Chapter 11: Wise and Powerful
"So, what are the Greybeards like?" Torygg asked.
"They are old, wise, and very powerful. They were more focused on finding inner peace within themselves rather than within Skyrim. I did not agree with that, but I understood why it was they did not intervene. If they had chosen a side, it would have been unfair, just as I had avoided joining the war because of my shouts. Eventually, you know of the results. But to get back on point, our climb up the mountain was just as illuminating as the first lesson the Greybeards offered me."
As Zacharius climbed up the mountain, he saw all of these stone carvings that explained the early days of man and the Dragon War. The text was of an ancient dialect, but he knew how to read it; likely because of either the teachers that his parents hired to teach his family, or because of the Dragonborn powers translating it in his mind. Lydia herself said that she didn't know the language, so the latter might have been true.
The man who made the supply drops was correct about the wolves. A few ice spikes and the black-furred creatures were easily defeated. The troll was a different matter. It was more resistant to his frost attacks so he had to switch to fire, which was not his strongest magic. Lydia eventually decapitated the beast as it was lit ablaze by the last of Zacharius's magic.
"And that is why Nords rely on weapons more than magic." Lydia joked.
"Lesson learned, I guess." Zacharius smirked. "I like being skilled in all areas, however. I'm better tapping into my resistance to the cold and channeling it into a spell. It works rather well."
"Well, try practicing fire spells again later, okay? We're almost to High Hrothgar, I think."
Zacharius doused the flames in his hands and continued walking. After the troll had been defeated, there wasn't much of a challenge reaching the Greybeards' ancient structure. The chest that lay outside could be seen at the top of the first stairway, and Zacharius unclasped his cloak so he could get into his bag easier. When his bag could be opened while resting on his arm, Zacharius pulled out the sack of food and placed it in the chest.
"Now they'll be able to eat." Zacharius smiled as he tied his cloak around himself again. The climb up the stairs to the entrance was easier, and the sight of the large iron doors seemed welcoming, despite the age of the structure itself.
With that note, he grasped the handles of the door and opened it.
*Back in the Imperial City, the Inquisitor already given his report to the boss involving his peaceful interrogation with Jennette Morrigan. It had surprised his boss both that Jennette had been more open about her son and the information from the Elder Scroll his last target had not shared with the Emperor towards the Inquisitor and that she had been released without injury or 'incidents' that the Inquisitor was rumored to have caused to his female victims. It wasn't his intention to cause things like nearly clubbing a Nord heretic to death with a Daedric mace when getting nowhere or something much worse to the women that refused to talk. The Inquisitor just loses himself in his work.
You are an assassin. An interrogator. A member of the Thalmor.
You were once called Horatio! The innocent voice in his head shrieked. You had a family that they killed! They let your mother burn alive in your house; decapitated your own father right in front of you-
You have no family. The thoughts of the Inquisitor returned to his head. You are the Right Hand of the Thalmor, and the instrument of its power. You destroy all who would fight our cause.
YOU'VE BECOME A MONSTER, HORATIO! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?! YOU MURDER AND RAPE AND ABUSE ALL WHO STAND IN YOUR WAY!
You satisfy your needs, Inquisitor. That is not what a monster would do. Think of the women who openly gave themselves to you so you could be satisfied. They were not abused or raped. And the murders you performed were for the greater good. They were to protect the perfect world we are building.
YOU SERVE THE WRONG MASTER, HORATIO! THESE ARE THE PEOPLE THAT KILLED THE WOMAN YOU LOVED!
She was a traitor. You know that, Inquisitor.
"Inquisitor?"
That one word broke his concentration on the two voices in his head as he looked at his boss.
"You got lost in your thoughts again, didn't you?"
"Apologies," The Inquisitor spoke. "I had a long night after the interrogation. I was reflecting on the moments."
"I see. You allowed Jennette Morrigan to go free. Why?"
"She openly admitted to what her son carries, but she is not the guilty party. Besides, her voice in the Senate is strong, regardless of whether or not she and her husband truly are worshipers of Talos. Unless we have compelling evidence on the matter, killing or imprisoning her would only weaken our cause."
"That's... rather thoughtful of you, Inquisitor. Very well. Unless we find evidence of the rest of the family's worship of the False Divine, we will leave them alone. As for Zacharius, you have permission to pursue him into Skyrim. Elenwyn has contacted us from our Embassy there. She wishes for you to stop there first before you begin your hunt."
Elenwyn. The Inquisitor thought. The one who made you who you are today.
"I shall leave immediately, then."
"You should. Elenwyn wouldn't want her protegé to be late."
The Inquisitor stood up from his chair and headed out of the office, heading out to the stables and mounting his black horse, Ruin. With that, he kicked it into gear and rode for Skyrim.
You cannot escape the Inquisitor, Zacharius Morrigan.*
Within the halls of Jorvaskr, Akira munched on some of the meat from her stew. She had been thinking about the events of last night; how she had gained the ability to say a word of power, and how she demonstrated it in the courtyard. It was a mystery, but it did make sense to her in a way. Zacharius's words had been compelling when he first met her, and the journal had been well-written; as if the old man knew what he was talking about. But why her? Why was she chosen?
Her thoughts were interrupted as a note was dropped next to her.
Akira didn't see who dropped it in her spot, but it was folded up. At first she thought it might've been something from Farkas, but he was nowhere in the room. Taking the note, she unfolded it real quick and looked at it.
Meet in the Underforge tonight.
~S
Akira looked at Skjor, who was talking to Aela at the table across from her. They seemed to not take notice of her staring, as if they did not have anything to do with the note. They stopped chatting for a second and caught her staring. Akira did not break contact with them; there was no point in hiding or turning away if she knew the two of them were werewolves and could have easily sensed her staring at them. They only nodded with the stoic looks of warriors, and Akira returned the nod in the same fashion before returning to her stew.
She knew exactly what they planned.
As this was happening, Errick was humming a tune as he entered the city with Isobel, Brynjolf, and his fine lass Ysolda. He had been serenading her with pillow talk for the entire ride while Isobel sat in silence, annoyed at the man she had feelings for. For hours, Errick had been entertained by her distress, but now it was annoying even him. Brynjolf and Isobel obviously had feelings for each other, and the older gentleman was trying to hide that fact by fucking another woman while on a business trip with his woman-crush and the best thief in the business.
It sounded so poetic... But Errick wasn't that poetic.
"Here it is! The Bannered Mare!" Ysolda said proudly. Errick rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm while Brynjolf pulled out his trademark smile. The old man headed in with his nightly bed-buddy, and Errick grabbed Isobel's arm before Brynjolf could drag her stubborn ass into the inn.
"Hold on, Brynjolf." Errick replied. "Since Isobel is my new partner, I would like to borrow her for a bit to visit an old friend of mine."
Brynjolf raised an eye for a moment, but nodded his head in approval. "All right. Just don't let her wander. We don't want another incident with a giant."
"In Whiterun? Anything's possible, Bryn." Errick snickered, unknowing of what was to happen later tonight.
[Errick snapped his fingers and watched as time paused again. In that instant he looked at the last paragraph and read it carefully.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! What are you planning up there?!" He raised his fist at the author.
The author merely laughed at the thief's confused expression before he snapped his own fingers, sending Errick back into the story.]
"Just-"
"I know." Errick interrupted, raising his hand. "I'll keep my eye on her."
"Above her waist." Brynjolf warned, acting like a strict father.
Errick looks at Isobel's chest. "Above the waist? Got it."
"Not that high!"
"All right! Geez, I told you last time, she started it!" Errick flinched, adding more in-depth on his acting.
Brynjolf frowned and motioned two fingers at his eyes before tilting his hand towards Errick. He grabbed the door handle and began to close the door.
"What did you mean by that?" Errick could hear Ysolda speak.
"I caught him making love to her last month. She was making sounds like a dying animal and I thought she was-" The door shut and cut off the rest of his explanation.
Errick merely laughed. "That was fun, wasn't it?"
Isobel hit his arm.
"Can anyone in Skyrim take a joke?" He worded.
"Asshole." Isobel spoke quietly.
"Hey, you started the whole deaf thing. Brynjolf just decided to make things interesting on the fly. Besides, you know for a fact I'd be a good lover, even to a deaf girl."
"Just shut your mouth. It's already bad enough you almost got me killed at Goldenglow and that your voice snaked into my head after the business on the road. I'm having a rough day, okay?"
"First off, Goldenglow was your own fault because you caused the salt to catch fire and it made the smoke bomb overpowered. Second, I was only in your head for a few seconds because I can actually use telepathy after discovering how five years ago during a heist in Valenwood."
"What?" Isobel asked.
"Yeah, that's right. I can send thoughts into other people's minds. I still haven't perfected stealing or implanting ideas, though, before you ask."
"How?"
"A little adventure of mine I'll tell you about later. Right now, though, we have to meet up with Mallus. But first," Errick walked back down towards the entrance with Isobel in tow, bringing her to the blacksmith's hut. "I think we need to celebrate our small victory last night."
Isobel cocked her eye. "How are we going to do that at a blacksmith's forge?"
"Easy. I'm making you a dagger."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because a dagger is useful for stabbing things, Princess Stabbity."
Isobel crossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows, scolding at him as he continued with a 'stabbity-stab-stab-stab.' "Errick, I do not stab people. That's-"
"Stab." Errick interrupted, gaining a glare from Isobel. The gentleman thief stopped, and she continued.
"the Dark Brotherhood's job, assuming they're still around."
"Okay, I'm just doing this because you're my partner in crime now, and I always shower my female partners with gifts... that I usually steal back once our partnership is over. But I think ours will be a very prosperous partnership full of all of the earthly benefits that befriend us. As for why it's a dagger? I figured you're not the kind of girl who fancies jewelry, especially since your behavior is a bit manish."
"That's the world I grew up in, Errick. I won't take shit from anyone, not even you."
"Whoo, scary." Errick smiled as he took out the ebony ingot he had in his back pocket. After twenty minutes of working on it, he pulled out the molten piece of metal and shoved it into the water, cooling the dagger that looked black as night. Isobel looked at his craftsmanship and had to admit he knew how to make a dagger.
"Is there anything you can't do, Errick?" Isobel joked as he made a leather wrap for the hilt.
"I can do almost anything except..." He counts on his fingers. "Hopscotch."
"Seriously?"
"Ever since I was a little boy, I have had trouble throwing rocks." Errick rubbed the back of his head and gained an angry expression. "Those damn, evil rocks."
Isobel cocked her head. "What?"
"But, I am damn good at drinking, which you probably haven't noticed yet." Errick said sarcastically, literally oozing sarcasm out of his eyes, ears, and mouth.
"I'll have to challenge you to a drinking contest sometime, then. We'll see who can hold their liquor the longest between us."
"How about we throw in everyone else, and for every pint I drink, you guys have to drink a half-pint. It'll have to be on a day where Mercer isn't pestering the gang about the guild needing money. It's obvious the guildmaster is a big spender around here."
"What makes you say that?"
"The Breton is a stern man that makes the attempt of making those who won't follow orders submit. It's expected of Brynjolf to listen to the man because he was raised in the guild, but you and I weren't raised to follow his rules. In fact, I live by no rules except don't steal or harm those who aren't better off than you are. Every thief normally lives by that example, yes, but I literally enforce it on those who's moral conscience isn't in line with mine. The common bandit like what Thrynn had served with is an atrocity on life because he seeks to make everyone he crosses taste the bitterness of his own heart, either through death or despair. Why, quite recently I killed a group of bandits near the border of Skyrim because they burned down a little girl's house and killed her parents. Were it not for me that girl would have been dead, and if she had survived the fire she would have been depressed by the fact the true monsters of this life got away with making her life miserable. Me, I've stolen millions of septims from those that were the most fortunate, but never from people like little Lucy, all alone in the cold world now." And I also gave her 500 septims, but I probably shouldn't tell the minx that. I don't want anyone to know I give away money because I do not. "Oh, I most certainly do not." He whispered.
"Where did she go?" Isobel wondered out loud.
"She's probably in one of the holds or perhaps headed to Riften to live in Honorhall orphanage. Considering I was still attempting to avoid the Legion due to my last partner's capture-"
"Wait, your last partner was captured? What in Oblivion happened?!"
"All you need to know is that it involved the Imperial City, some blind guys, and during my process of escaping, I literally fell into the sewers."
Isobel couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her lips.
"Laugh all you want, but do you know how many times I had to wash my suit before I could wear it again? Four times! So my last partner can rot in a jail cell for all I care." Errick held out the completed dagger and sheath. "But I think you'll prove to be a more valuable ally than that wench was."
Isobel took the dagger from his grasp, pulling it halfway out of the sheath. "Well, thanks. If I may ask, though, what was it you guys were stealing? Did you still succeed with your mission?"
Errick chuckled. "I'll tell you about it once we really get friendly. For now, consider this dagger the true start to a prosperous partnership."
Isobel sheathed it and tied it to her belt. "Okay, partner." The last word sounded a bit seductive from Errick's ears, either because Isobel was using her charms to try to break Errick's guard or because she wanted someone to bed tonight if it meant getting her thoughts off of Brynjolf.
"You are such a minx." Errick smiled. "Don't ever change, Issy."
She scoffed. "Me? Change? Never."
Errick laughed as he escorted her back to the Bannered Mare where she would have to play the role of Brynjolf's deaf cousin for a while. [Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and turned towards the audience, pulling out a strange item covered in cloth.
"And yes, I did succeed in stealing it. Suck it, author!"
"Doesn't matter." The author spoke. "You'll get yours soon."
"What's that supposed to-"]
The inside of High Hrothgar was quite warm compared to the cold of other stone structures. Zacharius removed his hood and looked around the room. It was well lit by torches and the whole place was well attended to. Lydia looked around as her hood slipped off her head. The look in her eyes stated she was full of curiosity, and her smile seemed to brighten the room a bit more.
An old man in dark grey robes approached the two of them, catching Zacharius's eye.
"Welcome to High Hrothgar." The old man spoke. "Why is it you have come?"
Zacharius smiled. "I have come to answer your summons, for I am the Dragonborn."
"So you may be, but we will soon taste of your Thu'um to be certain. I am Arngeir, one of the masters of the Way of the Voice."
Zacharius bowed. "I am Zacharius Morrigan, eldest son of Willhem and Jennette Morrigan of Cyrodiil. It is an honor to meet you atop the Throat of the World."
"Likewise, Zacharius. Now, let us meet with the other Greybeards." Arngeir led him to the center of the room, where the other three members stood. Zacharius placed himself in the center while the Greybeards circled around him. "Now we shall taste of your Thu'um, Dragonborn. Throw your shout at me, and I shall taste of your power."
Zacharius looked at Arngeir and took a quick breath. "FUS!"
Arngeir stumbled back a bit, but he immediately stood straight a second later. "Impressive. You are the Dragonborn. We shall teach you of a few things so you may begin your journey to master the Way of the Voice. First, the word of power you can shout is part of a larger shout called Unrelenting Force. There are three words to a shout, and you have learned the first. Fus means force in the dragon tongue. Your voice literally becomes a force to push aside your enemies, and when fully unlocked it can propel anyone off the ground. This would cause your foes to crash into a wall or off a cliff, which can potentially harm them. The second word of the shout we shall teach you now, which is Ro, or Balance."
One of the Greybeards stepped next to Zacharius and whispered 'Ro' to the ground. The word hit the ground, and Zacharius watched as writing became instantly etched into the ground, glowing etherally until he felt the power of the word seep into his soul.
"Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of Ro so you may learn how to use it."
Einarth, as he was known, began to glow the same burning glow of the dragons when they died as he poured his knowledge into Zacharius's mind. He could feel his understanding of the word fill him, and he breathed out when Einarth's connection ended.
"Using two words in a shout makes it more powerful, like so. Use the words of the shout to defeat the spectres we summon." Arngeir allowed one of the other masters to summon a ghostly version of himself. Zacharius looked at and drew another breath.
"FUS-RO!"
The spectre lost his balance and faded away.
"Very good. Now, we shall go outside to teach you another word of power that we believe shall be useful to you. If you will follow Master Borri outside, Dragonborn." Arngeir waved his hand towards the one named Borri, and Zacharius followed him outside to a courtyard of sorts. The wind was rather calm and the sun was beginning to set.
"So, what is it that I shall be learning?"
"Master Borri will now teach you the first word of Whirlwind Sprint, Wuld. Wuld is whirlwind in the dragon tongue, meant for you to rush towards; or even away from, your foes."
Master Borri whispered the word, and like Einarth, the word engraved itself into the ground, granting him the knowledge of the word. Borri then transferred his understanding of the word to Zacharius, unlocking its potential.
"Master Borri will demonstrate the shout first, and then you shall attempt it, Dragonborn." Arngeir spoke, stepping over to a gate with a lever. Master Borri stood a distance away from the gate, and Zacharius watched as Arngeir pulled the lever. The gate swung open and Borri opened his mouth to shout.
"WULD-NAH-KEST!"
The Greybeard shot forward through the gate, gaining a look of surprise from Zacharius.
"Impressive." Zacharius spoke out loud.
"Now it is your turn, Dragonborn. Stand in the spot Master Borri stood, and use the shout to run through the gate before it closes."
Zacharius nodded as he watched the gate, waiting for it to open. A few seconds later, the gate flung open as Zacharius breathed in.
"WULD!"
His body propelled forward and he felt as if his feet had left the ground. But the gate began to close before the shout had completed.
He tripped through the gate and rolled on the ground as it closed.
Arngeir laughed. "Well, you managed to get through the gate, Dragonborn." He opened it again. "You have learned very quickly. That should be enough for you to perform a task for us; one that would test you of your new abilities."
Zacharius stood up and brushed the snow off of himself. "What would you have me do?"
"We would like for you to go to the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller and retrieve his horn at Ustengrav. Afterwards, we will complete your trials, Dragonborn."
"Where is Ustengrav?" Zacharius asked.
"Ustengrav lies to the Northwest of Morthal. The residents of the hold do not make time to visit, and with the spirits of the dead returning, I understand why. Draugr infest the ruins, so you will have to fight your way through to the horn."
"My companion and I shall head to Morthal tomorrow, but before we leave for the night I wish to ask a few questions."
"I shall answer to the best of my abilities, Dragonborn."
"What exactly does it mean to be Dragonborn?"
"To be Dragonborn means to carry the blessed blood of Akatosh within your veins. It is a gift bestowed upon mankind first given during the Dragon War. Because of this, you have a natural affinity for the voice. Shouts that have taken me years to learn can be learned in seconds for you, and you are the only one who can do this."
"Is that so?" Zacharius rubbed his chin, scratching the small beard that grew. "Are you and the other three members the only Greybeards."
"There are actually five of us. Paarthurnax is our oldest member and he meditates atop the Throat of the World."
"Would I ever meet him?"
"One day, perhaps. To reach him, you would need to find a way to clear the skies."
Zacharius raised an eyebrow. "That's a cryptic message, isn't it?"
"In time, you will understand."
"Hmm." Zacharius pondered. "What can you tell me about Jurgen Windcaller?"
"Jurgen Windcaller was the founder of our order. After the battle at Red Mountain, Jurgen realized that the voice was meant to be a gift from the gods and not a weapon of war. He converted to pacifism and spent his lifetime meditating on the Throat of the World, establishing the Way of the Voice."
"What exactly is the Way of the Voice?"
"The Way of the Voice is the path to inner harmony. It is to use the Voice to glorify the gods and not to wage war against each other. Ulfric Stormcloak had come here to learn the Way of the Voice, but we heard about how he had unjustly used the voice to murder the High King of Skyrim."
"I actually met him when Alduin first appeared before me. Or, I think it was Alduin. Ulfric and I were about to head for the executioner's block when he came and attacked Helgen."
"Alduin, you say?" Arngeir asked, a curious look in his eye. "No doubt the appearance of the Dragonborn at this time is connected to his return. It would make sense if the Dragons are returning now. Alduin was the leader of the dragons and the son of Akatosh, and he was prideful of his gifts. When mankind rose against him, he was defeated, but it now seems it was not forever. It may be your destiny to defeat him once and for all, but I will not be the one to decide that. Only you alone can carve your destiny as you see fit."
Zacharius bowed. "Thank you for bestowing your wisdom upon me, Arngeir. I shall return when I have retrieved the horn of Jorgen Windcaller."
Arngeir nodded as Zacharius and Lydia headed back into the building and down the mountain back to Ivarstead.
As this was being finished, Scarlai found himself awakening in a pile of blood. Feeling his senses reawaken he jumped up, analyzing his body and then his surroundings. The blood was not his; the contents within revealed it to be that of a male Imperial businessmen that killed as many contacts as he had sold to them. And that wasn't all of the blood. He could hear four other beating hearts in the room. Three of them were right in front of them; a Khajiit in fine clothing, an elderly woman, and a bandit all wearing black bags over their heads.
The fourth heart was right behind him, and she was beating to the drum of Sithis.
"I heard all about the death of Grelod the Kind. An old crone falls and breaks her ribs on her dresser so hard her lung collapses and her heart gets stabbed by a broken rib. A sad way to die by normal standards. But you and I know the truth."
"We do," Scarlai spoke, hearing the name of the mysterious woman echo in his head to the drumbeat. "Astrid."
Astrid smiled behind her hood, but was also worried on the inside. "I don't believe we've met."
"We haven't. But your heart beats your name louder than any black soul I have ever encountered. I know why you have come, so why don't you get this over with. Not that will know how to successfully kill me."
"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have tried paralyzing you. I figured instead I can let you redeem yourself for stealing a Dark Brotherhood contract. One of the three individuals in front of you has a contract on their heads. Find out which one has the contract, and I'll let you go."
Scarlai stood up, silently gazing at her for signs of treachery.
"I'll take your silence as approval, then?" Astrid asked wickedly. "Good. Find the contract and we'll be all set."
Scarlai turned and faced the three prisoners. He placed his fingers on the blood near them, trying to indicate if any of their blood had touched the ground. When he found no traces, he resorted to pulling out one of his swords. Walking over to the Khajiit with silent footsteps, he placed his blade on the prisoner's shoulder, making a small but deep cut.
The Khajiit yelped, but laughed afterwards. "So you plan to torture me, first? I've done the same thing to people like you."
Scarlai hit the Khajiit in the head with the hilt of his sword, making him shut up as he extracted blood. The moment the blood touched his finger Scarlai could taste the man's repulsiveness on his soul. He was a dealer in death and had brought the death of many victims. A kingpin of sorts in his own right. Khajiits do plenty of business and he had done his fair share of selling moon sugar.
The woman was next. He hit her in the head so she wouldn't speak before he made the same incision. This woman was cruel; perhaps higher on the cruelty board than Grelod was. He could see why anyone would want to have her murdered with her mistreatment of her servants and guests.
The last one didn't even require him to read his blood. Bandit was written all over him, from the callous fingers on the hands tied behind his back to the condition of his armor. He had no reason to read his blood; his sins stood before him. He could likely be the one, but all three of them were just as guilty.
Kill them all. The voice in his head spoke. Kill them all. Kill them all! KILL THEM ALL!
The blood on the ground began to rise as Scarlai became lost in the sound of their heartbeats. Astrid watched in confusion at this happened, wondering what was going on. The blood from the ground had now completely risen from the ground, forming into three large spears.
Scarlai was too lost to the call to stop himself now.
The spears ran straight through the three victims, making them gush out their own blood at an incredible rate. No screams were made, no sounds of death; nothing but the rushing of blood as it flew into Scarlai. It seeped into his very core and filled his soul with their very essence.
There was nothing left but pale, dry corpses.
Astrid was caught by surprise. She knew this man was a killer, but what she had witnessed seemed nothing short of a daedric ritual. It frightened her... And Scarlai knew it.
"You wanted death, and you received it in kind." Scarlai spoke, a dark tone in his voice. "But you didn't realize that you had messed with the last of the Order of the Red Moon."
Astrid kept her voice calm as she spoke. "You did indeed bring death, although in a much more 'spectacular fashion."
"After 150 years of not answering the call, I could not do it any other way. It is the curse of a blood mage like myself to feed upon the blood of my enemies. This makes me immortal compared to regular Mer that walk the land of Tamriel."
"No person could be immortal without the touch of a God." Astrid retorted.
"Indeed." Scarlai turned around. "My abilities came from the blood of a God when I destroyed his heart. When I discovered this I travelled to Akavir, the land of the Tscaesi, and learned about my new abilities. I perfected them when I joined the Order of the Red Moon. The Thalmor eradicated them 150 years ago by striking a blood mage in the one spot that can kill them."
"Let me guess," Astrid interrupted. "the heart."
Scarlai nodded. "Exactly. To stop my kind would be to strike at the heart. No amount of dismemberment or blood loss could stop a blood mage unless they aim for the heart. One time I had almost been decapitated completely and I still defeated my opponent." He traced the scar that circled his neck. "This is all that remains."
"That's impossible." Astrid spoke.
"No, what should be impossible is fate carrying your life on when you want it to end. No man has ever successfully killed me, even when I waited for the death blow. They do not know what must happen to kill me, and the only one who did still failed to meet the mark." Scarlai put his sword away, which had rested in his hand. "We're done here."
He attempted to walk out when he heard Astrid clear her throat.
"I was considering offering you a place in our family. The Dark Brotherhood could always use someone like you, and it would be better than having you as an enemy."
Scarlai stopped, taking a moment to think upon the offer. A place in the Dark Brotherhood where he would feed on the blood of his enemies meant he wouldn't have to hide from the Thalmor, assuming they still hunted him down for killing the eight that had raped and murdered his beloved Kedana. Of course, the Dark Brotherhood was crumbling, and there was no way of knowing they would actually trust him. As for Astrid, he could sense she feared him, no matter how much she acted the same around him.
Could he afford to trust her?
Why not take a chance? Thevoice of Azura spoke in his head. He recognized her voice over all others that spoke in his head. Azura had been with him since he began his adventure as a 26 years old prisoner-turned-member of the Blades. She guided him through all sorts of situations and granted him knowledge when it was meant to granted. If she thought it was a good idea to take a chance, he would.
"Very well." Scarlai finally spoke. "I will join your order. I have nothing left to lose."
"Very good." Astrid replied. "Our sanctuary is in Falkreath, as you no doubt figured out. Find it and we shall welcome you to the family." Astrid opened the door and walked out to her horse. "The pass phrase to use the door is 'Silence, my Brother.' It will open the doorway for you."
"I will meet you there." Scarlai spoke, pulling his hood back up over his head.
Astrid merely nodded before she kicked her horse, signalling it to start galloping.
Scarlai stood as the moon rose above him. While he had told Astrid how it was to kill him, he did not specify why he didn't die with the first attempt. That meant if he was ever betrayed by her, he just might take her down with him even if she somehow manages to figure it out and react before he killed her.
Because no matter how much he wants to die, there's always something holding him back.
With that final thought, he made haste to Falkreath, knowing that no matter how fate was going to play out he would embrace it all the same.
"Scarlai was a blood mage? I thought those were just stories."
"Yes, legends that started from Akavir and eventually passed to Tamriel. But Scarlai was indeed a blood mage; the last of his kind for a while. He located a few more and passed on his teachings to them. He resides in Solstheim right now, continuing mediations on events that happened a long time ago that I shall reach when he decides to sail back to Skyrim."
"Is he truly immortal? Does he possess the blood of a god?" Ronan asked.
"He does, but I thought you would have figured out who he was by now. If you have read up on your history you'd see Scarlai for who he truly was." Zacharius coughed. "But if you haven't, you'll certainly find out that Scarlai was more than meets the eye."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hammered out another chapter for you guys. Now I'm sure you're wondering why it is Scarlai is a blood mage that can do impossible things like survive decapitation. All I'm going to say on that is read up on Elder Scrolls history if Skyrim is the only game you've played. As for why/how Errick could/would want to break the fourth wall is totally something I couldn't answer. Ask him yourselves. XD
Shoutouts to Admiral Anderson, MasterAssassinScrolls, SpiritofJazz, and TheGreatJabberyJamie for your contributions to the review box. Next chapter will be all about werewolves, magic balls, Zacharius/Lydia bonding, and some other stuff I'll likely throw in.