A flash of light in Saya's right hand swiftly warped into a blast of heat. The firebolt shot from her palm like a bullet, and the cultist she hit stumbled backwards into the coffin from which he emerged. Within the first second of the confrontation, every figure in the chamber had shifted into a combat stance. A sharp smell of ozone briefly filled the air as the leader snapped his fingers, conjuring a lightning bolt that immediately found its target in Saya's shoulder. The Dragonborn grit her teeth, pushing through the spasms to look for the next threat.
In the corner of her eye, the edge of an ebony dagger glinted with the light of a wall-mounted torch. The drenched cultist rushed towards the Dragonborn from her left, arm lifted and his weapon primed for a frenzied stab to her back. Yet another flash, pale and magical - and Saya's lunar blade deflected the strike-to-be. The cultist growled, his barely-visible eyes shifting under the mask to look to the side. Instinctually, Saya's own gaze followed his - a mistake that was instantly punished as the cultist grabbed her by the shoulders and kneed her in the stomach, the dull pain pushing the air from her lungs in an ugly cough.
She could practically hear the masked man grin as he raised his dagger once more. Without missing a beat, the Dragonborn pushed forward, tackling her attacker and slamming him into the wall. Stunned, however briefly, he was unable to defend himself as Saya lifted her weapon and tried to finish him off - only, her arm refused to move. Suddenly, she found herself straining to hold the sword in her hand, the joints in her fingers popping as it was pulled back by an otherworldly force. A quick glance behind herself revealed why - the sorcerer she blasted with the firebolt was straining, his hands radiating a familiar amber glow of a powerful telekinesis spell.
Saya's ear twitched and she immediately ducked, an arrow whistling by and hitting the wall behind her with a metallic clink. She cursed mentally. Another moment later, and that would've been her neck. With a frustrated grunt, the Dragonborn let go of the sword and allowed it to get yanked from her left hand while tongues of flame enveloped her right. Just as quickly as the stunned cultist beside her caught his breath, it left his lungs yet again in an agonized scream when five burning fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, charring his cloth collar and the skin under it.
Another arrow was loosed by the masked archer, and she hissed as the projectile embedded itself in her arm, the man in her grasp dropping down as a seizing corpse. Her eyes darted over in the direction of her assailants, mentally doing a headcount. Three left. She smiled sardonically. While she could not peer through their masks, she didn't need to see their expressions to know they were not pleased by the fact she's still alive.
The archer had nocked yet another arrow. Deciding not to push her luck, Saya lunged behind the pillar a couple steps away, using it as cover while she considered her options. At the very edge of her peripheral she could see the coffin-warmer preparing another spell, intent on not letting her draw her second weapon while the first lay under his foot. Saya drew a deep breath, a rumbling "FUS!" cascading across the room as a wave of force left her lips. Her feeling of triumph only lasted until she saw the dust settle, revealing the cackling cultist standing behind a magical ward, completely unharmed.
In that moment, she felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck, and Saya realized her mistake. Another crackle of lightning echoed in the chamber and Saya's panicked gaze only caught a glimpse of the magical streak of light bouncing off the wall and straight towards her. A shrill scream escaped her throat as the chain lightning ran through her nerves, the Dragonborn's entire body convulsing as she dropped down to her knees. Then came another, and another, and another - all in rapid succession, all renewing the agony, all strengthening the stench of burnt flesh in her nostrils, until she completely collapsed onto the floor.
The sound of three people stepping towards Saya was excruciating. Through blurry eyes she could see the leader's figure looming over her, his hands sizzling with shock magic waiting to be released. Weakly, she attempted to raise her arm, muttering an incantation under her breath, yet the magical fire never appeared. Confused, she tried again, speaking the words out loud - but nothing left her mouth except soundless breaths. Her ears twitched as she heard a chuckle and a sound of metal snapping. Her red eyes darted to the archer, holding two pieces of worthless metal that were her lunar sword just a few moments ago. The coffin mage stood beside her, watching Saya unblinkingly. His hands weaved a spool of grey strings, stretching from his fingers and reaching around her - no, into her. A Silence spell.
"And so, the false Dragonborn falls. Pathetic." The leader's raspy voice taunted her, his boots scratching against the stone floor with every step. The purple streaks of lightning crackled around his hands as he looked down upon her. Saya continued to glare at him, silent but not by choice. "You're not even worthy to be a sacrifice in our Lord's name." Another step. Vaguely, she could see a grey line of energy drawn on the floor. She waited. One step, two steps…
Entering the silenced zone, he drew a dagger from his hip just as the shock magic vanished from his fingertips. At that moment, Saya lunged towards the cultist, grabbing his arm and twisting it. A silent scream erupted under his mask and she yanked the dagger out of his hand. With a quick one-two, she sank the blade into his stomach before slamming the pommel into the side of his head. Dazed, the cultist stumbled to the side, right before an arrow flew from behind him. The Dragonborn leaned to the side, the projectile's tip grazing across her cheek before impacting the wall with a pitiful noise.
Flipping the dagger in her hand, Saya threw it at the archer. A pained grunt is all she needed to hear to regain her confidence and dash out of the range of the Silence spell. The girl shoulder-slammed into the mage, pinning him to the wall with her forearm pushing down on his windpipe. He struggled briefly, threatening to break out before her free hand curled into a fist and she landed a sharp punch in his solar plexus. The man's eyes went wide and he fell to his knees, barely registering his mask being ripped off his head. His head fully exposed, Saya lifted both hands and clapped his ears with all her strength. The cultist's entire body recoiled, a shriek of agony coming from his throat as he reached for his ears in a futile attempt to cover his burst eardrums - only to find her hands still there, holding onto his head like a ball as magical heat poured in from her fingers. The noises that came from his throat could not be described as human. He struggled to pry her hands off him, hitting her arms and crying out like a wild animal while the muscles in his body seized and twitched uncontrollably.
A moment later, his eyes glazed over and he became limp, boiling blood dripping from his nose and scorched ears, carrying the distinct stink of smoke. Saya's eyes were watering from the heat and she wanted to throw up, but she pushed the urge down. Two left.
She heard a stomp behind herself, and without another moment's delay the Dragonborn whipped around, blindly throwing another firebolt in the leader's direction. Immediately, her eyes widened as her projectile dissipated harmlessly against the carcass of a frost atronach. Before she could so much as curse, her own move was turned on her as the massive limb of ice slammed into her torso, taking her clean off her feet. The Dragonborn's body slammed into the wall, pinned to it with the icy limb pushing on her chest. She could've sworn she felt one of the ribs crack.
Again, the gloating leader approached, healing magic swirling around a hand he pressed against the wound on his stomach. "Lucky hit. There won't be another," he said, looking to his left to see his archer companion struggling to pull out the dagger from her shoulder, wincing and gritting her teeth. He shook his head, mentally commanding the atronach to raise its other arm, preparing for a finishing blow. "I suppose your heart will make as good an offering as your head. Have any more quips or prayers to your false gods, Deceiver?"
Saya struggled to gasp for a breath, her feet kicking in the air. She placed both of her hands onto the atronach's arm, holding herself up. A hateful gaze was cast in the direction of the faceless daedra and its summoner as she sorted through her options. She didn't have the magicka for a spell strong enough to blast away this creature before it could turn her head into a pulp, her sword wouldn't do a thing, and the arm currently pressing on her ribcage wouldn't exactly let her draw a big enough breath to Shout...
And then, it came to her. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. The cultist watched her, scornful but still waiting for her last words in a twisted form of courtesy. "Gods? Not… agh, fuck-" A half-faked coughing fit interrupted her speech, a fist slamming down on the frost atronach's arm. The creature didn't even budge. Oh well, it was worth a shot. "N-not really. Will my ancestors suffice?"
The man raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, confused. The confusion was quickly replaced with alarm, however, as searing hot flames engulfed Saya's entire body. The frost atronach's arm began to melt into nothingness and the Dragonborn dropped onto the floor, gasping for a breath again. The leader panicked, commanding the creature to strike her again. The atronach moved as fast as its damaged body would allow, winding up for another punch - but this one did not reach its target. Saya opened her eyes and smirked, looking up to see the flaming apparition of a Dunmer man blocking the atronach's attack with a pair of swords stuck into the daedra's arm.
The ancestor ghost let out a battlecry, drawing its swords apart to widen the crack until the icy limb split in two, a chunk of arcane ice falling onto the floor before dissipating into thin air. Dread seeped into the fanatic's mind as he watched, overwhelming him - so much so that it took Saya punching him square in the masked face to awaken him from the stupor. He stumbled back, letting out a malice-filled growl. The Dragonborn unsheathed her Stormblade, not wasting another moment before going in for her next strike.
The ghost continued assailing the atronach, pushing it back with each strike, a spinning dervish of blades and flame rending the daedra asunder. The frenzied, dance-like movements came to an end with a large, X-shaped overhead slash that destroyed the creature, its remains falling onto the ground and melting into an unstable substance that dissolved in the air, leaving behind only miniscule grains of frost salts. The ghost turned its head sharply towards the archer, who yelped, crawling back and scrambling to stand up with one arm. The ancestor only gave her a spiteful look before brandishing his swords and charging forward.
The group leader scrambled back to make some distance between himself and Saya, one hand pressed against the slash she left on his thigh in a futile attempt to heal it. The Dragonborn herself, on the other hand, did not pause for a second, continuing to throw stab after stab in the cultist's direction, poking holes through his robes and his flesh alike. One particularly strong jab pierced the man's shoulder, producing a pained scream before she tugged her sword out and he fell onto his back, huffing and shaking in agony.
Saya approached him slowly, staring him down as she spoke in a low voice. "Talk. Who sent you?"
The man coughed, clutching the wound in his torso, hopelessly trying to stop the bleeding or, at least, the pain. "T-this is… This is but a t-temporary setback…! Lord Miraak will return, and then… T-then, all your lies will be exposed!"
Saya squinted. She did not recognize the name. "...Lord Miraak, you say?"
She could feel him grin under his mask, a grim chuckle escaping his lips. "Ooh yes… Our Lord… He will make you p-pay… Our suffering is-" The Dunmer broke into a cough, blood flowing from under his mask. "This pain is but an investment into what He will bring unto you!" Suddenly, his hand shot up, a bolt of lightning fully formed at the center of his palm. Reflexively, the Dragonborn put up her sword-
She had expected pain, mentally cursing her body for moving before thinking as she braced herself for the shock. However, it never came. Surprised, she looked at Stormblade. She saw the magical lightning impact it, pushing it back, yet instantly weakening, as if hitting a ward. Then, she noticed the blade itself begin to… crackle. Small zaps of electricity coursing through the metal, coiling around it.
The cultist went still, the gaze behind his mask moving slowly behind Saya. The last member of his group was on the floor, weeping and crying out for mercy before the last blow of the ghost's curved blade sent her head rolling on the floor. The leader shook, but not with fear. With rage. Despite being in such a pitiful state, his voice was filled to the brim with the most bitter of venom. "...Pay…! You will PAY!" He hissed, even through the tiny peepholes in the mask she could see the mad gleam of his red eyes.
Saya looked at the Ancestor spirit behind her. Their gazes locked, and a small nod from her was signal enough for the ghost to give her a small bow before vanishing. Her left hand rose above her head, the lightning still sizzling in the heavy blade. "Then I will greet him as you did me." She swung down, and the metal sank into the cultist's shoulder with ease, as though cutting through butter. Every muscle in his body seized up momentarily, magical shocks dancing and rippled across his skin, his exposed vessels darkening like paper tossed into a campfire.
Then, he went still. And as the fleeting scent of smoke tickled Saya's nostrils, the chamber was plunged into a deafening silence.
I knew it! I fucking knew it!
Bloody bastards, don't even know where they came from. Materials look like they're from Morrowind, but something about those masks is just… off. I can't put my finger on it, but it doesn't look like something they'd make back in, say, Blacklight or something. I'm taking one of these things with me. Maybe someone else will recognize it.
Speaking of searching the bodies - there was a note in the leader's pocket. All crumpled up, and it didn't look like something he'd write - at the very least, I am damn sure he wouldn't call himself my friend and cordially invite me to Riverwood in the same breath as he would tell me how I'm going to die by his hand.
Putting two and two together, though, it was probably this writer that took the horn. I can't exactly just come back to Arngeir without it, so I don't have much choice. Riverwood it is.
I'll be heading out to Dawnstar now, I suppose. Traveling out at night is definitely risky, but it's better than sleeping in a crypt full of re-deaded undead where I also got ambushed by people who weren't anything-dead. A bit too much dead for my liking.
Try saying that five times fast.
I got to Dawnstar in the small hours of the morning. I don't think I'll need much sleep, seeing as how it's only been a few hours since our camping at Ustengrav. Just a little nap should do. Wouldn't want to lose too much daytime.
I haven't told Lydia about the attack. It's just not good timing, really. Hasn't even been a week since we had that talk about her being too protective, and the moment she leaves my side I get into this kind of scuffle. Like putting out a fire with oil.
I'll tell her eventually. Probably. But definitely not now.
Hopefully one day will be enough to make the Whiterun stretch, but we'll need to do some shopping before we go. I'm not very used to traveling with other people so our rations are on the low side.
Besides, this is a port town, right? Maybe I'll find something interesting.
Sundas, the 31st of Last Seed, 4E201
The cooling embers were teetering on the brink of going out, but their warm orange glow was still enough to light the basement's cold walls. The pedal pressed repeatedly, slowly pushing the grinding stone's wheel to turn. Saya pressed a straight, dark-colored sword against it, the weapon releasing a sharp hiss as it received its first ever sharpening. She didn't notice the beads of sweat forming on her forehead anymore, having paused her work far too many times in the past few hours to wipe them away only for them to reappear seconds later.
Lydia sat on a chair beside her, watching the process with great interest for some time now. She'd walked in on her Thane some three, four hours ago when she had just finished shaping the weapon-in-progress. Her eyes wandered over the relaxed movement of Saya's hands and feet, the sword's shrill grinding sound turning into white noise in the back of her mind as she watched the Dunmer periodically stop the stone to check the blade's shape. Then, she'd go right back to it again.
"You look really comfortable doing that." The housecarl eventually commented, leaning into the back of the chair. Truly, she'd seen other blacksmiths work before, such as Adrianne - the two were friends, seeing as how their fathers were both working in the Jarl's court and they'd meet nigh on every day at the palace as children. Lydia wasn't an artisan, herself, but she could recognize a good smith when she saw one. "Where did you learn to work with metal?"
A fond smile stretched Saya's lips. "It was my father who taught me. Halvard was his name. He was a Reachman by race, but definitely a Nord at heart." She exhaled softly, almost like a quiet laugh leaving her mouth. "Born and raised in Markarth. You know how it goes there - you're either a nobleman, a trader, a miner, or a smith. So he became a smith, and a damn good one at that. Traveled all over selling his things, be it strong blades or beautiful necklaces. When he settled down with my mother, ebony and silver were something of his signature. Two homes united in one, he'd call it… Heh. Cheesy old man."
The wheel of the grindstone continued turning, sparks sometimes coming off the black blade. The orange light of the forge seemed to dance and merge with the blade's color, turning into a deep, purple glint.
"He'd let me stay and watch him work often. Then one time, when he wasn't looking, I took his hammer and tried beating at whatever something he was working on. Some axe, I think." The Dunmer paused the wheel to laugh for a few seconds. The blade in her hands was quickly taking its final shape in her experienced hands. "Ended up breaking off the hook accidentally. He didn't yell at me or anything, though. No, instead he told me to repair it under his instruction, but without any assistance. A punishment of sorts to learn the value of the hard work that goes into making something like this."
Lydia listened to her Thane talk with great interest. In the days they'd traveled together, Saya almost never allowed herself a genuine laugh that wasn't backed by snark or cockiness. So to see her go on and on was almost a little captivating.
"It was… B'set, it must've been a day or so until I got the blasted thing back into proper shape. And what's worse - it just would not stop breaking over and over again." The Dragonborn let out a frustrated sigh. The memory was just so fresh in her mind, even if it was so long ago. "And… well, that's how I learned about why properly heating the metal is important and got my father to start teaching me."
The housecarl hummed in thought. He must've been quite the talented craftsman back in the day, then. Though… Wait, how long ago was "back in the day"?
"My Thane? How old were you when that happened?"
Saya looked at the ceiling, touching her chin as she attempted to remember. "It was… I think I was 14 when that happened. I was quite the disaster as a teen, I'm told." She snickered.
Lydia only squinted at that. Her eyes scanned the Dunmer's features as she continued to work. She didn't look that old - maybe in her twenties? Though then again, some elven folk can live hundreds of years, can't they. Better safe than sorry.
"And… how old are you now?" The Nord asked cautiously, as if stepping on cracked ice. She didn't know how sensitive Saya was about that sort of thing and whether it'd be a question that could get her worked up… and what the consequences for that would be.
Saya didn't so much as look away, however. "One hundred and ten. I've gotten some practice on my own, heh." The mer said, a slight smirk on her face. Her red eyes were focused on the sword in her hands, however, so she didn't see Lydia's dumbfounded expression. Instead, she continued with the sharpening for maybe another minute or so before the grinding suddenly came to a complete halt. "Alright, here you go."
Lydia needed to blink multiple times before her brain caught up. In front of her, Saya was offering her the finished sword. It was a straight one-handed blade, albeit rather wide. Peculiarly enough, it did not seem to have a fuller, completely flat along the side of the blade. Its edges closely followed the curve of the material, being noticeably thin - more like an axeblade or a greatsword's edge rather than a standard sword. The grip was painted black, and the closer it got to the beginning of the blade the more it seemed to "merge" with the guard - the cross guard looking almost like a four-ended star with an oval tear in the middle.
"Wh- but why?" The housecarl's first surprise at her Thane's age passed mere moments ago only to be replaced with a second shock at receiving the new weapon.
Saya raised an eyebrow, reaching for the dagger of identical material that was on her table and pushing the pedal again to get the grindstone going and begin sharpening it. "What do you mean, 'why'? Did you think I'd spend half a thousand drakes on materials to hang it on the wall or something?" Saya let out a quiet chuckle. "It's for you."
"I… Thank you." The Nord forced out awkwardly as she looked at the ebony sword. She could see her own reflection in the flat side of the blade, clearly showing how her brows furrowed. It felt so strange. Exotic. Like it didn't belong in her hands. She wanted to say something again but, as her gaze tore away from the sword, she saw that the Dunmer was already at it again, getting an ebony dagger into working order.
The housecarl watched the process with a dumbfounded, almost blank look, her thoughts someplace other than the process of smithing. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, hesitant on whether or not her words should be voiced or not. She shot her new weapon another look, and found her brows furrowing. Some hero should be wielding this, she thought. Some dragonslayer. Not a random soldier.
Lydia's eyes moved to look at her hair, comparing the dark shine of her locks with the dark blue of the ebony. She had her hair compared to ebony before, when she was younger. Now, she felt like it looked nothing alike. She sighed, leaning back in the chair, the furniture producing a slight creak. At the move of a hand, her hair got brushed away, and the Nord continued to scan the room with a disinterested look.
That is, until she noticed a distinct piece of bone lying on the table. Her knuckles turned a lighter color as her grip around the sword unconsciously tightened. That's right… "Some dragonslayer".
"My Thane? How is it like to fight a dragon?" The question left Lydia's lips quietly, a slight raspiness present in her voice. It's as if she spoke on accident, almost. She didn't bother mentally berating herself, though - what worth is it? The words have already been spoken after all.
The grinding continued at the same volume, but Saya's voice was not drowned in the noise. Without turning her head or her eyes, she responded. "Pretty terrifying. But, in a weird way, it's kind of... Exhilarating, I suppose. Why do you ask?"
The housecarl sighed, staying silent for a while. It's not as if she had to think of an answer. She had one ready as soon as she heard the question, but it wasn't one she felt comfortable with voicing. The metallic hiss of the metal being shaved off with a grindstone filled the room again.
It was a long minute before she spoke up again. "Your… Dragonborn nature. It is your destiny to hunt dragons, isn't it? The way you can Shout just like them and devour their souls… It is all for the sake of making you a more capable hunter, right?"
Saya hummed. "Probably. Arngeir, the spokesperson of the Greybeards, told me that the Dragonborn are sent in times of great strife to set things right. The dragons returning is the strife this time, so it's for that purpose that I am Dragonborn. I assume." Her hands lifted the dagger off the grindstone as she closed one eye, carefully gauging the quality of her work before flipping it over to the other side and repeating the process.
"Are…" Lydia shifted in her chair, an unsure expression on her face. "Are you sure that, when you face a dragon, you could kill it? That… since it's your duty, then you are capable of doing it?"
"No." The reply was immediate. The housecarl flinched slightly, but did not interject. The movement of the grindstone paused for a second, and Saya turned to look at Lydia. "Every fight is a gamble. All that I can do is use what I have as best as I can. It's the most any of us can do, really."
Lydia's eyes lowered back to the blade. The person staring back at her from the reflection could only be described as doubtful. Unfit. Her expression devolved into a scowl with every second she had to look at it.
"You don't think you can help me kill a dragon." Saya said. It wasn't a question - it didn't need to be. Lydia's face alone was proof enough of that statement. "And now you're setting more unrealistically high standards for yourself in your head thinking that you have to 'earn' that weapon I gave you. Am I correct?"
There was no reply.
"You think that, because it's your duty to be a housecarl, then you need to match and compliment me in everything that I do. You think that because I'm not a 'regular person'," Saya lifted one of her hands to make an air quote just for emphasis, "then you, too, need to be extraordinary or be considered a disappointment. Is that it?"
There was no reply. Only a barely audible deep breath.
"What's your name?"
Lydia's head lifted in confusion. Her eyes looked glassy, like her inner thought storm had sapped her of all energy to continue talking. Nevertheless, with a hoarse voice, she muttered. "Lydia."
"Exactly. You're Lydia." Saya nodded, smiling and turning away to begin pushing the grinding stone's pedal again. "You're not Saya. You're not Hrongar. You're not Ysgramor. Do you know what that means?"
There was no reply. Lydia's hands clenched into fists, her arms shaking. She bit her lip, and an unpleasant metallic taste met her tongue.
"It means that your target shouldn't be to match or become someone else. You're you, Lydia." The Dunmer said. The grinding of the dagger continued on for a while longer. The noise was becoming quieter, more bearable. The ebony edge had gained its signature dark purple glint. Satisfied with her work, the Dragonborn set it aside. "The only thing you have to be is yourself."
There was no reply. Only a quiet hiccup, and a sheepish smile.
The sun wasn't yet up when we moved out from Dawnstar. By the time we arrived at Whiterun it was late afternoon at most, so I decided to go to Breezehome's basement and try to make something new. Wouldn't want to get out of practice.
After some thinking, I decided on an arming sword for Lydia and a single dagger for me. Both out of ebony. The sword, I'd wager, would do better than the steel blade she had until then (just a few fights with draugr were enough to get it full of nicks!). The dagger, on the other hand, I'll probably put in my boot or something. It'll do well enough to replace that sword I got from Silent Moons, and besides - a weapon with a little more flavor for stealth is never a bad idea.
Anywho, I am completely beat. Lydia seemed like she was in a rather bad shape, too. I made us a simple something to eat and left her portion in her room. Hopefully she'll eat it.
Won't know until tomorrow, I guess.
Morndas, the 1st of Heartfire, 4E201
Alright, morning came and Lydia looked a lot better, thankfully. I won't judge a girl for needing to cry it out sometimes. Done it far too many times myself to reserve the right to be judgemental.
We got all set and went on our way to Riverwood before the sun hit its zenith. The settlement was as quiet as ever, other than the noticeable addition of a few soldiers in Whiterun's garb patrolling about. Overall the people seemed to be a bit off, in some way. As if they were at ease, but somehow tense at the same time. But I suppose that kind of thing came with the guard reinforcements. On one hand, you feel safer knowing that someone is here to protect you in case things go south. On the other hand, the expansion of one's defenses usually only means one thing - there's a bigger enemy to defend from.
Which wasn't wrong, sadly.
Now then, if memory serves, I have someone to pay a visit to.
Softly, as if she was only half-sure whether or not she wanted to enter, Saya knocked on the wooden door. The forge was not yet lit outside Alvor's house, so if she remembered correctly, then the family would be having breakfast around this time. Slight nervousness showed in her posture, she kept shifting from foot to foot. The Dunmer herself was unsure where the anxiety came from - it's not as if they parted on bad terms, albeit she didn't give much of a goodbye - but the fact that it was there remained, much to her distaste.
The Dragonborn instinctively straightened her back when she heard the hinges creak. Then, internally scolding herself, she relaxed her posture to the best of her ability as her eyes caught the glimpse of small, pale fingers grasping the door and opening it. Their owner was a little Nord girl of 11, maybe 12 years of age, with big brown eyes and long, braided blonde hair. At the sight of her guest, the girl's mouth parted in a smile as she shouted:
"Mama, papa! Saya is here!"
Saya couldn't help but snort and return the gleeful grin. "Hello to you too, Dorthe." The Dunmer's hand patted the girl's head. She called out, soon after: "May I come in?"
A barking laugh came from the inside - Alvor, the father of the household. "Of course! Come on in, come on in." She wasted no time, carefully stepping indoors and shutting the wooden door behind herself. Indoors it was noticeably warmer - despite it being only the first day of autumn, the Skyrim weather was not so gentle as to let the denizens forget about the upcoming winter.
The family was sitting at a simple table, a meal of fried chicken and some vegetables filling every plate. Notably, however, there were only three of them - one man was missing from the table.
"Where's Hadvar?" Saya asked, the answer however finding its way into her thoughts almost instantly after the question was voiced. "Already off-"
"-to fight for the Empire, yes." Sigrid finished, sighing. "He left a few days after you did. We tried to convince him to at least stay the week, but he wouldn't hear a word of it."
Saya nodded sympathetically, pulling up a chair and sitting down away from the table. "Sounds like something he'd do, alright… What about the things here? With the guards and everything?"
"They're a great help." Alvor piped up. "We just had a small… attack. Without these lads, I don't think there would have been much left of Riverwood."
"An attack? Here? Why?"
Alvor shrugged. "A pack of vampires. There's been talk of some vampire hunters rebuilding a fort near Riften. Call themselves Dawnguard, I think. I'd imagine such a rumor would rustle the nests of these bloodsuckers. Thought they were safe as long as they kept quiet."
Saya nodded, her brows furrowing. "And now that there's someone who is actively smoking them out, they decided to go big and get some cattle." These were definitely worrying news. She had heard of this kind of thing in inns and from guards and such, but it seemed like little more than a rumor up until now. If it's enough to rally up the vampires, though, then evidently these self-proclaimed 'hunters' weren't all talk.
"Thank you very much for notifying the Jarl when you did." Sigrid said, somewhat diluting the grim mood of the room. At Saya's quizzical expression, she explained: "The guards mentioned someone like you being granted a title. It was you, wasn't it?"
The Dragonborn gave a small awkward smile at the comment. "Yeah, it's true. Oh! That reminds me!" Quickly, Saya slung the backpack off her shoulders and began rummaging through it. Dorthe, as would be expected of a curious child, was trying her darndest to look over the table and into the pack, almost falling into her plate in the process before she sat back down.
The Dunmer rummaged through the inner compartments for a few seconds. Then, she pulled out something from the bag, her closed fist concealing the item. "Dorthe, could you come here please? I brought you a little something."
The girl quickly hopped off the chair at the mention of her name. The Dragonborn's hand opened to reveal a large ivory tooth hanging on a leather string, the sharp end of it purposefully dulled to prevent anyone from hurting themselves by accident.
While the child beamed with wonder, the adults' eyes widened in shock. Mouth agape, Alvor stood up from his seat. "Is that…?"
The Dunmer couldn't help but laugh. "Well, one does not become a Thane without performing some kind of feat, now do they?"
Dorthe's smile probably could not get any brighter than it did when Saya carefully locked the accessory around the child's neck. One of Mirmulnir's fangs had now found its new home.
After a quick chat with the family I double checked the note from Ustengrav. Attic room… last I checked, The Sleeping Giant doesn't have a second floor, much less an attic. Whoever wanted me to come here probably works at the inn or paid the innkeeper so that they'd tip them off when I'm in the right place.
Considering there's no attic, Delphine gave me a two person bedroom - the only one that wasn't occupied thanks to the influx of guards, who have yet to construct a proper outpost or barrack or… much of anything, really.
I also made a point to ask her if anyone unusual came by, but supposedly the Giant didn't have many patrons other than the aforementioned lawbringers. All things considered, the suspicion keeps leaning towards the inn: if nobody came by, then the note sender was someone from the village; alternatively, Delphine is in on it and is lying. In either case the odds aren't in her favor.
I'll try to stay up later tonight - maybe I'll get to catch whoever this mysterious thief is. Dinner should be coming in just a few minutes, but somehow I don't feel all too hungry.
Saya chuckled to herself quietly. Her eyes had just darted to see if Lydia was occupying herself with anything, only to find the housecarl peacefully passed out in bed. Thankfully, the Dunmer convinced her to take off the armor before eating, so at least she wouldn't wake up sweaty and aching tomorrow.
The sound of a coal stick scribbling across the paper was somewhat soothing to the ears. It was already dark outside, and most people would soon be finishing up their suppers and heading to bed. As such, there was almost no noise to disturb the mood of the room. Saya was just about finishing up her note writing for the day, lying on her belly and kicking her feet as idle amusement. Her eyes occasionally moved away from the journal and towards the meal she had been diligently ignoring for some time now. Back when it was just served, her nerves were still on high alert, so she didn't eat out of paranoia. Now however, the hunger had begun to set in, only to face an enemy stronger than paranoia - procrastination. "Maybe just a few more minutes… Then I'll definitely eat", the Dunmer would say for the umpteenth time. And then she never did.
Gradually, the writing of letters and the striking out of achieved objectives had slowed down to a complete halt. The scribbling had stopped, and now Saya's crimson eyes wandered over the text, refreshing her memory on the tasks at hand. With that white noise gone, the sound of an odd thrush singing its song to the moons filled her mind. The flow of the river, calm and stable. Ever so faint, the distant splashing of the waterfalls downstream.
And then, the creaking of the door.
Almost a little too readily, Saya all but leaped off the bed and sparked a flame that compressed into a small fireball in her palm. It soon dissipated, however, when she was met with the surprised expression of Delphine. The tension in the Dunmer's features quickly sapped away and turned into tiredness, as she mustered a quiet apology. "Sorry. Thought you were someone else. I'll take out the dishes soon."
The Breton gave her a peculiar look, to which Saya paid no mind. The Dunmer sat back down onto her bed, reaching for the tray with her meal. "Someone's jumpy today. Expecting guests?" The innkeeper attempted to break the silence, producing a dry chuckle from the Dunmer.
"Maybe, just not the kind you'd want in your room in the middle of the night." She said, reaching for the spoon. One her hand found the utensil, she sank it into the soup and brought it up to her lips.
"You know, I wouldn't do that if I were you." The Dunmer's hand froze. She peered slowly towards the doorway, and Delphine was still standing there. The door was closed behind her, and she was looking Saya right in the eyes as she stepped closer. "Not unless you want to end up like your friend over there."
The Dragonborn's eyes widened as she stared at her housecarl, sound asleep. Lydia was not usually asleep this early. She'd be diligently waiting for Saya to fall asleep first unless they specifically talked about the Dunmer taking first watch. It was… wrong.
A chill ran down Saya's spine. "...you poisoned the food."
"Just a strong sleeping aid, she'll be fine in the morning. I had no way of knowing which one of you would take which portion, so both are spiked. If both of you fell asleep, then I'd have simply carried you away, and then we could talk. Privately." The word was forced through gritted teeth, emphasized with a glare in Lydia's direction. "That is, if you are who I think you are."
The two women stared each other down for a very long few moments before Saya asked. "Did you write the note?" Delphine nodded, a somewhat condescending, if not commanding look seeping through despite her small stature. It was as if she was not listening to what the Dunmer had to say, but rather allowing her to talk. "Yes. I am Dragonborn."
"Good. You'll have a chance to prove that soon enough. Follow me." Without a moment's wait, the innkeeper then turned around and went for the exit. Saya quickly put the food tray away onto the table, hastily slid into her shoes, and followed the Breton.
The inn was mainly empty outside. There were no patrons other than a drunk Embry who fell asleep on the table, still kind of holding a mug half-full with ale. Orgnar was wiping a cup clean, seemingly not caring about the sleeping customer, but raising his head as soon as he saw Delphine and Saya leave the room. He and Delphine exchanged a glance and a nod, and no questions were asked from him as the Breton opened the door to her room.
Once the Dunmer closed the door behind them, a key flashed in Delphine's hand. She opened her closet, and immediately after inserted the key somewhere in the side of the piece of furniture - which, curiously, appeared to be nailed to the wall with no space in between them. With a click, some kind of contraption seemed to activate, and right afterwards the back wall of the closet slid to the side, revealing a passage hidden in the wall - a stairway leading into a basement.
Delphine gave Saya a head tilt in the passage's direction, and soon both of them were inside. It was a relatively sizable room, with walls of stone supported by timber pillars. In the far corner, Saya could spot an alchemist station with a variety of reagents stored in many jars, pouches, and displays on the wall-mounted shelves. To her left was a somewhat impressive collection of books, a lot of them stacked on what looked like a small coffee table - meant for a drink that Saya has not had the supposed pleasure of tasting before, but has heard good things about - while others served both as filling and decor on the many bookshelves, the top level being just under the ceiling. On her right, was a somewhat impressive mini-armory consisting of a mannequin-mounted set of very finely-made leather armor, and a weapon rack featuring a bow not unlike that of an Imperial soldier, along with a set of slightly greenish blades - a dagger and a broadsword, both made of orichalcum.
Last but not least, there was the table in the room's center, a small chair standing nearby with a brown leather backpack hanging off the back. Again, on the table edges lay various books in bindings new and old. In the center was a very large map of Skyrim, the kind you'd see on a war room's table rather than a traveler pack. Different colored markings with scribbled notes were all over it, most of them concentrated on the northeast edge of the province. In the empty space on the southwest, where Hammerfell lay, was a large, engraved stone tablet. A very… Familiar stone tablet.
"...the Dragonstone." Saya realized. The hooded figure, who so quickly departed upon her arrival. "It was you. You're Farengar's partner."
Delphine gave the Dunmer a small smirk as she put her hands on the table. "Smarter than you look. That's good. If your identity is easy to guess, you don't do a good enough job at hiding it."
Saya crossed her arms. She wasn't sure if the statement was simply a backhanded compliment or a warning. "You certainly didn't spare any effort into concealing yours."
Just as easily as it appeared, the smirk disappeared from the Breton's face. "It was necessary. There are enemies all around, the times when the words 'too careful' existed have long passed by now. I needed to make sure you weren't one of their spies."
"Spies? How do I know you aren't another one of the insane folks who attacked me?" Saya's temper was beginning to show itself. She tapped her foot, brows furrowing in irritation. Delphine gave her a look that bordered a glare, and turned to rummage through a backpack that was hanging off her chair, looking for something while she talked.
"If you're talking about the masked people who followed me into the tomb, then I can tell you now I'm not one of them. Though it's possible they were trying to find you the same way I did, even if not for the same reasons." Delphine fished a small object out of the pack, putting it on the table with a small thud. A horn. "If the Greybeards are as predictable as they always are, you were looking for this."
Saya reached for the horn and took it in her hands, shaking her head in confusion. This… This was it. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. "Why are you giving me this?"
"Because the only use I had for it was to get to you, and without the Horn those monks probably wouldn't let you into their little sect, which would limit your potential greatly… That is, if you are Dragonborn."
Saya took a step back. "You mean you don't believe me? Who even are you?"
Delphine's eyes got cold. She was obviously not very fond of being questioned but was attempting to be patient for the sake of whatever plan she had brewing in her head. "I'm part of a group that's been looking for a Dragonborn for a long, long time." She said, leaning onto the table.
"Why?"
"Because we remember what others forgot." The words were sharp, almost as if fed by some kind of poorly concealed frustration. "Whenever anyone hears 'Dragonborn', their minds instantly jump to the now-gone Dragonborn Emperors. Throne warmers, and nothing more. My people know who you really are. What you really are."
Delphine swiftly pulled an iron dagger off her belt and stabbed it into the map. When she let go, the blade had sunk so deep into the wood that it stayed straight up, like some kind of oversized marker.
"Dragonborn are the ultimate dragon hunters. You're the ones who possess the gift of their weapons and the ability to devour their souls. Your kind are the only ones who can truly kill a dragon." The Breton said, every word spoken like a captain's briefing, precise and deliberate. "And that is precisely why I need you to prove you're Dragonborn."
Saya scratched her chin. Her vision of Delphine the innkeeper had been shattered quite some time ago, so now she couldn't help but wonder how much she knew, and how much she was actually willing to say. "...And what's the part you're not telling me?"
Delphine gave a small, almost wry smile. "Dragons aren't just coming back. They're coming back to life. " She pointed at the different spots that were circled on the map, and Saya looked at each of them. Wait, weren't those… "The dragon burial mounds. I had gone to multiple of them, and there were many empty spots." She pointed at the ones marked in red. Curiously, they were all around the same area.
The Dragonborn's brows furrowed. "They're almost all around Eastmarch… but why?"
"No idea. But if this pattern continues, I think I know where the next resurrection will happen."
"Where?"
Delphine pointed at one of the black circles on the map, a red cross drawn inside it. "Kynesgrove. There's an ancient mound up there, containing the corpse of a dragon killed sometime in the First Era, named Sahloknir. We're going to go there, kill it, you will devour its soul, and hopefully we'll get a glimpse of whoever is behind all of this."
Saya squinted. In her thought was a swirling mess of different emotions ranging from distaste to honest-to-gods respect. As much as she didn't like to be ordered around, she had to admit that the plan did make sense. And if Delphine was right about the dragon resurrections…
"Alright. When are we going, then?"
For once, Delphine's smile didn't seem to have any malice in it. "Tomorrow after breakfast. The earlier we move out, the earlier we arrive, and if we do it early enough in the morning we'll be at Kynesgrove by Middas' evening."
Saya put her hand to her chin, thinking. "And what about Lydia?"
"Will she be a hindrance?"
Saya blinked, slightly taken aback. "I… Don't think so?"
Delphine shrugged. "Then take her with you. A little experience in fighting dragons will go a long way if you're gonna keep travelling together." Her tone was rather nonchalant now that she got the 'recruiting' out of the way. She passed by the Dunmer, heading up the stairs and out into her room. "I suggest you go to sleep now. I want to spend as little time as we can on this trip, so you'll need all the rest you can get."
Saya nodded, stepping outside as well and heading for the room exit. Her hand stopped when she was just about to grab the handle, though. Her head turned and she spoke. "Oh, and one more thing, may I ask a question?"
Delphine, who was in the middle of taking off her boots for the night, answered without looking up. "What is it?"
"Are you always this friendly?"
The innkeeper stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, her head lifted up, silently staring at Saya. The Dunmer only had to look at such a death glare once before she shrugged and opened the door.
"You know what? That's fair. Goodnight."
And then she left.
Tirdas, the 2nd of Hearthfire, 4E201
It took quite the hot moment to explain to Lydia why exactly we were going to go with Delphine to kill a dragon that may or may not be there. Obviously she was against the idea at first, but she did give in once I mentioned the horn. I'll need to give it back at one point, now that I think about it… Probably on the way back. If this dragon has already been raised then the time we have is very limited. Definitely not enough to scale a mountain and then drag ourselves through half the province.
Oh, Lydia says she's done putting on her armor. Time to move out.
I'm not going to lie, I'm both impressed and scared at Delphine's prowess. I'm all but convinced she's got some background that she's not telling me about. Though I can't say I blame her. This kind of paranoia and secrecy doesn't come from nowhere.
She's afraid. Jumpy. Suspicious. I don't think she even knows how to let her guard down anymore. I don't even know if that'd be a good thing to do.
We set up camp a little ways away from Kynesgrove. Mixwater Mill, I think the place is called. Pleasant folks, didn't let us in but said they don't mind if we set up under the watermill roof. I'm thankful even for that: clouds have been gathering up for a while now, guessing it will be snowing tonight.
Now, where was my sleeping bag…
Middas, the 3rd of Hearthfire, 4E201
It was quiet. For almost an hour, the three had been walking in complete silence. Saya's hands were still warm from the magical flames she used to dry herself and Delphine off - once they had set out in the morning, the realization quickly came that the nearest bridge to the other side of White River would be near Windhelm, which would be a 4 hour long hook that they could not afford to make. Instead, after finding a shallow enough part in the river, they swam across one by one and dried off on the other side.
Delphine was leading the way. Occasionally, she'd gaze down at the map in her hands to make sure they were still on course, but she never stopped. Right behind her were Saya and Lydia, the housecarl holding a bow in hand with an arrow in the other. The Nord in particular has been very quiet during the entire trip. Any of Saya's attempts to make her speak her mind so far had proven unsuccessful, so she settled for the deafening silence instead. By now, though, the Dunmer had gotten quite tired of the stressful atmosphere hanging around the three constantly.
"Are you feeling alright, Lydia?"
"Huh?" Lydia's head jerked, as if shaken out of some kind of trance. She blinked, before giving a small, half-hearted nod. "Oh, yes, my Thane."
Saya shook her head. Her words spoke of one thing, but the dismissive tone conveyed the opposite. She didn't push the issue, however. Doing so would only leave her housecarl even more agitated.
"I hope you're a better fighter than you are a liar." Both of the women instantly turned their attention towards Delphine. The Breton didn't so much as look in their direction. "If not, you might want to turn around."
Saya took an unsteady breath. Not this again. "Delphine-"
"I wasn't talking to you." Tap, tap, tap, tap. The innkeeper's gait was as even and calm as it was before she began speaking. Her eyes were focused elsewhere - on the small tavern-like building off in the distance. Not much longer… "I have an idea of the level of skill you have already, seeing as how you got through Bleak Falls Barrow and Ustengrav. Your friend, though, has not displayed any such feat yet. And if she doesn't think that she can be trusted with my life, then I'd rather she leave now instead of being a liability."
Lydia's grip tightened around her bow. Her expression noticeably darkened. "I don't know who you think you are, and I don't care to know it. I can fight just fine."
"Then act like it." Tap. Finally, Delphine paused her walk to turn around. Despite being almost a full head shorter than the housecarl, she was staring her straight in the eye. "When I look at you, I don't see a hunter. I see a scared puppy who thinks herself a war hound just because her master is around. You're afraid."
"I'm not-"
"You are." She took a step towards the black haired Nord. Unblinking, she still peered straight into Lydia's eyes. "And if you can't control it, you will get yourself killed, if not all of us. A moment's hesitation in battle makes the difference between life and death. An arrow shot too late, a strike delayed too long, a grip not tight enough - anything. You're not fighting a bar drunk. You will be fighting a dragon. And if you have time to worry about whether or not you'll fuck it up, you better spend it on trying to avoid that."
"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt…"
Saya's voice cut in before Lydia could think of a retort. The two women turned their gaze towards the Dunmer, who was standing ahead of them, staring off into the distance. The Nord and Breton exchanged a distasteful glance, silently agreeing that the conversation was not over yet, but that they were willing to put it aside for the moment.
"What is it?" Delphine asked, standing beside the Dragonborn and turning her head in the same direction. What she saw was answer enough, though. The bleak blue sky above them was darkening - shifting to a dark, ominous grey. The clouds pulled together, almost spiraling into a center spot, and the rustling of distant trees made it known that wind was picking up greatly. And it all culminated above a small settlement, some few minutes of walking away from them - Kynesgrove. Whatever sunlight washed over the province was blocked, plunging the area into shadow, and the dense stratus above was seemingly beginning to pelt the area with slowly intensifying snowfall.
For just a moment, Saya could swear she saw the glimmer of black wings flapping in the eye of the brewing storm.
"We need to move. Now." The urgency in the Dunmer's tone left no room for response. Without a moment's hesitation, she broke into a run, heading straight towards the grove.
Without a word, the other two followed, plunging the travelling group into tense silence once again.
"Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse."
Three breaths were held in fear and anticipation. When the group had arrived at Kynesgrove, the small snowfall had turned into a full-blown storm. The wind was howling, and soon after arrival packs were opened to procure thick cloaks to cover their owners' bodies from the furious weather. Hidden behind trees and rocks, six eyes were all on sharp lookout for the source of the ominous, growling chant.
"Sahloknir, alok nol praan. Thuriil uth ful. Ziil gro dovah ulse."
An arrow was already nocked in Lydia's bow, held with steady hands, contrasting her shaking breath. Delphine's pale skin whitened even further on the knuckles as her fingers wrapped around the handles of both of her blades. Saya's hand was hovering just shy of Stormblade's grip, prepared to draw at the slightest notice. The wind continued to howl around them, like a woeful choir of the skies themselves gasping in horror. And it split in an instant by an earth-shattering roar.
"FUS RO DAH!" The words echoed and resonated inside the mortals' eardrums like an explosion of the very air around them. A wave of force, like an invisible cannonball, impacted the mound around which they were gathered, blasting away dirt and rock as if they were dust, turning the grave into a crater. Saya peeked around her tree, and her mouth parted in a silent gasp - the sight of ivory bones was unmistakable even in such awful a storm. And not just that, but they were almost... Glowing. "Sahloknir! Hon faal Fenjuntiid! Alok fah aam ahrk nir! Ziil gro dovah ulse!"
The Dunmer's eyes widened. If the others were holding their breaths before, then now that very breath was stuck inside of their chests, an invisible hand of terror pressing on their throats at the sight of small tongues of light beginning to emerge from the skeleton inside the mound. They began to… tremble, almost. As if resonating with something. Someone.
A faint flap of wings reached their hearing, like the echo of distant noise washing over the ground. Again, and again, and again, each movement created gusts of wind that roused the dirt and snow. The howling got louder and louder, like heaving breaths inhaled between desperate, suffocating sobs. The flapping became gradually more audible, as if nearing the mound, and then…
The wind's cries stopped. Like snow melting on the ground, the gale-born veil slowly shedded and fell, revealing the pure darkness it concealed. The previously unfindable source of the demonic voice lost its invisible cloak. Twin horns that curled unnaturally, like maimed roots; serrated, spiked jaws with no scaled lips to cover the jagged teeth; a tail of thorns, swinging left and right like a maul; the wings, spiderwebs of solidified tar weaved between clawed, thin finger bones; and of course, the eyes - the blood-red sparks with not so much as a slit to serve as a pupil, shining even through the walls of snow.
"Qethiil thaarn. Sleniil vokrii. Ziil gro dovah ulse. Ziil gro zu'u ulse. Alok… Aav zu'u!" The storm's gales began to gather, snowflakes slowing their fall and rising up again into the dragon's maw as its chest expanded in a great inhale. And then, as if a ripple in reality itself, its Voice tore across the skyscape in a terrible Shout: "SLEN, TIID, VO!"
Like smouldering embers being fanned, each word brought out the light from within the bones. Small sparks and rays grew larger and brighter, and the skeleton opened its jaw to release a strangled roar as the limbs dug themselves out of whatever dirt remained. The energy began to ebb and flow more freely from the corpse as its restraints were less and less. The blinding white, orange, and blue all weaved together, knitting itself like fiber, revealing muscle, skin, and scale once the shell of light cracked and began to shed.
Sahloknir's body was a light grey color, as if crafted from dozens upon dozens of small pebbles. Its ivory horns had a curve to them - albeit more natural one than the black dragon's - growing forwards out of the skull to then bend down and point at whatever was in front of the creature, not unlike a bull. Its back was adorned with dozens of spikes, as white as the beast's own teeth, while the wings contrasted them with a dark brown that spread along the dragon's spine and shoulders like moss on a boulder. The tail was lined with two rows of spikes that grew smaller and smaller towards the end before splitting out of the sides, forming an almost arrowhead-shaped tip.
The dragon took a deep breath before it opened its eyes. They looked feral, and their color was a dull green, like the spruce needles, while the pupil was a barely visible vertical slit. Its jaws parted, giving a brief glimpse of the black gums and tongue before it began to speak. "Alduin… Thuri. Zu'u hon beliil. Boan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?"
Despite the creature possessing no lips to move, it almost looked like the black dragon grinned at its kin's words. "Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir. Nuz nu…" Its neck bent around, and much to Saya's terror, she felt the dragon's eyes drill right into her. She froze, unsure of what to do. "Togatiil wah wonun los… maar. Bo, losei Dovahkiin. Mu ont mindok hi los het."
Silence. Saya clutched Stormblade's handle, her heartbeat echoed in her ears and her breath shaking, as was her whole body. 'Dovahkiin', it said. It knew she was here. It already fucking knew.
Then, she heard a long, drawn out sigh. "Must I use this crude joor speech for you to listen to me? Come out, you and your fahdonne… your friends."
Unsure, Saya's eyes darted to Lydia, who was this close to dropping the arrow from her trembling hand. Then, to Delphine, who had unsheathed both of her weapons. The two exchanged a look, and, with a head tilt, the Breton signalled Saya to go first. And so, the Dunmer took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree, the grass and snow crunching under her boots.
"Quite the ritual you've got here. I like the part with the ominous chanting." She spoke. Although her body was tense, she tried her best to at least calm down her mind. Her eyes scanned Sahloknir, looking for any weak spots she could exploit, but each inspection only gave her frustration at her soon-to-be-opponent's capabilities. The dragon only sneered.
"Chanting…" A low chuckle came from above. "Chanting is what you joorre do when dabbling in zunsewuth… weapons of ancient times that you do not understand. When dov speak, even qethsegol, the very bones of the earth, shall obey."
Saya's brows furrowed. She raised her blade, the metal glinting with whatever faint sunlight made its way through the clouds. "Well, in that case I suppose I'm lucky that my bones are mine alone. And it's going to take more than just words to make them obey."
The black dragon was silent, staring her down with its blank red eyes. Then, it began to… tremble? As if spasming, its shoulders shook, its maw opening wide as a series of short, guttural growls came from deep inside its throat, louder and louder each time.
It was laughing.
Suddenly, the movement of the creature's wings ceased, and it landed with a loud crash as all the snow, grass, and cold dirt got crushed beneath its weight. The dragon stood on its hind limbs and turned around, using its two wings as supports before leaning down. Like a snake, its neck arched while the head lowered close to the ground, its eyes on the same level as Saya's head, yet its chin almost scratched the ground beneath as it spoke.
"Kah mey. Of all things dragon, it seems pride is the only one that you possess." The monstrous beast stared her down, its two scarlet eyes peering into the Dunmer's own. Its jaw moved, opening ever so slightly in a matter resembling a grin. "Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi." Saya's expression didn't shift a bit. Her glare continued to intensify, burrowing into the dragon with a deep, smouldering hate, but there came no verbal response - a fact that the dragon noticed and found most amusing, judging by another growling chuckle that escaped its jaws. "You do not even know our tongue, do you. Such… arrogance, to claim for yourself the proud name of dovah."
The head then rose back, away from the ground, and the neck bent around for its owner to turn its attention to Sahloknir. "Sahloknir, fahdoni. Prove your usefulness to me once more. Krii daar joorre."
As the black dragon's wings began to flap again, each swing brought a wave of wind, threatening to throw Saya off her feet. Snow and dirt got swept up, rising in a cloud before her eyes. The beast took off, giving the Dragonborn one more condescending look before it took a deep breath, and released another shout. "FEIM, ZII, GRON." The wind around it seemed to almost pull close, like the birthing moments of a hurricane, growing more and more intense, opaque even… And then it vanished.
Saya blinked. It couldn't have simply disappeared, right? But the fact remained that the winds it created completely disappeared, and the cloud of dust and snowflakes that obscured the Dunmer's vision began to fall…
To reveal a snarling dragon behind itself, its chest full with a breath ready to be released.
"WULD!" Saya's somewhat panicked Shout could not have been more timely. Her body vanished into a gust of wind and she dashed past the dragon. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she attempted to shout, but the ache in her throat instead turned it into a shrill scream: "LOOK OUT!"
"FUS, RO DAH!" An all-too-familiar shout exploded from the beast's mouth. Lydia and Delphine had both jumped as soon as they saw Sahloknir's maw open, and not a second too soon. The shockwave released had the force of a hurricane contained in a single blast, uprooting trees and sending rock and earth flying away.
Sahloknir produced a grin at the result of his work, but it quickly turned into a snarl when a whistling arrow found its way into the creature's neck. Delphine came dashing out from behind a tree, her sword and dagger gleaming green with the sunlight. The dragon raised its head, its jaws opening wide to bite her, but she suddenly dropped into a slide, instead drawing the blades across his stomach before coming out under the monster's wing.
The dragon's shoulders heaved in a sigh before its teeth bared in a savage grin. "Raanne krif. Good. I was concerned you wouldn't put up a struggle." As if on cue, his tail swept behind himself like a whip, slamming into Saya who could only release a strained cough, tumbling onto the ground. Sahloknir raised his wings, standing tall on his legs as he drew breath and prepared yet another Shout.
"FO, KRAH DIIN." A barrage of arcane cold emerged from the dragon's jaws, turning any piece of ground it happened to touch into solid ice before Sahloknir twisted his neck to aim for Delphine. The Breton's eyes widened and she turned to run behind the dragon, the back of her boots growing white with hoarfrost from the barely-avoided wave of ice.
The breath was cut short, however, as yet another arrow had found its way between the beast's scales. Once its murky green eyes locked on Lydia, she came rushing out from behind cover just in time for another blast of force to tear the tree she was hiding behind clean out of the ground. Her ears were ringing and the vapor from her own shaky breath got in her eyes, but still she ran. She couldn't afford to stop now.
Sahloknir's head lowered again and his jaws opened, sharp teeth baring to bite into the Nord. She looked back, and in a moment of panic her hands grasped her bow as one would a club and smashed the dragon across the face, but a sharp, dry snap and a low growl from the dragon proved that to be ineffective. The beast lunged forward and its jaws snapped shut, ripping the bow out of Lydia's grip before throwing it aside.
The housecarl reached behind her back, quickly taking hold of her shield and putting up a block to protect herself from the dragon's teeth. Sahloknir went in for yet another crushing bite and Lydia stumbled back, falling onto her rear and shutting her eyes tight. The pain never came, however, as a sharp ache in the dragon's thigh procured a frustrated growl from it. When the monster turned around, it saw Delphine, who stuck her orichalc dagger into the dragon's leg before once again making a run for it, this time heading for its head.
"You alright?" The black-haired Nord turned her head to see her Thane offering her hand. Lydia grasped it and stood up, shaking her head. The Dunmer sighed, turning towards Sahloknir. "If that thing gets up in the air, we'll have a rat's chance in Oblivion of getting it back down. That's where I'll need you, alright?"
Lydia rubbed her eyes with her first, blinking multiple times to shake away the involuntary tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes. "Did you have a plan?"
Saya nodded. "When I give you the signal, put up your shield, and push upward with everything you've got as soon as you feel something hit it. You'll know when." With that, the Dragonborn hastily ran off towards Sahloknir. Delphine had left multiple tracks in the snow where she had rolled to avoid the creature's fangs. Another slash of the Breton's sword across the dragon's jaw drew a wide cut across its scales, blood trickling from beneath.
Enraged, Sahloknir dug his claws into the ground, chest heaving to prepare for another Shout. Saya did not miss it, however, as the very next moment she had done the same thing, the words "FUS, RO!" erupting from her throat and releasing a gale of force that impacted the dragon's ribs. The air got knocked out of Sahloknir with a pitiful cough, and his eyes grew bloodshot. Wildly, he began to thrash about with his tail swinging around a mace and his head releasing a feral roar. Wildly, he began to thrash about with his tail swinging around a mace and his head releasing a feral roar. Both of Sahloknir's massive wings came unfurled and he began to flap them aggressively, the sheer force of the winds he created knocking Saya and Delphine off their feet. Then, with all the strength it could muster, the dragon leapt into the air, taking flight.
Saya and Delphine quickly rose to their feet, Lydia rushing to their side. Their eyes were all locked on the dragon above them who was flying in circles, doing naught but staring them down. "What is it doing?" Lydia asked. Her grip around the shield's handle got tighter.
Saya's hand sparked with flame, a fireball forming in her palm. "Preparing. Don't let your guard down."
Sahloknir's eyes darted around the crater that was his dragon mound less than minutes ago, and he grinned. His chest began to swell with air again, and his head turned skywards. As his jaws opened, another Shout ripped through the clouds above, echoing across the skyscape. "FIIK, LO, SAH!"
The clouds began to pull together, covering the empty void formed by the shout. The condensed vapor grew darker and darker, and the shockwave from the dragon's voice continued to ripple like waves from a rock dropped into still water. And then, the three hunters heard a choir of roars come from above. They looked like formless masses at first, ectoplasm dripping from the sky, but as the glow within them grew brighter and brighter, those cocoons split and spread their wings, their shape defining. All at once, three of these amorphous masses dropped down around Delphine, Lydia, and Saya. And when the dust settled, they each saw a copy of Sahloknir staring at them - but ghastly, transparent. A phantom.
Delphine was the first to react. Rushing forward, she lunged at the phantom with her blade. The metal sank into the ghost like into water, and it erupted with a pained cry before dissolving into ectoplasm. Noticing that, Saya released the fireball held in her hand, sending it straight into the phantom's maw. The fire burned on the inside of the creature before exploding violently, tearing the ghastly body apart and leaving it to dissipate.
For Lydia, however, it did not go as easily. Her trembling hand reached quickly for her sword only for her to look up and see the ghost's open maw. Reflexively, she put up her shield, to instead be met with a wave of force as the creature Shouted: "FUS, RO DAH!"
The Nord got swept off her feet, sent flying by the sheer force of the squall. Delphine barely had the time to turn around before the housecarl's armored body slammed into her, knocking both of them onto the ground. Saya looked at the phantom, who grinned and began to flap its wings, taking flight, and then back at the other two. With a frustrated grunt, she ran to the other two. "Can both of you stand?" She extended her hand.
Lydia groaned, grabbing the hand and pulling herself up. She shook her head to help return to her senses, disoriented from the impact. "I… I think so, my Thane."
Saya nodded, her gaze moving to the Delphine. The woman got up on her own and wiped her mouth, a streak of red visible on her hand from the split lip. "Don't look at me. Look at the big bastard up there."
The Dunmer turned her attention to Sahloknir and his phantom. Once the ghost had reached his master, he appeared to be preparing something. It leaned forward, spreading its wings, and its bright white eyes seemed to have locked onto the group. Then, it dawned on her. "EVERYONE, SPREAD OUT!"
The phantom had given its wings one more swing before stopping the movement, plunging downward before gliding straight towards them at such speeds that its ethereal glow almost seemed to lag behind, and its jaws opened to release a stream of cold that froze the ground solid just as the three had reacted to Saya's command. When they looked back up, the phantom had already taken off skyward again, and it was making a turn to go in for another dive.
That's when it clicked for Saya. Suddenly, she turned toward Lydia. "Lydia! Remember what I said earlier?!" She pointed to a spot just a few meters off to the side. "Stand back there and do it!"
The housecarl quickly scrambled over to get into position, while Saya's eyes were locked on the phantom. It turned around. It looked at them again. It opened its mouth.
Now. "WULD!"
With a Shout, the Dunmer's body burst into a gale once again, carrying her with incredible momentum straight towards her housecarl. Just before contact, she materialized again, putting both of her feet forward as she flew straight into the shield, almost making the Nord slide back from the impact. Then, as instructed, Lydia grabbed the shield with both of her arms and swung it upward with all her might, sending Saya flying up into the air with whatever momentum she still had left over.
The phantom was just at the lowest point of its dive before it suddenly saw the Dunmer come into its view, and the next thing it knew - two hands had latched onto one of its back spines. The ghost roared and continued flying upwards, hoping to throw off the unwanted passenger, but then a sharp stabbing sensation brought an end to that effort as Saya plunged Stormblade into the doppelganger's back, making it fade from existence halfway through its flight to Sahloknir.
The dragon looked puzzled to say the least, seeing the small elf being all but flung towards it. Before he could react, though, she had already vanished again - only for him to feel the pain in his leg sharpen. Saya had grabbed onto the dagger that Delphine left in the enormous beast's leg, holding onto it like a mountain climber would on a cliff. Sahloknir roared in pain as she pulled herself up, stabbing her own sword just a bit higher for more support, and the dragon began to flail around wildly in an attempt to shake her off. If Saya wasn't holding on for dear life before, she definitely was now.
"Don't miss, don't miss…" She murmured under her breath, grabbing onto Stormblade's large handle with both hands and pulling herself up like a handlebar. One foot went on the handle, the other - on the flat of the blade. Before Sahloknir made another move she immediately jumped yet again, her arms wrapping around one of many massive spikes growing out of the dragon's back.
From the ground, Lydia and Delphine could see the dragon thrashing about in the air, shaking its head like a maul and erupting with torrents of ice and wind aimlessly. One foot in front of another, Saya grasped one spike, then the next, then the one after that. Soon, he felt gloved fingers pressing the scales at the base of his neck.
"MEY! FEN DU KOPRAANIIL! ZU'U FEN AL HI, AHRK PAH DO DUR JOOR FRONIIL!" Sahloknir's speech seethed with rage, it was practically shaking with anger. How could this… This pathetic mortal so much as dare touch him?! Yet here she was, grabbing onto each of his enormous bone-like plates like she was climbing a mountain, and soon he felt her hand grasp onto one of his horns. The pupil in his eye had shrunk so much by then that it was barely visible, his predatory sight completely tunnel-visioned on the insolent Dragonborn who dared climb on top of him.
"I think you forgot something, pal." Saya said, leaning in towards his eye. Her right hand was practically crackling with fire, her body sweating from the heat concentrated in the skin of her palm. "I don't understand your language." With those words, her hand plunged into the dragon's eye socket, fingers grasping onto the beast's eye and piercing its membrane before ripping it out violently, producing what can only be described as a shriek from the gargantuan dragon. She then tossed it away, and with her blood-coated hand still burning with magical flame, she plunged it into the empty socket, reaching into Sahloknir's skull…
And then, she let the magic loose, and her entire arm recoiled violently as a fireball exploded inside of Sahloknir's head, pulverizing the insides and causing smoke and blood to erupt from its mouth and inner ear. Its limbs had gone still, and without the mighty wings holding the body up in the air, the dragon began plummeting down to the ground like a sack of stones. In a moment of desperation, Saya jumped off the head as strongly as she could, spreading her arms and legs in an attempt to slow her fall. Six, seven… The dragon corpse came to a crash, wet cracks and snaps all filling the ears of Delphine and Lydia as even more of the beast's bones broke from the fall. Saya looked at the result with a shaky gaze before closing her eyes. Calm down. You'll be okay. Eight, nine… Finally, just as she was beginning to near the ground, the Dunmer managed to force out one last quiet "Wuld…!", her body fading into a gust once again. Moments later, the wind seemed to recollect back into a single spot, her body fading into existence again…
And promptly collapsing onto the ground next to Sahloknir's corpse.