Chapter 5
Saqho-yol shut her journal and stowed it in her bag, sighing as she got up from the table. She glared at Irileth's back before heading in to see Farengar. Of course, the Dunmer had been right, and the Jarl's words came back to her. "This is a priority now," he'd said.
She stopped just outside the court wizard's workroom, and leaned against the door jam.
"You see?" Farengar was talking to a visitor in leather armor and a hood. "The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the dragon war. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with later texts."
In Tamriellic, please?
"Good." The woman nodded at whatever was on the desk. "I'm glad we're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."
Farengar chuckled. "Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research."
"Time is running, Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back."
Oh good, someone who likes Farengar even less than I do.
Farengar waved the comment out of the air. "Yes, yes. Don't worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers may be interested as well..."
The woman in the leather looked Saqho-yol square in the face, and looked back down at the desk.
"You have a visitor." She said, nonchalantly.
"Hmm?" Farengar finally looked in Saqho-yol's direction. "Ah, yes, the Jarl's protege! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems."
Saqho-yol pushed herself off the door jam and sauntered up next to the desk. She raised an eyebrow at the wizard and pulled the Dragonstone out of her bag.
"No, I didn't. And I don't think the Draugr down there will have any problem staying dead now." She said, handing it over.
Farengar took the stone and gently placed it on the desk, running one hand across the surface as if he could read its secrets that way.
"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! It seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way."
"Not to brag, but, yes. I am. What happens now?" Saqho-yol never lost the sarcastic expression.
"That is where your job ends and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim." He sighed. "My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me."
"Ah. Nice job on that one," Saqho-yol nodded to the other woman.
"So," Farengar turned back to the Dragonstone, "Your information was correct after all. And we have our friend here to thank for recovering it for us."
The hooded woman looked up at Saqho-yol. "You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work." The Redguard shrugged.
She said something else that Saqho-yol didn't catch, because Irileth ran in at that moment.
"Farengar!"
Saqho-yol looked over her shoulder at the Dunmer, as if to say, "What now?"
"Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon's been sighted nearby." Irileth looked at Saqho-yol, who went white as a ghost. "You should come, too."
Farengar, thankfully, distracted Irileth from Saqho-yol's discomfort. The hooded woman made a quick getaway out the door. Irileth started leading Farengar away, and Saqho-yol wordlessly followed. Her mind was full of fire and darkness, and a word.
When she finally got up the stairs, without tripping, thankfully, the Jarl was talking to a guard. He was literally shaking in his boots.
"So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?" Jarl Balgruuf looked calm as usual, although his stance was a bit more rigid, as if he expected a dragon to fly into the keep at any moment.
The guard responded formally, "Yes, my lord."
Irileth looked about ready to slap the guy. "Tell him what you told me. About the dragon."
"Uh..." the guard looked back at the Jarl. "That's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I'd ever seen."
The Jarl's hands clenched at his sides. "What did it do? Is it attacking the watchtower?"
"No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fat in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure."
"Good work, son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it. Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."
"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate."
"Good. Don't fail me." The Jarl turned to Saqho-yol. "There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avennici that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city. And please, accept this gift from my personal armory." The Jarl handed her a wrapped package. She smiled and stowed it in her bag.
"I should come along. I would very much like to see this dragon." Farengar said. Saqho-yol started following Irileth without a word.
"No." Saqho-yol turned at the Jarl's tone. He was angry. "I can't afford to risk both of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city against these dragons."
The look on Farengar's face was priceless. "As you command."
"One last thing, Irileth." The Jarl said. Irileth turned around, and he continued, "This isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we're dealing with."
Just the fact that he had to remind her of that, gave Saqho-yol pause. Irileth's answer wasn't encouraging either.
"Don't worry, my lord. I'm the very soul of caution."
Irileth, contradicting the statement, took off running down the stairs. Saqho-yol shrugged and followed.
"I'll keep her out of trouble, don't worry." She said over her shoulder, and ran after Irileth. Farengar tried to say something to her, but she just barreled past him. Saqho-yol and Irileth made a mad dash through Whiterun, and stopped in front of four guardsmen. Time was of the essence when dealing with dragons, but the concept still made Saqho-yol nervous.
"Here's the situation." Irileth apparently wanted to start things off with a speech, "A dragon is attacking the western watchtower."
A wave of distressed mutterings passed through the guards.
"You heard right! I said a dragon! I don't much care where it came from or who sent it. What I do know is that it's made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!"
"But Housecarl," one of the guards said, "How are we supposed to fight a dragon?"
"That's a fair question. None of us have ever seen a dragon before, or expected to face one in battle." Saqho-yol coughed loudly. "But we are honorbound to fight it. This dragon is threatening our homes... our families. Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?"
You've got ME right next to you, Saqho-yol though, and crossed her arms over her chest.
"But it's more than our honor at stake here. Think of it – the first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age." Have you not heard about Helgen? "The glory of killing it is ours, if your with me! Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon?"
The guardsmen gave hearty cheers of approval, and Irileth led the guards and Saqho-yol out the main gate. Having no idea where the western watchtower might have been, Saqho-yol had no choice but to hang back and travel with the group. Otherwise, she might have just dashed ahead. It seemed like the only Dunmer she'd met lately had been arrogant and gone back on promises.
The watchtower was hardly recognizable as a functioning guardhouse by the time they got to it. Pieces of stone walling and pathway were scattered about every which way. There were even a couple of fires burning.
"Alduin..." Saqho-yol whispered.
"No signs of any dragon right now," Irileth said, "But it sure looks like he's been here."
She turned to the soldiers and the Redguard. "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."
Saqho-yol drew both of her swords, and immediately headed for one of the intact chunks of ramp. If anyone survived, they'd be in the tower. Sure enough, a guard came creeping out from behind the wall when he heard her. He was missing his helmet.
"What happened? Are you alright?" Saqho-yol asked.
"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it." The helmet-less guard said. His eyes were flitting everywhere like a caged bird.
Saqho-yol pulled out her bow and started scanning the sky as Irileth interrogated the poor man.
Then, one of the guards saw something. "Kynareth save us, here it comes again."
The great beast flew right over the tower, its scales shone silver in the light of the two moons. Saqho-yol notched an arrow and sent it flying. The dragon's wings beat it away harmlessly. It started hovering, and she notched another arrow.
"Yol... Toor..."
And she let it fly. It hit the dragon's chest armor. Flames came in her direction, and she felt them sear her arms and torso as she ducked behind the wall. She dashed up the stairs and emerged on the roof of the tower. The dragon passed right overhead, the downdraft nearly sweeping her off the tower. She ran to the edge and looked down, only to get nearly blasted again. She dashed back down the stairs, and fired at it from the window. She barely nicked its wing as it passed. One of the guards hit it square though, and it circled once before landing with a thundering BOOM.
Saqho-yol sheathed her bow and dashed down the stairs as fast as she could. She headed toward where the dragon was. It let loose a fireball, and she unsheathed both of her swords. Her adrenaline, and something else, was pushing her on. She slashed at the dragon's mouth as it went to breathe fire at her, and it reared its head back.
"Brit grah. I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" The dragon said.
Saqho-yol grimaced at the beast, and shouted, "Sport? Wah tuzi mah, Dovah!"
As it tried to snap at her again, she batted its snout away. She ran under it and jumped up onto its head, using one of its horns for leverage. She held on just behind its eyes with her knees and one hand, and slashed at it. Once. Twice. Then, she stabbed it through the eye, and jumped off.
The dragon roared, rearing up on its hind feet. "Dovahkiin! No!"
The dead dragon crashed to the ground, and Saqho-yol stood over it, burns and cuts stinging, muscles screaming, in wicked triumph. Something inside her stirred, and then, before her eyes, the dragon's body started to disintegrate. Chunks of scaly flesh tore free of the bone, and floated skyward, turning to ash as they went. The force in Saqho-yol rose, just below the surface of her skin, and the dragon's body burst into flames. Then the shockwave hit her.
The fire on the body turned into a whirlwind of power and thought, and slammed into and through the Redguard. All thoughts of self control, all sense of surrounding, disappeared. It was only Saqho-yol and the dragon.
Drem yol lok, Saqho-yol
Zu'u Mirmulnir.
I have fallen to the Fus – the force – of your will and your blade.
Battle on, Dovahkiin.
Alduin will fall to the power of your Thu'um.
They were one for a time, and then the voice of the dragon faded, and Saqho-yol came back to reality. She could still feel the fire in her. And the word. Fus. Force.
One of the guards startled her by running up behind her with a torch. Everything seemed brighter to her for some reason.
"I can't believe it!" He said. "You're... Dragonborn..."
Saqho-yol shook her head. She couldn't think straight. "Excuse me... what?"
"In the very oldest tales, back from when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons, and steal their power," he explained, slowly. "That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed that dragon's power?"
Saqho-yol looked at her hands. In the torchlight, the shadows of her long fingers made it look like flames were dancing in her palms.
"Honestly... I don't know." She replied in her usual tone. If her voice had a little more burr to it than normal, the guard either didn't notice or didn't care.
"There's one way to find out. Try to Shout... that would prove it."
At Saqho-yol's look of complete confusion, he explained. "According to the old legends, only the Dragonborn can shout without training, the way dragons do."
Another guard walked over and apparently overheard part of the conversation. "Dragonborn, what are you talking about?"
While they discussed, Saqho-yol pondered Shouting. Was that was the dragons did to breathe fire? She couldn't do anything like that. Mirmulnir said Fus, force. Is that a shout? Questions rambled through her mind at a blinding rate, and she wasn't coming up with any answers. She sighed, and stopped tuning out the guards.
"... But I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me." Irileth said. She kicked the late Mirmulnir's skull.
"You wouldn't understand, Housecarl. You ain't a Nord." One of the guards said.
The Dunmer huffed. "I've been all across Tamriel. I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this." She looked Saqho-yol square in the face and said, "I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends."
Saqho-yol's blood burned. Legend, huh? She thought the word, heard it how Mirmulnir said it. The fire rose in her again, and this time, it exploded out of her in a single Shout.
"FUS!"
The air itself rippled as the Force flew through it. Irileth staggered backward, and nearly fell.
"Can a sword arm cleave that, Irileth?" Saqho-yol smirked in the Dunmer's direction.
The guards were nearly speechless.
"That was Shouting, what you just did! Must be. You really are Dragonborn, then..."
Saqho-yol nodded, slowly, looking at the skeleton of the dragon. Apparently, her great grandfather's blood ran strong in her veins. Dragon blood.
It occurred to her, finally, that she really should apologize to Irileth. Given that she was the Jarl's Housecarl, and she could make every stay in Whiterun torturous. She jogged over to the Dunmer and held out her hand.
"I am so sorry about that, Housecarl. I lost control and..." Saqho-yol stopped as Irileth shook her head.
"That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few. I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm sure glad you're with us. You'd better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here."
Saqho-yol nodded, and started running. However, Mirmulnir's skeleton caught her eye, and she stopped. She bent and stroked the skull above the horn.
"Thank you. Rest now, Mirmulnir." She whispered, and took off at a jog toward Whiterun. Just outside the gate, a sound like thunder ripped through the sky. Voices came with it.
"Dov... Ah... Kiin!" Saqho-yol felt a shiver go down her spine. Dovahkiin... Dragonborn. She dashed for Dragonsreach.
She was severely out of breath by the time she was through the door, and took a moment to compose herself as best she could under the circumstances. She ran through the details of the fight, at least the ones she was willing to tell anyone, over and over as she forced herself not to run. As it was, she walked with a small hop in her step.
Proventus intercepted her. "Good. You're finally here. The Jarl's been waiting for you."
Behind him, the Jarl was speaking to a tall, heavy man in scaled armor. "You heard the summons. What else could it mean?"
Proventus stepped aside, and Saqho-yol all but jumped up the four steps to the throne.
"The Greybeards..." The Jarl was staring off into Aetherius as she approached. The man he was talking to stopped her, probably stalling for the Jarl.
"We were just talking about you. My brother needs a word with you." he said.
"So I've heard." She replied evenly.
The Jarl composed himself and looked up. "So, what happened at the watchtower? Was the Dragon there?"
"The watchtower was destroyed, unfortunately, but the dragon is now dead."
"I knew I could count on Irileth." The Jarl smiled, but stopped when he saw the look on Saqho-yol's face. "But there must be more to it than that."
"Yes... I killed it. And then it... I..." She struggled for a way to explain what had happened but gave up. "I guess I'm a Dragonborn or something."
The Jarl's eyes went wide. "Dragonborn? What do you know about the Dragonborn?"
"I know my great grandfather was one. And I know that the dragon, Mirmulnir, gave me his power because I was the one who put him to rest." She looked at the floor, as she realized she was all but Shouting at the Jarl of Whiterun. "Sorry..."
"So it's true. The Greybeards really were summoning you."
Saqho-yol looked up. "The Greybeards?"
"Masters of the way of the voice. They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World."
Saqho-yol almost said, "Why would anyone want to live up on a frozen cliff," but settled for, "And why are they summoning me of all people?"
"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice – the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."
The man next to Saqho-yol spoke up then. "Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun? That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora."
"Hrongar, calm yourself." Proventus said from the Jarl's left side, "What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this, what, 'Dragonborn'."
For a moment, Saqho-yol though she was going to lose control again. In fact, she actually considered giving Proventus proof of her blood by knocking him into the wall with her voice. However, she bit down on the word forming in her throat and settled for a glare instead. This piece of "Nord nonsense" just saved your city from Mirmulnir's wrath, you ignorant whelp! She blinked in surprise at her own forcefulness. Or maybe that had been the dragon speaking.
Apparently, Hrongar was of a mind with her.
"Nord nonsense?" He bellowed, "Why you puffed-up ignorant... these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"
"Hrongar, don't be so hard on Avenicci." The Jarl held up a hand to stall any further comment from his brother and Saqho-yol.
"I meant no disrespect of course," Proventus continued, "It's just that... what do these Greybeards want with her?"
The Jarl raised an eyebrow in the adviser's direction. "That's the Greybeards business. Not ours."
Saqho-yol crossed her arms and muttered, "I'm a Redguard and even I knew that." She caught Hrongar with it, and he covered up a laugh by clearing his throat. She smirked.
The Jarl turned to the Redguard in question then. "Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you're Dragonborn, who are we to argue? You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor."
The Jarl got a far away look in his eyes, and Saqho-yol tuned him out while she tried to figure out how she'd get up the side of a mountain to meet a bunch of monks with loud voices.
Hrongar nudged Saqho-yol with an elbow, and she looked up at the Jarl as if she'd been paying attention the whole time.
"You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant." Saqho-yol stared at him, dumbstruck, but he wasn't done yet.
"I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office." He handed her an iron war ax that chilled her fingers when she touched the blade of it. She slung it onto her back, through the straps in her pack that would have held a walking stick under normal circumstances.
"I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to thing you're part of the common rabble, now would we?" He said, with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Saqho-yol chuckled, and bowed to the Jarl in acceptance of the title.
"We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn." He said.
"The honor is mine, Jarl Balgruuf."
She turned, as gracefully as she could, and walked proudly out of Dragonsreach. She shut the big door behind her without looking at it. She took two steps, and stared out at the sleeping city of Whiterun. Then, the day caught up with her. She fell to her knees, and let out a small sob. She wasn't sure if it was because of the yet-unhealed burns, or exhaustion, power, or the fact that she'd just killed a dragon.
"You had quite the day, eh?"
Saqho-yol looked over her shoulder at the brown-haired Nord from Cyrodiil. He smiled, a bit sadly perhaps, and took a seat next to her.
"I had one of those myself. Passed out from a concussion, woke up to find my leg in a wolf's mouth. Today I was supposed to set out for Hag's end, but I got caught by Adrianne, said she needed help." He chuckled. "How can you beat that?"
Saqho-yol sighed. "Well, got up a dawn, headed into a dusty, moldy, Draugr infested barrow to fetch some kind of stone for the court wizard, came back to find that a dragon was attacking a watchtower. Went out with Irileth and some guards, killed him, was granted his power or soul or something, nearly Shouted the Housecarl to death, came back, was summoned by the Greybeards, and was named Thane of Whiterun. Oh yeah, and I'm now walking in my great grandfather's footsteps, because I'm apparently a Dragonborn too."
The Nord seemed shocked at the recitation, and just stared at her for a few moments.
"And I didn't even tell you about the giant spider I found in the barrow." She said with a small smile.
The Nord laughed and clapped her on the shoulder with one hand.
"Well, I think that beats my day." He looked at her seriously. "What was his name?"
"Who, the spider?"
The Nord chuckled again. "No, the dragon."
Saqho-yol stared at him for a few seconds, trying to decide if he was serious. He saw her staring and looked out at Whiterun.
"I heard Alduin say his. I wanted to know if all dragons had names." He said softly.
"You heard it? You heard Alduin? Back at Helgen?"
He nodded. They were both silent for a few minutes.
"Mirmulnir."
The Nord looked at Saqho-yol, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"That was his name. Mirmulnir. He taught me how to Shout, I think."
The Nord smiled. "He awakened the Dragon blood in you."
Saqho-yol looked at him. "You know how this all works, do you?"
The Nord shook his head, and clapped her on the shoulder again. "My name's Breydon, Dragonborn. It's an honor to know you."
"Saqho-yol. The honor's all mine." She smiled. "I heard you talking on the way to Helgen. What's it like in Cyrodiil?"
Breydon looked over and laughed. "Saqho-yol, your great grandfather was Martin Septim, and you've never been to Cyrodiil?"
Saqho-yol shook her head. "How'd you guess?"
"Not many Dragonborn old enough to be your great grandfather. And you have his face." He chuckled. "Had you been any paler, I'd have taken you for an Imperial, not a Redguard. And your eyes... you've got a Nord's eyes. Blue as the sky and bright as a flame. It's no wonder the Jarl named you Thane of Whiterun. But, Cyrodiil. It's a nice enough place, although after the Oblivion crisis, the Empire, and the Imperial City, started going downhill..."
As Breydon talked, Saqho-yol found herself relaxing. The day's wear finally took its toll on her, and she collapsed into sleep on the Nord's shoulder.
Turdas, 20th of Last Seed, 4E 201, Whiterun
I just woke up and found myself in the Bannered Mare, with no memory of how I got here. I guess I was so tired by the time I got here I didn't remember checking in.
Well, I'm shaken to the core. Apparently, I'm a Dragonborn. Just like my great grandfather. A dragon attacked Whiterun while I was talking to Farengar and his 'associate,' and I end up out by the western watchtower with Irileth and a squad of guards. We killed... a dragon. And then it and me... it was like it became me, and I became it. Well, him. Mirmulnir was his name. He taught me how to use the Voice. He taught me Fus – force. One of the guards afterwords asked me if I could Shout, and, being a generally quiet person, I was very hesitant. But then Irileth said something... and I Shouted at her. It was amazing. To be able to wield such a power...
And then, as I was returning to Whiterun, the Greybeards apparently summoned me. They and Mirmulnir both called me, "Dovahkiin." It means Dragonborn, I think. Then the Jarl named me Thane of Whiterun.
Oh... that's how I got here. I ran outside, and collapsed on the edge of the stair, and that Nord from Cyrodiil found me. He must have carried me here or something. What was his name again... Brendon? No, not quite. Ah well. I have to go head for Ivarstead today, and I want to get a head start.
Saqho-Yol