Ulfric was slightly offended with how little the dragon seemed to care aggbout his presence. It was only aiming its attacks at the Dragonborn, it's fiery breath melting the snow on the road, and just barely missing Nariilu, who spent an awful amount of time dodging.
The dragon took to the sky just as Ulfric managed to climb up to the ledge the dragon was resting on. The force of the dragon's powerful wings knocked him off balance, and Ulfric fell back. He cussed loudly, angry that his attack had been denied. The Dragonborn shot arrow after arrow at it; the dragon didn't seem to be affected in the slightest.
Nariilu quickly slung the bow over her back, hands glowing with Destruction magic, and she charged up a spell. She fired off an ice spear, hitting the dragon on the wing. The dragon stuttered mid-air and switched to a hover, Shouting at the Dragonborn. She stumbled back; the Unrelenting Force Shout had caught her off guard. She had been expecting another Fire Breath Shout.
The dragon landed next to her, and raised its clawed wings to cut Nariilu in half. "Feim, Zii Gron!" She Shouted, just before the dragon's attack connected. The claws passed through the Dragonborn as she became translucent. The Dragonborn scurried out from under the dragon, her form returning as she readied another spell.
Ulfric saw his chance, and sprinted off the low cliff, landing on the dragon and plunging the sword into it's back. The daedric weapon slid through a chink in the scales and was buried near to the hilt. Nariilu's second ice spear hit the dragon in the throat, and the beast screeched in pain, flying off again.
As soon as Ulfric realized what was happening, he dropped low to the dragon's back and held tight to the sword hilt. The cold air whipped past his face as the dragon circled, roaring fire down towards the Dragonborn.
The Dragonborn never was the best shot with a bow and arrow, not that she would ever admit it. Nariilu of course could hit a target as large as a dragon four times out of five, but she had learned to aim in Skyrim's crypts, against stationary Draugr. The only moving targets the Dragonborn could reliably hit, even those as large as a small house, were those running straight for her. She cursed Ulfric's name as she nocked arrow after arrow, sure that if she used a spell Stormcloak would be killed from being in such close proximity to the dragon. Nariilu wondered if she had a better chance of killing him with a stray arrow than with a powerful spell.
This was definitely divine payback for showing off earlier with the sabre cat. One small detect life spell just to find the thing sleeping peacefully near the road, and Nariilu had innocent blood on her hands, especially after she skinned the damned thing. And Stormcloak hadn't even been all that impressed! What a waste, she thought. Perhaps if she managed to kill this dragon he'd warm up to her.
Nariilu became even more impatient with each missed shot. The dragon seemed to taunt her, and although she could not understand what it was saying to her, she decoded the message behind it's decreased attacks perfectly. 'This is the mighty Dovahkiin? I've never been less impressed."
If only Stormcloak would just think before he acts! Jumping on a dragon's back, no sane person would ever be so reckless. Nariilu thought back to the stories of Skyrim's berserkers; monstrous warriors whose battlerage rivaled that of the orcs. Certainly, even walking near the Companion's Hall in Whiterun and listening to the sounds within confirmed those tales.
The dragon seemed to be closing in for another attack, it seemed. Nariilu scowled; she hadn't caught her breath since her last Shout. If the dragon tried to gut her again– Nariilu shoved the thought from her mind and finally hit the dragon that was hovering in front of her.
She had no time to celebrate her success. Nariilu dived out of the way to avoid the dragon's deadly bite as it dived down and landed on the road hard. She took refuge behind a rock next to the panicking horses as the dragon attempted to roast her alive again. Peeking over the top once the flames had ceased, she saw Ulfric standing tall on the dragon, stabbing it relentlessly.
"Get off it, fool!" She yelled, throwing her bow aside as she jumped in position to ready another spell.
Ulfric glanced up, and froze. Nariilu was glowing with pure Magic channeled around her body. Blue light glinted off the dragon's scales as the Dragonborn radiated brighter and brighter as she charged her spell. At the last second, Ulfric remembered to throw himself from the dragon just as the Dragonborn cast her spell. He fell hard into a half-melted snowbank, feeling a cold blast on his back.
Ulfric protected his head and neck with his hands and pressed his body further into the snow. Sharp points of pain relentlessly bombarded his body and the howling wind blocked any sounds from reaching his ears. This level of magic–Ulfric hadn't seen anything like it in decades.
Just as suddenly as it had started, the spell's effects seemed to fade. Ulfric cautiously stood up, not hearing any wind, or dragon roars, or much of anything. The Dragonborn had collapsed to her hands and knees in front of the limp dragon. She was breathing in uneven pants, and kept her gaze square on the dragon and sword clutched tight, seemingly in case the dragon was simply faking death.
The dragon burst into an array of colors and dissolved in front of Ulfric's eyes. The colors collected and streamed into the Dragonborn; Ulfric assumed that was what it looked like when she 'ate' a soul. The Dragonborn tensed up as the soul came close, then relaxed once the dragon was nothing more than a pile of bones and the sword Ulfric managed to stick into its back had clattered to the ground.
"Get a potion," the Dragonborn ordered through clenched teeth. "In the saddle bag."
Ulfric walked with little urgency. "My injuries hardly require a potion," he answered. It was half a lie. The dragon's scales had scratched his torso and legs through his clothes, and whatever spell she cast at the end of the battle would likely leave him sore for days. A potion would hasten the recovery time, if not outright fix his minor injuries.
The Dragonborn rolled onto her back and pressed her hands to her abdomen. "It's not for you." Blood flowed freely from a rip in her cuirass that left the bottom half hanging loosely from the chest piece. An undershirt was quickly soaked red. "Bring me a health potion or a magicka potion; I don't care."