the wound, and the thief made one feeble attempt to swipe at her with the dagger and then collapsed on his face.

At once Rhiannon rushed to Delphine. She was on her knees, bent over, supporting herself with one hand. The other was glowing with the same yellow light as when she had cast a healing spell on Hadvar. It didn't seem to be having any effect on the flow of blood that was running down her back, however, and Rhiannon grabbed for a potion and helped Delphine to drink.

It took two potions before the bleeding stopped and Delphine was able to stand. "Thanks," she gasped, "and well done. See? You are a natural fighter."

"It was my fault," Rhiannon said. "If I hadn't distracted you he wouldn't have come up behind and stabbed you."

"I'm not so sure," Delphine said. "He was stealthy enough. If you hadn't been here he might have jumped me while I was engaged with the draugr, or bided his time and seized another opportunity to attack." Her hand flared with light again and she stood straighter. "Ah, that's better. I should be able to carry on in a minute or two. I take it you're over your… moment of weakness and will be coming with me?"

Rhiannon wiped down her sword, trying to avoid looking at or thinking of the Dunmer thief who was bleeding his last on the ground near her feet. "Yes," she said, "I will."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Deadly traps. More draugr, including one who fired some kind of freezing ray from his hands at them, and others who were armed with bows. A corridor guarded by bladed pendulums which they had to pass by laying down at the side of the passage and crawling past the swinging blades. A chamber in which a waterfall tumbled down one wall into a fast-flowing shallow stream. A natural cave, through which the stream ran, illuminated by glowing fungi growing in clumps on the walls.

Delphine cut away a few of the fungi, stored them in her pack, and advised Rhiannon to do the same. "These are one of the ingredients in potions of Fortify Smithing," she explained. "They improve your eye for smithing, help you judge where to strike the hot metal and how hard, and improve your touch when using a grindstone or a whetstone. Even if you don't do any smithing yourself you can sell them to apothecaries or alchemists. But never take them all. Always use a few behind, so that they can regrow – and also so that you still have light to see."

They halted, there, and rested for a while. Rhiannon checked the time and found that it was half-past ten at night, at least according to her rough reset of her watch, and she realized that she was growing hungry. She broke into her packed lunch and shared it with Delphine, who produced slices of wrapped grilled fish as her contribution to the meal; it tasted like tuna.

Onward into a cavern where another waterfall cascaded down through a shaft that must have reached to the surface, admitting beams of moonlight, and poured into another underground stream. Beyond that more tunnels, more draugr, another barrier of swinging blades, and then they came to an area that was different from anything they had seen thus far.

This corridor, roofed with a low arching ceiling, had carvings on its walls. They appeared to depict processions of robed priests carrying immobile draugr into the presence of a tall figure with curved sacrificial daggers in his hands. Rhiannon had no idea what the carvings were supposed to mean but guessed it couldn't be anything good.

The passage ended at a door. A strange, stone, door in the center of which was set a metal disc bearing a picture of a claw and three holes. The spacing of the holes matched the prongs of the Golden Claw. And above that disc there were three semi-circles in the stone each set with another disc, each bearing a symbol; a moth, an owl, and a bear. A moment's fiddling revealed that the semi-circles were rings that could be rotated to reveal different symbols.

"It's a combination lock," said Rhiannon. "I would guess we're supposed to match it to the ones on the Golden Claw."

"That would be my guess also," said Delphine, and she turned the rings until they showed bear, moth, and owl. Then she inserted the prongs of the claw into the holes and turned the handle to rotate the central disc.

There was a grinding noise and the door began to slide downward. Delphine removed the claw and handed it to Rhiannon. "You can take it back to Lucan," she said. "Make good use of the Circlet of Archery."

"I'll try," Rhiannon said. She packed the claw away, as the door slid down to a fully open position, and then followed Delphine into the cavern that lay beyond.

Yet another waterfall plunged down from an opening in the roof above, and moonlight shone through to augment the light from several burning braziers. A stream ran from the bottom of the waterfall and disappeared into the rocky wall at the opposite side of the cavern. A stone footbridge crossed the stream and led to a large, flat, area where the stone floor had been shaped by sentient beings. A sarcophagus, hopefully not containing a Goa'uld System Lord, stood on this floor with a large metal-bound chest a few feet beyond it. And beyond that was a smooth wall with an alcove set into it. An alcove that was glowing.

Rhiannon took a few wary steps in that direction and was able to make out that only one small part of the alcove glowed. And she could hear something from that direction; voices… chanting. She couldn't make out what the words said but it definitely was a chant.

"Listen," Rhiannon said to Delphine, and had a sudden urge to add 'Do you smell something?' She suppressed that urge, as Delphine not only wouldn't get the reference but would be likely to think her crazy, especially after her breakdown earlier, and instead continued "Do you hear that chanting?"

"Chanting? No, I don't hear anything," Delphine said, "except the sound of the waterfall." She frowned. "Wait a minute – do you see anything glowing on that wall?"

"Yes," Rhiannon confirmed. "It looks like… writing. Something dangerous, is it?"

"I can't see it," Delphine said, "but if I'm right about what it is… you should go closer. Go right up to it."

"You can't see it? But it's bright blue," Rhiannon said. She took another few steps forward and was able to see that, yes, the wall was carved with writing, not in any alphabet with which she was familiar, and one word of that writing was glowing brightly. The chanting, a three-word phrase repeated over and over, grew louder the closer she went to the wall.

Suddenly the light everywhere else seemed to dim almost to nothing and the glowing word brightened without illuminating anything but itself. A wavering stream of blue energy seemed to shoot forth from it and into Rhiannon. A voice in her head seemed to shout 'FUS!' and, somehow, she knew that 'fus' meant 'force'. Then the glow went out, the light in the cavern returned to its previous state, and the chanting rose to one final climactic shout and then stopped.

"Beth yn uffern?" Rhiannon exclaimed. "What was that?"

Delphine stared at her. "Did something happen?"

"The glowing got brighter, and something shouted 'Fus', and then the glowing stopped," Rhiannon told her.

Delphine's eyes widened and she muttered something under her breath. Rhiannon couldn't hear her clearly enough to be certain but she thought Delphine had said "Dragon born. A… champion. Could it be?"

And then, with a loud cracking noise, the sarcophagus burst open and a figure rose up, tossing aside the sarcophagus lid, and climbed out. Another draugr, taller than the others, wearing a shield and wielding a hand-axe. It made for Delphine and attacked.

Rhiannon drew her swords and went to Delphine's assistance. The draugr turned its head toward her and shouted 'Fus!' A wave of shimmering force burst from its mouth, slammed into Rhiannon, and sent her staggering back to hit the wall. The draugr turned its attention back to Delphine and began striking at her with the axe, blocking with its shield as Delphine retaliated with her katana.

Rhiannon picked herself up, wondering what had just happened, and charged again. She reached the draugr successfully and struck out with her swords. The draugr Shouted again, this time at Delphine, and she was thrown backward a dozen feet and fell into the stream. Rhiannon hit the draugr once, it blocked her second blow, and then it aimed a slash with its axe at her head. She parried with her left-hand sword, struck again with her right, and again it blocked her blow with its shield. They traded blows, neither landing a successful strike, for some thirty seconds and then it shouted at her again.

This time she was ready for it and braced herself against the wave of force. She was pushed back only a couple of feet and managed to return to the attack almost at once. She slashed low, under the shield, and her blade bit deep into the draugr's hip. It growled and brought down its axe. Rhiannon aimed her parry, not at the axe itself, but at the arm holding the axe. It recoiled, a deep slice in the arm showing where the sword had connected, but there was no blood.

And then a katana blade burst out through the draugr's chest and sliced down through undead flesh. The eerie light in its eyes went out, it crumpled to the ground, and the axe skittered away across the stone. Behind the fallen draugr was Delphine, dripping wet, but unharmed.

"Are you hurt?" Delphine asked.

"Dwi'n iawn. Su'mae?" Rhiannon answered. Delphine stared blankly and Rhiannon realized that she had been rattled enough to speak in Welsh. Hastily she reverted to English. "I'm fine," she said. "Are you all right?"

"Soaking wet, and a little bruised, but that's all," Delphine responded. "That was no common draugr. It used the Thu'um."

"The what?"

"Voice magic," Delphine explained. "The Nord legends tell of heroes who could Shout with the voice of dragons and produce powerful magical effects. A few people, to this day, have preserved the art. Ulfric Stormcloak can use the Voice, a little, although he's by no means a master."

"So that would be why the Imperials had him in a gag?" Rhiannon asked.

"I expect so," Delphine confirmed. She stared at Rhiannon, seeming to be appraising her yet again, and then relaxed. "The Dragonstone should be around here somewhere. Probably in the sarcophagus or in the chest."

It wasn't. The sarcophagus was empty. The chest, which wasn't locked, held two metal helmets, a pile of coins surrounded by the shreds of a purse that had long since rotted away, and a necklace of copper, green with verdigris, with a purple gem set in its pendant.

"An Amulet of Dibella," Delphine said. At Rhiannon's blank look she explained further. "It's a symbol of Dibella, goddess of beauty and love, and wearing it brings benefits to the wearer. It would make you more persuasive, better able to barter, and so on. I'd give it a polish first, though, before putting it on."

"Don't you want it?" Rhiannon asked.

"I'm fairly skilled at the art of barter already," Delphine said. "It goes with being an innkeeper. You take it, and the gold. I'll take the steel helm. It seems to have a minor Destruction enchantment on it. I don't wear heavy helmets but it will sell for a good price."

"And the other one?"

"Only iron, and rusty at that," Delphine said. "Not worth the effort of carrying. Now, where can that Dragonstone be if not here?"

An extensive search of the cave turned up two other chests containing a few saleable items. None of them fit the description of the Dragonstone. Eventually Delphine turned her attention to the dead draugr itself and found that it had a pouch strapped to its side. Inside the pouch was only one thing; a slab of stone. One side of it was engraved with writing in the same script as that on the wall. The other side seemed to be a crude outline map.

"This is what Farengar and I are after," said Delphine. "I'll take a rubbing of it before you take it to Whiterun. I can work from that."

"What is it?" Rhiannon asked.

"A map of Skyrim," Delphine replied. "You don't recognize it?"

"You didn't believe me, did you?" Rhiannon said. "I don't know anywhere in this world except Helgen, Riverwood, and Whiterun. What are those stars? Cities?"

"No," Delphine said. "Dragon burial sites, I believe, although it will need to be cross-referenced with Farengar's research before we can be certain. By the way, don't tell Farengar I was here. He doesn't know who I really am and I want to keep it that way."

"If you say so," said Rhiannon.

Delphine stooped and picked up the draugr's axe. "If the draugr was a cut above the rest, perhaps his weapon might be too. Ah, yes. A frost enchantment. Take it. Even if you don't use an axe you can sell it. Or use it to learn the enchantment and apply it to your swords. Farengar can help you with that."

Rhiannon took the axe, touched the blade, and felt an icy chill. "Thanks, I might do that," she said.

"I think we're finished here," Delphine said. "The stairs over there imply that there's an exit that way. Let's find out."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

It was one a.m. by Rhiannon's watch when they emerged from the barrow and found themselves some distance upriver from Riverwood. A brisk walk, briefly interrupted by a lone wolf that backed off from attacking once it saw that there were two humans, got them to the village by a little after two. They managed to reach the inn without encountering any of the village residents and Delphine ushered Rhiannon inside.

A man was dozing behind the bar, his head resting on the counter, and he straightened up and rubbed his eyes as they approached. He had long dark hair and a neatly-trimmed beard with no moustache, giving him a superficial resemblance to Neville, although in other respects he didn't look much like 'The Man That Gravity Forgot'.

"Delphine," he said, in a deep gravelly voice. "I was starting to get a little worried. Who've you got with you?"

"Orgnar, this is Rhiannon. She… helped me out in the barrow. Both of us could use a wash and a hot meal. I'll sort out a bed for her."

"I'm on it," said Orgnar. "There's some stew in the pot. It won't take long to heat up. I'll put some water on and get soap and a basin for the lady." He picked up a jug from under the counter, came out from behind the bar, and looked Rhiannon over. "Rhiannon, huh? You're that girl who saved Hadvar's life, right?"

"You could say that," Rhiannon said, "but it was more of a… two-way thing."

"That's not the way he tells it," said Orgnar, "but that's your business. I'll have things ready for your wash in just a minute."

A few minutes later Rhiannon was tucking in to a bowl of venison stew with bread. Delphine, now back in her blue dress and with the katana nowhere in evidence, joined her.

"You're going to need a companion if you're going to do any more dangerous missions for the Jarl or for Farengar," Delphine said, "and I wouldn't be surprised if they call on you again. You're good, better than you give yourself credit for, but you don't have the experience to go exploring tombs by yourself."

"I'm well aware of that," Rhiannon said. "Lara Croft or Indiana Jones I am not."

"Who?"

"Heroes of my world," Rhiannon said. "So, I need a henchman?"

"Exactly," said Delphine, "although a henchwoman might be better." Rhiannon could see the point of that; she'd been in situations already in which a male companion might have been… embarrassing. "There's a mercenary for hire in Whiterun about whom I've heard good things. She's called Jenassa and she stays at the Drunken Huntsman when she's between jobs. I haven't met her myself but she has a reputation as being loyal, fearless, and a skilled warrior. You could do worse than hire her, assuming she's not in someone else's employ at the moment, and you should have enough funds from what we picked up in the barrow to be able to afford her hiring fee. The only down side is that she's a Dunmer."

"Why would that be a down side?" Rhiannon asked.

"Well, if the only Dunmer you've met is that thief in the barrow, it might have given you a bad impression of the race," Delphine said. "Also, if you are called upon to go to Windhelm, she might hit some problems. Some of Ulfric's supporters are… less than fond of the Dunmer and Ulfric does nothing to discourage that attitude."

Rhiannon's opinion of Ulfric plummeted. "Racial discrimination?"

"Exactly," said Delphine.

"I have met another Dunmer besides the thief," Rhiannon said. "Irileth, the Jarl's bodyguard. She seemed really competent. If this… Jenassa is anything like her then she'd be great."

"The correct term for Irileth is 'Housecarl', rather than bodyguard," Delphine said, "although I suppose there isn't much difference in practice. Yes, Irileth indeed is highly competent and absolutely loyal. She's been Jarl Balgruuf's right hand for as long as I can remember. Jenassa is distant kin to Irileth, or so I've heard, although I can't confirm that for certain. Well, if you've nothing against the Dunmer, you should find Jenassa satisfactory as a hireling."

"I'll do that," Rhiannon said. "Where is the 'Drunken Huntsman'?"

"It's the first tavern you pass when you enter Whiterun," Delphine said, "on the other side of the street from the Warmaiden's shop and smithy, just a little further along. It's the best place in the city for buying or selling bows and arrows, as well as serving a good line of food and drink, and letting out a few rooms. Call in on the way to Dragonsreach, sell the bows we took from the draugr there, and see if Jenassa's available for hire."

"I'll do that," Rhiannon said. "There's something else I want to do as soon as I get to the city, though. Do you know of anywhere there that sells underwear?"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Rhiannon slept well, for what was left of the night, but had an odd dream. She dreamed that she was a contestant on the UK version of 'The Voice' and the coaches were Tom Jones, will. i. am, Rita Ora, and Vince McMahon. She went on stage for her audition, shouted 'FUS RO DAH!', and blew them all out of their revolving seats.

Once she was awake, and had recovered from the disorientation that was still affecting her on only her second morning waking up in this alien world, she put the meaningless dream out of her mind. After attending to the necessities, and eating breakfast, she left the inn.

The first person she saw as she stepped out of the door was a guard, wearing the same tabard and helm as those she had seen in Whiterun, patrolling the street. The Jarl's orders had been acted upon swiftly. Rhiannon wasn't sure how much help a few guards would be in the event of a dragon attack, considering what the dragon had done to Helgen, but perhaps they could at least help to cover an evacuation. It was better than nothing, anyway, and Rhiannon put the thought out of her mind and headed for the Riverwood Trader.

Orgnar had polished up the Amulet of Dibella for her, during the night, and she now wore it around her neck. Whether it was an effect of the amulet, or something that would have happened anyway, the delighted Lucan presented her with a Cure Disease potion as well as the promised Circlet of Minor Archery. She sold him a few of the things acquired in the barrow, providing a welcome boost to her finances, and purchased a couple more healing potions at a price 5 septims less than he had charged her the previous day. He didn't sell ladies' underwear, unfortunately, but his sister Camilla offered Rhiannon a set and took her upstairs to change.

Camilla was smaller and bustier than Rhiannon but the local version of bra and pants relied upon draw strings rather than elastic. She was able to adjust the garments so that they fit her moderately well and it was an improvement over continuing to wear her own set for another day. Perhaps there would be someone in Whiterun who did laundry – and who wouldn't ruin the bra and knickers with a boil wash, or by beating them against the stones of a river.

She noticed that Camilla was giving her some… odd looks after helping her change, and seemed slightly wary of her, but the girl didn't say anything and Rhiannon let it pass. Perhaps Camilla was simply surprised by the muscular development revealed when Rhiannon was stripped off; or perhaps Rhiannon had unwittingly done something that implied that she was a lesbian, which she wasn't, and Camilla was a little homophobic. It didn't seem important enough to bother about.

Next, in clean underwear and with the new circlet gleaming on her brow, Rhiannon headed over the road to Alvor's smithy. She sold him the few pieces of bandit and draugr armor and weaponry that they had bothered to pick up, except for the bows and the War Axe of Cold from the final draugr, lightening her load as well as improving her financial position. He offered to give her a lesson in smithing but she declined, explaining that she had to return to Whiterun, and he suggested that she travel there in the company of Hadvar.

The legionary was fully recovered, by now, after a day of rest and food to replenish his lost blood. He was delighted to see Rhiannon again – perhaps a little too delighted, Rhiannon thought – and declared that traveling to Whiterun with her would be both convenient and pleasant. They set off together shortly after nine.

The journey was uneventful. The only wildlife they encountered were a few rabbits and a deer that allowed them to get surprisingly close before sprinting off. They came upon a lone warrior, in battered iron armor and with a formidable greatsword strapped to his back, but he passed them by with nothing more than a casual greeting. Rhiannon spent most of the journey trying to discourage Hadvar's attempts to chat her up, without offending him, and trying not to think about how much her parents must be worrying about her.

She parted company with Hadvar at the Whiterun stables. She thought, for a moment, that she was going to try to kiss her; she pre-empted the move and gave him a firm handshake. Then Hadvar paid twenty septims for a carriage ride to Solitude and they parted company.

The cat-people's encampment was no longer where it had been. For a minute Rhiannon wondered if she'd imagined seeing it but bare patches in the grass, and a circle of burnt-out embers and ash, showed where their camp-site had been. They had been pushed from her mind by more urgent matters, until reminded of them by returning to the site, and it hadn't occurred to her to ask Delphine or Hadvar about the cat-people. She resolved to rectify that omission, the next time she was in a friendly conversation with a local, and walked on to the city gates.

This time she was admitted immediately, without question, and a minute later she was standing inside the Drunken Huntsman. The first thing she noticed was the fire pit in the center of the stone floor; warm, no doubt, but hardly the safest way of heating the place and cooking the food. Then her gaze traveled to the man who stood behind the counter and she had to force herself not to gawp, open-mouthed, in amazement.

He was an Elf. Not quite the same as the Dunmer, his skin was no darker than that of a sun-tanned human of Western European extraction, but the pointed ears protruding from his reddish hair were unmistakably elven. His eyes were sharply slanted and his cheekbones more… angular than on any human she had seen. Much more alien in appearance than, for example, Legolas as played by Orlando Bloom.

"Welcome, take a look around," he greeted her. "If you're after something you don't see, tell me. I might have it stored away."

"Actually I'd like to sell you something," she replied. "I have three bows taken from… draugr."

"Ah, Ancient Nordic pattern," the Elf said, as she laid the bows on the counter, "and in good condition. I should be able to resell them without too much trouble. I'll give you sixty septims for the three."

"Throw in a meal, not now but in an hour or two when I come back from Dragonsreach, and you have a deal," Rhiannon said. She was a little hesitant about attempting to barter but decided it was worth a try.

The Elf smiled. "I don't believe I've seen you in here before," he said, "but obviously you've heard about the quality of our food. Certainly. A fine dish of venison and potatoes, with apple pie to follow. Will that be suitable?"

"That sounds lush – excellent," Rhiannon said, and accepted the Elf's coin. "There's another thing," she said. "D- someone recommended that I hire a… mercenary called Jenassa and told me I could find her here. Is she around?"

"Indeed she is," said the Elf. "She's in the alcove over there."

Rhiannon headed in the direction indicated and saw a Dunmer woman sitting at a table, a tankard by her hand, engaged in reading a book. She wore the same style of leather armor as Irileth, had two swords at her hips, and a quiver of arrows rode on her back. Facially she bore little resemblance to the Jarl's Housecarl, being finer of feature and prettier, and her hair was dark brown rather than red.

The Dunmer looked up as Rhiannon approached. "I overheard what you said to Elrindir," she said. "You wish to hire me? I am an artist with my bow, and my swords, and like all artists I seek a patron. For a mere handful of gold I will follow you into any danger." Her voice was quite deep, for a woman, and her accent sounded very English Home Counties.

"The innkeeper at Riverwood recommended you to me," Rhiannon said. "She said you were loyal, skilled, and fearless."

"Oh?" Jenassa raised her eyebrows. "I have not been to Riverwood, and I was not aware that I was known there. Certainly I will not disagree with her statement. Never have I let down an employer, nor run from a fight, and I practice assiduously to hone my skills. Pay my fee, and together we will vanquish any foe."

"Uh, I've never hired a mercenary before," Rhiannon said. "How much is your fee? And do I pay you a wage?"

"Five hundred septims buys my services for as long as you wish," Jenassa said, "and you must pay for my food and board for as long as we travel together. Other than that, I expect no wage."

"So the five hundred would be a… retainer?"

"Exactly," said Jenassa. "Pay that fee, and you can be certain that none of your enemies would be able to hire me."

"I'll do that," Rhiannon said. She didn't have any enemies, as far as she knew, but if someone else hired Jenassa the Dunmer wouldn't be available to be her… henchwoman. "I don't have anything for you to do at the moment but I might have before long. It depends on what the Jarl says to me." She counted out five hundred septims, a little laboriously because she was not yet accustomed to the different denominations of the coinage, and handed them over. "I'm going up to Dragonsreach now but I'll be coming back here for a meal after that, unless the Jarl invites me to eat there, and I'll get back to you then."

"I shall be here," Jenassa said, and her previously somber face suddenly lit up with a smile. "I look forward to fighting at your side."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

When Rhiannon entered Farengar's room she saw the wizard bent over a workbench, grinding something up with a pestle and mortar, as a brightly-colored liquid bubbled away in a retort beside him. He stood up and turned around as he heard Rhiannon's approach.

"Ah, the Jarl's protégé," he greeted her. "Back from Bleak Falls Barrow, I hope? Do you have the Dragonstone?"

"I do," Rhiannon confirmed. She took off her backpack and extracted the stone slab. "It wasn't as simple as you made it sound."

"Come, come, you didn't die, and I'm sure the Jarl will reward you," Farengar said. He took the stone, set it down on a table, and peered at it. "Ah, excellent. Just as I had hoped. I must make a copy of this, for my… collaborator in this enterprise, and then cross-reference the writings with 'The Holdings of Jarl Gjalund'. So much knowledge of the dragon script has been lost over the centuries. Hmm. If only I had a copy of Brother Mathnan's 'Atlas of Dragons'. There might be one at the College of Winterhold…"

Rhiannon wondered if Farengar was going to set her another task, going to the College – wherever that might be – to retrieve the book, and she groaned inwardly. "Excuse me," she said. "I was wondering… could you teach me how to identify enchanted items? And maybe how to enchant things, if that's something you don't have to be a wizard to do?"

"I'm far too busy for such trivial matters," said Farengar, "but…" he stepped away from the table and went to a bookcase, "I do have a book that will give you the basics. Quite a valuable work, really, but you have done me a service and I think you deserve the book in return. If you can read, that is."

Rhiannon accepted the book and glanced at the title page. "Enchanter's Primer, by Sergius Turrianus," she read out. "A guide for novices in enchanting issued by the College of Winterhold."

"Ah, so you can read," the wizard said, returning to his examination of the Dragonstone. "A cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends me. I may well have further tasks for you in the future. You help me, and I'll see that you are rewarded. Both of us will benefit. However, for the moment, I have nothing more for you to do and I'm rather busy. Go and see the Jarl. No doubt he will reward you with gold, or perhaps a weapon, or some such trinket."

Rhiannon packed the book away in her knapsack and was just sliding her arms back through the straps when Irileth burst into the room.

"Farengar, you need to come at once," the Housecarl snapped out, sounding agitated. "A dragon has been sighted nearby." She turned her gaze on Rhiannon. "You should come too." She turned on her heel and strode off into the main hall. Rhiannon followed.

"A dragon? How exciting," Farengar exclaimed, at once abandoning his study of the stone and scurrying after Irileth. "Where was it seen? What was it doing?"

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you," Irileth said in a stern voice. "If the dragon attacks Whiterun… I don't know if we can stop it."

Rhiannon followed Irileth through the hall, past the throne, and up some steps into a wide room in which the Jarl was standing. A Whiterun guard stood in front of the Jarl, bending over, seemingly panting for breath.

"Take off your helm, man," the Jarl commanded, "and take a few deep breaths. Now, Irileth tells me you've come from the Western Watchtower. What's this about a dragon?"

The guard, once he was able to control his breathing, recounted how a dragon had flown up from the south, appeared at the watchtower, and repeatedly circled the building. It hadn't attacked as yet but the commander of his detachment, fearing it was only a matter of time, had sent him for help and he had run all the way.

"You did well," said the Jarl. "Take yourself off to the barracks and get some food and rest. You've earned it." As the guard departed the Jarl turned to his Housecarl. "Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."

"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate," Irileth said.

"Good," said the Jarl. "Don't fail me." He noticed Rhiannon, who was standing at the back feeling useless, and addressed her. "Ah, the survivor of Helgen. Have you accomplished the task Farengar set you?"

"She has, my lord," Farengar said, before Rhiannon could speak. "Most efficiently. May I go with Irileth? I would very much like to see this dragon."

"No, I can't afford to risk both you and Irileth," the Jarl said. "I want you here working on ways to defend the city against dragons."

"As you command," said Farengar, disappointment evident in his tone.

The Jarl turned back to Rhiannon. "I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her to fight this dragon."

Irileth, who had been about to descend the steps, stopped and turned around. "Is that necessary, my Jarl? She is a stranger to the city and has no personal stake in its defense."

"It is her decision," said the Jarl. "Well? Will you aid us? You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here."

Rhiannon wasn't sure that frantically fleeing and hiding really counted as experience with dragons. And she had seen the dragon at Helgen pretty much ignoring everything the garrison there had tried against it and doing to the town what Smaug had done to Laketown in the movie. Going with Irileth did seem like it might be a suicide mission.

On the other hand, staying in the city was no guarantee of safety, and turning the mission down would cause the Jarl to think less of her. And being a face was part of her nature, and she hated it when she was called upon to play a heel; helping out the underdog, and going up against odds, was what she did for a living – or, at least, pretended to do. Maybe Irileth, or Jenassa, might be able to play the part of Bard the Bowman…

"I will go to fight the dragon," Rhiannon said. A quote from The Desolation of Smaug came to mind but she decided it was much too pessimistic to voice.

"Brave girl," the Jarl said, and beamed at her. "I haven't yet rewarded you for retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. Wait one moment." He turned back to Irileth. "One last thing, Irileth. This isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we are dealing with."

"Don't worry, my lord," Irileth replied. "I am the very soul of caution."

"Hmmph!" Jarl Balgruuf snorted, as Irileth descended the steps. "If she is, that will be a big change from how she acted in any of the battles we fought together. Now, my friend, this way." He showed Rhiannon through a set of huge double doors, out onto a vast balcony, with a view of the sky visible through a wide opening at the far side. Part of the area was given over to wood and straw training dummies, with a couple of guards chopping and stabbing at them with swords, and there were archery targets against one of the walls. A row of armor stands stood nearby and Balgruuf led Rhiannon to one of them.

"Irileth believes this will fit you," he said, indicating a set of studded armor on one of the stands, "and she has a good eye for such things. Take it, as a token of my esteem."

It looked, to Rhiannon, very much like the set she already wore. "Thank you, my lord," she said, not wishing to sound ungrateful.

"The enchantment it bears will reduce the severity of any wounds you suffer, and slow any bleeding," Balgruuf went on. "Wear it with honor."

"I will try, my lord," Rhiannon said, now seeing the point of the gift. "Uh, is there somewhere I can change?"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

It was raining when Rhiannon left Dragonsreach. Not hard, certainly not enough to bother a girl from Wales, and she thought it might even be some help against dragon fire. She could hope, anyway. The delay while she was receiving her new armor had allowed Irileth to get well ahead of her but Rhiannon's longer legs enabled her to catch up by the time the Housecarl was passing the Drunken Huntsman.

"I'll only be a minute!" Rhiannon called, and she hastened up the path and into the tavern. Jenassa was sitting in the same alcove as before, part-way through eating a bowl of stew, and she looked up as Rhiannon entered.

"Ah, here for your luncheon, no doubt," Elrindir the tavern-keeper said. "I'll serve it up at once."

"Sorry, I can't stop to eat now, I have an urgent errand for the Jarl," Rhiannon said. "Could I take a rain check on that?" Elrindir looked at her in obvious puzzlement and Rhiannon guessed that the Elf didn't understand the American term. "I mean, could you keep it until the evening, or maybe even tomorrow?" 'Assuming I survive that long', she added, in her mind, but didn't say out loud.

"Of course," Elrindir assented. "The Jarl's business must take priority."

Jenassa pushed away her half-empty bowl and stood up. "The Jarl has work for us, then?" she asked. "Excellent. My blades thirst for the blood of evil-doers."

When they left the tavern Irileth was addressing her small band of guards. Rhiannon only caught the tail end of Irileth's speech but she seemed to have done a good job of motivating the men. They seemed almost enthusiastic about the prospect of facing a flying, armored, fire-breathing monster.

"Now what do you say?" Irileth called. "Shall we go kill us a dragon?"

"Damn right!" one of the guards shouted, and the others uttered similar cries.

"A dragon?" Jenassa said. "Well, that will be different."

Irileth turned her head. "Jenassa," she said, her voice cold.

"Irileth," Jenassa responded.

"Are you going to help us against the dragon, or are you going to sit idly by because no-one has paid you?" Irileth asked.

"Rhiannon has paid me, and my skills are hers to command," Jenassa replied. "If she says we are to fight a dragon, so be it."

"Perhaps there's hope for you yet," Irileth said. "Let us be off!"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Irileth led the way at a jog. Rhiannon's normal training regime included a daily eight-mile run and the pace didn't bother her in the slightest.

"What was that between you and Irileth?" she asked her new hireling.

"My aunt… disapproves of some of my life choices," Jenassa explained. "She does not understand what things are like for someone without a regular position. It is different for her. She has the favor of the Jarl."

"I think we all will, if we live through this," Rhiannon said.

"If we don't," said Jenassa, "at least it will be a glorious death."

"If this is to end in fire, then we'll all burn together," said Rhiannon, giving voice to the quote from Ed Sheeran's theme song for The Desolation of Smaug that had occurred to her earlier.

"Indeed so," said Jenassa, "although I have no intention of dying without making my slayer pay in blood."

"Me neither," Rhiannon agreed. "I'd rather stick to Buffy's Lesson One, 'Don't die', though."

They jogged on through farmland and out into wilder country. Within half an hour they came within sight of a stone tower.

It was on fire.

"No sign of any dragon right now," Irileth said, bringing her little company to a halt, "but it sure looks like it's been here. I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened, and if that dragon is still lurking around here. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."

Rhiannon felt much more like turning and running all the way back to Whiterun. Somehow, though, she managed to suppress her fear. She bolstered her courage by humming Men of Harlech and advanced with the others to within a few yards of what was left of the tower. Then a guard emerged from the wreckage and ran toward them.

"Get back!" he yelled. "It's still here somewhere. It grabbed Hroki and Tor when they tried to make a run for it."

"Get a grip on yourself, man," Irileth commanded. "What happened here? Where is the dragon now?"

"I don't know," the guard began, and turned around to point. "It flew – oh, no, Kynareth save us! Here it comes again!"

Rhiannon saw an unmistakable shape swooping down, approaching swiftly, and it took everything she had not to turn and run.

"Here he comes!" Irileth yelled. "Find cover and make every arrow count!"

Rhiannon readied her bow and did her best to follow Irileth's order. She ended up crouching beside a stone ramp that seemed to lead nowhere, coming to a dead end ten feet above the side of the road, either a remnant of an older ruin or else a new construction that had never been finished. Rhiannon didn't care which it was, only that it offered her at least some shelter from the dragon's attack. The dragon swooped by, exhaling a blast of fire, and then its course took it behind the tower and Rhiannon lost sight of it. Before then, however, she had noticed something significant.

"It's not the same dragon as the one at Helgen!" she shouted. It was paler, a greyish-green rather than the Helgen dragon's sinister jet black, and smaller. Not that it could be called small, as going by what she'd seen as it flew past the tower Rhiannon would guess it to be at least thirty feet long, but the monster at Helgen had been more than twice as big. And if you had to fight a carnivorous dinosaur, armed only with bow and sword, you'd far rather face an Allosaurus rather than a Spinosaurus. Even if Wade Barrett, who had a degree in Marine Biology, had been very scathing about the portrayal of the Spinosaurus in Jurassic Park III and insisted that it wouldn't have stood a chance against the Tyrannosaurus Rex. "It's smaller. Much smaller."

"Hear that?" Irileth shouted. "We can kill it! Stand fast!"

Arrows flew as the dragon made another pass. Rhiannon loosed shaft after shaft, struggling to cope with hitting the fast-moving target, but some of the arrows struck home. Maybe the Circlet of Minor Archery was helping her. It was hard to keep track of what was happening around her but from what she did see she thought that Jenassa was hitting the dragon with virtually every shot. The guards seemed to be missing almost every time, and Rhiannon's arrows didn't appear to be achieving anything, but Irileth shot out a bolt of searing lightning from her hands and that definitely scored a hit. The dragon seemed to reel in the air, clipped the tower and shattered part of its ramparts, and then wheeled and headed directly for Irileth.

Irileth flattened herself against the end of the ramp and avoided being caught by the dragon's fiery breath. She retaliated with another lightning bolt, as the dragon went past in a strafing run, and the dragon roared in pain. It wheeled around and came into land.

"Krif krin," the dragon bellowed. "Pruzah!" On the ground it walked on the knuckles of the arm that made up its wing, like the giant pterosaurs in Planet Dinosaur, and it made for Irileth with an awkward gait that nevertheless covered the distance at great speed. It snapped at Irileth but she dodged and struck back with her sword. Then it rammed her with its snout and sent her flying back to crash into the end of the ramp and fall. A guard ran in, wielding his sword in an attempt to save his commander, but the dragon turned its head to meet him and snapped again. Its jaws closed on the guard, lifted him into the air, and then bit him in half.

Irileth was down on the ground, barely moving, her sword lying some distance from her outstretched hand. The dragon turned back toward her, raised its head, and gulped down the guard's body. Then it lowered its jaws toward Irileth.

"No!" Jenassa screamed, and she cast a despairing glance in Rhiannon's direction. Rhiannon realized that she wanted to go to Irileth's aid but felt bound by her commitment to guard Rhiannon.

"Go!" Rhiannon yelled, and Jenassa took off like an Olympic sprinter leaving the blocks.

"Die, dragon!" Jenassa cried, her twin swords coming out as she charged. The dragon turned away from Irileth and opened its mouth to bite at Jenassa. She avoided the snapping jaws and stood over Irileth, lashing out with her swords, keeping the dragon back at least temporarily.

Rhiannon felt something building inside her, an adrenalin surge that overrode all her fears, and an urge to get into close combat with the monster rather than peppering it with ineffectual arrows. She doubted if her swords would achieve much against its scales… but she had an axe. An axe that bore a frost enchantment… and this was a fire dragon. It should be weak against frost, at least according to D&D, and an axe might be better suited to chopping through the scales especially if she could get above the beast…

She rose from her sheltered position, pulled out the axe, and began to run up the ramp. "Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn!" she cried, as she ran. "Ar gyfer Y Ddraig Goch!" She reached the end of the ramp and launched herself up and into the air, tucking in and turning over and over, then straightening and extending the axe and accelerating her rotation. The dragon raised its head, and sent a jet of flame in her direction, but now it was the one trying to hit a flying, fast-moving, target on an unpredictable trajectory and she sailed past untouched by the fire. Then Rhiannon came down.

She hit the dragon in the middle of the back, the whirling axe-blade striking first, impacting with a force far greater than she could have managed from a standing position. It struck one of the dragon's scales, split it in two, and carried on through to drive into flesh. Rhiannon landed an instant later, breaking her fall with ease as the axe had taken the brunt of the impact, and she was up on her feet in an instant. She wrenched the axe out of the wound, ran up the dragon's neck toward its head, and struck again.

The dragon cried out "Dovahkiin? Nid!" and lifted its head high. Rhiannon lost her footing, slid down its neck, and found herself on its back again. She regained her feet, stood between its wings, and brought her axe down once more.

The dragon tried to turn its head around to face her. As the neck curved its scales moved apart slightly and gaps appeared between them. Jenassa inserted the point of her right-hand sword into a gap, dropped her left-hand sword, and brought that hand up to support the right. She put her full weight behind a thrust and drove the sword deep into the dragon's neck. Irileth scrambled to her feet, recovered her sword, and then emulated Jenassa's attack – and Irileth's sword carried the same frost enchantment as Rhiannon's axe.

The dragon tried to flap its wings to launch itself into the air, in a desperate attempt to escape, but one of the guards was now standing on a wing, stabbing at the body, and another was slicing great gashes through the membrane of the other wing. All it achieved was to make Rhiannon lose her footing, briefly, but she was up very quickly and striking again.

"Yol…" the dragon gasped, weakly, and a feeble flicker of flame came out of its mouth and licked over Rhiannon. It was scarcely hotter than the blast of air from a hair dryer and Rhiannon hardly noticed it. Then the dragon's neck shot out straight, its tail thrashed once, and its legs gave way. Rhiannon jumped down as the body sagged under her.

Irileth heaved at her sword and pulled it out from under the dragon's scales. "Let's make sure this overgrown lizard is really dead," she said. She gave Jenassa a curt nod. "Thanks," she said, and turned her attention back to the guards. "Bravely fought, boys."

"She… flew!" one of the guards exclaimed, staring at Rhiannon. "She flew into the air to fight the dragon."

"I jumped from the ramp," Rhiannon corrected him, "to land on its back." She wasn't surprised that he was exaggerating, it wasn't likely that anyone here would have seen anything like the high-flying maneuvers of modern wrestling, but she didn't want anyone to think that she had super-powers. And the effort had left her exhausted and aching. "That's all I did."

"It was… astounding," another guard gasped.

"What I saw of her leap was impressive," Irileth conceded. Blood was running down her face from a wound on her forehead but she paid it no heed. "That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few."

Rhiannon became aware of a crackling sound, coming from the dragon, and then flames began to lick up from between its scales.

"What's happening?" cried the guard who had been standing on a wing, and he retreated hastily back to solid ground.

"Everybody get back!" Irileth ordered. The guards hastened to obey. Jenassa wrenched her sword from out of the dragon and joined them in their retreat. Rhiannon followed suit but then felt something rushing into her.

The dragon lit up in a blinding display of light and then a stream of energy shot forth from the corpse and entered Rhiannon. She felt no pain, no heat, but instead she felt rejuvenated, the tiredness and strain vanishing, as fresh and alert as if she'd just had done the Ice Bucket Challenge and then had six cups of strong coffee. The light dimmed and the dragon's body re-appeared; or rather its skeleton did. The flesh had melted away and only bones, and a few odd scales, remained.

Everyone stared at Rhiannon. One of the Whiterun guards was first to speak.

"I don't believe it!" he said. "You're… Dragonborn!"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

English meanings of Welsh phrases:

· Beth yn uffern? = What in hell?

· Ni all hyn fod yn wir = This can't be real

· Dw i eisiau mynd adre' = I want to go home

· Dwi'n iawn. Su'mae? = I'm fine. How are you?

· Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn! = The Red Dragon will lead the way!

· Ar gyfer Y Ddraig Goch! = For the Red Dragon!

English meanings of Dovahzul (Dragon language) phrases:

· Fus Ro Dah = Force Balance Push

· Krif krin = Fight courageously

· Pruzah! = Good!

· Dovahkiin? Nid! = Dragonborn? No!

· Yol = Fire