"You need to rest, Father."
"I am fine. The village needs my help. Aeta is but a child, she cannot take my place for long."
"I will take her place. You need to sleep, and to eat. When was the last time you took care of yourself? You cannot help the Skaal by dying before our great need of you-!"
"Frea, I will not argue about this with you. The village, the people, our village, our people, are more important than my own health. I will sleep when this is over."
"Then at least eat something!"
Ren recognized Frea's voice. She was also familiar with the Skaal woman's tone. Frea was close to breaking down, close to letting loose a torrent of tears she was hiding beneath the hard tone she usually took. She was vaguely familiar with the second voice, but it took a few minutes to connect it with a name.
Storn Crag-Strider.
Ren opened her eyes to find herself staring at a wall. With a frown, she pushed herself up. She slept where she had before, save the fact that a curtain-really just a very large pelt-had been drawn across the bedroom entry.
Why…?
She looked down and her jaw dropped. She grabbed the pelt blanket and clutched it to her chest, face aflame.
Why in Talos' sake was she naked?
A door slammed shut, shaking the very house itself. A second later something thumped angrily against what Ren figured to be a wall, and a torrent of very impressive curse words floated by. A sob. Ragged breathing. Ren figured Frea would rather be alone with her grief, so said nothing other than searching desperately for her clothes, in vain. After a few minutes Ren heard a slow sigh, and the curtain was suddenly yanked back. Frea stared at her in surprise, apparently not expecting her to be awake.
"Who undressed me? Why? Where in Oblivion are my clothes?!"
"Mmm…Aeta found you unconscious near the outskirts of the village, just within our boarder. I carried you back here and tried to wake you, but you would not wake up. I had to see if you were wounded somehow, Ren. Your armor is by the fire-not on fire, do not look at me as if I am witless-and there are a spare set of clothes in the dresser beside the bed."
"How in Oblivion did I get here?" Ren muttered, eyebrows drawing together as she tried to fathom how it was possible.
"I want to know how you came to be unconscious and without injury, Ren." Frea said seriously, startling her. Ren studied her for a moment before hunching over, but she slowly replied.
"I found the Shout easily enough. Miraak bothered me, left, and I headed back. Then a dragon attacked." She stopped suddenly and looked up at Frea.
"Do you think it possible that Alduin orchestrated his death?"
She had no idea how much the Skaal knew of the World Eater, but she was aware that there had to be something in their mythology, something in their long tales that spoke of him. Frea froze at her question, entire body stilling as if someone had paralyzed her.
"I do not…I do not see how something like that is possible. Why would you ask this?"
"The dragon said that the Dovah, even Alduin, had waited a long time for me."
"What would make you think they wanted death? Or you specifically? There have been other Dragonborns." Frea said, sitting down beside her on the bed.
"He asked me to kill him. And…I know. I said that. But Nehnahlot, the dragon, said that that wasn't true. And when Miraak appeared, it sort of fit."
"You saw Miraak?" Frea asked urgently, grabbing her arm. Ren nodded, absorbed in her own thoughts.
"Yes…he stole Nehnahlot's soul. But, Frea….he was strange. He didn't consume the soul like Alduin did, or absorb it like I do. They were trapped-he kept them trapped in his own soul, like a cage."
"This should not be possible-Miraak appearing. I know nothing of what you speak." Frea murmured. The Skaal looked deeply troubled. Ren forced her thoughts to focus on what was going on at the present, although a possibility lingered at the back of her mind
"I need you to mark the All-Maker stones on my map for me. I'll head out to the Wind Stone and go from there, once I get my things." Ren said suddenly. Frea absently nodded and left, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Ren, relieved beyond measure by the sudden privacy, quickly searched the dresser. She found clothes typical of a miner at the bottom of the drawer and pulled them on. They were a bit big on her, but they were functional, once she tied the pants with a leather strip. She pushed the curtain aside dramatically. Her armor lay on a chair beside the fire. Frea was bent over her map, a charcoal stick in hand. Ren donned her armor, keeping the hood and cowl down as she hunted the building for her weapons and other belongings. Her things lay untouched by the door, save the fact her sword had been sharpened. She checked her stockpile of arrows and was shocked to see that she had managed to get almost all of them, despite the fact she had barley been able to see straight.
Thank Nocturnal for the Lady's luck.
"I have marked in the Stones." Frea announced. Ren walked over to her and peered over the Skaal's shoulder as she studied the locations of the Stones. The Wind Stone was just outside of the village, and a short distance away from it stood the Beast Stone. Continuing straight down for what Ren figured would be a day was the Sun Stone, and by Raven Rock was the Earth Stone. If she were to continue straight up from there, she'd find the Water Stone.
"What about the one at Miraak's temple?" She asked.
"That one is…entirely lost to us." The grief in Frea's voice surprised her.
"What do you mean?"
"Miraak's center of influence is the Tree Stone. His power is too strong to break, which is a terrible thing. Even if my people were to be freed from the Wind and Beast Stones, the Tree Stone would still take them. And for all the others whom Miraak controls across all of Solstheim….They would all go inland and abandon their homes, their families, and their lives to work."
"If I were to free the other Stones, though, would that lessen your father's burden?" Frea looked up sharply at her.
"Yes…"
"How long would it take Miraak to get control of your people after I free them?"
"I do not know."
"Then you need to grab them and run. C'mon." Ren said, picking up the map, folding it, and squirreling it away.
"Where are-"
"We are going to free the Wind Stone. After that I'll go the Beast Stone, then the Sun Stone, back to Raven Rock, and I'll hit the Water Stone on my way back here. But if you don't know how long your people will be free, you need to get them to safety as quickly as possible." Ren instructed. Her words were entirely businesslike now. Frea was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Let us go, then."
Ren cast a frown at the circle of Skaal praying before the village's biggest building as they headed out, seeing the thick exhaustion written on all of their faces. Even Aeta, the small child that Ren had greeted when she had first come to the village, was slumped beside one of the few adults, asleep.
"What do you know of Miraak?" Ren asked softly as they exited the barrier.
"His story is as old as Solstheim itself. He served the dragons before their fall from power, as most did. A priest in their order. But unlike most, he turned against them. He made his own path, and his actions cost him dearly. The stories say he sought to claim Solstheim for himself, and the dragons destroyed him for it. There is…" Frea hesitated, prompting Ren to stop and turn to look at her. The Skaal dug around in a bag hanging at her hip for a moment before producing a book. Curious, Ren took it.
"This is the only written record of Miraak." Frea said shortly, and began walking again. Ren trailed after her, studying the book. The Guardian and the Traitor by Lucius Gallus.
She laughed softly at the author's last name-she would have to show this to Karliah when she returned home. She flipped open the book, and her laughter died.
'One of the more intriguing legends found on the island of Solstheim is the story of a mythical figure whose name is long forgotten but whom time remembers as "the Traitor". Certain that this myth is rooted in history I set out to learn what I could and perhaps piece together a presumptive account of the events that gave rise to the legend.
The tale is remembered best by the shamans of the Skaal, that unique tribe of Nords whose culture evolved along an entirely divergent path than that of their brethren in Skyrim. I spoke at length to the shaman of Skaal Village, a wise and hospitable man named Breigr Winter-Moon. He described an age long ago when dragons ruled over the whole world and were worshipped as gods by men. Presiding over this cult of dragon-worshippers were the Dragon Priests, powerful mages who could speak the dragon language and call upon the power of the Thu'um, or Voice.
According to the legend, one such Dragon Priest was seduced by a dark spirit named Herma-Mora, an unmistakable analogue for the Daedric prince Hermaeus Mora. Lured by promises of power, this treacherous priest secretly plotted against his dragon master.
The Traitor's plot was discovered by one of his contemporaries, another Dragon Priest whom legend named The Guardian. The two fought a mighty battle that lasted for days, each hurling terrible arcane energies and Thu'um shouts at the other. So great and terrible were the forces unleashed in this contest that Solstheim was torn apart from the mainland of Skyrim. Here, the myth clearly descends into the realm of pure fantasy.
The Guardian, whom the legend presents as a paragon of loyalty and nobility, finally defeats the despicable Traitor, who seems to represent all that is corrupt and evil in men. Their epic duel is clearly representative of a greater struggle between good and evil. Perhaps it is this timeless quality that has kept the tale alive for so long.
Unlike many similar myths, the tale of the Guardian and the Traitor does not feature a suitably heroic ending. Herma-Mora snatches the Traitor away just as the Guardian is about to strike the killing blow. The dragons appoint the Guardian ruler of Solstheim, but not before he is compelled to swear an oath of vigilance to watch for the Traitor's return. His reign is, by all accounts, a time of peace and prosperity for the people of the island, and he is remembered as a wise and just leader.
No further mention is made of the Traitor, but neither is he thought to be dead. The legend ends on a cautionary note that the people of Solstheim, the heirs of the Guardian, must remain wary, lest the dark influence of Herma-Mora, or even the Traitor himself, return someday. Although no physical clues exist now on Solstheim to suggest the presence of the dragon cult, is it hardly difficult to believe that it might once have flourished here…."
Ren stopped reading. She almost dropped the book. A cold sense of dread filled her. Experience had taught her that the most outlandish tales were rooted in truth far more strongly than people believed. Perhaps it was true that Miraak and this Guardian had torn Solstheim from Skyrim.
And…why were the figures so clear-cut? No one was perfectly good or perfectly evil.
"How much do you think is fabricated?"
"By who?" Frea asked, as the Wind Stone came into sight. Ren put the book into one of her bags and drew her bow, stringing an arrow as Frea turned to glance at her.
"The Dragon Priests ruled unchallenged in Skyrim. Only a small rebellion ever surfaced, and they only succeeded in catapulting Alduin forward in time by a couple thousand years. But when they ruled, if they said something was wrong when it was right, it was wrong. And for a rebellion of this enormity to be staged…" Ren trailed off, uncertain on how to continue.
"You believe Miraak was not as evil as the tales depict him?" Frea asked. Her tone wasn't judgmental or challenging, something for which Ren was grateful.
"Tales are wrong. Have been before, will be again." Ren said shortly, expression darkening despite her attempts to keep her thoughts from straying too far from the subject. Frea remained silent for a moment as they halted in front of the Wind Stone.
"Here in his shrine, that they have forgotten, here do we toil, that we might remember, by night we reclaim, what by day was stolen, far from ourselves, he grows ever near to us, our eyes once were blinded, now through him do we see." The chant rose up around them, making Ren flinch. Frea drew her axe-Ren thought the weapon suited the Skaal woman abnormally well. Maybe, if they were still alive when it happened, Ren would get her a special War Axe for her birth-day. What kind, though? And when was her birth-day anyway?
"Gol!" She Shouted at the stone, after Frea bustled one of the worshippers out of the way. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the stone foundations the worshippers had build around the Wind Stone began to tremble, then glow, then they exploded. Chunks of rock flew everywhere. Ren kept her gaze flickering around the stone, remembering the harshness to Miraak's voice when he had told her he was returning. There was no way on Nirn he was going to let this occur without trying to stop it.
An unearthly scream shattered Solstheim like a knife to a paper. Ren jerked around as the water behind her bubbled black and green, tentacles exploding up to slash at her legs. A creature, resembling the statues that had filled Miraak's temple so, rose out of the black sludge. Ren danced away from the tentacles as another scream tore the sky apart, the creature roaring at her. She jerked her hood down and her cowl up as quickly as she could-there was a foul stench in the air that robbed her lungs of breath. She lifted her bow up, aimed, and fired.
Another scream, as her arrow pierced the monstrosities's eye. She could hear Frea directing people to the Skaal Village as she loaded another arrow and shot it at the creature's exposed throat. Two more followed in rapid succession, but then silence overtook the Wind Stone. The creature gasped once at her, then crumpled to the ground. The black sludge surrounding it vanished, leaving behind only a grotesque, mutilated body. She couldn't bring herself to search it, even when the possibility Miraak had left something important on it occurred to her. She instead put her bow away and helped Frea round up the villagers.
The trip back was terrible.
Frea answered questions calmly and told everyone to stay focused on the village. It seemed overly cautious at first, but once the barrier was in sight, the first person dropped to the snow. Frea ushered the others on, and Ren stopped to help him up.
"Are you alright?" She asked, grabbing his shoulder.
"…Here in his shrine…That we have forgotten…"
A chill ran down Ren's spine. The Skaal pushed himself up, eye glazed over feverishly. Some of the other villagers-a tall woman and an out of place Nord wearing clothes she had seen only on the nobility of Skyrim-stopped dead and slowly turned to face the blacksmith. Frea began rushing the others, telling them to run for their lives.
"Here do we toil…That we might remember." The two Skaal replied. As one they began walking, vaguely in the direction of the Tree Stone and Beast Stone. Ren grabbed the first Skaal's arm, jerking hard to make him turn to face her. He brushed her off as if she were nothing and continued walking. He moved purposefully and swiftly, despite the lethargic tone to his voice. The trio headed off without a moments' pause. Frustrated, Ren turned to the rest of the villagers. Most of them had made it into the barrier by now, but there were a few who remained just outside of it, footsteps slowing and strides faltering. She raced towards them. Two made it through the barrier, leaving only one outside of it. She slammed into their back, sending them tumbling into the barrier and crashing onto Frea. They tumbled for a little bit before managing to halt their momentum.
"What in the All-Maker's name?!" The Skaal she was on top of-a woman who sounded as sour as raw Jazbay-snarled. Ren rolled off of her and turned her head. Storn and the few survivors eyed them with surprise and relief. Ren dropped her head back into the snow, letting out an explosive breath.
"Alright, I'm going to the Beast Stone." She declared. She pushed herself up. The sour woman had already gotten up and was stalking off towards Storn and the others, as were the rest of the Skaal. Ren glanced at the barrier and, certain everyone was in it, started off.
"Wait!" Surprised, she turned. Frea was hurrying towards her.
"What?"
"I am going to come with you." Ren's eyes widened.
"Your people-"
"Have my father, by the All-Maker's will! You know almost nothing of Solstheim. You will need me." Frea said shortly.
"But-" Frea shoved something at her, cutting her off. Ren stared at the bag she had, puzzled, for a long moment. Then she opened it.
Food.
"You did not think of this." Frea said smugly, grabbing it back and throwing it over her shoulder. Ren sighed, but swung an arm to gesture at the road ahead of them.
"Lead the way then, Skaal warrior." Frea ignored the sarcasm. Ren really didn't expect otherwise.
They crossed a lake and snuck past a building that seemed overrun by the small green creatures Ren had seen earlier. Ren nudged Frea and jerked her head towards them.
"What are those?" Frea eyed them with distaste.
"They are called Rieklings. They are foul, evil creatures. They do not often prey upon the Skaal, but any traveler who comes across them is likely to be sacrificed or tortured in their insane rituals. They hoard objects as outsiders hoard gold, but the cost of gaining their treasure is usually greater than the objects are worth." Frea said, casting her a pointed glare. Ren sniffed.
"I am a thief, not an adventurer." Frea chuckled softly.
The Beast Stone came into view. A handful of bandit-like Dunmer Frea called 'Reavers' slaved away at it, as did a multitude of the Rieklings. No Skaal worked here, Ren noted. Frea seemed to notice the same thing, as her shoulders suddenly relaxed.
Ren sidled up to one of the Reavers. He didn't so much as look at her as he continued carving.
"Gol!" As before, the supports crumbled. More than one Riekling was crushed-the humanoids seemed to take a lot longer to recover than the people did. Reavers scattered left and right as the ground burst beneath their feet and one of the black creatures appeared. Ren reached for her back-and felt something that she hadn't brought with her.
Who had put the Wabbajack in her bag?! Why would Sheogorath choose now to poke around with her life?!
She didn't have time to ponder the questions. The monster lunged, and she shot at it with the only weapon at her disposal.
It vanished, but in its place stood something else.
"By Talos!" She yelped, backpedaling as she grabbed for her sword. The Wabbajack rolled out of harms reach.
The Dremora Lord standing where the Lurker had moments ago smiled nastily.
"By the All-Maker, what did you do?!" Frea roared.
"I don't know!" She shouted, dodging a sweep of the biggest battleaxe she had ever seen. She lashed out with a flurry of attacks, but the Dremora Lord hardly felt them. He roared something in the otherworldly voice common of the Daedra, screaming it so loudly bits of Daedra spit flew everywhere, and kicked her in the stomach. She staggered back, rolling into a ball as she tumbled downhill. She struggled to get breath into her lungs even as the Dremora charged towards her, shrugging off the wounds Frea was inflicting on his back. Ren shakily lifted a hand as he approached.
In an instant, air was back in her lungs, the Dremora's blade was falling to her throat, and a blue ward sparked to life between them. The blade bounced off. The Dremora snarled, Ren dropped her ward, and she Shouted.
"Fus Ro Dah!" A second before she Shouted, the Dremora vanished, and the monster reappeared. Her Thu'um send it flying straight into Frea's war axe. Ren scrambled up and ran over to Frea, but the livid Skaal had already freed herself of the dead beast and stalked over to the staff. She looked at Ren, pointed one finger at the staff, and snarled.
"This is why one does not consort with Daedra!"
XXXXXXXXXXX
And this is where it becomes clear I did this for Nanowrimo, and somewhat cheated. I feel bad about the book, BUT it had to make an appearance. LOL.
Basically, I couldn't resist putting Miraak's POV in early. So this evolved. Hope you like it!