Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Today's update my readers, marks an auspicious event: I, Companion, my first story here has reached the 10,000 views mark. And while I do occasionally read a chapter and cringe every time I overuse the word 'had' to describe the past-perfect tense; I continue to be thrilled at how many people are on board with the idea of a light-err, magicka-saber wielding Dragonborn who is hopelessly in love with Skyrim's most terrifying woman. Thanks a million readers.
The dawn broke in a clear watery light. Before me the frost-covered ziggurat glistened jet in the sun. Level upon level it rose up the narrow rift valley, its distant crown competing with the peaks of the Velothi Mountains surrounding it. A massive complex of walls, towers, courtyards, and stairs; it was the largest single structure I have seen apart from the White-Gold Tower in Cyrodiil. To build in this place must have taken armies of people generations.
I stood on the ledge, gazing at the monument before me. The Nordic sword was in my hand. It was a good blade, repaired by a master, and wielded by an expert. It had done all I asked of it and more, but in that moment I missed Revenant. Yes, she let me down at the worst possible moment, but she was still a great friend. That magic blade slew bandits and dragons in my hands. Its glow and hum made me famous. Its familiar weight banging away on my hip over miles on the road was almost as comforting as the sound of Aela's footsteps next to mine. I felt downright guilty that the instrument of my glory could not be with me at The End and would never have the honor of wounding Alduin.
The growing daylight revealed myself as it did the great fane and my first foe came upon me.
"Skuldafn fen kos dinok!" The dragon mocked as it landed to fight me on the cramped ledge.
"Kri lun aus!" I shouted back, my first swing connecting with his jaw.
"Curse in vain!" He replied as I ducked in again to hack his neck. My weapon found its way home, guided by the death mark I called on him. The jetting blood turned to smoke and again the flames spread to the rest of the dragon's body.
The memories brought me high above the mountains again. I looked down on a new temple with sharp edges and smooth paving stones. Black banners fluttered in the wind and slaves paced the battlements. A great black form lounged at the apex. I came back to the present.
How and why such a colossal temple as Skuldafn was built away from the reach of the dragons' worshipers is beyond me. Unless the passing of time has covered some forgotten road. For all its terror, the dark palace was educational. As I alternately crept and fought my way through the halls, awnings, and sanctuaries I saw how Alduin and his priests had bent the old Atmoran animal worship into an anti-pantheon to cheat the Aedra of their due. This usurpation of worship was rewarded with promises of immortality. Wall carvings in each hall depicted the faithful being interred here, with a masked priest by turns guiding or presiding over the funeral processions and embalmings. Other reliefs showed men and women ascending the steps as I was, coming to the apex of the temple. Under the gaze of dragons and a priest, they filed down into a great circle.
Deep in the temple, I found a word wall wrapped around an altar. A small dragon claw like Bleak Falls Barrow's gold claw was placed there, though the tips were diamonds set in silver instead of the whole object being solid gold. Taking a moment, I observed the word wall to find its meaning:
Here are the Talons of Nahkriin
May he forever come upon the faithless
Like a storm and strike them down
With the lighting of his wrath.
Having no fear of the malediction of a priest to a false god, I took the Talons of Vengeance and pressed on.
A familiar door with a puzzle lock and a diamond-crusted seal awaited me at the end of a long hall decorated with bas-reliefs of the life of Nahkriin. Before the door a form sat on a step, his arms wrapped about his knees and his forehead resting between his arms. The walls on either side of this sentinel's post were decorated with piles of skulls. As he stood it occurred to me that I was not the first hero to come this way. His Unrelenting Force Shout nearly blew me back into the previous chamber and he advanced swiftly with an ebony sword in his hand. By the end of the long and exhausting fight, I was chopping artlessly at the draugr with my blade, finally bashing aside its defenses with my last strength.
I sat down against the locked door to recuperate and eat the last of my rations. "This really was a reward for you wasn't it?" I asked what was left of the draugr lying at my feet. His eyes were still glowing the faint blue that indicates dormancy-he would be back. "I hope for your sake your soul departed long ago."
I urged myself back to my feet and opened the circular door behind me. A short hallway later and I was outside the temple again, far above the ledge were Odahviing set me down. With a Shout that brought rain and lightning, a brass-colored dragon nearly as old as Paarthurnax set upon me. The fight was a brutal one of shouts, spells, talons, and teeth in the howling wind. He refused to land, making pass after pass at me until I forced the issue with Dragonrend when he was high above the ravine. The air dropped out from under his wings and he stalled with a splash into the water below.
One last flight of stairs in the howling storm around me. One last foe: the masked priest Nahkriin, who was tasked with keeping the portal to Sovngarde open. He floated there at the edge of the great portal where thousands must have walked into Sovngarde, anticipating a miracle, but winding up in Alduin's waiting maw. The black mask covering his face was similar to the burial masks my family kept in our household shrine in Kvatch, but this one was wrought of ebony instead of tin. The slotted eye holes and frowning mouth were far uglier than anything my ancestors wore. This metal face was not made for anyone who had been loved during life.
The ward I cast was strong enough to resist the first bolt of lightning as the floating priest cast at me. The air acquired that sickly sweet smell. I sent my sword hard into the sorcerer's chest. The blade was steadfastly resisted by decayed flesh bound together by wrath. His serpent-headed staff crackled with lightning as it swung at me in the torrential rain. I ducked the swing and hacked in at his chest again. Lighting broke over my head and thunder shook the valley when I made contact, still the unholy priest persisted. My sword locked against his iron staff and sparks flew as if it was Revenant in my grasp. Electricity shot down the staff, numbing my hands as I levered the staff in a great circle to clear my blade. In a whirl I had his arms open. I hewed at the floating monster's neck, driving the edge of my sword with the strength to sever the shoulder of a living man. I felt something crunch as I brought the blade down again. A sparking hand shoved palm open into my chest. The world went back with pain. I backed off and cast a healing spell in the rain before advancing with a renewed Stonefesh spell assisting my armor. I brought my sword high to attack his crippled side again. The undead priest shuddered as the edge slammed down for the third time. The cut went deeper on the fourth stroke; the mage shuddered as brute force broke the spells that bound him to this world. With a final stroke the fight was over. My repeated hacking had reached that place where his heart would have been if he ever had one.
As his body fell apart the mask turned and a voice came from the narrow, frowning mouth, "Hi fent sosaal fah hin vothaarn.*" I stepped over his ashes and ominous mask to look down into the swirling well that led to Sovngarde.
I admit it: I hesitated, standing in a ruin and looking down into Paradise. It was a path leading to a place no living man was ever meant to go and possibly more dangerous for it. For the first time in my adventures, I was hesitant to press on even though there was no way back. At length, the dragon I Shouted down earlier recovered and perched on one of the tall monoliths crowning the abyss and gazed down on me. His face looked at me as if to ask, "Well?"
I swallowed hard and stepped into the swirling fissure.
*Hi fent...": "You will bleed for your disobedience."
Two chapters left team. Thank you Chris for the positive review. Thanks in recent weeks to "anonymous guest" for thinking enough to ask questions; and to redsage, Fullmetal, oncemore, and Graceland for choosing to follow and/or favorite.
As to your question Guest: I've discovered that reaching into other universes to pull material into the TES universe needs to be done sparingly. Yes, Ghent and Morgan are based on Hasbro's Jace and Chandra. In fact, in my playthoughs of Skyrim with them and in earlier drafts of this story, they went by those names. After a while, I found that breach of the 4th wall to be tedious and decided to modify the two people-even if it was as superficial as renaming them-to make them appear to be natives of Nirn instead of the several planes their characters inhabited in Magic: the Gathering's fiction. Revenant is another example of this brought about in response to criticism of my previous story. Throttling back its use, giving it a name , and only describing its behavior goes a long way to making Ieago's favored weapon seem a better part of the TES world. Imagine going through the past two stories reading "my light-saber" every time you read "Revenant."
One last note before I let you all go: While I like positive reviews (they tell me you like the story and the people in it), I appreciate and use more critical responses to my stories. They help me write better. An example: One response to chapter 26 was a tad sarcastic, but the critic correctly pointed out that Ieago's behavior in that chapter was inconsistent. That drove me to reexamine later outbursts to make sure they were more in line with Ieago's established character.
Thanks as always and keep the faves, follows, and reviews coming!