Chapter 10

Marcus and Benor stayed an extra day in Whiterun, which made a certain little girl extremely happy. The two men had intended to sell off the armor, weapons and other items they'd picked up out of Ustengrav, but with Adrianne and Ulfberth in mourning, they'd had to wait.

Belethor was willing to purchase some of their goods, but even his coffers had its limits. Arcadia, at the alchemy shop, was willing to take some of the potions Marcus had found that he knew he would never use; the ones which restored magicka and enhanced certain schools of magic were chief among those.

Marcus also made another "trip up the hill", as he called it, to find out from Farengar exactly how to tell whether a soul gem was filled or not, and how to determine what kind of enchantment lay upon a specific item. This led to a tutorial on how to use the arcane enchanter's table in his quarters, and before Marcus knew it, he had successfully laid a frost damage enchantment on the steel dagger he wore at his belt. It wasn't a strong enchantment, but Farengar assured him that if he applied himself and worked at it that in time his enchantments would become much stronger.

Personally, Marcus didn't feel like taking the time to go through those kinds of hoops when he could just purchase an enchanted weapon or find one in a barrow somewhere. He said nothing of this to the court mage, however, still being grateful to the man for his kindness to his daughter.

"You must remember, however," Farengar said as Marcus was preparing to leave, "that once you enchant a weapon, it takes much greater skill to keep it sharp. The amount of damage you'll be able to do will never get better unless you become a better smith."

Good to know, Marcus thought, as he nodded his thanks and returned home. He'd wondered why the Axe of Whiterun didn't seem to be doing as much damage as it used to, no matter how much honing he did to it. Perhaps it was time to retire it and get something better; something that wasn't enchanted, so he'd always be able to keep it sharp.

"Marcus!" a woman called as his hand was on the door-latch. He looked around and saw Adrianne motioning to him to come over.

"Hello, Adrianne," he greeted her. "How are you two doing?"

"Ulfberth would like to speak with you," she said quietly. He could see her eyes were still red from crying.

"I don't want to intrude—"

"You're not," she managed to smile. "My husband told me to ask you to come see him, if I saw you."

"I didn't think you were open yet," Marcus said.

"We're not," Adrianne said, shaking her head. "Tomorrow, most likely. I can't take too much time away—" She broke off, and Marcus patted her shoulder.

"He's inside?"

Unable to answer, Adrianne nodded and fled to her forge. Marcus took a deep breath and went inside.

Ulfberth was sitting in a chair behind the counter. He looked up as Marcus came in, and a faint smile crossed his face. "I see Adrianne found you," he rumbled.

Unsure what to do, Marcus hesitated by the door until the big Nord motioned him over. "Wanted you to have this," he said without preamble, handing over a large, steel greatsword. Uthgerd's sword, Marcus realized.

"Ulfberth," he began, "I—I can't take this! It belongs to you now!"

"And I'm giving it to you, Marcus," the War-Bear said. "She'd want you to have it. My fighting days are long over. Yours are just beginning. Use it well." With that, Ulfberth turned and went into the back room, closing the door behind him.

Stunned, Marcus stood there for a long moment, fingering the hilt and gently sweeping a hand down the finely-honed blade. Tucking it under his arm, he left the shop. As he turned, he saw Adrianne at the corner, smiling tremulously.

Marcus straightened and bowed to her formally from the waist. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you both."

"So this is Riverwood, eh?" Benor commented. "Doesn't look like much."

"It's not, really," Marcus grinned, "but after Helgen it seemed like New York City."

"Where's that?" Benor asked. "I don't think I've ever heard of that place."

"It's….a long way from here," Marcus said. "Off the map, in fact. Look! There's the Sleeping Giant!"

Way to go, Marcus, he thought wryly to himself. Nothing screams 'you're not from around here' like mentioning a place no one's heard of before.

They headed on into the now-familiar Inn; at least, it was familiar to Marcus. By his own admission, Benor had never been here before. Sven was in his usual post at one end of the room and nodded his greeting to Marcus. Orgnar was still behind the bar and it appeared Delphine had returned from her "trip up north", because she was over at the alchemy lab in the corner. She greeted the two men and said, "What can I get for you?"

Marcus looked at Benor, who shrugged and nodded for him to proceed. Clearing his throat, Marcus sighed and said, "I know this is going to sound silly, but I'd like to rent the 'attic room', please."

Delphine chuckled. "Attic room, eh? Well, as you can plainly see, we don't have an attic room, but you're welcome to the one on the left. Make yourself at home." Still chuckling, she took his coin and went back to the alchemy lab.

Someone is going to pay dearly for this, Marcus thought to himself, feeling like he'd just been sent on a snipe hunt. Benor wisely said nothing as Marcus marched over to the room on the left – the same room he'd stayed in the last time he was here with Tamsyn, he realized – and threw his pack down on the floor.

"What now?" Benor asked as he closed the door behind them.

"I don't know," Marcus grumbled. "Someone out there thinks they've just played the greatest joke in the world on the Dragonborn, and I have no idea who it is."

"Maybe the Greybeards know?" Benor suggested.

"If you're thinking they sent me on a wild goose chase, I think you're wrong," Marcus said drily, though he wouldn't put it past Master Borri to try something like that.

A tap sounded on the door, and instantly both men were on alert. Marcus loosened the greatsword where it hung in its new sheath on his back and nodded to Benor to open the door, but stay behind it. The Nord nodded and slowly opened the door.

It was Delphine. Marcus relaxed.

"Something you need, Delphine?" he asked.

The woman smiled cryptically and held out something to him. It was the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. "So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about. Who knew?" She grinned. "I think you're looking for this. And you can tell your friend behind the door not to try anything. He'll be dead before he gets a chance."

Benor rumbled, but Marcus motioned to him to "stand down" as he gingerly accepted the Horn from her.

"What do you want, Delphine?" Marcus demanded. "And how did you get this?" There was a dangerous edge to his voice that no one could miss.

"We need to talk," was all the innkeeper said. "Follow me." She turned and left the room, not looking back to see if the two men followed her or not.

Marcus' inner dragon was rumbling dangerously by this time. Just who was this woman, and what did she want from him? Did she retrieve the Horn herself, or have someone get it for her? How did she even know it would be there, or that he would be going after it?

Delphine crossed the Inn and entered another room on the other side, near the alchemy lab. Once inside, she waited for Marcus and Benor to catch up to her. She paused by a large, standing wardrobe at the far end of the room.

"Close the door," she said shortly. Benor shut it behind him. "Good," Delphine said quietly. "Now we can talk. Come with me." She opened the wardrobe and used a key to turn a hidden latch inside. The back panel of the closet slid completely to one side, revealing stairs that led down under the inn.

"Whoa," Benor breathed.

Following Delphine down the stairs, they emerged into a large room with its own alchemical lab and arcane enchanter, lined with bookshelves, weapon racks and chests full of supplies. A bale of straw sat in one corner near a practice dummy.

Okay, I need a place like this at Breezehome, Marcus thought. I just need to figure out how to put one in!

Delphine rounded a center table which had a map, a dagger and a couple of books laid out on it. The significance of the dagger was not lost on either man. Delphine was clearly prepared to defend herself if either or both of them proved hostile to her. Judging from the weaponry lying around, it would be foolish to underestimate her abilities.

"Alright, we're here," he growled at her. "What's all this about?"

Delphine gave him a curiously searching look before replying. "The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn," she said. "I hope they're right."

Marcus was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she had the Horn the entire time. "You're the one who took the Horn?" he asked. Not the smoothest opening line, he cringed inwardly, but Delphine didn't seem to take notice.

"Surprised?" she asked, giving a slight smile. "I guess I'm getting pretty good at my 'harmless innkeeper' act."

"Well, you're certainly not what I was expecting," Marcus said. Just exactly what he did expect, he really wasn't sure, but it certainly wasn't a fifty-something Breton innkeeper. It only further served to prove that he couldn't afford to take anything, or anyone, at face value.

"Good," Delphine said with a satisfied smirk. "The whole point of being in hiding is to appear to be someone you're not."

"Okay, so why all the cloak-and-dagger?" Marcus drawled.

Delphine's face grew serious…deadly serious. "You can't be too careful," she said. "Thalmor spies are everywhere."

Thalmor. Those guys again. So that's where this was all leading. "What do you want with me?" Marcus was proud of himself for keeping his voice neutral. Before he lost his temper or burned any bridges behind him, he wanted to know what she wanted.

"I didn't go to all this trouble on a whim," Delphine said. "I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap. I'm not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out."

"Go on," Marcus said evenly. "I'm listening."

Delphine seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if she had just crossed one hurdle.

"Like I said in my note, I've heard that you might be Dragonborn. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you... well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Benor rumbled.

"If you don't trust me, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place," Delphine snapped.

"Why did you take the Horn in the first place?" Marcus asked, forestalling a potential argument. The last thing he wanted to be was the middleman here. It was time to start getting some real answers.

"I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn," Delphine said smugly. "They're nothing if not predictable. When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent, and not some Thalmor plant."

So she had some reason to want to avoid the Thalmor. It was the third time she'd mentioned them in as many minutes. "Why are the Thalmor after you?"

"We're very old enemies," she replied, a shadow crossing her face. "And if my suspicions are correct, they might have something to do with the dragons returning. But that isn't important right now. What is important is that you might be Dragonborn."

Something about this whole thing wasn't sitting quite right, Marcus realized. He tried to remember what Tamsyn had said about the return of the dragons in the game, but he'd been angry at the time – okay, perhaps 'incensed' would be a better word – and he hadn't really paid attention. He didn't think the Thalmor had anything to do with the dragons, but he couldn't remember for certain.

"Why are you looking for the Dragonborn?" he asked Delphine now. Aside from wanting to use him for her own agenda, he thought, whatever that might be. He was getting tired of people thinking he would simply be at their beck and call. Balgruuf was the exception so far. He'd asked nothing more from Marcus than he was prepared to give, and had been nothing but kindness itself to him.

"We remember what most don't - that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you do it?" she demanded now. "Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

Who's 'we', Delphine? Have you got a mouse in your pocket?

Aloud he simply said, "Yes, that's how I learned I was Dragonborn."

"Good," she said, crossing her arms and seeming satisfied with the answer. "And you'll get a chance to prove it to me soon enough.

In point of fact, Marcus thought privately, he didn't have to prove anything to her. "So what is it you're not telling me?" he asked now.

"Dragons aren't just coming back; they're coming back to life. They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it."

Okay, so this was a more serious problem than just having to take out a few dragons. She had his attention now.

"You do realize how crazy this all sounds?" he asked, in a last-ditch effort to maintain some form of skepticism.

"Ha. A few years ago, I said almost the same thing to a colleague of mine," Delphine said wryly. "Well, it turned out he was right and I was wrong."

"What makes you think the dragons are coming back to life?" Benor asked, concerned.

"I know they are," Delphine said firmly. "I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

There was still something Marcus couldn't figure out. "How did you figure out all this was happening?" he asked.

Delphine chuckled. "You should know. You got the map for me. The dragonstone you got for Farengar, remember? The dragonstone was a map of ancient dragon burial sites. I've looked at which ones are now empty. The pattern is pretty clear. It seems to be spreading from the southeast, down in the Jeralls near Riften. The one at Kynesgrove is next if the pattern holds." She gave Marcus a shrewd look and added, "That was pretty clever of you, getting the Stone from the barrow before you even knew what it was. How did you manage that one?"

"I…uh…had help," Marcus prevaricated. Nope. There was no easy way to explain Tamsyn to a woman who looked as though she didn't believe in mysticism or magic.

Delphine, thankfully, let it pass. "I need to get into my traveling gear," she said. "If you gentlemen will kindly turn your backs for a moment?"

"Shouldn't we wait for you upstairs?" Benor asked, going red in the face.

"I'm not risking you two losing your courage and bolting on me," Delphine snapped. "Your backs, if you please."

Blowing out an exasperated sigh, Marcus turned his back and Benor did the same. They faced the wall which held the weapon racks. Marcus' inner dragon was now in full tirade mode. How dare she question his courage? She demanded they trust her completely, but gave little reason for them to do so, and in return didn't trust them any further than she could spit!

"Wow!" Benor exclaimed. "That's a nice Orkish blade!" Trust Benor to be easily distracted.

"Do you like it?" Delphine said.

"Yeah, that's a really fine weapon!"

"Take it, then," Delphine said generously. "You may need it where we're going."

Marcus grinned and nodded at Benor's hesitation, and noticed the blade next to the Orkish greatsword.

"You have a dai-katana here," Marcus murmured, suitably impressed.

"You recognize it?" Delphine said, not even trying to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Yeah, that's a beautiful sword," Marcus approved. "I'll bet it's as sharp as a razor, too."

"It will cut through three mannequins in one stroke," Delphine said proudly. "I'd be honored if you'd take it with you. It gets little use sitting up there in the rack."

"I'm not really trained in single-handed weapons," Marcus protested.

"We have a long way to go," Delphine said. "There will be plenty of time to give you some pointers. You can turn around now."

She was dressed in leather armor with a pauldron on her left shoulder. A katana similar to the one on the wall hung at her side.

Delphine gathered up a few more supplies from her trunk in the corner, then turned to lead the way back upstairs, expecting the two men to simply follow her. Benor did, but Marcus held back. One book caught his eye, The Book of the Dragonborn. He knew that book; he even owned a copy himself. It was the first book he'd picked up in Helgen and stashed in Tamsyn's pack. She'd given it to him the following day, telling him he might want to read it. He hadn't. It lay forgotten in his new bookshelf at home. The other book seemed more promising: The Rise and Fall of the Blades. Perhaps he might find out a bit more about this mysterious Delphine from the books she read. She'd also left behind the map of the dragon burial mounds. Feeling it might be of use, Marcus folded it up carefully and tucked it into his belt pouch. The book about the Blades he put in his pack. He only felt the slightest twinge of guilt over taking it.

His eyes caught the dai-katana hanging on the rack. "Dammit," he swore softly, unable to resist. She had offered it to him, after all. He took it down and fastened it around his waist.

Upstairs, Delphine was taking her leave from Orgnar, giving him instructions about the inn until she could return.

Once outside, Delphine said, "We can all go to Kynesgrove together, or split up. It's your call."

"I have something I need to do first," Marcus said, remembering the Horn and his promise to return it.

Delphine sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I can't hang around forever! I thought you were serious about this! What am I supposed to do if the dragon does come back to life and you're not there?"

Marcus, by this time, was more than fed up at her cavalier attitude. "Take notes," he said shortly, and turned on his heel, heading south out of Riverwood.

"Did I miss something?" Benor asked. "I thought you were the Dragonborn."

"Yeah, I know," Marcus muttered. "She's a nut-job, that's for sure. But if she knows anything about the dragons returning, maybe we should humor her for a while."

"So, does that mean we're going after her?" Benor asked.

"No, not quite yet," the Dragonborn replied, still heading south. "I have to return something to the Greybeards."

Never again! Benor thought to himself. He felt sure his teeth were still rattling in their gums. Never again would he accompany the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. It wasn't as if the Greybeards were unkind. Quite the opposite; they barely noticed him. But all the Shouting they did made his ears ring, even though he crouched in a corner by the front door and pressed both hands over them. He should have just stepped outside, despite the raging snowstorm, but even then, he wasn't sure it would have made a difference.

Marcus, however, seemed unfazed by the thundering voices. When three of the Greybeards left the main hall, Marcus remained in conversation with the one who had the knot in his beard. Benor couldn't hear what was being said, because his ears were still ringing, but Marcus seemed pleased.

After a short time, the Dragonborn returned to where Benor waited for him.

"L-t's –o," he said.

"WHAT?" Benor shouted, unaware of how loud his voice rang through the vast halls of High Hrothgar. Knot-Beard turned and glared at him.

"O-, 'f-r'gt," Marcus grinned. He handed Benor a red bottle and motioned for him to drink up.

"IF THIS ISN'T MEAD, YOU OWE ME ONE!" Benor boomed out, then drank the potion. Gradually, the ringing in his ears subsided, and the ache in his head went away. Marcus was still looking at him, thoroughly amused. "WHAT? Uh, I mean, what?" Benor said in a more normal voice as he realized just how loud he'd been.

"I said I forgot," Marcus replied. "I'm sorry, Benor. I didn't realize they were going to do that, or I'd have asked you to step outside."

"Don't think it would've helped," Benor muttered, still shaking his head slightly to clear it. "We done here?"

"Yeah, I think so," Marcus said. "I managed to get Master Arngeir to tell me where I could find a new Shout, and it's practically on our way to Kynesgrove."

"Well, that's convenient!" Benor smiled. "Y'think Delphine would mind? She seemed pretty keen for us to get to Kynesgrove right away."

Marcus refrained from remarking that Delphine could stuff it. "Whether she minds or not, I'm not allowing her to run my life," he said firmly. "I don't know who she is yet, but I'm the Dragonborn, and learning these Words of Power take precedent over whatever little tasks she has planned for me."

"You're the boss," shrugged Benor. "Let's get moving."

They made the long trek down the Throat of the World and stayed the night at the Vilemyr Inn before setting out again in the morning for a place Arngeir had noted on Marcus' map.

"Northwind Summit," he'd told the Dragonborn. "We have felt the whisper of a Word from there."

But he wouldn't say which word. I guess I'll find out when I get there, Marcus shrugged to himself.

They followed a trail that led north out of Ivarstead and switchbacked down the bluffs to a road that followed the southern edge of a vast, sunken caldera strewn with geysers. The smell of sulfur wafting on the cold breeze from the north smelled like a thousand Blue-Tip matches all lit at once, and Marcus found the further down the trail they went, the more his eyes stung and watered.

"Not a pleasant place here, that's for sure," Benor commented. Marcus chuckled. His friend certainly had a firm grasp on the obvious.

They joined the main road eventually and turned southeast again, passing by a small mining community called Darkwater Crossing. Marcus remembered Ralof telling his sister Gerdur that that was where the Imperials had set up their ambush for Ulfric Stormcloak. Was this where he'd actually come into Skyrim? Had his soul been thrown into an Imperial soldier in this area? And what of Tamsyn? How had the body of a young Breton girl ended up in the same ambush? He shook his head slightly. He would never know. Not that it really mattered anymore, of course. That had been months ago, and he'd come a long way since then.

It was still fairly early in the afternoon when they found the road that led south to Shor's Stone and Riften, a road that climbed back up out of the thermal plain. Marcus had no intention of going all the way to Shor's Stone, however. The trail he needed spurred off from the main road about a quarter of the way there and wormed its way up to the peak of Northwind Summit.

Another hour took them to the entrance of a mine, where the trail seemed to end. They were still nowhere near the summit.

"Well, where the hell did the road go?" Marcus asked rhetorically.

"Maybe we need to go through the mine," Benor suggested.

"Wouldn't that take us deeper into the mountain itself?" the Dragonborn asked.

"Never know 'til you try," his companion shrugged.

Sighing, Marcus unsheathed Uthgerd's greatsword, which he had taken to simply calling "Uthgerd" in memoriam, and led the way in. Abandoned mines like this were usually a haven for bandits…or worse.

In actuality, it wasn't that bad. A few skeletons still walked the tunnels, but they proved little challenge for two determined warriors and finely honed steel. Or in Benor's case, orichalcum. The greatsword swung much faster than the axe Marcus was used to, but he found he liked it better. Eventually, the tunnels led up and out of the mine and they found themselves near the top of the mountain. A flight of stairs hid the top from view, and instinctively Marcus crouched. Benor followed unquestioningly. They crept to the top of the stone steps and peered over.

Draped over the top of the Word Wall was a large, bronze-colored dragon. It was sleeping. Marcus had no idea if the dragon breathed flame or frost. The dragon they'd fought in Hjaalmarch had been a grayish-white color with black spines down its back. This one seemed to be all one uniform color with spikes all over its head and back.

"Be prepared for fire or frost," Marcus murmured, handing over some Resist potions he'd picked up at Arcadia's before he left. "I have no idea what it's going to breathe." Benor took the potions and nodded.

"Ready when you are," he muttered.

Marcus crept a little closer, to make sure he would be able to hit with his bow, but the dragon's senses were clearly better than he anticipated. It woke up and instantly launched itself into the sky, wheeling around searching for whatever had disturbed it. Catching sight of the two men on the stairs, it shrieked its challenge in a column of fire that withered the leaves on the snowberry bushes around them.

Marcus and Benor tumbled separate ways. This was their favored tactic by now. It worked on most animals, such as bears and lone wolves, and seemed to do pretty well against dragons, too.

Bows first, to weaken it, then swords when it landed. Bows again when it jumped back into the sky, and swords again when it landed. Shout at it when it hovered overhead to breathe on them. Having already fought one dragon together, each man was feeling more comfortable matching his fighting style to complement his partner's. In no time, the dragon was down for good, and Marcus felt the rushing headiness as its soul entered him, struggling at first, but then consigned to a corner of his mind where he sifted through its experiences.

He approached the Word Wall; now that he was close enough, he could hear the chanting, see the glyphs ignite and felt the stream of knowledge pour into him. Laas. Life. What it meant, exactly, he didn't know, and wouldn't unless he used the dragon's soul to unlock its meaning.

As Benor went around gathering up any potential treasure from the ruined shacks in the area, Marcus considered the Words he'd discovered so far. Kaan, he knew meant Kyne, or Kynareth, the Goddess of the Sky, revered by the Greybeards. Feim meant "fade", but how it worked in a Shout he didn't know. He had two souls he could use, on three Words. Knowing what kaan belonged to, and not seeing a need to keep animals at bay…yet…Marcus decided to unlock the meanings of the other two words he'd learned so far.

Almost as if by instinct, he probed the deeper memories of the two souls he'd taken, still struggling in the back of his mind. At first he felt resistance, but inevitably they gave up the fight, as Mir Mul Nir had done, and Marcus felt the understanding sweep through him.

"LAAS!" He intended to Shout it, but it came out as a whisper. Instantly, Benor lit up as his life-force illuminated him with a red glow. Further away, past the smelter that was up here, Marcus could see a small shape limned with red as a rabbit took off down the hill. Nearby, a fox was huddled in some bushes that had escaped the dragon's wrath. Interesting. The Shout lit up an aura of life-force all around a living thing. Marcus grinned. He could think of several useful applications for this particular Shout.

When it faded, and he felt his vital essence refill, Marcus tried the other Shout he'd unlocked.

"FEIM!" This one came out as a full-fledged Shout, and Benor jumped, startled.

"Hey! What'd ya do that for?" He peered more closely at Marcus. "Hey! You're all transparent!" He stuck his hand through Marcus' mid-section.

Annoyed, Marcus swatted at his friend, saying, "Stop that!" but his hand passed right through Benor.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" he mused in wonder. He'd gone completely incorporeal, like a ghost! "I wonder if I could go through walls this way?" he chuckled.

"I wouldn't want to try it," Benor snorted. "How long does that last, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Marcus said, as the world faded back in and he could see he was solid once more. "But I'm sure glad your hand wasn't still in me when I came out of that!"

"Eww," Benor scowled. "That's disgusting!"

"Think how I'd feel on this end!" Marcus couldn't resist teasing. "The Greybeards told me that each Shout was made up of three words. They gave me all three of Unrelenting Force."

"That's the one you've been using to push with?" Benor questioned as they gathered up their packs.

"Yes, and they taught me one Word to Whirlwind Sprint, which allows me to run with incredible speed," Marcus explained. "Every word I learn makes the Shout that much more powerful. The stronger I get, the more powerful my Shouts will become."

"And all of this so you can save the world, right?" Benor asked. Marcus noticed right away there was a note of hope in Benor's voice; there was nothing sarcastic there at all. Benor truly believed in the stories of the Dragonborn, and wanted it to be true.

"I sincerely hope so, my friend," Marcus said, unsure if he could live up to such expectations. "I sincerely hope so."

They decided to push on through the night to get to Kynesgrove as quickly as possible. They'd already taken two days since talking with Delphine to go up to High Hrothgar and then to Northwind Summit. But as they descended the trail, which gave them an incredible view over the geyser plains, Marcus saw a familiar figure wheeling in the distance over a peak which jutted out from the middle of the volcanic tundra.

"Benor!" he called. "Do you see that?"

Benor peered into the gathering gloom of evening. "Another dragon?!" he exclaimed. He looked over to the Dragonborn. "Whaddya think?" he asked. "Should we go after it?"

Marcus' inner dragon was trumpeting a challenge. "It's on our way," he said fiercely. "It may even be the one from Kynesgrove, if Delphine is right and it's already come back to life."

"And if it's not?" Benor asked dubiously.

"Then we take out one more dragon, and keep it from coming back," Marcus said with a feral grin.

"I like the way you think," Benor approved.

Bonestrewn Crest, the peak was called on his map, and Marcus realized once they got there that it was aptly named. The wolves and skeevers that attacked them along the way to the mountain stood little chance against two heavily armed and armored warriors, but they both gave the giants and mammoths a wide berth.

"No sane person goes up against a giant, or a mammoth, unless he wants to find out how high the sky is," Benor explained.

"That bad, huh?" Marcus asked.

"Trust me on this one," Benor said. "Friend of mine didn't believe me. The giant hit him so hard I never saw his body hit the ground. I think he might still be going up."

Duly noted, Marcus thought to himself.

The dragon was a fire-breather, like the one at Northwind Summit, and between them, Marcus and Benor made short work of it. The Word Wall at the top of the peak gave him fo. "Frost," Marcus murmured. He now had a soul to use to unlock kaan, if he chose, but he decided he would rather breathe frost.

Sure would have been useful to know this Shout before I had to fight the dragon! he thought wryly.

It was definitely getting easier to kill the dragons, thought, he mused with satisfaction as he picked over its remains.

"No more bones!" Benor groaned when Marcus pulled three more off the carcass.

"I swear this is the last I'll ask you to carry," Marcus promised. "As soon as I collect enough, I'll make you something from them, I promise!"

Grumbling, Benor took the bones and pushed them – very tightly – into his already near-capacity backpack.

"Anything good in the chest?" the big Nord asked the Dragonborn.

"I don't think so," Marcus said, taking another look. "I think that's – wait a minute, what's this?"

He pulled out a large, roundish, faceted stone of iridescent white, about the size of a soccer ball. It gleamed in the starlight with an internal glow all its own.

"A new hand touches the Beacon," a female Voice intoned.

"Oh, crap," Marcus muttered.

"Listen, mortal," the Voice continued. "Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy! Return my Beacon to my temple at Kilkreath, so that my Light may return to the world!"

Benor looked at Marcus as he stood there with the Beacon in his hand. "You get to carry it," was all he said.

[Author's Note: I haven't forgotten about my teaser from last chapter. It's just that my characters seem to have minds of their own which direction the story should go. Kynesgrove is definitely next, and Marcus' talk with Jarl Balgruuf after that. Anyway, thank you for staying with me!]