'Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin.' ['Greetings, Dragonborn.'] Paarthurnax's voice washed over them like the surf brushed against the sand. Around them the blizzard churned the snow and screamed its objections however, where they stood, it never crossed the threshold.
Ollric's head bowed ever so slightly. He felt a great sense of calm overcome him as he stood in the great dragon's presence. 'Paarthurnax, I assume you know why we are here?'
'I am a lot of things, Dovahkiin,' Paarthurnax studied them both with a curious eye, 'but a qolaas, prophet, I am not.' His gaze shifted from Ollric to the cloaked figure by his side and he considered her for a moment. 'I feel as though I am in the presence of another dovah, dragon, yet I see nothing but a mon, girl.'
Maldinokdur could feel the rage flaming up from her chest and stick in her throat where it burned like hot coals. She stepped forwards and threw her hood up, her eyes furious, narrowed, the vertical pupils coated in the deepest black, they were not lost in the azure sea they swam in. 'Zu'u los nid mon.' ['I am no girl.'] She growled.
If the outburst shocked Paarthurnax, he did not show it. He remained silent for a few moments, holding her fierce gaze with his steady regard. 'Vonmindoraan…Is it possible?' ['I don't understand…]
'You know her?' Ollric asked. 'You know how to break the curse?'
'Curse?' Paarthurnax lowered his head until he was so close she could have reached over and touched him if she wanted. 'Tell me, dovah, what is your name?'
'I am Maldinokdur.' She replied, the hope in her eyes at the other dragon's recognition shone through.
'Maldinokdur,' Paarthurnax rolled the name around in his mouth, 'this is not the name you were given. This name is a curse.' He shifted his weight and swung his head around to face the word wall that surrounded them. Without warning, a jet of fire so hot it was almost blue exploded from his jaws and engulfed the old stone until Ollric was sure it would be burnt black. Yet when the fire disappeared, only the etchings of words long forgotten remained. He stared into the words, feeling the familiar pull of their power and his feet began to move without him even telling them to. Instead of the familiar dance of blue and white, as Ollric approached, the words smouldered in black tendrils that seemed to reach out to him. In that moment, all the Nord wanted was to get closer, to fill his mind with these texts, to have them consume him.
'No!'
Paarthurnax's voice broke through the trance and Ollric looked down to his arm to find her hand wrapped around it, pulling him back to them. Her eyes stared into his own, filled with confusion, as if she herself couldn't believe what she had done.
'You do not learn that word.' Paarthurnax spoke. Her hand dropped from the Nord's arm immediately and she looked away. 'I remember now,' Paarthurnax continued, 'you fought alongside me in the dov kein. [dragon war.] Your given name, Lokvokun [sky shadow], given to you by Alduin, for you are a small dovah yet norok. [fierce.] Alas, he has taken it away from you.'
'Why?' She shouted, her voice laced with anguish. She stumbled forward on her uncertain legs and clung to every word the other dragon gave her. 'Tell me!'
'Betrayal.' Paarthurnax's voice carried over the mountain. He rose up, a darkness now creeping into his own eyes. 'Maldinokdur is a curse. A curse to live under rock and ice and water for all of eternity. Where you once flew through the skies, you will now walk until the end of time.'
'No!' She shrieked. Her legs gave away beneath her as the fire within her chest burned brightly, threatening to burst out of her, before it dulled and gave way to anguish and pain. Her hands flew to her neck, tears streaming down her face and freezing as soon as they hit the snow below. The glittering snowfall now felt like daggers against her skin and each touch sliced into her soft skin as if she were bathing in a thousand blades.
All of a sudden, the storm circling the mountain swept up around them in a flurry of snow, ice, and ash. The sky began to darken and it was difficult for Ollric to see anything beyond his own two hands. He stumbled, blindly, through the snow and found her on her knees, her gaze fixated on Paarthurnax. The Nord grabbed her arm to haul her up but he jolted back in pain, his fingers burning and hot.
'Paarthurnax!' He called above the screeching of the wind. 'There must be a way to break the curse!'
The elder dragon's eyes snapped round to the Nord, the trance broken. 'Krosis, there is only one way-,' he trailed off, 'Dovahkiin, your lives are now bound together. When you used Dragonrend you attached your soul to her and sent her own soul away.'
'Where?' Ollric asked. The skies around them began to lighten slightly, the storm was passing.
'Nahkriin will know.' Paarthurnax replied. 'Lokvokun bears the curse and he made it.' He began to unfurl his great wings, his eyelids were heavy and closing as he began to beat them. 'Lok, Thu'um, Dovahkiin. Farewell.'
Ollric's brow furrowed underneath his hood as he realised yet again that he was being left to decipher a riddle. From Arngeir he expected it but not from the one he considered a friend, kin. 'Paarthurnax!' He shouted again but the dragon was already moving away. The Nord's shoulders slumped and he threw back his hood, running a gloved hand over his forehead and through his hair.
At his feet the dragon stirred, her lips moved together and formed words but no sound emerged. There was a sheen of sweat coating her body, a layer of bright white snow blanketing her after that. Ollric could have left her there and when looking back at this moment there will be times when he thought he should have left her there, but Paarthurnax's words hung in the air like the smell of the ash on their skin. They were bound together. What did it mean? If one died, did the other follow? He didn't know but something in him wanted to know now. He wanted to finish what he'd started and besides, he wasn't one to go back on his word. She didn't wake as he hauled her up, slung her over his shoulder, and set off back down the mountain.
She heard the fire before she could feel it, felt it before she saw it. The familiar crackles and bangs as the flames licked at the wood pulled her from her sleep. She hadn't dreamt. Her mind had been calm, cold and dark. Like the surface of a lake. The warmth was a welcome comfort to her bones as it spread from her bare feet and enveloped her body. If she kept her eyes closed she could have been anywhere. Deep down, though, she knew she wasn't safe. Her survival instinct forced her eyes open and the blurry orange licks went from fat to thin as her eyes focused on the hearth. A new feeling caught her attention. Warm and wet, it coated her foot and spread upwards to her ankle before the sensation moved onto her other foot and continued.
'What are you doing?'
Ollric glanced up. Large, unblinking eyes met his own and his brow furrowed automatically. In one hand he held her foot, a bucket of water perched underneath, the steam rose into the air and disappeared as quickly as it came. In the other hand he held rough, wet cloth which he was rubbing her feet with. The source of the warmth.
'Your feet,' he replied gruffly, 'you lost your boots. They're cut.'
She blinked and looked down at her feet to see he was right. They were covered in sharp, short cuts which stung like bees the longer she looked at them. The water felt good, though.
'Zu'u yuvon.' ['I'm fine.'] She growled and withdrew her foot from his grasp. Ollric let it go instantly and threw the cloth down into the bucket. He stood and moved to the other side of the room, taking a swig from a bottle that had been sitting by the bed.
He had removed his cloak and armour, they lay discarded on the only other chair in the room. It had left him shirtless and barefoot, the only clothing that remained were a tattered pair of brown breeches that hung loosely from his waist. Muscles rippled under his skin, the raw strength that he barely used so very apparent without the comforting cover of the dark armour. She studied his form, noting every scar that littered his body. And there were many. Her gaze drifted to the room and she found they were back in the Inn at Ivarstead – she couldn't recall the name but she recognised the bustle outside the door, drinkers and travellers, a bard singing a song she did not know. Her own clothes were hung across the hearth and she was wrapped in a blanket stolen from the bed. The fact he had taken the time to undress her hadn't occurred to her.
'Thank you.' The words tumbled out of her lips before she could stop them and she was just as surprised as he was. He paused, the bottle grazing his lips, and turned to face her.
'You would have slowed us down if they had gotten infected.' He muttered.
'How long did it take?' She made sure to speak slowly. His language felt foreign. 'To come down from the mountain.'
'Not long.' He sat down in the chair opposite her, the bottle swinging from his fingers. 'I'm faster alone.' He took another swig from the bottle and leant forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. 'What did you do?'
Her head snapped back round to stare at him. He could almost see the fire inside of her being reignited. 'What do you mean?'
'You betrayed him. Alduin. How?'
'I did no-,'
'Paarthurnax would not lie.' Ollric's eyes narrowed. 'So, it seems dragon, you've been on my side all along.'
'Mey.' ['Fool.'] She hissed.
'Is that why he is looking for you?' The Nord continued. 'To finish the job?'
Her glare faltered and the hold around her legs tightened. He could read the panic across her face like a book. He felt sorry for her. Sorry that her life had been attached to his in this way. Sorry he had awoken her. Sorry he had been travelling across the frozen ice when he had. But that was not the way Ollric worked. Something had to be done about this and it was going to be him whether he liked it or not.
'So,' he said loudly. The taste of the wine was still hot on his lips. 'Nahkriin. You know where he is?' She watched him with cold eyes. 'No…Of course you don't. You don't know anything of this world. You're nothing but a child, a waif.' His voice was getting louder, the edges of the world were blurred.
'You are,' she struggled to find the word, 'drunk.'
'Yes, I am drunk.' He stood and the empty bottle dropped from his fingers and hit the floor where it smashed into pieces. He bowed mockingly. 'I apologise, dragon, if this displeases you.'
She rose swiftly and grabbing her clothes, she hurriedly pulled them on. Ollric watched her with a sneer ready on his lips. 'And where are you going to go, dragon?'
She was at the door, her hand grasped round the handle, when she whirled to face him. Her eyes were ablaze with fury. 'I am removing my soul from yours, Dovahkiin.' She spat. 'Hi los ni balaan se the fin Dov.' ['You are not worthy of the dragons.']
She didn't wait for a reply. The door was opened and he watched as she disappeared into the crowds outside and then, out into the cold of Skyrim.
