Chapter 2 - Opening Gambit
Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls Franchise is the intellectual and legal property of Bethseda Softworks. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is any profit made.
A/N: Dovahzul is taken from thuum dot org and I attempted to use only words confirmed by canon. I thank the folks over there for giving the Elder Scrolls fandom such an amazing resource. Translations will be provided at the end for those who would like to have them.
Paarthurnax was not the wealth of information she had been hoping for, but he still knew more than she did. It was, she thought wryly to herself, the normal way of the master and the student.
"Miraak," Paarthurnax spat the name out as if it were the vilest of poisons. "Tol los for Zu'u lost ni hon ko lingrah tiid."
"What would his problem with me be?" Dovrasi wondered as her master stared into the sky at the other dragons flying about them both. "Don't get me wrong; I anger plenty of people on a daily basis and most of the time I'm not even trying. But to send assassins from Solstheim seems a tad excessive." She paused as she gathered her thoughts. "Da was a miner there once, before he met Mum. He left when the ore ran out and often told us stories about the trip to Skyrim. It's not an easy trip, even leaving out Da's tendency to embellish…"she trailed off before smacking her hand into her pack indignantly. "And they called me a fake! It almost reeks of petty one upmanship."
"An accurate assessment," Paarthurnax rumbled in what could almost be called a chuckle. "He once was you are now, Dovahkiin. In fact, he was the first."
"He was Dragonborn?" She blinked rapidly as she tried to process this new information. "The First Dragonborn? Why haven't I heard of him? Akatosh knows I've read up on the history of the Dragonborn and this bastard's name never came up. Saint Alessia is the only one who was ever mentioned when the subject is mentioned."
"It is not surprising Miraak's name was omitted from the annals of your history." The old dragon shifted upon his Word Wall to regard her thoughtfully. "Rok lost Dovahkiin ahrk Dovah Sonaak."
"He was both?" Dovrasi stilled. "But didn't Kyne and Akatosh grant the blessing of Dragonborn upon the mortals as a way to end the Dragon War?"
Paarthurnax looked away from her, staring in the distance. "Miraak," he said finally, and Dovrasi again heard the near palpable distaste her master had for that name, "was loyal only unto himself."
Sensing the odd melancholy that had settled over the both of them, Dovrasi kept silent and waited. Paathurnax had never given her false or incomplete information before and so she had a feeling he wasn't quite done yet. Miraak, it was starting to seem, had a number of traits that mirrored the circumstances surrounding her mentor, so it was only natural that he picked his way carefully through this particular minefield. He still grieved at the loss of the one whom he had once called brother, and while he never blamed her for her role in Alduin's death, Paathurnax turned that censure in on himself instead. Miraak had once been a human who had served dragons, and now he was a dragon who…well, it was easy to draw parallels between the two of them. It was only fair to give him the time and space he needed to choose his words.
"Dovah Sonaak," Paathurnax finally said. "It was a title that held a lot of power. They were granted the same rights and power as kings. Suleykaar bemahraan wah zein faal Dovah ol Rah. Miraak was attracted to the power that such a position held, even during the War."
"So when the dragons began to lose…" Dovrasi murmured almost to herself, allowing a mental picture of who Miraak was to form in her head. So far, she didn't like what she saw.
"He turned to one who found his talents and abilities useful; forsaking those he had once called Master."
"He's got to be dead!" she exclaimed suddenly when she finally remembered the dates of the Dragon War and just how long ago that had been. "Who did he turn to for power? Do you know?"
"I do not know. Zu'u kiibok fen do Bormah ahrk Kaan. Miraak was not my concern. I do know I never trusted him."
"Sounds like I need to head to Solstheim." Dovrasi's sigh was filled with resignation.
"You knew that before you spoke with me," Paathurnax's comment was droll. "Would you deeper your understanding of a Rotmulaag before you leave? Which word calls to you? Fus, Feim, or Yol?"
She had chosen to meditate on a word and as the port of Raven Rock came into view she considered how her understanding of Fus had enabled her to override Captain Gjuland's obvious reluctance to return. It had been easy to cajole him into granting her passage; guilt was an underrated tool, sometimes more effective than either coercion or coin. The trick of pushing the world harder than it pushed back, she mused to herself, was to know when and how to push. A frontal assault wasn't always the best method when dealing with obstacles.
A Dunmer was waiting on the docks for them as the Northern Maiden made port. The boat had barely anchored before the mer and the Captain were in a deep discussion. Their conversation dealt with payments, the East Empire Company, money, and little details that didn't concern her. She ignored them both as she swung her pack up on her shoulder, adjusted her cloak and prepared to disembark.
"Outlander," the Dunmer called as she passed. She paused for a moment to listen.
His clothes marked him as wealthy and his body language spoke of someone used to wielding power. Considering that he was here negotiating with the captain, a mundane task if there was one, indicated he was not the leading authority in the settlement. If she had to guess, noting the lack of overall wealth evident in the poor condition of the docks, as well as the obvious repairs needed on the bulwark surrounding the city that was obvious to even the most casual observer, this man was more than likely second in command.
It wouldn't do to make enemies of the ruling body the moment she arrived. She schooled her face into a careful blank before she pulled the hood of her cloak down to indicate he had her full attention.
"May I help you, sera?" she asked, keeping her eyes locked on his even as she inflected enough polite deference in her tone to at least keep up the appearance of respect.
"I don't recognize you," he began, eyeing her as intently as she was looking at him. "I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock." His eyes flicked first to what he could see of her armor, then to the bow on her back. His eyes glittered with intelligence as they narrowed at her.
'He's no fool,' was her immediate thought. 'He could prove useful.'
"I'm looking for a man named Miraak. Have you heard of him?"
There was a flicker of something approaching recognition flittered across his face before it settled into confusion. "I..I'm unsure," the mer said, his brow furrowing in concentration as he struggled to place the name. "I swear, I know the name, but I cannot place it."
"Can you tell me anything about him?" She kept her palms where he could see them, fingers slightly splayed. This man was highly suspicious of strangers and if she couldn't get him on her side, she needed him out of her way. If that meant playing harmless pussy cat, so be it.
The mer looked past her to a distant spot on her right. "I don't think so," he finally said. "I'm not…the name has something to do with the Earth Stone, I think." He gestured to where his gaze rested, drawing her attention to the large structure on the outskirts of the settlement. "But I'm not sure what."
"I see," she murmured thoughtfully, mostly to herself before remembering that there was a Dunmer official standing in front of her. She bowed slightly at the waist, because her Mum had taught her good manners would get her far in life, and while they weren't quite as effective as a well-sighted arrow to the throat, her Mum had still been mostly right. "Thank you, sera."
"I am Adril Arano, Second Councilor of Raven Rock," Adril said stiffly, and she noted with some aggravation that he was still giving her some variation of the stink eye. "This is sovereign territory of House Redoran. This is Morrowind, not Skyrim. While you're here, you will be expected to follow all of our laws. Any questions?"
"You've made your position perfectly clear, sera." Dovrasi flipped the cassock back over her head as she bowed to the Second Councilor just before turning on her heel to enter the settlement.
Her Da had sometimes told her stories of his time on Soltsheim when she had been but a mere babe on his knee. Her first impression of the settlement matched closely with the pictures he'd painted with his words. The place was dusty, cold, worn out, and the people who lived here were even more so. The ash filled the streets, the air, and even her lungs, forcing her to cough and spit the substance out.
'Right then. Let's find shelter, shall we?'
It didn't take her long to find the likely watering hole; The Retching Netch had that tavern flair about its name. The contingent of guards standing loosely around the door was another tip off, and she pushed open the door to enter. After a quick scan of the people inside (Orc with a body guard; potentially a problem. Spellsword in the corner; probably harmless if I leave him alone. Miner by the fire pit; harmless.) she turned the hood of her travel cloak back down to relish the warmth the building provided. She took a deep, appreciative breath, smiled, and headed down the stairs.
As far north as she was, she didn't expect the near coziness that greeted her in what she assumed to be the common room. A lone Dunmer was behind the counter as she approached, engaged in local gossip with a burly Nord sitting across from him. They both looked at her with curiosity as she approached. She rested her hand lightly on the chair next to the Nord, catching his eye. He shook his head at her unspoken question, and the two men wrapped up their conversation as she took a seat.
"Welcome to the Retching Netch corner club, my lady," the keep greeted her after she was comfortably settled. "My name is Geldis. What can I get you?"
From the corner of her eye she noticed the spellsword had followed her into the common room and was now approaching her on her left side. He held up two fingers to the barkeep; she decided to ignore him.
"Oh, I suppose the usual things someone like me comes to a corner club for," she replied. "Room, board, and possibly some answers."
"Room and board I can do," Geldis said as he set up two pewter mugs on the counter and began pouring. "The answers always depend on the questions." He handed both over to the Spellsword.
The sound of the pewter scraping against the wood as the Spellsword pushed one of the drinks in her direction filled her ears. She slid it back where it had come from with gritted teeth and a withering glare. The boat ride had been long; she was hungry, tired, and anxious to find out what Miraak wanted. Getting picked up by a random stranger wasn't part of her itinerary.
"I'm married," she bit off. She knew she was being brusque; in the past if she had given men the cold shoulder they invariably went off to harass more accommodating targets. It usually didn't take much more for even the stubborn types to get the hint. A deep, masculine chuckle was his response.
"Well," he said and her eyes began to widen in recognition. "Miss Lloyrn grew a spine since the last time I've seen her." In a gesture she remembered well, his fingers reached out to tug on the coppery braid of one of her forelocks.
"Teldryn," she breathed before a wide grin split her face. This time when he slid the ale back in front of her, she took it with glee. "For the record, covering up your face doesn't come across as an air of mystique. It really just says creepy madman." They touched the lips of their mugs together in toast and drank deeply.
"I won't deny that," Teldryn said. "But after traveling through the ash wastes, you aren't quite so picky about what you look like if it keeps your lungs clear." He sat back and looked over her thoroughly. "So what brings you to this gods-forsaken rock? An errand for your Da?" Teldryn looked around as if he expected to see her father around the corner.
"Relax," she snickered into her drink. "It'll be hard for him to swat at you for impinging upon his daughter's purity from Blacklight. I'm here on a personal errand." Her eyes slid back up to the Geldis. "What can you tell me about Miraak?"
The same look of almost-recognition fluttered on both Geldis and the Nord's faces that she had seen earlier on Adril's. "It sounds familiar…" Geldis was hesitant as he looked at the man seated across from him. "But I can't place why I even know the name. Does it ring any bells for you, Glover?"
Glover shook his head. "No. Almost sounds like a name I should know, though."
She turned to Teldryn. "What about you?"
The chitin helm turned back and forth in a slow shake of his head. "I'm afraid I've no more an answer than either Geldis or Glover. Any particular reason you're looking for him?" He paused, his gaze sweeping over her again, and resting on her belly. "You're not in any sort of….ah, trouble, are you?"
For a single, terrible second Dovrasi thought she was going to lose her temper and simply deck her former lover right off of his seat. It was tempting; anger hummed along her muscles and she could picture in her mind's eye how easily she would be able to do it. It took an effort, some breathing, a reminder that Teldryn had always been a little bit of an idiot who was too damn smart for his own good, before her fingers relaxed from the tight fist they reflexively had curled up into. Her eyes flashed with signs of temper as she glared at him; it mollified her somewhat to see him recoil.
"I realize," she began, and it was a wonder her words didn't turn into solid chunks of ice from her glacial tone, "that it has been quite a long time since we have had the opportunity to renew our acquaintance…But I assure you that I didn't chase anyone, let alone Miraak," here she sneered in condescending arrogance at the mere mention of the name, "across both Cyrodiil and Skyrim then past the Sea of Ghosts because he got me into the kind of trouble that you're implying." She dug into her pack to toss a few coins at Geldis. "Those cover the cost of a bed for the night?"
Geldis swept up the coins with a practiced ease as his eyes darted between the newcomer and Teldryn. "Ah, a few more moments and I will also be able to provide the food you had requested…"
"Funnily enough," she said flatly, "I seem to have lost my appetite. All I require at the moment is a bed. "
"Of course. Right this way."
Despite the pique of temper she found herself in, once she swapped out her armor for the cotton tunic and doeskin breeches she had packed, the call of the bed was stronger than her annoyance and she promptly fell asleep.
The world fell away (here in my temple) as the icy hand of solitude forced closed its grip on her heart.(here in my shrine) It was a painful, but necessary, realization that no one loved her,(that you have forgotten) and no one cared for her on her own merits. (here do you toil) The Dragonborn was an idealization, the avatar of hope for the people and it was the Dragonborn they wanted.(that you might remember) They didn't care about Dovrasi, or her hopes, or her dreams; (here you reclaim) the best she could hope for was that as long as she did what was required of her, she wouldn't be abused.
A warm voice surrounded her, (what faithless minds have stolen) breaking her free from the inescapable clutches of that glacial hand. It enveloped her in a cocoon of purpose; giving her the meaning she'd been looking for. (far and from yourself) This voice wanted her as she was, and not the Dragonborn she was supposed to be. It was here, in the dark surrounded by glorious purpose where she wanted to stay. It would be a relief to live only for him, to further his glory and honor. She would no longer be bothered with the petty worries and concerns of the mortal realm, because he would care for her, and she would need no one else. (I grow ever nearer to you.)
No, wait, this wasn't right.
The dark solitude that had been so comforting shifted into suffocating isolation. (Now through me do you see). She clawed and fought the inky blackness, (your hands once were idle) and there was a sinister quality threaded throughout that voice that had at first enraptured and captivated her now had her scrabbling to get away from it. (And through them do I speak)
Oh no, BALLS to that, she was done being everyone's godsdamned pawn years ago and this asshole just hadn't gotten the memo. She broke free with a yell, screaming vitriol and abuse until her voice gave out and she was left panting against a pillar of stone.
"Oh no you don't, you fucking fletcher," she snarled at wherever Miraak was hiding himself, because she knew immediately that it could only be him behind this latest bit of hilarity her life had become.
"You there," a voice called. Dovrasi straightened, removing her arm from the pillar she had been leaning on to regard this stranger warily. "You don't seem to be in the same state as the others. Very interesting. May I ask what it is you're doing here?"
"Catching frostbite," she snapped as she realized she was standing ankle deep in water of questionable origin. Furthermore, she noted with near clinical detachment, doeskin breeches and linen tunics were great for sleeping in a bed blanketed from the warm comfort of an inn, but provided approximately zero protection against what felt like sub-arctic temperatures. The warm glow of the fire spell she cast did some to ward off the cold, but she could feel her teeth start to chatter as the temperature started to sink into her bones.
"Mmh, yes quite," the Telvanni wizard- because with those robes and air of arrogance about him what else could he be?- made no effort to help her out of the shallow pool…or with anything else for that matter. "That much was obvious. What I want to know is why you were doing it at the Earth-Stone."
"Because Miraak is a lousy sonovabitch who's going to choke on his own entrails as soon as I figure out how to do it," she ground out through closed teeth. The Retching Netch seemed so far away from the Earth-Stone; so she did what she always did when the goal seemed too far away to reach. She focused on individual goals until she reached the main one; in this case, placing one foot in front of the other without falling into an undignified sprawl she had serious doubts she could recover from. Every step hurt, but hurt was good. Pain meant the nerves in her feet weren't dead.
'Yet,' she thought dourly as she stumbled on a pebble.
The wizard followed behind; she could hear the almost inaudible notations to himself as he mentally observed and categorized what was going on around him. "Miraak. Miraak…It sounds familiar but I can't quite place….Oh Wait. I recall. But that makes very little sense. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."
"I have a feeling he's staging a comeback," Dovrasi tried to keep her violent shivering to a minimum and failed miserably. "Do you know how he could accomplish that?"
"I'm not sure, but it is fascinating, isn't it? Perhaps it has some relation to what's going on here. Quite unexpected. I'm afraid I can't give you anymore answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's toward the center of the Island. If I were you, I'd look there."
She was too tired to attempt even a passing anger at the unfeeling nature of the wizard as he breezed past her lurching, shivering self without even the barest hint of assistance. Not that it mattered much anyway; Dovrasi had long ago learned that the only person she could ever really rely on was herself.
There was no telling how long she'd been out there; a quick mental checklist told her that everything was still in working properly so far but the difficulty in walking, the blue, almost black tint to her hands, and the bone deep chill that had settled within her body indicated that at the very least a low grade hypothermia had set in. Her hand trembled as she reached for the door to the cornerclub, and for an awful moment her fingers forgot how to wrap themselves around the handle. Through sheer stubborn mulishness she forced her fingers to curl around the handle and open the door.
Walking into the cornerclub felt like the warmest, fluffiest blanket she'd ever slept in. She shuffled over to the fire, hugging herself tightly and hoped the clattering of her teeth wasn't as loud as she thought it was.
"What the—" Teldryn, who apparently all but lived at the cornerclub the part of her that wasn't focused on the freezing cold noted, started out of his chair and walked over to where she parked herself in front of the fire. "Don't tell me you were outside in just that!"
"I wasn't outside in just this," she snarked quietly to herself, because he wasn't there to snark at instead. He had disappeared down the stairs, missing her moment of brilliant wit, only to return a few moments later with an armful of furs and a blanket made from the white fur of a sabre cat. He flicked the blanket open and settled it over her shoulders, then proceeded to arrange the furs around her just so before dragging a chair to sit off to her right. "Your Da always said you had the common sense of a torchbug, but I would have thought you to outgrow that by now."
Dovrasi threw a stony glare at her shoulder before shifting so her back was to him. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Quit it," she said suddenly, frowning into the fire.
"Quit what?"
"Rolling your eyes," she shot him another glare. "Just because you're wearing that stupid helm doesn't mean I don't know you're doing it." She paused and muttered, "S'wit."
"I'm the s'wit?" he countered indignantly. "I'm not the one parading about half naked in this cold."
"In case it has escaped your attention," she was trying to go for low and threatening but her stupid teeth insisted on chattering and instead it just came out as sad and kind of pathetic. Not that she had a hope in Oblivion intimidating this man anyway, come to think of it. She sighed and forced herself to relax. "There's something wrong on this island; I wasn't out there by choice. There were others, surely you've noticed something odd going on. Miraak did something to me while I was sleeping, and I'm sure he's behind the strange behavior of the others too."
"Who is Miraak?" Teldryn sighed. "You keep saying that name like it means something."
"He's a rotten son of a whoring fletcher," she growled, flexing her fingers as the fire finally began leeching away the cold from her body.
"What's your business with him?"
She went quiet. The fire popped and crackled merrily in the pit and Morgol and Slitter entered to get an early start to their drinking. He sat patiently and waited.
"He wants me dead," she said finally, shrugging.
"Why would he want you dead?" There was disbelief and incredulity in his tone.
Her hard grin didn't quite reach her eyes. "Usual reason, I suppose," she said with obfuscating lightness. "I have something he wants. Since I'm not of the mind to accommodate him, I came to kill him first."
Teldryn regarded her thoughtfully. He'd been a spellsword long enough that taking a life, while it was never relegated to simple old hat, no longer carried the weight of guilt like his first kill had wrought. It was a cold, harsh, uncaring world, and it was indisputable fact that there were those who would just as soon as slit your throat for a handful of septims than look at you. You either learned to toughen up and accept that hard truth as it was, or you died from your own naivety and ignorance. Dovrasi's flat eyes and even tone indicated that she knew that truth as well as she knew her own name.
The problem he was having was that she wasn't supposed to know any aspect of that truth. He'd hated Windhelm and the bitterness that had overwhelmed his fellow Dunmer who called it home; Dovrasi had been the single, bright spot in a dreary, drab city and he'd been no more unable to stay away from her than a moth could a flame. Her father thought his darling daughter was too innocent and pure for a penniless, nameless mercenary and Teldryn had fully agreed. He was finding it difficult to reconcile the warm, giving girl he'd carried in his memories with him all these years to the obviously world-weary woman in front of him.
"Do you mean to challenge him alone?" He asked.
"He challenged me," she corrected idly, moving her joints as she tested for permanent damage. " Though for all intents and purposes, yes, I suppose I do."
"That's madness."
She looked at him and the only thing in her eyes was simple acceptance. She stood and the white blanket fell to the floor. It was left sitting there as she descended down the stairs. Half an hour later he heard her soft footfalls as she approached him and his practiced eye took in her appearance.
Her leather armor was new, custom made, and well fitted. Her bow was old, well used, and in good condition. A quiver full of ebony arrows was strapped to her back, and an amulet of Talos hung freely from her neck. His eyes focused on the bit of religious paraphernalia.
"I didn't take you to be a devout of Talos," he said.
"I'm not," she grinned cheekily and suddenly he saw the girl he remembered in this almost stranger she had become. Even though she couldn't see it, he found himself smiling back as if they shared a joke. "It's a good luck charm," she whispered conspiratorially.
"So where are you heading?"
She shifted her travel pack over her shoulder and adjusted her cloak. "I figured I'd stock up at the market, and then head towards the center of the island. I don't know if I'll get there today, but I may as well get started."
"The center..of Solstheim?" Surprise registered in his voice. Other than Raven Rock, and the Nord village to the north, he wasn't aware of any other settlements on the island. What on earth could possibly be of interest to her at the center?
"Ah," she said, looking toward the door and obviously eager to get started before she lost too much daylight. "Some jerk-ass Telvanni wizard said I should start there. Any lead is better than no lead at all."
"Do you know how to get there?"
"I know how to read a map," and there was that flash of girl-grin again before her expression sobered. She thrust her hand in his face and he took it as he stood. He felt the strength coursing in that arm through her fingers as she yanked him into a quick, one-armed hug, complete with the requisite single thump on the back.
"It was good to see you," she said with unmistakable sincerity coloring her voice. "Even if you did become a little bit of an asshat."
"An asshat."
She nodded firmly, mischief sparkling in those red eyes as she held her forefinger and thumb a space apart. "Little bit, yes. I just wanted you to know that if I lose."
"That I'm an asshat?"
"That it was good to see you," she clarified and hugged him again.
"I'll come with you," he blurted out as she let him go, taking himself by surprise almost as much as she was.
She considered it, chewing on her bottom lip as she mulled over the pros and cons. "Better not," she said slowly. "The last thing I need is for Miraak to think that I have an emotional connection to someone and exploit it."
"So hire me," Teldryn pressed. "Five hundred septims, and you become my employer. Then it's nothing more than a business arrangement."
Her mouth pursed as she weighed this new variable. "Your employer," she said, enunciating the second word carefully, trying it out in her mouth as she tasted what it felt like.
"All you want from me is an able bodied spellsword to watch your back."
"And you get from me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Five hundred septims, and an equal share of any future spoils."
"That's it?" There was a layer to that question, one he almost missed, causing him to hesitate before answering.
"That's it," he chose his next words carefully. "I want nothing more from you than the opportunity to earn coin. You want nothing more from me than someone competent to watch your back."
Her shoulders visibly relaxed as she turned his words over in her head. A small smile spread over her face as she tossed him a pouch of the agreed upon amount.
"Welcome aboard," she said, turning on her heel to head to the door. He followed immediately.
Notes:
Tol los for Zu'u lost ni hon ko lingrah tiid." – That is a name I have not heard for a long time.
Rok lost Dovahkiin ahrk Dovah Sonaak. – He was both Dragonborn and Dragon Priest.
Suleykaar bemahraan wah zein faal Dovah ol Rah. – [It] was a powerful motivator to worship the dragons as Gods.
Zu'u kiibok fen do Bormah ahrk Kaan- I was serving the will of Kyne.
Rotmulaag – Word of Power
The author humbly thanks you for taking the time to read this story.