I am a terrible, terrible person, I know. It's been over a month, and I apologize for that, from the bottom of my heart. That is, if anyone is still reading this. I'm currently on vacation, and have a lot more time to update regularly. So, without further ado, enjoy chapter four. If you can still remember the plot, that is :P
Chapter 4
The next morning, after a paltry breakfast of bread and cheese, I continue on my way to Korvanjund. As I walk, the slight inkling of spring that had permeated the chilly air for the last week disappears entirely. Snow begins to fall, and the farther east I walk, the thicker the flurries become, until I'm forced to wrap my cloak around my body in an attempt to ward off the blizzard. I squint through the storm, as icy crystals pelt my face, and the wind around me builds itself up into a howl. My feet sink deeper and deeper into the thickening snow, until it reaches up to my knees, and the windblown drifts are as tall as I am. I curse under my breath, and forge on, accepting and subsequently ignoring the icy sting.
As the wind whistles in my ears, I'm reminded of another time that I'd been caught in a snowstorm, with Gabriella. My lips tighten, and a scowl etches across my features, as I instinctually reject the emotional aspect of the memory. Remaining guarded, my thoughts turn to the events of the instance, and suddenly, a vicious grin spreads across my face, replacing the scowl as I remember what exactly had occurred. I'd used a shout to clear the sky, and my use of the Voice had attracted a challenger.
I throw off my hood, and grip my blades in anticipation of the imminent fight. I let the snow fall freely on my face, searing and freezing at the same time. I draw both swords, gradually, slowly, savoring the sound of the honed metal whining against it's rough sheathe. The tips of the blades sink infinitesimally into the snow, with almost no resistance, as I lower my arms, and raise my face to the sky. I suck in a deep breath of the cold, biting air, part my lips, and shout at the sky, building and releasing the Thu'um with a practiced ease.
"LOK VAH KOOR!" I roar. My words are drowned out by a deafening boom, as a shockwave ripples out of me, blasting the trees, flinging snow into the air, and shredding the clouds above into nothingness. The wind stops abruptly, as does the snow, and I squint at the sudden light reflecting off the crystalline blanket that covers the ground.
As my eyes adjust, I look around, staring intently at all corners of the horizon, hoping for a response. Seconds pass. Then, minutes. Regardless, I remain motionless. Finally, after fifteen minutes, I give up, my mood darkened by the failure. Scowling, I continue on my way.
Suddenly, a roar tears through the previously silent tundra. The echoes of the bone chilling challenge slowly fade, and a feral smile stretches slowly across my face. I shift from foot-to-foot in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the creature like a child awaits a present on it's name-day. I draw my blades without any conscious prompting, and grunt in satisfaction at my body's natural battle-tendencies.
Just as the last vestiges of the beat's first call fade into nothingness, it roars again, far louder this time. It's getting close. My hands tighten around the hilts of my blades, and with the action, a blast of wind strikes my face, and a tremendous rushing sound reaches my ears as a massive, copper-red scaled dragon soars directly over my head. I'm forced to duck as it turns sharply, lashing out at my much smaller form with it's mace-like tail. Through the deafening sound of it's movement, I make out the legendary beast's gravelly challenge.
"Krif voth ahkrin, Dovahkiin!" It bellows, as it increases the distance between us in order to make another pass. "Fight well!"
"I intend to." I mutter.
I brace my feet in the snowy ground as best I can, and draw in a deep breath, preparing to knock the dragon out of the sky. Suddenly, without warning, I hear a tremendous thud, and the ground beneath me shakes. I'm just barely able to keep my balance. Staggering, I whip my head around, and my eyes widen. Fuck. The muscles in my leg coil as I leap out of the way of the roaring inferno, a blazing pillar of flame emitting from the maw of a second dragon.
I didn't even notice it's arrival. I curse, berating myself for the slip. Climbing to my feet in a flash, I sprint around the second creature's green-scaled hide, trying to escape it's snapping jaws, while simultaneously searching for it's...partner? Brother? Friend? The questioning thought is forced from my mind as I narrowly avoid being clipped by the dragon's massive wing. In a moment of inspiration, I dart underneath it's belly, dodging it's stamping feet and razor claws. With a frustrated growl, the enormous creature leaps into the air, protecting it's scale-less underside. The sheer force of the gust of air that it's wings force down is enough to knock me back onto the ground. Stunned, I see a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, and roll out of the way just in time to see the snow where I'd previously been sprawled melt, and the ground beneath it burn from the sheer heat of the copper dragon's fire breath.
Shaking my head to clear it, I leap to my feet, turning around in a circle, in the middle of the field, desperately trying to keep both dragons in my field of vision. They begin to pick up their pace, circling faster and faster, ducking and weaving and arching, waiting for me to let my guard down. My head whips around with each scaly flash, and my adrenaline builds, working me up into a fevered frenzy, as I turn my head around, back and forth, desperately, as the creatures move faster, faster, faster.
And then, I stop. I blink once, slowly, as I feel a deep rumbling in my chest. With the feeling, a barely audible chanting reaches my ears, and the wind picks up, whistling across the ict tundra, stabbing my skin with it's sheer coldness. An eery calm pervades my senses, as I reach my third stage of battle.
About three months after Gabriella's death, I'd realized that I couldn't control my shouting anymore. Not correctly, anyway. It didn't always come when bidden, but also began to explode out of me of it's own accord. Every time that I'd experience any extreme of emotion, typically anger, the Thu'um seeped into my voice, causing quakes, gales, or even fire. I assume that this had started when I incinerated Gabriella's killer, without actually uttering the words to the fire breath shout.
My lack of control didn't extend to only shouting, however. It pertained to everything, every part of my life; this carelessness opened me up to new kinds of ferocity that I could never have imagined myself capable of- Quickly, I'd learned to stop trying to control myself, and simply let go.
The end result was what had, so far, extended into a three-stage cycle, which Amaril had dubbed my "Stages of Battle". It began with blood lust, which was very near my constant state at this point. I'd slip into the second stage while engaged in any fight that lasted for longer than fifteen seconds. This is the stage that Odhaving had observed me in, before giving my swords their names. It in, I become a machine, my body acting acting on it's own, hacking, slashing, killing, whilst I look on through a red haze.
The third and final stage is the stage of power. I don't quite understand this one. However, my best guess is that it is as close to feeling like a dragon as I'll ever know. It's as if the ferocity of the second state unlocks some sort of u known, primal reserve of Dragonborn power within me. My Thu'um, grows to an incredible strength, and actual physical manifestations of power make themselves known, such as the current chanting, or the sharp, eery wind.
For all I know, there could be more than three stages to this whole concept. I have no idea, however. No fight I've been in has ever made it past the third stage.
Without a second thought, I stop turning. I blink again, and my vision sharpens. I notice and encode every hint of movement, every subtle shadow in my field of vision. My ears twitch, as the chanting grows louder. My eyes close once more, as fire fills my chest. It grows in heat, flowing through my limbs and making my blood boil. My head spins with the sudden rush of raw power, and it pushes at my body, threatening to tear it apart at the seams. It grows hotter and hotter, filling my esophagus, ready, willing, oh so willing to burst through my throat and out of my mouth. And, finally, with a slow, controlled smile, I release it.
My midnight eyes snap open, and my smile fades, as I whisper a single, mono-syllabic word.
"Strun."
And with a small, quiet sigh, I behold the effects.
Clouds sweep across the sky, thick, roiling black masses that blot out the sun within seconds. They twist and coil, moving circularly, forming essentially the shape of an upside-down funnel: wide at the bottom, and gradually narrowing towards the top. Even at the apex of the storm, not a single ray of light can be seen shining through. The previously sunny day is now as dark as the blackest night. A deep, rolling thunderclap crashes through the air like an avalanche, making my teeth vibrate in my skull with it's intensity. The sound extends for an entire minute, before slowly receding. The clouds begin to spiral, in an almost uniform fashion. Some bands move faster than others, yet they're all moving in the same direction, smoothly turning, slowly picking up speed.
The two dragons falter in midair, and then stop completely, hovering in confusion. Calmly, I oberve them as their great, scaly heads whip back and forth, trying to make sense of the rapidly worsening weather conditions. The copper-scaled creature roars something in the dragon tongue, but I can't make out his exact words. His green-scaled brother opens his maw to formulate a response, but is cut short.
A low keening sound suddenly sweeps across the tundra. Both dragons stiffen at it's arrival, and I note it with a clear, affirmative acceptance. Second by second, the sound rises in pitch, whistling in my ears, until gradually, the truth dawns on the usually unshakable beats: the sound is wind, a powerful, destructive gale that's building, becoming stronger and more ferocious with each passing moment. The dragons' wings strain against the force, as the whistling intensifies, sweeping tiny whirlwinds of snow off of the ground and into the air. I ignore the sting of the icy barrage, and continue watching my enemies' mental progression. With a visible jolt, the copper beast, clearly the superior specimen, connects the sudden storm with me. He whips his head around to face his would-be prey, and snarls in fury. He arches his neck, and inhales deeply, preparing to release a fireball in my direction.
Big mistake. I smirk, slightly.
Without warning, without any form of indication, the gale explodes. It's force multiplies exceptionally, slamming into both dragons like the side of a mountain. The fireball itself is flung back, and explodes, engulfing it's executor in a cocoon of flames. The dragon shrieks in agony as the scales around it's snout, neck, and shoulders melt, dripping off his body, fusing to his skin, and effectively blinding him. The force of the wind picks up even more, and slowly, the dragons begin to move. Unwillingly, they're forced to follow the circular flow of the thick, black vortex. They join the cycle, spinning faster and faster, shrieking and roaring in fury and fear, until they're no more than a blur, whirling around the edges of the tempest ad the wind continue to build, tearing trees up by the roots. Gusts of snow are thrown into the air, surrounding the clearing containing myself and the beasts in a veritable hurricane of ice. The frozen crystals gradually make their way all the way up to the dragons' altitude, where they burrow into any exposed piece of skin, boring between scales, shredding flesh like tiny knives.
And finally, as the wind reaches a deafening crescendo, the structure of the storm collapses. The circle breaks, each current tearing itself off from the main flow with a tremendous force. The winged beasts are blasted back and forth, tossed around the vortex like rag dolls. I hear a sickening snap over the sound of the chaos, and an agonized shriek, as the right wing of the green dragon is snapped and dislocated. The copper beast's appendages soon follow suit, the fragile bones breaking like matchsticks before the mighty wind.
And finally as if the razor snow and brutal winds haven't been enough, a bolt of lightning arcs down from the epicenter of the funnel. I shield my eyes from the blinding flash, but I'm just barely too late. For the briefest of moments, I'm aware of a static image, an imprint of the dragons' suspended in midair, bruised, bloody, and broken, illuminated by angry white light.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the storm dies down. The gales lessen, and after about a minute, they become too weak to support the broken bodies of the dragons. I watch, impassively, as the two mighty creatures begin their descent, spiraling helplessly, before plowing into the ground with an earth-shattering crash. Along with the sounds of their impact come the sickly indicators of breaking bones; sharp snaps, and stomach-churning crunches. The two bodies lay still, as the snow settles.
Just as I'm about to turn away,the copper dragon stirs. I watch, as with a titanic effort, it raises it's majestic head, one last time. It's neck shakes with the effort, but it's one remaining eye is burning with emotion. For a second, I look deeply into the smoldering golden orb. In it's depths, I recognize ambition, and a hunger for power, but also a deep-seated sense of pride, that remains even in defeat. It blinks, once, and it's expression changes dramatically. The look it gives me is full of pity.
Surprise, followed quickly by shame and fury boil up within me. Suddenly, I see red, and my arm moves without prompting. Nax flashes once as it flies through the air, before striking the dragon in the forehead with an audible thump. The beast collapses instantaneously, and it's blood stains the snow beneath it a dark crimson.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I bend over, panting heavily, even thought I had barely exerted myself at all. The whiteness of the snow burns my corneas, as the dragon's serene, yet accusing stare swims in my vision. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I whirl around, lashing out wildly with my remaining sword. It swings harmlessly through the air, however, as whoever had touched me leaps back.
"What if that had been someone besides me?" Amaril growls at me, crouching in the snow. He stands up, and brushes the white crystals off of his leather pants. He looks up at me, his golden eyes sharp and angry.
I ignore his gaze. "Then they would have been monumentally shorter." I hiss, slamming Bahlok back into it's sheathe, and stalking over to the two massive corpses of the dragons. I barely take notice as their scales begin to disintegrate. The familiar feeling of connectivity, of being filled with the millennia of knowledge held within the souls of both dragons does nothing to phase me, as I wrench Nax out of the skull of the copper beast. I wrinkle my nose at the metallic smell, as tiny bits of blood and gore are torn free with the blade. Within seconds, however, they're gone, as they burn away along with the rest of the corpse. I turn back to the elf. He's shaking his head, almost mournfully.
"Don't you see what's happening, Daanik?" He whispers.
I grit my teeth in anger, and swipe Nax's blade along the snow to clean it. "What, pray tell, is happening, Amaril?" I spit, furiously.
He looks up at me, eyes strangely soft. "Look at yourself." He says, softly, gesturing in my direction. "You're so, so angry, Daanik. So full of hate." The last phrase is whispered, almost to himself. Then he continues, "I know it doesn't seem as such from your own perspective, but imagine how the world sees you."
He steps closer, and I tense, eyes wide, enraptured by the elf's golden gaze. "You know the look. You've seen it." He lowers his voice, until it's barely more than a whisper. "The fear, the pain, and ultimately, the pity your victims feel for you." He takes another step closer, until we're inches apart. "The sympathy, the empathy they have towards such a wretched creature. Through all of their own pain, they see you for who you are. They don't hate you. They can't. All they feel is pity. Pity, for a man so very far gone."
As his golden gaze bores into me, I feel my mind trying desperately to rationalize my actions to myself, to prove Amaril and his biting words wrong. But deep down, I know they ring true. As I come to this conclusion, however, my mind stops. It shuts down, and I turn, and run. Unconsciously, I mouth the words to whirlwind sprint, and take off across the tundra.
But I can't escape part of my own consciousness. The elf's last call to me echoes in my mind.
"Something is wrong, Dragonborn, when the Dovah pity their slayer."
Please, please, PLEASE don't forget to review :) It motivates me. Also, I promise that chapter five will actually continue the plot. Thanks for reading!