Chapter 18: The Call From the Night
"So, while you were away learning what it meant to be Dragonborn, your brothers went off to obtain the fragments of Caleb Secus's blade?" Ronan asked.
"Yes, although I found his Blades armor along my journey. But that part of the story comes later." Zacharias cleared his throat. "That night, I had sought out the child only to stumble upon a plot from a long-thought-dead vampire. But the Greybeards had surprised all of us that night, as well, when they called for the Dragonborn again from atop of the Throat of the World."
Torygg scratched his head. "Again?"
"Yes, Torygg. You see, it was later revealed that other individuals possessed the Dragon Blood, but the only ones I should mention now that heard their call were my brothers, right from Cyrrodil."
Four hours later their spirits weren't as high. Although they laughed and chatted at first, the more the day went on the more worried they became. They were also pissed off at Errick's cowardly actions after he had assaulted them. Now Isobel was several meters in front of Brynjolf dragging a large stick against the road in her left hand while her right was down her pants, healing her aching legs as she walked.
"Didn't your father teach you not to stick your dick in crazy?" She yelled back at him. Brynjolf's chest hardened at the mention of the man he never met, thankful that Isobel was far enough ahead of him to not see his bitter face. "If it wasn't for her we'd be on a carriage!"
"You should be glad!" He called. "It'll be much later before we reach Riften!"
"Sure! But I'd rather have a damn place to sleep tonight!" Isobel had a point, the sun was already approaching the horizon, casting a pinkish hue on the Skyrim scenery. They were just nearing the divide between the evergreen trees of Eastmarch and the autumn birches of the Rift, and Brynjolf knew it would be a least another two to three hour hike until they reached Ivarstead, and his feet were killing him.
"You hear me, Bryn? Where are we going to sleep? I don't know these parts as well as you do!"
"Yeah, yeah! Just let me think!" They didn't pack a tent, or a bedroll for that matter, so they would have to rely on finding a makeshift shelter. They were at the bottom of the Throat of the World though, and the rocky hills had plenty of small caves if one knew where to look. Brynjolf started slightly as he nearly walked into Isobel, who had stopped and waited for him to catch up.
"We should find shelter now, while there's still light." She said, gesturing to the road and the long, stretched out shadows of trees cast upon it by the low sun.
"I know, lass." Brynjolf looked at the horizon and shielded his eyes from the orange rays. He'd say they'd have less than an hour before twilight. "C'mon. There's got to be an empty cave along here." He said as he started off the road into the brush, Isobel followed with her stick as their boots crunched pine needles and dead leaves with each step.
They had scouted the crags for fifteen anxious minutes before they came upon what was going to be the best shelter they were going ever going to get within several miles. It was merely a deep crevice wedged deep into a stony cliff, but Brynjolf was able to fit fully inside without having to sacrifice any appendages to the outside cold, and Isobel was apparently quite low maintenance.
"This is cozy." Isobel said contently as she laid on the dirt floor of the crevice and poked the ceiling with her stick. "Better than this one hollow tree trunk I had to sleep in when I went to Windhelm. I hope that bastard Errick is sleeping uncomfortably in a well right now." Brynjolf crouched beside her, looking out into the darkening woods beyond their small little fortress. They had a fair view of the cobblestone road from their raised cliff, which comforted himself somewhat. "I could cook you something if you want."
"Like what?" Brynjolf couldn't help but laugh as he glanced down at her.
"How about I roast you an apple with some cheese on it?"
"Apple with cheese?"
"Yeah, it's really good! Let me get a fire-" Brynjolf placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, lass." He chuckled. "We didn't pack cheese."
"Oh..."
"How about this." Brynjolf said and sat so he was face-to-face with her. "I get a rabbit and you prepare the apples however which way you like. Sound good?"
"Sure thing, Bryn." And with that she stood and started to gather branches, Brynjolf walking into the woods and deciding he liked the sound of his name when Isobel wasn't cursing it.
The air was so pure to Brynjolf's lungs, one never appreciates a fresh breeze as much as one who's been living in sewers for so long. He had nearly forgotten how trees, dirt and grass smelled, he was so used to skeevers and wet mold. He lightened his step as much as he could with his exhausted legs and pulled out a small throwing knife from his belt, his honed eyes and ears strained for the smallest of sounds. It wasn't long before he spotted a brown hare nibbling on some grass, Brynjolf readying his weapon arm before silently whipping his dagger forward, the wind whistling from its speed at it pierced the rabbit's side.
Brynjolf approached the wounded animal and slit its throat, draining the remaining life from it as he carried it back to Isobel by the ears. He found her sitting cross-legged with a roaring flame already going just outside their crevice, smoke drifting from her lips as she sharpened her stick with her dagger.
"You sure smoke like a chimney, lass." He said as he kneeled down and made to skin his kill the way he had since he was a boy. Isobel shook her head.
"It's been months since I've had anything." She stopped her paring and brought an apple to her mouth. Brynjolf did a double-take when he realized she wasn't eating it but inhaling out of it.
"Is that an apple?" He asked incredulously. He knew it was a rhetorical question, it obviously was an apple with a bowl carved into it and a poked hole acting as the air channel. When he told her to prepare the apples any way she liked he didn't expect this.
"Skyrim. A land filled with bloody war, resurrected dragons and gods damned shitty tobacco, and you're shocked by a Breton using an apple as a smoking apparatus." She spoke as she held the fumes in her lungs, waiting a few moments before she unleashing them into the crisp night air. She grimaced and took a coin purse out of her pocket that smelled of the inn's cheap tobacco and tossed it into the flames. "I should stop though, it's so bad for you... but by Azura have I needed a smoke since I stumbled into this gods forsaken place."
"Yeah, Skyrim seems to have that effect on people." Brynjolf chuckled as he peeled off the rabbit's skin, revealing the meat inside.
"No, not Skyrim. The Guild." Brynjolf felt a sudden sadness at her words. "How come the women in that place hate me?"
"Mercer hates you and he's not a woman."
"Well he's definitely a cunt." She said and huffed out another cloud indignantly. "How did someone like him become Guild Master?" Brynjolf sighed deeply.
"A long time ago, our previous Guild Master, Gallus, was murdered." Brynjolf said, trying to keep his voice light. He had only been in the Guild for little over a year when the tragedy happened. His first Guild Master, his mentor and role model, the closest thing to a father he ever had, killed in cold blood by his lover and left to rot in the Nordic tomb they were looting. "Mercer was his closest friend and the most experienced, it only made sense that he rose to the position. He was always somewhat grumpy but he wasn't as bad as he was now, we used to have drinks together once in awhile or play cards. I just don't think he ever got over Gallus' death, and when he ran out of leads as to where Gallus' murderer went and the Guild started going downhill he grew more and more bitter."
"Seems that phenomena happened to all the senior members." Isobel stated. Brynjolf felt somewhat taken aback, he had known he had grown hard-hearted over the years but no one had called him out on it so blatantly. "My brother wasn't even twenty-seven when he was made Gray Fox." Isobel said casually as she passed him the sharpened branch to skewer the rabbit. "But he was already quite powerful within the Guild. My grandfather was a wise man, and taught us a form of power than was stronger than fear, beauty, threats or even money."
Brynjolf speared the hare and began to roast it over the open flames. She was talking about her brother, her family. She didn't know that Thrynn had told him her story but she was opening up to him anyway.
"Love... There is no greater power in mankind than to command the love of another. That's what he always said." Brynjolf frowned at she tapped the expired ash out of her apple, her face visually expressing her regret of tossing the surplus of tobacco out.
'What is she talking about? A thief preaching about love like some Priest of Mara?'
"When you love someone you bend over backwards for them, you let them control you, you fight for them, you play the fool for them. And the surest way to earn that love is to love first. It's how I got those "loyal servants" Mercer called them. He doesn't show affection to anyone, that's why I think he's a poor leader and bound to fall. Everything the boys do for me they know I would do for them." Isobel spoke as if what she was saying was the simplest thing in the world before tossing the dirty apple into the flames as well.
"Yeah well, I learned early on that the more you love the weaker you are." Brynjolf grumbled, trying not to become too angry, the whole conversation was plucking painful strings that reverberated in his chest. Isobel noticed his discomfort.
"Do you feel strong?" She asked. Brynjolf nearly growled at her but instead glared into the meat of the rabbit that was starting to sizzle its juices. She was pushing him to the edge and did not want yet another fight with her. "Whether you know it or not I care about you."
Brynjolf froze, nearly dropping their meal into the fire. What was this? A criminal throwing the words "love" and "I care about you" around like a swear out of a Stormcloacks's mouth. His whole body clenched. Those were the very last words he had ever, ever wanted to hear from a woman he was having trouble getting out from under his skin. Conversation stopped between them for several minutes, the only sounds those of buzzing insects and the crackling flames as the sky blackened. Brynjolf's mind was swirling, still reeling at Isobel's confession.
"You're burning it." Isobel said suddenly and gestured to the speared rabbit. Brynjolf quickly retreated it, inspecting its flesh to see if it was thoroughly cooked.
They remained silent as they ate their meal as well, stopping only to drink from their canteens. Brynjolf stole glances at Isobel whenever he could, her words echoing around his head. She had a pretty face, but her crude mannerisms and androgynous appearance prevented her from being any sort of conventional beauty and wouldn't result in very many men giving her a double-take. Brynjolf imagined if the highest court in High Rock were to fix her horrible hair, make-up her face and throw on a elegant dress she still wouldn't pass as a proper lady. She definitely lacked femininity.
"Do you want to know about how my brother and I became thieves?" Isobel suddenly asked, her lips shiny with rabbit grease and blue eyes reflecting the flames before her. He nodded, not telling her he already knew. And she told him about how she was a jester and an acrobat, about her closeness to her grandfather, that Nord bandits butchered her family when she was twelve, but one detail was different.
"I was shaking my cousin's body when my brother tore me away and threw me over his shoulder. He was twenty at the time and fast as an arrow. He ran without looking back as I clawed and bit at him to turn around." Isobel paused. "We survived in the wilderness together for weeks until we reached the Imperial City, it always gets me when people believe that a twelve year old pipsqueak was able to travel from Skyrim to the Imperial City and not get killed. We had good survival skills, we lived on the road our whole lives after all, but once we reached the Imperial City things became harder. We were homeless for almost a year until my brother somehow contacted the Thieves Guild. He said he couldn't stand seeing me in poverty, that we needed to steal to survive now."
"But the Guild didn't want to take me in, they said I was too young and would just leech off their resources without bringing in any coin, they did not want a child in their ranks. I had to live in the attic of an old warehouse for over three months by myself, my brother would bring me food and essentials whenever he could. As he became more popular among the members he finally convinced them to let me in."
"It was hard at first, I was treated very differently because of my age so I trained extra hard, I didn't want to be a liability. It's basically all I ever did for the first few years, train and learn. The skills I acquired with acrobatics and juggling did give me a fair advantage, and soon I was being given the same jobs as everyone else and treated like an adult member... which I realize now was kinda damaging to a child barely in her teens." The nonchalant, apathetic tone she said that last sentence made Brynjolf uneasy. He sat up a little straighter as he tossed his rabbit bones into the fire, continuing to look at her curiously.
"Regardless, my brother and I lived by our grandfather's lesson and made a friendship and bond between each and every member of the Guild...well, not so much me." Isobel chuckled. "There were people I definitely didn't get along with, and I couldn't bring myself to show them affection. But my brother was amazing, I bet Vex would like him, maybe even Mercer." She smiled contently. "He had the Guild in his pocket, and when Gray Fox passed away everyone wanted my brother to lead. He's an amazing leader, he was born for it I think...Now it's your turn."
"...Pardon?"
"How did you become involved with the Guild." Isobel made it sound like it was a simple question that was going to have a simple answer.
"Maybe another time, lass." Brynjolf felt it again, that tension that he tried to suppress and block out, not wanting to speak too much lest his words grow barbed and hurtful. Isobel eyed him knowingly but let his answer slide.
"How much do you know about Errick?" Isobel asked.
Brynjolf shrugged. "I know he uses you like a partner in crime, and that he was just the thief I needed at the right time. Otherwise, he's a mystery to me. Why? Has he spoken to you much?"
"He has. I know his parents are dead, he's been with a lot of women, he has a fear of snakes, he has six illegitimate children, he has little to no faith in the Divines..."
"Which a lot of us thieves don't have to begin with."
"But he's still quite strange to me. He seems like a cold-hearted thief, like Mercer, but then there are those moments when he seems to be more than that. In fact, when I woke up this morning he had spent his whole night sleeping outside under the dead tree in the Cloud District with this little orphan girl. And during our job at Honningbrew he pulled out this Daedric sword, claiming it to be cursed and that only he was worthy of holding it. I was going to call bullshit, but when I looked at his eyes he seemed downright terrified, like he thought I was going to die. And then there are these strange things he has and can do, like that smoke bomb he keeps pestering me about."
"I still don't even know what that thing is."
"Basically, he said it was supposed to hide me from someone who would be approaching me. For example, if a guard caught me sneaking out of someone's house the smoke bomb could be used to cover my escape."
"Ohh." Brynjolf nodded. "I get it now. He must be a brilliant alchemist if he can create something like that."
"Errick Entius is a lot of things, but brilliant might not be the right word, given the events that transpired today."
"Yeah, he owes me six-hundred septims for that incident regarding the travelers we ran into."
"What an ass." Isobel finally sighed, before remembering something. "Don't think I forgot about your roasted apple." Isobel reached for her pack.
"No. It's fine. I'm full from the rabbit." Brynjolf said, coming off as more morose as he intended to.
"Come over here then." She said, gesturing to the dirt beside her. "I'll heal your legs for a bit before we go to sleep. I know they're sore, I healed mine for a majority of the hike and they're still tired." Brynjolf hesitated, not knowing what such procedure she had in mind. "Bryn, come on!" She scoffed.
"Alright, alright!" He said exasperatedly. He wasn't prepared for Isobel to start untying the laces of his boots as soon as he positioned himself beside her. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not gifted enough to heal through clothes." She said yanking off his shoe and socks and exposing his foot to the cold night air. "Don't get excited, I'm not healing your thighs." She didn't sound bitter surprisingly, the words came out good-humored and smug as her hands lit up dimly and grabbed his right foot.
Brynjolf grimaced and leant up, they were insanely sore and Isobel's small hands were unexpectedly strong as she sat facing him, kneading his arches.
"So...uh..." He began with gritted teeth, hoping conversation would ease the awkwardness he was experiencing of having his female understudy massaging him.
"What?" Isobel asked, looking up at him from behind his foot.
"Well..."
"We don't need to talk, you know." Isobel interrupted. "I enjoy sharing silence with you... Gods, just relax Brynjolf." She added as she started pressing her thumbs into his ankles.
Slowly Brynjolf laid back, letting Isobel do her work as he felt the pain ebb away. It was hard at first, but within a minute he felt content and fully at ease, and didn't even flinch or shift when she rolled up his pant legs and began to work his calf muscles and shin splints, the coolness of the hard earth beneath him contrasted by Isobel's warmth. His inner peace reached an even deeper plateau as the song of crickets grew steadily louder around them and the blinking lights of torch bugs illuminated the tall grass. He could look straight up and see the full, copper coloured Masser beyond the outline of pines and sighed heavily.
Brynjolf could've swore Isobel was using Calm on him, that's what it felt like all that time ago during their first training session, when Isobel punched him square in the jaw then proceeded to cry and hold him. He looked down at her, half expecting her hands to be glowing green instead of yellow, and saw her tenderly gazing, almost lovingly, at the shin she was caressing. He watched her watch him, a dull heat festering in his chest. She had openly confessed to caring about him, and just thinking of that concept was enough to get Brynjolf's heart rate growing, and soon enough Isobel's peripherals told her she was being watched and she looked up to match her blue eyes against his green ones.
Before Brynjolf's inner conflicts could even start their war, a heavy rumbling started to crash down the Throat of the World. At first he thought it was a rock slide, and quickly grabbed Isobel and pulled her into the crevice with him, disregarding his bare feet. However, the thunder slowly morphed into a word he'd only heard in legends.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The sonic wave pulsed over the land, echoing as far as they could hear, causing the trees outside their shelter to shake and their fire to blow out like a candle flame. The pair shuffled as close as they could get to the back of the crevice, straining to hear another roar or the beating of wings as they tried to keep their breathing steady. That's when Brynjolf realized Isobel had her dagger drawn and was actually crouched into a very low battle-stance. He could even see her left arm spread out as if shielding him, trying to block him from... whatever was out there.
However, that was it. The night returned to its tranquil serenity, the crickets and torchbugs lingering as if nothing ever happened. Isobel slowly crept forward.
"Don't!" Brynjolf hissed, grabbing one of her belts and holding her back.
"Let me look." She whispered. Brynjolf didn't let go but moved with her, both of them peering out of their crevice as he gripped onto her. "It's gone."
"That was a dragon, right lass?"
"I think so." Quick as lightening Isobel unbuckled her captive belt and sprang out of the crevice. Brynjolf made to grab her foot but missed.
"Isobel! Get back here!" But she only sped a few feet further before grabbing his boots and sprinting back.
"Sorry, but I'm done healing tonight." She muttered under her breath as she tossed the shoes in front of Brynjolf and collapsed onto the stone floor beside him. "Good luck trying to sleep tonight."
"No kidding." They were still whispering, still trapped in preserving their silence as Brynjolf put on his boots and laid down next to Isobel.
The crevice was cramped but there was no way Brynjolf was going to sleep facing Isobel, she seemed to have the same idea as she turned away from him, an unspoken oath of only sleeping back to back hung over them. As cold as the night was going to get he was not going to hold her to conserve body heat, that was only a line he used when he wanted to cuddle with a woman (as if he would ever "conserve body heat" with Delvin).
But Isobel's actions were still very fresh in Brynjolf's mind, and as he dwelled on them he suddenly felt like someone punched him in the chest, unable to comprehend that a tiny Breton was trying to shield him. Never in his forty-three years had a woman ever try to protect him, and he wasn't sure whether to feel emasculated or touched. Either way, he felt that Isobel had bored herself even closer to his core, that she had removed a few bricks from the walls he worked so hard to construct.
'Gods help me.' He internally prayed as the last glowing ember of their fire died.
*Back in Cyrrodil, Treyvar and Xaverius stared out at the night sky from atop one of the towers of their family's castle. Treyvar was observing the stars curiously, fascinated by every small light scattered across the dark skies. Xaverius was finishing up a mug of ale in silence, but he wasn't outside for the stars.
"Just imagine, brother." Treyvar spoke. "There could be other civilizations beyond our own, not separated by just land but also sky. Somewhere next to any of these stars could be other moons or planets, inhabited by other species we've never seen before."
"I think your heads is trapped in the clouds, brother." Xaverius groaned, setting his mug on the table.
"Oh really? Where's your head trapped, then? Between Carlotta's legs?"
"That's none of your business." Xaverius growled.
"When you keep me up at night with your noises it becomes my business."
"Why you..." Xaverius started until they felt an echo on the wind before the thundering cry approached their ears.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The thunder rumbled as Treyvar and Xaverius stared towards the North, shocked at the echo that came from the Throat of the World.
"What in Oblivion was that?!" Treyvar yelled.
"That was a shout, like the legends of old." The voice of their mother caught them off guard. "The Greybeards must be calling upon the Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn. That means your brother is safe in Skyrim."
"How do you know this?" Xaverius asked.
"Because he is Dragonborn. As are the two of you."
Treyvar appeared shocked. "What are you talking about, mother?"
"The Morrigan bloodline has carried the gift of the Dragon Blood since Caleb Secus shared his gift to Evangela Morrigan nearly two centuries ago. The Elder Scrolls told your grandfather of that connection, and when I married your father you all obtained the Dragon Blood from his lineage."
"So can father use the gift of the Dragon Blood, as well?"
"Yes, although he refused to use his gift. It was his choice, and he chose not to embrace it. Your brother, however, must embrace it if he plans to save the world from destruction. Alduin, the World-Eater approaches."
"Shouldn't we go help him?" Xaverius asked. "He's our brother."
"Zacharius is bound to those who can help him in fulfilling his destiny. Your destinies are not bound to him as much as you may think. And right now, we don't want you pursuing him. Your time to aid him will come when he needs you most."
"When will that be?"
"I don't know. I only know what your grandfather had shared with me. And now he's gone. Anything else he might have known died with him."
"Well, shit." Treyvar swore.
"For now, let us retire for the night. You have another adventure to plan out." Jennette walked down the steps of the tower, leaving Treyvar and Xaverius to their own thoughts for a moment longer.
"Why didn't mom and dad talk about this to us earlier?" Treyvar asked.
"Maybe they were looking out for us. They're always looking out for us even though we're all grown up."
"I don't like it. It's as if they have been hiding things from us since infancy."
"Well parents always hide things from their children, so perhaps they wanted to tell us but thought it'd be better to wait."
"And now Zacharius is in Skyrim fighting dragons as the Dragonborn. I have to admit I'm jealous."
"We'll get a chance to fight some dragons soon, I'll bet. Let's head off to bed." Xaverius headed for the stairs.
"You actually plan on just heading to bed, right?" Treyvar asked.
"Not with that attitude, I don't!" Xaverius joked.
Treyvar growled a bit before following his younger brother to their chambers.*
Back on the roads of Skyrim, Scarlai was sprinting through the shadows of the forests between Falkreath and Markarth. With his recent absorption of blood, his physical attributes had increased exponentially. The long period of time between his last thirst and the events that had transpired in the last few days had brought him back to his normal self, but when he absorbed the blood of his victims he became more powerful. He could run faster, hit harder, carry more than the average traveler, and heal faster than a normal being without the use of magic.
Scarlai stopped on a branch as he looked at Markarth from a distance. It would still be a few hours out and he needed to at least find some shelter. Perhaps there would be a cave nearby he could slip in and grab some shut-eye. While he didn't need as much sleep as other beings anymore, he still took the time to at least sleep every few days to refresh and recharge himself. Scanning near the mountains he saw a small cave he could take shelter in.
Moving fast from the branch he had appeared at the cave within seconds. There was nothing occupying it at the moment so he crawled in, taking a few sticks from the entrance to use as kindling. He set the sticks down and summoned flame into his hands. Suddenly the sticks caught fire, giving Scarlai a warm campfire that would last for a bit. He let the flame in his hands dissipate and sat contently.
From his short meeting with his new family he already had his thoughts and opinions on them. Babbette, being the oldest, made her situation work being a vampire. Were they to work together he could definitely help her track targets to drink from. Nazir was a true Redguard at heart, preferring the sands of his home over the cold of Skyrim. If it came down to it Nazir would be a compelling ally in a fight. Festus was a definite killer that loved magic, and were they to fight Festus might stand a chance. Still, he may have some wisdom on magic that could prove useful. Veezara was considered the last of the Shadowscales, a sect of Argonian assassins born under the sign of the Shadow. Scarlai has fought their kind before back in his days of living in Morrowind. He is unsure how that conversation were to play out should he mention that little detail.
Then there was the other three.
Arnjborn held no respect for Scarlai, and likely didn't like him at all since Astrid was on edge. As for Astrid, he knew she feared him. It was undeniable. Her heart beat faster just being in his presence. She had every right to fear him, and he wouldn't hold it past her if she tried to have him killed. Gabriella, however, was a very different matter. Rather than fear him, she finds herself sexually attracted to him. Even if Scarlai was considering accepting any offer in the future of having some playful banter between them, the fact that any woman would want to be with him rather than run in fear confused him. Since the loss of Kedana no woman has taken an interest in him, sexual or otherwise. Now after a hundred and fifty years the only other adult female in the Dark Brotherhood is making advances. Although considering that both of them are now assassins he figured that would make a bit more sense.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
Scarlai's thoughts were interrupted by a thundering shout from the top of the Throat of the World.
"Dovahkiin?" Scarlai asked himself before chuckling. "Ah, so the world has healed from the Oblivion Crisis if one of the Dragon Blood lives among us once more. Thank the Divines for this knowledge." With that lesson learned, he leaned back onto the wall of the cave, letting his body fall asleep for a time.
Back in Morthal, Zacharius and Lydia had returned to the burnt-out cabin at night. They had spent the rest of the day in the inn, swapping stories and other such knowledge with the locals of Morthal. Now that the sun had set they could look for the little ghost girl. Lydia was still creeped out by the ghost, but she had to follow her Thane. It was in the job description after all. They travelled upwards for a bit until they came across a strange sight. A woman had dug up a small box from what appeared to be a fresh grave. It didn't take long for Zacharius to figure out the box was the little girl's coffin.
It took longer for him to figure out the woman was a vampire.
The vampire stopped shoveling and looked at her intruders. She then dropped her shovel and pulled her blade out, ready to strike. Zacharius wasted no time readying his sword, as well. The vampire attempted to swing her sword for Zacharius's neck, only for Zacharius to throw his shield up in time to block her attack. With one jab, Zacharius ran his sword straight through the vampire's chest, hearing the ribs snap and break as he passed through the bone.
The vampire looked down at her wound before looking back at Zacharius in shock.
"I'm sorry." The vampire said. "Alva made me do it." With those final words, the vampire released her last breath and slid off of Zacharius's sword, crumpling onto the cold ground. Zacharius felt actually sad for having to slay the vampire, but she incited the attack. Had she not attempted it he would have likely spared her, but she had and he made no attempt to talk her down, either.
"You found me!" The ghost spoke from the box. "Laelette had tried to save me from the fire. The place was so hot. She gave me kiss that made me cold. Now I'm not hot anymore. I think I'm gonna go to sleep now." The ghostly voice disappeared, replaced by another, louder voice from afar.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
Zacharius was left confused by this. Were the Greybeards calling to him again? Or were they calling out to others with the Dragon Blood, like his family? It was strange for them to call the name of Dragonborn again over a few short days.
"The Greybeards." Zacharius spoke. "Why are they calling again? Do they require me?"
"Hell if I know." Lydia shrugged. "I just follow your lead."
Zacharius hummed. "We'll ask them about it once we get back. Right now, we need to investigate this Alva."
Back near Riften, Errick smiled as his new horse Swift ate the carrot he offered. Swift was his latest notch on his record of things stolen in all of Tamriel. He was the twenty-seventh horse from Errick's career and was definitely a horse he wanted to keep. That's why when the man who made the actual order threatened to report him to the guard for stealing his horse he threatened him with the knowledge that he had been asked by the man to steal the horse for him, and he wouldn't remain silent in that situation. Not only that, but he still possessed the papers that he could use to claim ownership. The guard would believe Errick's words over his unlucky "employer" any day.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The thunderous voice cut across the sky, startling all of the horses. Swift began to kick and neigh, but Errick calmed him down, showing the affection he could only give to horses. During one of his many heists he disguised himself as a horse-tamer in training to get close to the daughter of a noble in High Rock. He learned so fast he was offered a permanent job at the stables, but then he disappeared when he had made his conquests.
"Shh, it's okay, Swift." Errick spoke calmly, soothing Swift's mind. "It's over now. The old farts just called up their one particular idiot that likes throwing rocks, is all." The "idiot" he had referred to was the Nord that threw a rock at his head. He figured with a few of the rumors he had heard in Whiterun about a Nord and a Breton slaying a dragon that it was the Nord he ran into on the side of the road. While Errick could admit that he didn't originally come to Skyrim to join with Isobel's merry band of misfits, it was only because of that Nord mentioning it that he would have even considered it. After all, he was only planning on staying in Skyrim until the heat from his heist of the century blew over in Cyrrodil.
However, he was not planning on fighting any dragons.
There was bravery, and then there was suicide. Facing off against a dragon would mean disastrous results. His style of fighting was for quick strikes and dueling, not slaying monsters. And sure, while his bombs could do a good deal of damage, they took time and ingredients to make them, and all of his ingredients were back at Benerus Manor. He would need to gather more ingredients for his inventory in order to make more, but he hadn't made any time to shop or hunt for them. With him running around doing errands for the guild and working together with his minx of a partner the thought never crossed his mind.
Isobel. The thought of her made Errick feel a bit of regret. He knew he over-reacted over their departure without him, and he went over the line with his assault. It was not like Errick to hit a woman, but Isobel's mannerisms don't help her seem like a woman. She was a rough diamond in appearance, but she had a heart of gold compared to his black one. And just as his heart can brighten at some moments Isobel's heart could be dark, as well. Isobel could be cruel if she chose to, and he knew that if she did not accept his apology then he may end up facing her wrath. And while he would probably brush it off without a care, he would be living in Oblivion if she continued with her assaults afterwards.
Errick sighed, wanting to just get some rest. "Get some rest, Swift." He smiled. "We wake up early tomorrow to try and find Isobel and Brynjolf."
The first thing Stryger noticed when he woke up was that he was laying near a campfire. There were a number of orcs surrounding the fire, looking at him as he began to stir. He then slowly noticed his head was propelled on something soft. Turning his head to the left he realized his head was propped on Brelyna's lap. He slowly lifted his head and groaned.
"How long was I out?" Stryger asked.
"About six hours." Brelyna answered. "You collapsed after you used some powerful spell."
"Where are we?"
"We are in an Orc stronghold. The chieftain can explain what happened."
Stryger sat upright and looked at the one orc sitting on a throne of branches. When the chieftain knew Stryger was paying attention he spoke. "My hunters had been attacked by bandits on the road. One of them had been severely injured. I am told you managed to reattach his dismembered hand using a powerful magic before passing out. You were brought here so that you may explain how you managed to do that."
"Well, I normally don't talk about that specific ability. But given the circumstances I do owe you the truth." Stryger sighed. "The magic I used to heal your hunter is old enough that many references to it have disappeared off the face of Tamriel. It is a magic of the spirit, which is the only description I can offer. I am a Spirit Healer. I can use the power of souls to heal almost any injury."
Brelyna was curious, while all of the orcs talked amongst themselves.
"How did you discover this gift, and how does this magic work?" The chieftan asked.
"I discovered this ability when my village was raided by the Thalmor almost two centuries ago. I had rescued the village shaman and had attempted to heal him using magic. That's when my abilities manifested. As for how it works, I can take the souls captured in soul gems to use their energies to heal fatal wounds. When I don't have soul gems available, I can use some of my own energy from my soul to do the job, but there are consequences."
"Like how you blacked out, you mean?"
"It's more than that. Offering part of my soul to aid those fatally wounded drains me of some of my own life. That's why I blacked out afterwards. If I continued to use my soul as a power source I would eventually die. So to avoid that fate I use filled soul gems. That way I can use my gift to help others without needing to kill myself. This is the second time I've had to use my own soul for the process."
"Hmm." The chieftain rubbed his chin. "To make a sacrifice like that for one of my men, even if he was a complete stranger; that bravery must not go unawarded." The chieftain stood up, walking up to Stryger. "I hereby offer you status as blood-kin. You will be welcomed within all of the orc strongholds in Skyrim. As such, you may also trade with our clan and will be welcomed at any time."
Stryger stood up, shaking the chieftain's hand. "Thank you."
"You may stay here as long as you wish, blood-kin. You must need to regain your strength after what happened."
"I do, but my associate and I have an important task we need to complete. It is an urgent matter, but we can hold it off for until tomorrow. I should hopefully have enough strength by then to continue our task."
"What is this task you need to perform?"
"We need to find the location of a staff that we can use with an artifact we found in some ancient ruins. Our superiors believe if we don't find the staff, destructive magics could start affecting the world."
"So mage stuff, then?"
"Pretty much."
"Well, you may rest here for tonight and you may depart whenever you wish. I wish you luck with your quest. May you prevent any world-dooming magics from being released." The chieftain departed with his clan to the main hall, leaving Stryger and Brelyna alone outside by the fire.
"I've got you some food." Brelyna spoke, holding out a plate of venison, cheese, and bread. Stryger Sat and took the food. He ate in silence for a few minutes before Brelyna spoke again. "Why didn't you tell me about your ability?"
Stryger swallowed the piece of bread he had chewed up. "Well, I just never got around to it. It's a gift I have little understanding of, even after all of my attempts to research it. I wasn't gonna keep it from you forever, of course. I just needed some time to research it more, and the college didn't have the answers I sought."
"I didn't know." Brelyna commented.
"I know. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."
"DOVAHKIIN!" A loud shout could be heard echoing across the tallest mountain in Skyrim. Stryger and Brelyna looked up at the mountain in shock.
"By the eight! What in Oblivion was that?!"
"I don't know." Brelyna said, her voice shaking and nervous like her usual self. "But that was scary."
"We should probably get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."
Brelyna nodded and laid down on the mat provided. Stryger did the same, letting his thoughts go through his mind as he drifted to sleep.
*The Hunter awoke to the sound of the night, feeling aches and pains across his back. His head was banging and his muscles were sore. He attempted to stand up, running into some difficulty. Noticing the health potion in front of him he tried remembering where that came from. It took some moment to realize his prey, The Stranger, had left it there for him.
"I don't think so, Stranger. I'm not falling for that." The Hunter refused, grabbing the bottle and throwing it at the nearest tree. The bottle shattered into many fragments as its contents were spilled across the tree. He then reached into his own pack, grabbing his own potion and downing it. The warm feeling of the potion enveloped him, soothing his aching muscles and dowsing the pain to a subtle numb feeling. "Gods damn him. He's gotten away."
The Hunter looked at his surroundings for any signs of where The Stranger went, but he couldn't find any traces, as if his prey knew how precise his tracking skills were. There also wasn't his particular smell he caught from when he tracked him down to Riverwood. He could have either turned his body into a non-corporeal form or could have teleported. Either way, The Hunter had no way of tracking him. He roared in frustration only for his voice to be cut off at the sound of another person shouting.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The Hunter looked towards the Throat of the World. It appeared the Graybeards were calling for the Dragonborn of legend. This was the second time in the past few days that their shout had been heard by everyone in Skyrim, and The Hunter wouldn't have been surprised if the rest of Tamriel had heard it. This shout had been much louder than the last one, meaning that it was likely that there was more than just one Dragonborn during this time. If that was the case, then this recent dragon threat could definitely be stopped.
But the Dragonborns weren't his concern. They were natural in the world of Tamriel, unlike The Stranger and his demon nemesis, Jornada Del Muerto. They were the threats he needed to combat, and the dragons were the Dragonborn's concern. Nothing else matters to him or his order. All abnormalities in his home had to be eradicated, and the longer the two of them were here the more likely his world was going to be destroyed in turmoil.
He would not allow that to happen.
Picking himself up completely with weapons in hand The Hunter continued his mission, hoping to find a clue to The Stranger's whereabouts.*
As Akira had set up some space inside the now vacant Silver Hand base to get some rest, she thought about her wolf and all of the benefits she had gained. She was stronger, faster, and more alert. But she was also more aggressive, as if she was feral. This seemed to scare her a bit, only having recently gained her new abilities. Remembering that she could commune with Athala, as the wolf called herself, she decided to reach for her in her mind, closing her eyes in the hope that visualizing her would help.
"You wish to speak with me?" Athala's voice made Akira open her eyes. She noticed that she wasn't in the room but instead in a lush forest. A small pond was in front of her, and upon that was a beautiful white wolf. Akira instantly recognized the wolf as Athala.
"Where are we?"
"This is Hiricine's hunting grounds. I am showing you a vision of my home."
Akira began to look around at the surrounding trees, observing their strange colors and admiring the different smells. None of these reminded her of Skyrim or High Rock. She looked down to see the flowers only to notice something peculiar.
She was stark naked.
Immediately feeling ashamed she attempted to cover herself with her hands, but the wolf in front of her merely laughed. "Do you believe a wolf cares for your decency? A wolf does not care about what the prey wears, be it fur or clothes. Besides, there is no one here that would take advantage of you. So stop worrying and just be normal."
Akira still felt embarrassed but heeded the Wolf's words, dropping her arms to the side. "I have more questions."
"Ask, and you shall receive."
"I have noticed many things after the change to be bound to you. More specifically, my attacks seem a bit more ferocious. Is this because of our bond?"
"Yes, in a way. We both have been victims before, meaning the ferocity of our attacks are much stronger. Think of it as wielding your anger to inflict suffering on others that haven't truly bestowed that anger upon you. The Silver Hand have not done anything to encourage your wrath, but they fell to it. It is because we are still angry at our tormentors, and we can't do anything about it because the men responsible are out of reach."
Akira frowned. "Well, you know about who tormented me, but I don't know about who tormented you."
"The one who tormented me was not a man, or perhaps to comfort you not an animal that looked like a man." Athala sighed, walking up to Akira and showing off her left side. It was then Akira noticed the long scars only claws could form. "My tormentor was a wolf by the name of Mundus. He was a fierce wolf filled with pride, and he believed himself entitled to all of us. I had the misfortune of invoking his wrath when I spoke against his actions. Lord Hiricine had decided that we should fight to settle the dispute. However, no matter how much I fought Mundus got the better of me. These scars are the proof. But he was willing to take it one step further."
Akira started to notice how similar their stories were once Athala's tone changed.
"While I was weakened and laying on the forest floor he attempted to assert dominance of me. He climbed on top of my limp body and would have done what he pleased had it not been for-"
"Fenris." Akira finished, figuring it all out.
"He refused to let Mundus do what he wanted and pounced on him, throwing him into a tree. As I struggled to stand I saw Fenris clawing Mundus's face, permanently marking him with a sign of defeat. He was furious but defeated, and Fenris refused to let him have his way. Mundus had no choice but to flee, and Fenris knew it."
"And now Fenris is with Farkas."
"Mundus is also out there in Skyrim, but I have no way of knowing who he is bound to. If I cross paths with him again, I'll kill him."
"But what if Mundus is bound to a good man?"
"Werewolves bind to those whose soul resembles the wolf. There's no way a good man is bound to him."
"Hmm." Akira sighed, feeling the scars the wolf bore. Curiously enough, she had scars on her left side near her hip, similar to the knife wound Akira sported on her own body. "That's strange."
Suddenly, the ground in the dream started rumbling, startling Athala. Akira looked at the wolf in confusion.
"What's happening?"
"Something outside this vision is causing you to wake up! The dream is collapsing!"
"DOVAHKIIN!"
Akira awoke to the sound of the Greybeards shouting for the Dragonborn once again. Her heart was pounding and her face glistened with sweat. It appeared that the Greybeards summoning was stronger than last time, causing her body to jolt up in fear. Outside the stone walls Daisy neighed violently in shock, trying to free herself from the restraint she had being tied to a post.
"Daisy..." Akira mumbled as she struggled to stand up. When she had balanced herself she went outside to comfort the beast. The horse calmed a bit once she saw Akira and bowed her head, making Akira smile. "It's all right, Daisy. The loud noise is gone. No one's going to hurt you."
Daisy continued to calm down under the allure of her master's calm voice. Even as Akira's hands trembled she made an effort to brush Daisy's mane. This calmed the horse down even faster before she knelt to the ground to get some sleep. When her work was done Akira smiled and went back inside the fort, finding a bed and setting herself down to rest. She had a lot of work ahead of her tomorrow and she needed to be rested, especially if the Nord Zacharius was right about her being the Breton with a fire in her soul like the prophecy he told says. Once she had settled into the Companions enough she would follow him on his journey and see if she could learn more about these abilities she now possesses.
With that thought, she smiled as she fell asleep, knowing that she may make her parents proud.
*Back at Nightcaller Temple, Jornada had finally found what Erandur was looking for. The Vaermina's Topor was on a shelf in the corner of the laboratory. Erandur specifically spoke of this potion once they had found the book he had been looking for. Now all Jornada needed to do was drink it. She uncorked the bottle and drank its contents, feeling repulsed by the potion's taste but obligated to drink it if it meant getting to the Skull of Corruption. Jornada closed her eyes as the potion's effects began to kick in.
"Casamir," a voice called to her as her eyes opened. "The orcs are already breaking into the Temple. You must activate the Miasma. It's the only way to defend the Skull of Corruption. Go!" Following the command of the strange voice Jornada/Casamir started running through the temple, dodging the fighting that was taking place all around them. Jornada could feel the exhaustion Casamir was feeling as he ran for his life in fear, reaching the chain that needed to be pulled to release the Miasma. With one swipe they caught it, pulling down hard and releasing the Miasma controls.
Jornada reappeared at the gate as it disappeared. Erandur stood in front of her. "You did it!" He spoke in excitement. "You got the gate open. I saw you disappear after drinking the topor and assumed you would end up on the other side of the gate, and I was right!"
"Yes. It seems that this cult's sorcery did do the trick. Remarkable." Jornada became lost in thought for a moment before Erandur reminded her of why she was here.
"Come on! We need to get to the Skull of Corruption and stop it!" Erandur ran ahead of Jornada, urging her to continue with him to the prize. Pulling her sword out she continued down the path she had just walked, cutting down her opponents with ease. Erandur seemed to be in more of a rush than her, which was normal given his want to right the wrongs he had been responsible for. But something from her time in the Dreamstride was making her think more about the man and his past with the cult.
Perhaps she saw what he had seen with his eyes.
Her thoughts were only confirmed when they ran into the last two people in the chamber. The Skull of Corruption was right in front of her, surrounded by the dark energy protruding from its locking spell. Two cultists stood before her, glaring at Erandur.
"Veren, Thorik; you're alive!" Erandur spoke, surprised at their arrival.
"No thanks to you, Casamir." Veren confirmed Jornada's suspicions on the matter.
"I no longer go by that name. I am Erandur; Priest of Mara."
"You are a traitor. You activated the miasma and left us here to die!"
"No, I was... Scared. I wasn't ready to sleep."
"Enough! We will not let you destroy the Skull, Priest of Mara!"
"Then you leave me no choice." Erandur raised his mace to strike Veren. Thorik, meanwhile, pulled out his magic and began casting it at Jornada. Her shield deflected the initial blast, but she still caught tingles of electricity hitting her body. It only excited her more rather than hurting her, making her laugh as she jumped forward, sliding her sword straight through his chest. Erandur continued to swing at his former friend as Veren blocked, looking for a chance to strike. Jornada simply walked up behind him, shoving her sword through his back.
"What a shitty reunion." Jornada said as she pulled her blade out, letting Veren fall to the floor. "First time the door opens and everyone wakes up only to start fighting again. Tsk tsk."
"We did what had to be done." Erandur sighed before running up the stairs to the alter. The Skull of Corruption was still being protected by the dark barrier placed around it. "I must perform the ritual to destroy the Skull. The people of Dawnstar depend on it." Erandur began casting his spell, undoing the weave of magic around the Skull. Suddenly, Jornada heard a voice in her head.
"He's deceiving you. Once Erandur completes the ritual, the Skull will be free. Then he will turn on you. Kill him. Kill him and take the Skull. Vaermina commands you."
No one commands me to do anything. Jornada readied her sword. But I shall heed your request, Dark Dreamer. Jornada then thrust her sword through Erandur's chest, raising him up in the air. A look of shock came upon the Priest's face as he realized what had happened. "I'm sorry it had to end this way, Erandur. Perhaps you shall find peace with Mara, if Vaermina doesn't claim your soul first. And don't worry. I'll take good care of the Skull. The people of Dawnstar will sleep soundly now that I have a weapon that can harm my greatest enemy."
Erandur feel to the floor dead as Jornada sheathed her sword, reaching for the Skull of Corruption. A flash of a past memory came to mind once her fingers grasped the staff. The last time she was here the Skull had been used on her, paralyzing her in fear in the animalistic state she was in. But now she could use it against The Stranger; a being that could access all thoughts and dreams.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The faint echo of the voices from the Throat of the World could be heard, snapping Jornada back to reality. This was the second time she had heard this call, and it surprised her. What was this "Dovahkiin" the voices called for? Better yet, why are they calling for him? What significance did it hold to Jornada's mission?
None. She thought as she slung the staff onto her back. The armor released some spikes to hold it in place so she could carry it effortlessly. With her prize claimed Jornada was done with the ruins, deciding to head out and wait for morning to hunt down her next prize. Dawnstar was safe, but she wasn't done with the town just yet.*
Back in Morthal, Zacharius was preparing an arrow to fire at the vampire leader. After doing some detective work in Alva's house, he found the journal and a coffin confirming Alva to be a vampire. After bringing the evidence to the Jarl she confirmed that the vampire leader, Movarth, was thought to be dead, and it was a shock to find out he was alive. So after some more tracking, Zacharius and Lydia found his cave and slew his forward guard. Now all that were left to face was Alva, Movarth, two vampires, and two more enthralled bandits. He calculated his movements, hoping to end this fight as quickly as it begins. Lydia, however, was getting uncomfortable crouching in her heavy armor. It meant that she couldn't sneak like her Thane, which was a problem.
After holding his breath for a few seconds Zacharius released his first arrow.
The arrow went straight for Movarth, hitting him in the chest but not inflicting enough damage to kill him. This caught everyone's attention, making them alert to their presence. Zacharius readied another arrow in case things got complicated, waiting until their backs were turned for a good moment to strike. Once the first bandit had turned away Zacharius launched an arrow into the man's head, killing him instantly.
This, however, caught the attention of everyone else.
"Kill the assassin!" Movarth yelled, pointing in Zacharius's direction.
"Aww crap." Zacharius switched his bow out for his sword, jumping down and cutting through two of Movarth's forces. Lydia followed after him, going for Alva to help Zacharius out. Movarth made his way towards Zacharius as they clashed steel together, producing sparks. Every swing collided as they tried to kill each other, missing the fatal blow each time. Eventually their swords locked together.
"You seem to have skill, boy." Movarth chatted. "You could make to be a powerful vampire."
"That's not gonna happen."
"Then you shall make for an excellent thrall." Movarth brought his free hand up to Zacharius's head, attempting to use a commanding spell to take over his mind. Zacharius resisted it, however, instead moving forward and inhaling.
"FUS-RO!" The shout pushed Movarth back but did not fling him away from the Dragonborn. Movarth looked in surprise as Zacharius chopped his head clean off, ending the tyrant that was Movarth Quipre. Zacharius looked at Lydia, who had just finished off Alva. "Good job, Lydia. Let's go back to the Jarl and call it a night."
*Atop of the Throat of the World, The Stranger approached the Greybeards' fortress. It was dark and he expected the Greybeards would be preparing to depart to slumber, but he wished to speak to them before they rest. It was something he had been hoping to do now that Zacharius was beginning to fulfill his destiny. The doors opened loudly even as the wind howled. The Greybeards were still huddled into a circle on the floor, trapped in their meditations until they noticed his approach.
"What is it you seek, Stranger?" Aringoth asked.
"It is not really what I seek. Rather that I wish to offer you knowledge. There is more than one Dragonborn present in this world."
"We know."
"Three of them are in Skyrim right now, as you are no doubt aware, then. But do you know where the others are, then?"
"We do not. They will come to us when they are needed."
"Unless they come to Zacharius, the Dragonborn you have trained. He is going to walk dark paths, you know."
"Perhaps we don't know, Stranger." Aringoth stood up. "We have offered our training and have taught him much of what he needs to know. His path is one he must walk alone. We will not interfere."
"As you have chosen not to interfere in the war for Skyrim. I know. But there are the other Dragonborns that are unaware of their gift. I would like to make them aware in case Zacharius falls. Call them."
"This may draw suspicion, though. The rest of the world, as well as the dragons, may wonder why we call for the Dragonborn again."
"It will also remind the weak that there is hope, and the wicked shall be given something to fear. The world must be ready for the events that are to come. The prophecy is to unfold, and then the next part shall wait to be fulfilled by the next hero. But to make sure the prophecy is to be fulfilled, all of the Dragonborn must be notified, and everyone who saw it coming must have something to hope for."
Aringoth sighed and shook his head. "Very well. It goes against my better judgement, but we shall call upon the Dragonborn. All of them."
The Stranger bowed. "Very good. I must depart for now. My own battle must be fought away from this place." The Stranger headed for the exit, smiling underneath his helmet as the Greybeards gave out their next sign of the return of the Dragonborns. The earth began to tremble, and the wind died before picking up to spread the sound of an important word.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
"So the Greybeards were calling for the other Dragonborn?" Ronan asked.
"Yes. In total, there were officially eight Dragonborn. Unofficially, there were ten of us." Zacharius sighed. "Eight, nine, and five. Those numbers popped up a lot during our journeys. Five people written into destiny. Eight divines and the shamed ninth. It was very strange that those numbers seemed to follow us."
"Who were the other Dragonborn?"
"Well, two of my friends turned out to actually possess the Dragon Blood. I'll leave you to guess which ones they were. My father and brothers also had it. And the other two I didn't actually meet until after the attempt on my life by Miirak's cultists. But that is still so far away, and given my old age I'm hoping I can tell that story to you when we reach it."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: THAT WAS THE LONGEST CHAPTER I HAVE EVER WRITTEN.
In all seriousness, though, I just want to say I might be returning to this story. I still have so many ideas for it and I don't want people to feel like I abandoned any of my stories. With Mass Effect, I came out with a movie series to try and tell the story without having to type it out. And while I may try to finish it one day to get all of the subplots and characters out of the way I don't know if I would end up continuing with everything else in that story.
On that note, I shall try and make an effort to continue writing. And I hope that the friends I made when I started writing this will hopefully return to their stories, as well. So here's hoping I write some more. If I do, I'll see you next time. Bye-bye!