Chapter 10: Everyone's On Fire
"So, how much did you get along with Lydia?" Torygg asked.
"We got along very well, actually. We were two great warriors in our own right. Lydia was trained by true Notes of Skyrim, and I was trained by my father, who was a Legion Commander back in his day. He went to Sovngarde ten years ago. I visited for his and mother's funeral, although I did not want people to know that I, the Dragonborn, was present. Thankfully, my sight had dwindled on that day, so I could easily go disguised as a blind man. My wife, brothers, and children came along to his funeral as well."
"How many children did you have?"
"Three. Two we had adopted after my assistance with the Dawnguard; legendary vampires hunters I aided some time after Alduin's defeat. But that's a story for another day, all together. Our youngest was naturally conceived, and he is a lot like myself. I even sent him to High Hrothgar to train under the Greybeards. He has a natural affinity for the voice, much like myself and my companions."
"How could your companions shout?" Ronan asked. "You told us Akira had written she was a Breton who couldn't access her magic, but after bonding to the word 'Yol' she unlocked its potential."
"That is exactly what I shall continue with." Zacharius laughed. "Akira told Kodlak Whitemane about what she had performed, and he was a wise Harbinger to know exactly what it was. However, his simple answer then became a bit more complex to all of us in the end."
The sun was shining brightly outside of Jorvaskr, and Akira had to blink her eyes a few times for her sight to adjust. It had to be at least ten in the morning given how high the sun had risen. Already stood the five main companions; the highest in the ranks. Kodlak stood in the center of his elite members, Aela and Skjor stood to his left, and Vilkas was to his right, being joined by his brother Farkas.
Akira finally stepped out into the light once her eyes had adjusted.
"Farkas, you have seen this young one's skill in battle. Would you raise a shield in her defense?"
"I would fight alongside her and back-to-back against the hordes of Oblivion itself." Farkas spoke, smiling brightly towards her.
"Would you raise a toast in her honor within our mead hall?"
"I would start the songs that would be sung in her honor."
"And would you defend her in times of crisis?"
"I would defend her from all harm like the wolf defends the pack from intruders." Farkas's last comment was likely a joke about the Silver Hand, but Akira really liked it.
"Then I am proud to proclaim her Shield-Sister and a full member of the Companions. Welcome, Akira Vanius."
Akira bowed. "Thank you, Harbinger. I will fight well in all of our battles that I partake in."
"No doubt you will if you were brave enough to face a dragon alongside the legendary Dragonborn."
"I heard about that story." Aela spoke up. "A worthy hunt indeed. Although it was a bit wreckless jumping off a tower onto a dragon's back."
"I take challenges head-on. And I timed my jump right. The dragon fell to the ground after I clipped its wing."
"It's all my brother talked about in the mead hall after your return before you went to Dustman's Cairn." Vilkas laughed. "I swear, he's had dreams of taking down dragons with his bare hands."
"Now that they're returning, I have no doubt I'll be able to accomplish that." Farkas grinned.
"Then carry plenty of resist fire and healing potions. I don't want you coming back to Jorvaskr looking like a roast chicken."
Akira cleared her throat. "Speaking of which, Kodlak, there were a few things from Dustman's Cairn that we need to discuss."
Kodlak nodded and waved her away from the crowd. The group then dispersed to give Kodlak and Akira privacy. "What is it you wished to discuss, child?"
"Well, the first thing I wanted to talk about was that I know about how members in the Companions are werewolves. Farkas changed in front of me to fight bandits he called the Silver Hand."
Kodlak hummed. "It seems you have found out things before your appointed time. Yes, some of us carry the beast blood, but not all of us see it as a gift. I myself am looking for a cure."
"Why?"
"Because when you die, you do not go to Sovngarde with the beast blood. You instead go to Hiricine's hunting grounds. Aela and Skjor might be okay with that, but I seek to join Ysgramor in Sovngarde. Farkas and Vilkas are also considering joining me on this quest, and I would now ask of you to answer a question. If you accepted the beastblood and then found a cure, would you accept it?"
Akira thought about this for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. I've never thought much about where I would go when I die. After I lost my family, death has never been something I think about... At least, not my death. And the power of a werewolf sounds interesting, but I don't think I would want to be one forever."
"A reasonable way to say yes. Was there anything else, child."
"Yes. This is strange, but... Farkas said I had performed magic when I have no true affiliation with atherial energy. He said that I had breathed fire from my mouth."
"Really?" Kodlak scratched his beard. "Farkas, come here."
Farkas approached him. "Need something?"
"What happened last night in Dustman's Cairn? Akira mentioned the Silver Hand and that she had breathed fire from her mouth."
"What she says is true. The Silver Hand had set a trap for us, but we emerged victorious. When we found the fragment of Wuuthrad, draugr had attacked us. A powerful deathlord would've ended my life if Akira hadn't said that word that lit it ablaze. She passed out afterwards, and I brought her back here."
"You say Akira said a word? What was it?"
"I think she said 'Yol'."
"'Yol'?" Kodlak turned back to Akira. "I want you to look at that training dummy and shout the word he told me of. I want to see if my theory is true."
"What theory? What's going on?" She asked, confused as to what was going on.
"That's what we're going to find out. Just shout 'Yol' at that dummy."
Akira sighed and looked at the dummy. An image of her attacker from eight years ago appeared on the face of the dummy, as if part of her mind was telling her to imagine that she was going to send him to Oblivion for what he did by just shouting a single word. Taking a large breath, she let the word slip off of her lips.
"Yol!"
A ring of fire shot out of her mouth and set the dummy on fire, burning the straw and blackening the wood of the shield.
Everyone outside of Jorvaskr immediately turned to face Akira and the burning dummy that was now set ablaze.
"By the gods," Vilkas gasped. "What manner of power is that?!"
Kodlak nodded towards Akira. "That was a thu'um. You have learned how to speak the first word of a dragon shout. Such a feat should not truly be possible unless you are the Dragonborn of legend."
Akira looked shocked. "But I'm not a Dragonborn... However, I know the Dragonborn. He said he had a journal recorded by his grandfather that had once been a moth priest. He had written of a prophecy that involved his grandson, a Breton with a fire in her soul, an Imperial with a lot of luck, an Altmer with a gift, and a Dunmer with a dark secret."
Farkas then spoke up. "When I brought her back, her body felt as if it was ablaze, like her soul had become the Skyforge itself. If that isn't any indication she's connected to this prophecy, I don't know what is."
Kodlak hummed. "Perhaps you hold a connection to the Dragonborn, and you were able to unlock a word of power like he would because you were in his presence as he slew a dragon. If that is true, you may be able to learn many words of power like he would."
"Perhaps. This is just a bit too much for the moment. I need to collect my thoughts, Harbinger."
"Of course, child. And while you're at it, you should talk to Eourland about getting a new weapon instead of... whatever that is."
Akira frowned as she realized he spoke of her own battle axe, Justice. "This axe has been by my side since Askar forged it for me. I am insulted you would treat it with such disrespect."
"My apologies, Akira, but you could use an axe more fit for you as a Companion. You need not part from your axe for eternity, but Skyforge Steel is some of the best ever forged in all of Skyrim. Your new place as an official member of the Companions deserves a bit of tribute, and Eourland can craft you a new axe that will make your name legend within our order."
Akira pulled her own axe off of her back. Justice had been a part of her since she was seventeen. It was light but strong at the same time, and Askar was able to improve it to superior conditions. She hated to part with it, but Kodlak did have a fair point. She had a new life with the Companions, and that meant a new weapon would be okay. As long as she could still keep Justice with her, she would be content with any new weapon she received.
"Will you find a place where Justice will be safe?" Akira asked, bringing the axe to Kodlak.
Some of the other members seemed to glare at Akira for asking Kodlak to do such a meanger thing for a weapon as dull as an iron battle axe, but the old man only smiled. "I would be honored to find a place within our halls for your weapon to reside. It is still a part of you, and you need not part from it forever." He took the weapon from her grasp, holding it as if it was his duty to protect it from evil.
"Thank you, Kodlak." Akira bowed, walking up to the Skyforge while the rest of the Companions performed their duties or ate and talked amongst one another. Eourland himself was working on something, but Akira couldn't tell what it was.
"I heard we have a new member in our order, and one who speaks the dragon tongue." Eourland muttered, not looking at Akira. He was probably absorbed in his work, so Akira took no offense for the way he had spoken.
"Just one word, but it's enough for now, I think. Kodlak said I should come to you about a new weapon. I want a Skyforge battle axe, like Askar."
"Ah, like Ysgramor as well. He was Askar's idol, and one of the reasons he wanted to join the Companions. But I'm sure he didn't tell you why he never became a member."
"He never shared that information, no."
"Well, you can ask Kodlak about that, or perhaps Askar himself one day. For now, though," He pulled the item he was working on up, placing it in the water to cool. When he pulled it out, Akira saw that it was a Skyforge battle axe. It had the same white glow that reminded her of the first snowfall, and the silver that aligned the handle was carved in the same beautiful designs Askar possessed on his battle axe. "I believe you will find this axe to your liking."
He handed it to Akira and she examined it. "It looks exactly like Askar's."
"It is. It's the daughter of Askar's axe, designed perfectly to match it in every way. I named Askar's axe Retribution; a name he grew quite fond of."
"It certainly brought retribution upon the bandits that killed my family." And so much more. Akira thought.
"Well, this axe I have named Temperance. She is best used when you have total control over your mind and body. I know that something troubles you deep within, but I will not ask, both because it is your business and I do not care what it is that is your business. If you keep a clear mind when using her, she will never falter."
Akira spun the axe around a few times, avoiding Eourland to ensure she did not injure the creator of this amazing weapon. "Thank you for this amazing gift, Eourland Gray-Mane. I will see to it that this weapon brings honor to the Companions."
"You're welcome. Keep in mind what I said, however. Sometimes, a weapon connects to its user, and it should be treated right. Keep a clear mind in battle, and your weapon will be a force for good."
"I will. Thanks again!" Akira slipped it into her holster, glad that it fit like Justice had, and walked back down the stairs, leaving Eourland to work in peace.
*As Kodlak entered his room within Jorvaskr's living quarters, he held Akira's old weapon, Justice, tightly in his hands. Now that he held it in his grasp, he felt sorry for offending her about her axe. It truly fit the name; the spiritual energy that every warrior could feel within the weapon was strong, filled with light of the justice it brought to its foes.
However, Kodlak could feel a bit of dark energy brewing beneath the light.
It seems that Akira sometimes did not truly bring justice to all of her foes, rather striking them down in vengeance. This made Kodlak a bit sad. A warrior does not strike back in vengeance with their soul. The weapon was part of a warrior that had trained for so long to vanquish evil where it lay. Perhaps he should talk to Akira about it.
But perhaps it was also not his role.
Maybe Farkas is meant to help her overcome whatever has hardened her heart. Kodlak had a feeling that the young man's emotions towards her was part of a greater plan, just like her ability to shout was likely tied to the Dragonborn. Farkas might not have been the smartest Companion, but his heart was in the right place, and has always been since he was a pup. He was strong both physically and emotionally, and he always had a way to make everyone smile by cracking a joke or a smile. And he has spent enough time with Akira to call her a Shield-sister.
Kodlak decided he would speak to Farkas about it someday.
Setting the axe down on his dresser, he went to his end table and pulled out his journal. Bringing it to his table with a quill and ink, he began to write more about his dream of Akira and her rise in the ranks of the Companions.*
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Stryger mumbled as he and Brelyna jumped behind a pile of rubble to dodge the powerful fireballs that were being thrown at them. Of course, the rogue mages would be hostile towards two elves that just appeared out of thin air. Why wouldn't they? Any mage who hides in an old fort or ruin is likely to cause trouble.
"Your robe's on fire." Brelyna pointed at his arm.
Stryger patted it down a few times with his fur gauntlets. "Oblivion take these fools! So stubborn to think that they are masters of the arcane arts. Well I sure as hell won't let them win against me!"
"What's your plan, then?"
"I'm going to shoot them." Stryger summoned a bow and pulled back an etheral arrow. "Try grabbing their attention with an atronoch or something."
Brelyna sighed and brought forth a fire atronoch from her own hands. The daedra immediately ran out into the field, throwing fireballs at the other mages. When the one that hassled Stryger the most took aim at the atronoch, Stryger immediately took aim and released the arrow, hitting the mage straight through the chest and off of the rubble he stood on.
"One down, a few more to go." Stryger ran out from cover and began to fire more arrows at the other mages. One by one they fell, but the last one proved too tricky, and with a bolt of lightning Stryger was knocked back, sending his bow back to Oblivion.
"Silly mage." His opponent spoke. "You know you're not supposed to charge out in the open like a stupid Nord warrior."
Stryger jumped back up, emiting waves of healing magic around him. "No, I was charging more like a stupid Thalmor warrior. But you wouldn't know the difference, Breton."
The Breton charged another lightning spell from his hands, but Stryger reacted quickly, switching his spell to conjur up flames at his opponent. Their beams of magic collided, and they had to struggle to push the beam towards their opponent.
"You seem to be able to handle situations under pressure, huh, knife ears?" The Breton mocked.
"Your sister didn't mind the handling I gave her last night." Stryger joked, gaining the response he wanted from the conjurer. The man became angry and tried to increase his spellpower, but Stryger knew how to keep his head clear and he kept his spell focused. Eventually, the brute force the Breton put on his spell began to backfire, and Stryger went full force on the Breton.
What remained of Stryger's opponent was a pile of ash.
"Good job." Brelyna applauded.
"Yeah, no thanks to you." Stryger replied.
Brelyna's smile dropped. "I-I'm sorry. I-"
Stryger laughed. "Relax. I'm kidding, okay? Just try not to freeze up during a fight, okay?"
Brelyna sighed and nodded.
"Good. Now, let's get those overdue library books and head back to the College." He walked over to the door and pushed it open, allowing Brelyna to enter first.
"So, why did you randomly say that comment about the Breton's sister?" Brelyna asked.
"Psychological warfare. Get under someone's skin and they can't think straight enough to realize they're heading for a trap." He laughed out loud as he closed the door.
Back in Windhelm, Scarlai had sold the furs of the animals he killed on his way back to Windhelm. He also managed to sell the silver dish given to him as payment for killing Grelod the Kind. Sadri bought it for a good price with Scarlai's whole-hearted guarantee it wasn't stolen. Of course, it was given to him because he murdered someone, but he's done that multitudes of times already.
Just never posing as a Dark Brotherhood member.
He was about to enter his small home in the Gray Quarter before he saw a man in a cap approach him.
"I've been looking for you." He spoke. "Got something I'm supposed to deliver to your hands only. Let's see here... A letter. I'm not sure who from, but the person was definitely not the sort I associate myself with. They sent a chill down my spine."
Scarlai took the letter. "Are you certain the chill's not coming from the fact that you're wearing nothing but your small clothes?"
The courier looked down at his uncovered body. The only clothes he was wearing were his small clothes and his cap. "Nope. I was in Falkreath around the time. It was raining, but it wasn't cold."
"Hmm." Scarlai hummed. "Thank you, you're dismissed."
The courier nodded with a smile and ran off, likely to deliver other letters to less important people. Scarlai shook his head and entered his home, lighting up the fireplace with a wave of his hand and a conjured flame. He removed his hood and set his swords and bow on the table. His satchel was placed on the wall where he hanged his things.
After blinking his eyes a few times he opened the folded letter the courier had given him. Suddenly he understood why it was the courier had feared the one who gave him the letter. The letter contained the Black Hand, the mark of the Dark Brotherhood. Underneath it held two words marked in the blackest ink:
We know.
Scarlai immediately crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire.
So they still exist. Scarlai thought. In that instant he knew that he was not safe in Windhelm. If they knew where to send a courier to deliver a message, they knew where to strike if vengeance was the goal. And while a good death fighting against the Dark Brotherhood sounded nice, it was not his plan to die in his home. That would arouse suspicion.
Falkreath. The courier received his message in Falkreath. Could the Dark Brotherhood be nearby the hold? Perhaps he could find them and talk things out, if not fight them to the death. While he wanted nothing more than to die he'd rather go out in a blaze of glory than on a deathbed. But the mere fact he was repeating that in his thoughts probably meant he still wished to live for something he wasn't going to get back.
Almalexia, Kedana; you are both dead. You have departed from this world. I have no one left to love. Azura hasn't said anything about whether or not I would find someone again. She's never made mentioning of any other woman in the world that would take my burdened heart and make it whole again. And it doesn't make me hate her. It only makes me wonder whether or not I shall ever find that person on my own or if no one else is destined to be with me.
And yet, I still live on waiting for Azura to give me a sign.
Scarlai raised his head and went to grab all of his supplies. He found his silver throwing knifes underneath his bed and equipped them to his belt. He put his swords back in their holsters. Finally, he placed his journals and other belongings into his satchel, taking enough food for the journey. Slipping on his cloak and hood he exited his home, snuffing out the fireplace with a snap of his fingers. With conviction, Scarlai headed out of the city for a third time in the past two days, gaining glances from the guards and the city folk.
*Astrid waited outside the city within the tree line, watching as a Dunmer in a cloak headed out the gate of Windhelm. Immediately, she could see how the man had been able to kill Grelod the Kin with his bare hands. His muscles were toned in a way that gave him strength and speed in a fight. And what parts of his body weren't covered by his armor revealed numerous scars. His eyes were well hidden from the guards, but Astrid could see the red irises were filled with a desire for death.
She was reconsidering killing him and instead offering him a place in their order.
He was going on foot, which made it easier for her to chase him down and incapacitate him. Sticking to the tree line Astrid followed him for a time, waiting until they reached the ambush sight. Astrid signalled Gabriella to release the first dart at the man. They planned to knock him out first rather than kill him, so they needed to play it safe with blow-darts.
The man flinched as the first dart hit his arm.*
Scarlai immediately felt the dart hit his left arm. The poison it was tipped with was meant to paralyse his body, but thanks to Tscaesi training, he could feel himself mentally blocking out its effects. He pulled out the dart and watched as three dark-hooded individuals came walking out of the tree line.
The Dark Brotherhood set up an ambush.
Reacting quickly he removed his cloak, jumping into action. He ran straight at them and jumped into the air, kicking the first figure; an argonian, to the ground. His opponent rolled along the snow and stood on his feet again, pulling out two daggers rather than his steel sword. A woman who was completely masked darted forward, using her dart launcher as a melee weapon. Scarlai blocked it with his numbing arm, dodging another dart from the third woman. Using his strength he ripped the third opponent's weapon from her hands, breaking it in half.
"Shit!" She cursed, revealing herself to be a Dunmer. The first woman tossed her her own dart launcher and punched Scarlai in the chest a few times, propelling him away. The argonian moved his daggers across Scarlai's armor, but it did not pierce the leather hide. Scarlai turned the tables and grabbed him by the tail, using his strength to throw him away.
"You're going to have to do much better than that." Scarlai challenged, blocking the masked woman's punches. A third dart flew by his ears, but it didn't even scratch him.
The one in his neck, however, did.
He turned to see that the argonian had pulled out a dart launcher and used a more potent paralysis poison. He pulled it out quickly, but he found this one had much stronger effects. His entire body was becoming stiff, but he fought it harder than he did before.
"What does it take to stop this guy?" The argonian hissed.
Scarlai moved closer to the masked woman, but his vision became blurry and he felt his muscles tightening. The only way he would be able to keep fighting now is if there was blood laying around somewhere.
But there wasn't any blood. And now he wa going to die.
*Astrid smiled as the poison finally started to work on the man. He fell to his knees, close to shutting down and falling unconscious.
Veezara knocked him out with his boot.
"Was that really necessary?" Gabriella asked.
"Necessary?" Veezara responded. "No, but it was fun."
Astrid bent down and pulled back his hood, revealing the man's face. He was quite handsome for a Dunmer; his long black hair left untied, his beard adding a certain toughness, and his eyes shut calmly. It would be a shame to let a man like him die when he held his own against three seasoned Dark Brotherhood assassins.
"Do we still plan on killing him, Astrid?" Veezara asked.
Astrid smiled behind her still covered face. "No. I think we can make use of him. Our order needs more members, and I think he held his own quite nicely. Are our three captured contracts at the shack?"
"Yes." Gabriella answered. "We had Nazir move them there this morning."
"Good. I'm taking him to the shack. Go back home and let the others know the freelancer assassin will be joining our order. If he comes alone, then Arjnborn has permission to tear his throat out."
"You don't think he's going to try and kill you, right?"
"I don't think he will, but if he does, the Blade of Woe will certainly pierce his heart. And if he survives that, well, then Arjnborn's strength will certainly outmatch his own."
"Shadow hide you, Astrid." Veezara bowed, disappearing into the shadows with Gabriella. Astrid whistled and watched as the black horse came out of the shadows. Shadowmere neighed at the sight of his master, and allowed her to throw the brute of a man onto his back.
Afterwards, Astrid rode the horse to the shack, throwing the unconscious Dunmer on the floor until he would awake.*
By an hour into the carriage ride Isobel regretted not going by foot. She would've happily walked for days on her crippled leg by herself in the wilderness while dragging a dead mammoth if it meant getting away from Brynjolf and his new girlfriend.
Isobel scowled and crossed her arms, watching the two sit with their feet off the back of the wagon while she resided close to the driver; Sigaar. Isobel would've given anything to have Bjorlam back, at least his stories would distract her from the flirtation she was stuck watching, but instead Sigaar only stared blankly ahead, lost in his own world.
The Nord girl that was consuming all of Brynjolf's attention was some pretty little thing on her way back to Whiterun, her clean hands and flawless skin telling Isobel she never had to do a day of dirty work in her life. She had a modest blue dress on with a brown leather corset, probably lower-middle class, nothing worth stealing from her, and by gods did she have "virgin" written all over her. Isobel overheard her talking about trading with Khajiit caravans and wanting to buy an inn as Isobel's stomach clenched and curdled with emotions she couldn't identify.
Why do you care if Brynjolf gets laid while in Whiterun?' Isobel thought fiercely. He probably hasn't bedded anyone in awhile, it's his first time out of Riften after all, let him have it. But the blood in Isobel's veins didn't grow any cooler as she watched Brynjolf make the girl blush with his boyish grin.
For hours Isobel told herself to look anyway, to try sleeping or even start flirting with Sigaar (or even Errick for that matter), but she couldn't do anything but glare and viciously eat the apples and cheese from the girl's pack. Isobel ripped a small chunk of wood from her seat and threw it at Brynjolf, hitting her bulls eye at the back of the head but failing at making him turn around. Instead, the thief put his arm around the young maiden and pulled her in, whispering something close to her ear that made her giggle and bite her lip.
That was the final straw. Without any known motive to her, Isobel clamped an apple between her teeth and slid down to the carriage floor with a pained wince. She began to shuffle towards the couple, debating who to send flying off the back of the wagon...Brynjolf or the girl? Opting for the former Isobel silently positioned herself behind the red-head and brought up her legs, winding herself up to kick him mule-style off the carriage.
Errick had been reading a lovely tale about two lovers that make love way too much for the whole ride, keeping himself quiet for the duration of the ride. However, he had kept an eye on Isobel's actions, and he had to say it was hysterical. The damn broad wanted the older gentleman way too much and all he could focus on was the Nord virgin he was wooing. And Isobel hated it.
"Ah, if only this was like the book I'm reading." Errick spoke silently. "It would be so much better to watch."
"So tell me lass, how is it-" But Brynjolf wasn't cut off by crashing to the dusty, stone road. Instead the carriage lurched into a violent halt, causing Isobel to roll forward and collide into Brynjolf's back. He turned around sharply to see Isobel struggling to sit upright on the carriage floor, her eyes wide in shock as she looked between Brynjolf and the girl, the apple dropping from her agape mouth and rolling away. Isobel never got used to that gut dropping feeling when getting caught, but the feeling was about to get a lot of worse as she heard two heavily accented voices speak up to Sigaar.
"Looking for a woman, most likely Breton. She's wanted in Windhelm for theft." Isobel's horrified face paled as Brynjolf bolted up and over her towards the front.
"Who are you looking for?" He asked loudly before Sigaar could answer, leaving Isobel next to the girl and thinking furiously.
"A short woman. That's all we know. She's got a big bounty on her head, and a big reward too. 5,000 septims if she's brought forward, 15,000 if she's brought with the item she stole." Isobel peeked and saw two male Stormcloak soldiers and quickly ducked back down.
"Why are you hiding?" The girl asked, her voice timid and soft. Isobel shot her a death glare, making her blink in surprise and shift away.
"What did she steal?" Brynjolf's face was calm and relaxed as he sat on the bench and leaned over the carriage rails, looking at the soldiers with polite curiosity. The two Stormcloaks looked at each other for the answer.
"Wait, let me guess first." Errick joked, cracking a smile on his face. "Your grandmother's ashes. No, a roast chicken. No, a giant tub of Black-briar Mead!"
"We're not the ones to say-"
"An amulet of Talos." The second solider interrupted. "But not just any amulet, a specific one. So don't be givin' us any old Breton with a necklace and expect to get the coin. We know the full description of the item at large." Isobel still wasn't able to breathe properly when a broad, black bearded face suddenly turned the corner and grabbed her shoulder.
"Hey, here's a Breton right here! Sond, come!" Isobel made to throw the Nord soldier's hand away from her but Brynjolf beat her to it.
"This girl wouldn't kill a mudcrab if it was clawing at her ass." He said sternly, making sure not to come off as too defensive.
"We ain't lookin' for a killer, we're lookin' for a thief." The Stormcloak retorted as he repositioned his large, dirty hand on Isobel. Isobel quickly looked up at Brynjolf and starting making bizarre hand motions at him, doing everything from brushing her thumb across her forehead to pointing gestures on her cheeks. Everyone looked at her with severely confused expressions tattooed on their faces, and Isobel repeated the pattern at Brynjolf with pleading eyes, begging for him to catch onto her muse.
Isobel internally worshiped Brynjolf's quick wit as he crouched down on the carriage floor next to her and mimicked the same sort of hand gestures, even going so far as to add facial expressions to them.
"Oh my!" The girl gasped. "She's deaf! I had no idea, I was wondering why she never spoke all this time!" The two soldiers looked at each other, not knowing what to do.
Errick then chimed in, making a few hand gestures that Isobel actually knew, causing her to hit him.
"What'd you say to her?" The first guard asked.
"I told her that the reason you guys jumped at her was because you wanted a good time. At least it was better than what he said to her." Errick pointed at Brynjolf, grinning.
"And what did he say to her?"
"Something about how you guys would feed her to trolls."
Brynjolf scolded at him, but Errick was too caught in the moment to care about his superior-ranked member's annoyance. The guards eventually stopped talking to him and bickered amongst themselves.
"A deaf girl couldn't rob Ulfric. She-"
"Shut up!" The black-bearded Nord smacked the other on the back of the head. "We're not supposed to say Ulfric was robbed." He turned to the four on the wagon. "My apologies. Tell the miss we're sorry. And keep an eye out for any other shady-looking short folk, she's gotta be out here somewhere." And with that they took off down the road, bickering and arguing as Sigaar started up the horses again. Isobel's smile of triumph was quickly wiped off her face as Brynjolf stepped over her and repositioned himself by his female companion, forcing Isobel to move back.
As much as being a deaf person benefitted Isobel in her time of need, not being able to speak or respond for the next several hours of their journey was excruciatingly difficult. Especially since it made Brynjolf even more desirable to the young girl as he explained he was "the guardian of his deaf cousin" and "sacrificed so much to look out for her."
Damn than sly man.'Isobel cursed as she took her spot by Sigaar. Hopefully the virgin will like fire crotches.
Or she'll just like riding him over and over again. Errick's voice responded within her head.
Get out of my head, Errick! She thought.
What if you're actually in my head, Issy? My charm does that.
What? What are you even talking about?!
Mind freak!
Shut up, you buffoon! Just shut up!
Errick immediately signed something to her before tapping his forehead and frowning. He shook his head, making Isobel blink.
Just who was Errick Entius?
Back at Fellglow Keep, Stryger smiled in triumph as the mage that released the wolves choked on his own blood at the sight of the conjured sword through his chest. Yes, he was used to killing people by now, but what he enjoyed most was stopping psychotic mages abusing their power.
Sometimes he enjoyed it a bit too much.
Brelyna herself wasn't much for killing people. She only really tried casting lightning spells at her targets or summoning flame atronochs. And she was a nervous wreck half the time. She did fight bravely against the wolves, though.
Now all that was left was the mage in the cage.
Orthorn was screaming for help in the cage he was trapped in. Of course they would betray him the first chance they got. Rogue mages were never really good news. The fact that the stupid apprentice would go through so much trouble to join them was just humiliating for him.
"Stop your gawking!" Stryger yelled, still ready for a fight. "I'm releasing the lever and letting you out." His conjured sword vanished, letting him open it with his right hand. The imprisoned mage walked out, calmer than he was before.
"You guys are from the college, aren't you?" Orthorn asked. "Thank the gods you've come."
"Save it." Stryger replied sternly. "The books you took from the college, where are they? And don't give me a bad answer because I fought through those mages, spiders, and captured vampires to get to them."
"Of course you're here for the books. They're still with The Caller. She's performing some kind of ritual; for what I'm not sure."
"Now get out of here."
"Are you sure? I could help you."
"You got captured. I highly doubt you could help yourself."
"Oh, so you're a racist elf, aren't you? You think that you could get out of a cage like that by yourself?"
"I'm not racist. I just fought my way through a dozen mages and I'm pissed off. There's a major difference."
Brelyna stepped in between them. "Let's stop fighting. This isn't going to help us. Orthorn, we can handle this. Go back to the college or something."
Orthorn looked at the Dunmer, and his anger dropped for a second. "Fine." He harshly replied. "Good luck facing The Caller on your own." He stormed off angrily, leaving the two elves alone.
Brelyna faced Stryger. "What in Oblivion was that all about, Stryger?! By the eight or nine or however many gods reside in Aetherius, you didn't have to yell at the poor fool!"
Stryger huffed, dropping his angry glare and showing more sincerity. "Sorry. I was just still in the moment. I've been fighting for so long it affects me a bit sometimes. I didn't mean to startle you."
Brelyna sighed. "It doesn't matter. The moment's over. Let's just get those books back. Hopefully this Caller can be persuaded to let us take the books and walk away peacefully."
"I can try that. I've resolved a few conflicts in my life with just words." Stryger smiled as he continued along into the ruin.
Along the road to Ivarstead, Zacharius could feel the cool breeze that made the walk feel a bit colder. The weather in Skyrim felt much different to that of Cyrodiil; more wild and free, like a Nord beserker charging against his foe. It was actually calming to him, which was a good thing.
"So," Lydia spoke. "I was curious about something."
"What?"
"What's it like in the Imperial City?"
"It's huge. The place gets pretty busy you don't have much time to take in the sights. Many of the people are friendly, and there are so many races working together all at once. The city's larger than Whiterun, but the Aeylid structures aren't that beautiful anymore. Not after the war."
"Some places are beginning to look like that here, too. The war's beginning to wear down Skyrim."
"What's your take on the war, Lydia?"
"It's tearing our country apart. No matter which side wins, the result is going to be chaos. The Thalmor should be our full concern, not the Empire."
"Exactly how I see it." Zacharius smiled. "I support the Stormcloak ideal but I was raised to love the Empire, or what's left of it. The Thalmor should be our concern. They've taken away much, both for the Stormcloaks and the Empire."
"Not to mention you said they want to kill you."
"Yep. Lucky me on that fact. It's okay, though. I'm going to stop them before they stop me."
Lydia looked around. "Do you think they're following us right now?"
"I don't think so. I managed to sneak into Skyrim without any trouble. That was, of course, until the Legion caught Ulfric Stormcloak and damn near took my head off. Somehow I'm actually glad that Alduin, as I'm sure that was the dragon that attacked Helgen, swooped down and destroyed the town. Kind of a bad thing to think about, though."
Lydia laughed.
"What?"
"Haven't you heard? Swooping is bad."
Zacharius couldn't help but laugh at that. Taking a breath, he saw the sign to Ivarstead appear. "Here we are. Ivarstead. I say we make our way up the mountain quickly and then we'll rent a room at the inn on the return trip."
"The steps might take a bit longer to climb than you imagine. And it's going to be cold for the climb up. I think we need cloaks."
"I think we have that." Zacharius slung his backpack off of his shoulders, opening the top and reaching in. Lydia looked in confusion until she saw him pull out two folded cloaks from his pack. One was a burgundy color while the other was a gray. "Which one do you want?"
"How did you do that?"
"I got this backpack from a stranger I met at Bleak Falls Barrow. It's enchanted with a rare type of magic. I thoroughly investigated what was already in the pack this morning before we left. I know you saw me put the food from the fort in, but this bag is carrying more stuff, like the dragon bones and scales I was able to pull from the dead dragon outside Whiterun."
Lydia looked at the cloaks and decided to grab the burgundy one, leaving Zacharius with the gray one. They slipped them on over their bodies and tied them up. Zacharius would probably have a tougher time slipping the hood over his horned helmet, so he placed it in his backpack for the time being. His shield was hooked onto the backpack as well, and Lydia did the same with her pack.
"Hopefully we won't encounter any difficult wildlife on our way up." Zacharius spoke as he draped his hood over his face. Lydia had kept her hood down for the moment. "If anything tries to kill us, I'll practice some of my magic on them. Without my brother around, I don't have someone who can practice with me or lend me their books."
"Some people just leave their books lying around all of Skyrim. You could easily find a spell book with a bunch of bandits, sometimes."
Zacharius raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's quite common, apparently."
"You know, now that I think about it, that's probably how my brother Treyvar got all of those spell books. Strange."
Lydia chuckled and saw two people over at the bridge to the mountain path. Apparently, they were talking about dropping off supplies to the Greybeards, but one of them was complaining about how he still couldn't make the journey due to his injuries. Upon hearing this, Zacharius and Lydia stepped up to them.
"I heard you talking about a supply drop." Zacharius spoke kindly. "Something I can help with?"
"I normally make a supply drop for the Greybeards every once in a while." The first man; a Nord spoke. "Last week, however, I got my knee wrecked on the way down. The healers asked for me to take it easy for a while until it heals."
"We're about to head up to High Hrothgar ourselves. Maybe we can drop off your supply run while we're there."
"I'd appreciate it." The Nord shook Zacharius's hand. "Just take this sack of food up to the chest outside of High Hrothgar. The Greybeards will pick it up themselves."
Zacharius took the offered bag. "We'll make sure the Greybeards get their food."
"I'll make sure to pay you on the return trip. And be careful on your way up. Some of the steps are slippery and there may be a few wolves along the trail. Also, a returning pilgrim mentioned something about spotting a troll along the path."
"A troll?" Lydia asked. "I didn't think a troll would be on the path."
"We'll be careful, Lydia." Zacharius assured her. "The trick is to focus on a troll's weaknesses and how to turn them to your advantage." He tied the sack onto his bag and nodded to the Nord. "We plan on booking a room in the inn tonight. We might be there by supper time if not later."
"I'll be in the inn until around ten tonight. If I see you before then, I'll give you a fair payment. Let's go, friend." The Nord spoke to his partner, walking past the two warriors.
"Do you always offer to help people?" Lydia asked.
"Depends on what they're asking me to do." Zacharius smiled. "Besides, it's along the way. I think we can handle that." He held out his hand to her. "Wanna climb a mountain?"
His charm and smile was more than enough for Lydia to grab his hand.
Meanwhile, Stryger was hoping his charm would be enough to sto this Caller he saw kneeling on the stone altar. Candles surrounded her and Stryger could see the books aligned on pedestals surrounding her. The Caller was an Altmer woman in blue mage robes, and when she looked at Stryger as he approached, the anger in her her eyes was apparent.
"So you're the one that barged into my home and started ruining my experiments. How nice to meet you."
"I'm here to get those stolen books back."
"So you're just one of Aren's lackeys. How disappointing. You showed much promise. You came here, killed my assistants, ruined my experiments... You've annoyed me, so I don't think I'll be giving you anything."
"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement."
"An arrangement? After you've destroyed so much? Why should I possibly deal with you?"
"Because I can leave you alive if you hand them over. You'll never be disturbed again; not by the college, not by your enemies, not by me. All I require are the books for my own 'experiment.'"
The Caller seemed to look at him for a second, considering his offer. Stryger was afraid she would attack, but instead she agreed. "Fine. I don't ever want to see you again. Take the books and go."
Stryger nodded and grabbed the books, shoving them into his satchel and departing quickly as to not make her change her mind. Brelyna watched as he exited the room with haste, following him as he continued walking.
"So?" Brelyna asked.
"I got the books. In exchange I let The Caller live. I don't plan on returning here, either, so we'd better move quickly. The teleportation spell only works outside, too, so that's another reason we should move faster."
With that notion, Brelyna instantly picked up her pace, running with Stryger until they were as far away from The Caller as possible.
"Did anyone ever figure out who The Caller was?" Torygg asked
"No, and it may be better that that never happened. Some people are not meant to be recorded in history. Not like the Greybeards or myself, perhaps. The Caller was unimportant compared to some of the other threats we faced; mainly from the Thalmor."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So here you go. Another chapter hammered out. This late update thing will probably happen a bit longer until I put Mass Effect: Resolution on hiatus. Afterwards, I'll hammer out as much content as possible while tackling college. I'm also starting another story that will be a little idea of mine for the Assassins Creed universe.
Until next time.