Chapter 6 Dragonborn
The western watchtower wasn't far from town. It was sitting just off the side of the road heading north. Mjolta could see it in the distance as she ran to get there. When she arrived, she saw Irileth and a group of guards gathered on the road off to the side. The watchtower looked to have been hit already, parts of the top chipped off and the bridge was broken to pieces in the grass on her left. Fires burned in the field surrounding the tower. She remembered all too well what the one in Helgen did this morning.
"No signs of any dragon right now. But it sure looks like he's been here." Irileth said more to herself than anyone else as she studied the destruction.
"I know it looks bad. But surely some survivors remain in the tower. The dragon might still be lurking around somewhere, so watch yourselves. Spread out and look around." She drew her blade and the other guards readied their weapons and bows as well. Irileth's eyes turned on Mjolta.
"I see you chose to fight with us. We could use someone who has experience with one of these creatures." Though she was stern, Mjolta could tell she felt better having another blade at her side.
"Stay behind cover and fire as many arrows as you can." That was all the advice she could give.
Irileth nodded in understanding, repeating the message to her men as she walked towards the tower. Mjolta traded her shield for her bow on her back. She kept it in her grip, ready to notch an arrow at a moment's notice.
"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere!" A guard suddenly called out from the entrance of the tower. He wore a leather helmet that framed his face, only his forehead and brow were covered, but she recognized the fear in his eyes.
Suddenly a cry much like the one she heard earlier emitted from the sky somewhere not far. Wingbeats could be heard as it swooped down closer to the tower.
"Kynareth save us, here he comes again!" The guard shouted, they all braced for an attack.
Mjolta closed her eyes and took a breath, knowing whatever happened she had to stand and fight. If she didn't, the people of Whiterun stood no chance. Her and a few guards took cover against a giant slab taller than them, arrows already notched. When the dragon flew past they let a folly loose, tagging the creature and a few arrows managed to stick into the scales. It wasn't the same as the one in Helgen, much smaller and its scales were a grayish green color. When it circled back she saw its yellow eyes peering into hers.
"Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde!" The creature spoke in a deep rumbling tone. It could be heard loud and clear to all of them but she understood exactly what it said.
'My overlord will devour your souls in Sovngarde!'
She didn't understand how she knew what it said, their language was nothing she'd ever heard before let alone spoke. But she didn't have time to wonder why as it was swooping down again. They all ran to get out of its path. Giant clawed feet nearly snatched one of them as it neared the ground, only scraping the broken stone wall they were just standing against. Mjolta was shaking a little but steadied herself, not allowing her fear to cloud her ability to fight. They fired another set of arrows at the dragon, most of them bouncing right off its tough hide. She decided it was no use being so low, it had the advantage on them. She propelled herself into a sprint, climbing up into the tower from the pile of rubble in front of the entrance. She clambered up as fast as she could, passing by the guards hiding inside the tower. She hurried up the spiral steps, bow in hand and keeping her breathing under control. She reached the top of the stairs just in time to witness one of the guards get snatched up by clawed feet and taken high into the air. He screamed in terror as he was dropped somewhere far out in the field. He wasn't moving when he hit the ground.
Mjolta sat back against the stone wall, eyes closed and breathing in through her nose to calm herself. She only had a few seconds to prepare herself before stepping out to where the guard had been previously standing. The dragon spotted her and came in for another run. An idea came to her, they couldn't reach it from down here, but who's to say she can't go to it? Within seconds she had her bow on her back and her hands free.
"Stay calm men! Prepare for another folly!" Irileth cried out from somewhere down below.
Mjolta waited for the dragon to get close enough. It was about to snatch her up but only realized too late she anticipated that to happen. She jumped up as high as she could and grabbed hold around the beast's lower leg. It tried to kick her off but she had a tight grip on it. Her days of climbing the rocky cliffs in the rift were paying off big time, assuming this idea worked. She climbed upwards, using the cracks in between scales for footholds. It attempted to fly upwards, shaking vigorously to throw her off but to no avail. She held on as her life literally depended on it. Once she managed to throw her right leg over she rolled up onto the top of its back.
"Get off me worm!" The dragon bellowed angrily.
She ignored its taunt and proceeded to climb forward, wind biting at her face as they traveled upwards. She struggled to pull herself up now. It took an unexpected plunge downwards. She could see the tower and the field below. She held herself tightly against its hard scales, inching forward now. Once she reached its neck it reared back, growling and attempting to snap at her but it couldn't reach. Carefully unsheathing her sword, she plunged it down into the creature's neck, it cried out in pain and fury. Now she had the reigns to control its movement. She forced it to straighten out by pulling back a little. They weren't too far from the tower now. She kept applying pressure, the dragon didn't like being controlled.
"Look out!" Someone warned as she shoved the sword forward and a little deeper, causing the dragon to cry out in pain once more.
It jerked before crash landing into the ground belly first, tearing up a lot of dirt in the process. Mjolta was flung off of the neck where she had been sitting and landed on the ground, tumbling and rolling multiple times before stopping. Although bruised and banged up, she managed to push herself to a standing position. The dragon was more dazed than she was, but quickly realized it was vulnerable on the ground now. Arrows pelted the back and wings from the left. It groaned and snapped at the air in frustration, pushing itself to stand on all fours. Its tail swiped back and forth, slamming into one of the guards and sending him flying into the air a good distance. Her sword was still embedded in the thing's neck, it was the only thing she had that could finish it off. Mjolta took only her shield from her back and proceeded to charge forward with it held in front of her. The dragon saw her coming but didn't have enough time to react as she bashed its horned face and jumped up to snatch her sword from its scales. It reared its head back to breathe fire but she reacted quicker.
"Fus!" The word echoed across the battlefield, a mighty force that stopped the dragon from blasting her with fire breath and momentarily stunned it.
"Dovahkiin?" The dragon's eyes grew a little bigger, it seemed shocked at her display of whatever power she had just used.
But she took that moment of surprise to land her finishing blow. She vaulted up unto its neck and balanced herself, raising her sword before plunging it straight down into its skull between its horns. It cried out in a roar of agony, at the same time the sickening sound of bone cracking and flecks of blood splattering against her hide armor and neck. The dragon collapsed dead to the ground.
Mjolta struggled to tear out her sword with a lot of force. She hopped off the dragon's lifeless corpse, panting and shaking slightly as she leaned over to catch her breath. She had no idea what that power was but she knew they all must have witnessed it. The remaining men and Irileth came over to examine the sight of the dead beast. But before they could cheer for joy something happened. The Dragon began to glow a bright hot yellow as its skin and scales burned and flaked off like ashes in a fire. It was now engulfed in the burning light, a sound erupted and what looked like white wind trails swirled around the dragon at high speed.
"What's happening?" One of the guards asked with uncertainty.
"Everybody get back!" Irileth ordered, putting her arms out and backing away.
The wind trails made a whooshing noise as they flew past then started to surround Mjolta. She stared at herself in both horror and amazement as she felt what it was doing. When the winds stopped everything grew still, the dragon was now a pile of bones, no trace of any flesh or organs. But whatever it was that just happened, she felt rejuvenated, more powerful than she did before she started fighting.
"I can't believe it..you're..Dragonborn." One of the guards said in awe, his eyes wide.
"But I…I can't be." Mjolta tried to deny it as it couldn't be possible.
But it finally started to make sense, she was able to read and understand the Dragon's language without any prior knowledge or studying. She spoke a word and generated enough force to knock over a giant. Now she somehow absorbed the power from the one she just killed.
"We heard you shout, like the dragons do. Only a Dragonborn can use the power of the voice without training." He explained to her.
She didn't know much about Dragonborns even from stories she was told as a child. Her mentor had never cared to talk about legends and tales unless they were his own stories.
"What else do you know?" Mjolta asked, hoping he'd help her understand what all this meant.
He seemed to relax a little, sheathing his sword. Despite the smoke from the fires on the ground and a dragon skeleton lying next to them, everything seemed relatively calm.
"In the very oldest tales, back when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power." He paused when another guard suddenly piped up.
"That's right! My grandfather used to tell stories about the Dragonborn. Those born with the dragon blood in em. Like old Tiber Septim himself." He said proudly.
She knew Tiber Septim ended up becoming the ninth divine Talos. But if he was a demigod before he became a god, she wondered if that makes her a demigod also.
"I've never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons." Another guard to their right said matter of fact, a smug look on his face.
"There weren't any dragons then, idiot. They're just coming back now for the first time in…forever." The guard in front of her retorted, shutting the other guard up. His smug expression turned into a bit of a frown.
"What do you say, Irileth? You're awfully quiet. Come on tell us, do you believe in this Dragonborn business?" He turned to face Irileth who had been silently observing the dead dragon as they spoke.
She crossed her arms as she turned to face Mjolta. She eyed her skeptically, knowing she witnessed both the shout and her absorbing the dragon's power. After a brief pause she spoke.
"I think you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you know nothing about." She flashed her guards a look of warning.
"Here's a dead dragon. That's something I can definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can take down a dragon is more than enough for me." She gave Mjolta an encouraging smirk.
"You wouldn't understand housecarl, you ain't a Nord." One of the guards stated, it didn't sound like he intended to be rude but it was a very rash statement.
"I've been all across Tamriel. I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends." Irileth snapped in her usual stern tone, proving her point.
"We need to return to Whiterun and tell Jarl Balgruuf of our success. I'll send guards to clean up the watchtower later. For now, we celebrate our victory boys!" Irileth ordered, they all cheered happily.
Mjolta wished she could be relieved that they defeated the dragon. But she had so many questions about what just happened. Regardless she followed along as they began their trek back to Whiterun. The sun was fading even further below the horizon, leaving a strip of sky surrounding it with bright red orange. Storm clouds were still looming, light rumbles suggested it was coming any moment. It was getting dark fast as they walked. Just as they were past the stables a rumbling like thunder occurred and a loud crack but no lightning appeared. Instead a word was heard clear as day echoing across the plains of the entire hold.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The word was called out like a chant, many voices speaking it at once, making it even louder. The call emitted from High Hrothgar, the mountain south of Whiterun directly ahead of them. As if that was the command, a few drops of rain landed on her face and arms before it picked up. She had to ignore the call and make a run to the main gate with the rest of the guard.
They were nearly soaked when they reached Dragonsreach. She left wet footprints on the carpet as she made her way up to the dining hall. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at them. Irileth held her sword hilt as she walked up to speak to the Jarl first. Speaking with the Jarl was a muscular nord, he had a shaved head, long blonde facial hair tied in a knot at his chin. When he turned his head, he had visible red stripes of paint across his eyes and cheek. The man's eyes found hers and he continued talking, most likely about her, before looking away. Mjolta felt a bit awkward having so many eyes on her. Eventually they just stopped giving her looks and went back to eating and talking amongst themselves. Farengar was sitting somewhere behind her and ushered for her to come over to him. She sat down on the bench facing opposite the table beside him. He was eating but seemed desperate to know what happened.
"You really fought the dragon? What was it like?" He asked, curious to know. She merely sighed in response, not this again, she thought.
"Not as fun as you'd imagine. It breathed fire and demolished half of the watchtower. We lost a couple men, I hope they're resting peacefully." His eyes grew big in excitement, only adding to her annoyance with him.
"Wow! Sorry to hear about the fallen soldiers." She didn't know whether or not to believe him being sincere, he didn't seem to understand the danger.
"I'd have loved to have been there though. Is there any chance you got a sample I could analyze? For research purposes of course?" He took a bite out of his bread loaf, munching while he waited for an answer.
She scoffed at his ignorance and stood up from the table. The Jarl was beckoning for her to come up to him. The other man he had just been talking to took a seat at the other end of the table, eyeing her as he sat down.
"I have more important matters to discuss with Jarl Balgruuf." She said sourly, he was very confused.
"Is it something I said?" He asked through a mouth full of food, but she paid him no mind and approached the Jarl at his throne. She stopped briefly when the guy with the painted face leaned back to say something as she neared him.
"We were just talking about you. My brother would like a word with you." He informed her.
She didn't know they were brothers. Balgruuf was eying her with a look of admiration, sitting up straighter in his seat when she stood before him. On his right stood Proventus, the Jarl's steward. He was an imperial with pointed facial features and wore formal gray attire. On the Jarl's opposite side stood Irileth. She was soaked from the rain and looked exhausted but stayed at his side regardless.
"Forgive my brother Hrongar, he only wished to know what matters you've helped me with. He is very impressed with you." She knew there was probably more to that statement.
"Irileth informed me you were the one that took down the dragon. But I want to hear it from you." He was keen on hearing the whole story.
Mjolta knew she would have to explain what happened, but even she wasn't totally sure of what happened. She swallowed before speaking, making sure to maintain eye contact as she did.
"When we got to the watchtower it was already destroyed. The dragon came, gave us a lot of trouble. I managed to mount it, bringing it down with my sword arm. After that.." She paused, this was going to be the difficult part to explain.
"Go on." The Jarl prodded. She took in a deep breath, calming herself before continuing.
"When the dragon died…something happened. I can't explain it..it was like I absorbed its power or soul." She struggled to try and explain. But his eyes grew wide, not in shock but more out of awe.
"So it's true. The Greybeards really were summoning you." He said in shock, she could feel the eyes on her once again.
"Why would they summon me?" She asked suspiciously.
She didn't know much about the Greybeards. From what she was told, they were masters of the Way of the Voice. That they lived in seclusion on top of the Throat of the World, which was the highest mountain in all of Skyrim.
"The Dragonborn are said to be uniquely gifted in the way of the voice, the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um or Shout. They can teach you how to use your gift." He explained.
He spoke as if this was an everyday occurrence. To be fair, things such as this happen everyday all across Tamriel. But up until today she had been living as a hunter in the Rift, now suddenly she can speak a new language and she killed and absorbed a dragon's soul. This was quite overwhelming, even for her.
"I'm not sure about all of this." She stated her thoughts out loud. Hrongar stood up from the bench he was sitting on.
"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" He asked unbelievably, she turned to face him.
"That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar!" He exclaimed, trying to make her understand how incredible this was. He had her attention and she kept listening.
"This hasn't happened in…centuries at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!" He spoke highly, but also put her in the same light.
The rest of the table looked half as convinced. Mostly the Nords seemed to agree with what was said. But the Imperials didn't see what all the big deal was.
"You'd better get up to High Hrothgar as soon as you can. There's no refusing the Greybeards, it's a great honor." Balgruuf reminded her, she turned again to stand facing him.
"But before you go, one more thing, well, a few things actually. Don't think we forgot the great service you did for me and my city. I know you have only been here a short time but you have done so much for us." He praised, but she didn't expect what he was about to say next.
He stood from his throne, standing before her, motioning for someone across the room, a cue for them to do something.
"By my right as Jarl, I name you, Mjolta, Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant." He bowed his head in respect of her new title. She didn't know what to say.
"I also assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office." One of the servants came over with a war axe in both hands.
They dropped to one knee to present it to her, head tipped down to the floor. Mjolta gently lifted it out of the servant's hands.
"The Axe of Whiterun, for you to use as you will. It was crafted in the Skyforge so it's stronger than common steel." He explained, as if it was no big deal.
She felt a smile tug on her lips as she felt its weight, examining it top to bottom. Nothing really stood out about it, but it was beautiful nonetheless. The blade was nearly white steel, a crescent shape, dark engravings around the sides of the curve. A wooden hilt and a light brown leather grip laced tight around the handle.
"I'll also notify the guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble now, would we?" He chuckled a little.
Mjolta's mouth hung open, she was speechless. She'd never been shown such appreciation let alone been given a title as honorary as Thane of a city. She slipped her new axe into a slot on her belt over her right hip.
"I don't know what to say. I feel so honored." She could hardly come up with the right words to say. Balgruuf grinned, showing wrinkles around his eyes and cheeks.
"We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn." The way he referred to her as the Dragonborn didn't make her feel uncomfortable. It was starting to seem like something she'd rather embrace.
"Oh and I almost forgot. There's a house for sale in the city. Speak to Proventus about it when you return. You can consider Whiterun a place to call home." This was definitely too much. He cut her off before she could speak by holding up his hand to quiet her.
"You've more than earned it. You should get some rest and head to High Hrothgar in the morning. The Bannered Mare is located in the market district, you can't miss it." With that he turned to speak with Irileth about something.
"I for one am proud to call you Thane." Hrongar bowed his head a little to her before walking away.
Mjolta noticed the stares she was receiving but they weren't gawking, some were smiling and she heard a few claps as she passed back through the dining hall. When she reached the bottom of the stairs in the main hall, the woman she saw earlier in the barracks appeared to be waiting for her. She was leaning against a wooden post, arms crossed and watching her carefully with her bright blue eyes. Mjolta approached the woman.
"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honor to serve you." She spoke respectfully to her, standing up straight from her position. She must have been Lydia.
"Um...serve me?" Mjolta asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"You're my Thane. I'm sworn to protect you with my life." Lydia said, as if nothing was more important. Mjolta didn't know if she liked the idea of a housecarl, or any servant for that matter.
"How about a friend instead?" She offered. Lydia seemed taken back.
"I don't know any Thane that's ever done that before." She seemed perplexed, pursing her lips slightly, her dark eyebrows furrowing.
"Well I'm just just any Thane." She smirked, not believing in the idea that anyone should be sworn to serve someone just because they were ordered to.
"Then I'm honored to be your friend, my Thane." She gave a small nod. Mjolta shook her head lightly.
"Please, just call me Mjolta." She begged. Lydia seemed mildly embarrassed.
"As you wish. Well then, where are we heading?" She asked her, changing the subject.
Mjolta took notice of herself, she was half soaked, her armor was damp and she had blood drops splattered on her front. Not to mention she hadn't eaten since earlier today. She was definitely due to take care of those things.
"The Bannered Mare. I'd like a bath, a warm meal, and some sleep."