Everything hurt. Rhys' entire body felt as if it had been worked over by a rampaging giant. Why did she hurt, again? She couldn't quite remember. Something about an Orc? If only her head would clear, she might be able to think straight.
At that moment, Etienne sprang forward and exclaimed, "Rhys! You're alive!" in choked excitement. Rhys reluctantly pried her eyes open and focused on the grinning thief hovering over her. Then she remembered the bandits and the orc and the arrow that had struck her. And she remembered falling.
Groaning, Rhys sat up. Nausea rolled in her stomach and her head swam. For a moment, she thought she might be sick again, and she gripped Etienne's arm for support, but after a moment the feeling passed and she relaxed her grasp.
"Yeah. I guess I am," she mumbled, rubbing her throat, which was still raw and tender on the inside. "That must've been one hell of a healing spell. Thanks. I owe you one, J'zargo."
J'zargo hesitated before admitting, "I… didn't actually do anything."
"What do you mean?" asked Rhys in a hoarse voice, feeling confused. "You must have."
"I did try to heal you, but…"
"But what?"
Floundering, the Kahjiit mage gestured ineffectively, struggling to find the words to describe what had happened. Coming to his rescue, Etienne supplied in a gentle tone, "Rhys, you were already dead."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You were dead by the time we got to you," repeated Etienne. "You didn't have a pulse or a heartbeat or anything."
Rhys clutched her head. Her brain was still a bit foggy, and what the Breton was saying wasn't making any sense. "Then why am I sitting here talking to you?"
"We were trying to decide what to do next, and then you started… shining," explained J'zargo. Etienne nodded and continued, "Yeah, all of a sudden you were glowing, and this light started rushing out of your body, like when you absorb a dragon soul, only backwards."
He explained in detail exactly what had happened, and Rhys listened, stunned. When he finished, she put a hand on the center of her chest, and furrowed her brows. Her eyes were distant, and she seemed to be concentrating on something. Then, in a small, shaking voice, she whispered, "It… It's gone…"
"What is gone?" asked J'zargo.
"One of my souls is gone," gasped Rhys, her eyes wide. "I can usually feel them all… Right here in my chest, but… one of them is gone. Yolziilnahl is gone."
"Yolziilnahl?"
"The dragon we fought near Windhelm awhile back. Its…his name was Yolziilnahl. I can feel their names when their souls come to me, and I can feel them inside me afterwards. His is just… gone."
Arador, who had wandered off unnoticed back into the trees, shuffled his way over to Rhys and nudged her head insistently. Still distracted and light-headed, not to mention slightly distressed at suddenly missing the presence of one of her hard-won dragon souls, Rhys absently patted the side of his grey head and muttered in Dunmeri, "I'm alright, you dumb s'wit. I'm okay."
"That must have been the light we saw," ventured J'zargo after a moment, scratching his furry chin thoughtfully. "You have said that dragons are immortal, yes? And that the only way to permanently kill a dragon is to take its soul?"
"My head's still a bit fuzzy. Where are you going with this?"
Etienne's eyes widened in understanding, and he piped in, "I think I see what he means. Rhys, you're Dragonborn, so that means that even though your body is human, you're really a dragon on the inside, isn't that right?"
"I suppose you could put it that way," nodded Rhys, wondering if that was truly how he saw her. Now that her head was starting to clear, she was beginning to understand what her companions were getting at. "Are you suggesting that my dragon blood makes me… immortal?"
"There seems to be strong evidence in favor of that conclusion," answered J'zargo quietly. "It appears that whenever you absorb a dragon's soul, you not only gain its strength and knowledge, but also its immortality, and in the event that your body dies, one of those souls is called upon to restore you to life."
"But normal dragons don't do that," pointed out Rhys. "Your theory sounds good until you consider that any normal dragon can be temporarily killed by mortal hands. Take the Dragon Wars, for example. Those dragons were killed by the ancient Blades thousands of years ago, and they remained, for all intents and purposes, 'dead' for centuries, until being resurrected from their burial mounds now by Alduin. As far as we know, Alduin is the only dragon who can bring other dragons back from the dead, and I don't know about you, but I highly doubt that the World Eater's would in any way be interested in bringing back the one who's supposed to kill him."
"I think there is something to be considered in what you just said," J'zargo replied quickly.
"What, about Alduin bringing me back from the dead? I find that highly improb-"
"-No, no, not that. You just said that as far as we know, Alduin is the only one who can resurrect a fallen dragon. Perhaps the Dragonborn also possesses this ability?"
Rhys jerked in surprise, halting their rapid-fire debate abruptly. Now that was something she had not considered.
Beside her, Etienne looked from one to the other in confusion, completely lost as he normally was when the two began debating advanced theoretical magic.
"So, wait, Rhys can bring dragons back from the dead?"
"Of course not," hissed Rhys at the same time that J'zargo shrugged, "Perhaps."
"J'zargo," admonished the little Dragonborn. "I'm flattered that you give me that much credit, but bringing dragons back from the dead? Seriously? That's a pretty big leap."
"This one would like to point out that five minutes ago you were dead," J'zargo reminded her, somewhat smugly in Rhys' opinion. "I think that we are all needing to change our definitions of what is possible and what is impossible."
"I never said it was impossible. I just…" She let out a noise of frustration. "Nerevar save me, why is nothing I do simple anymore?" groaned Rhys, flopping backwards in defeat and immediately regretting the sudden movement as her stomach churned again.
"You are Dragonborn," J'zargo pointed out unnecessarily. "It is in your nature."
"Yeah, thanks for that shocking revelation, J'zargo," she muttered dryly. The Kahjiit said nothing, knowing that the Dunmer-raised Breton tended to fall into sarcasm when dealing with difficult situations, and this, certainly, fell squarely under that category.
After a full minute of silence, Etienne, concerned for his friend's state of mind, touched Rhys on the shoulder and asked gently, "Are you alright?"
A moment passed, then Rhys quietly replied, "I was really dead, then?"
Her voice was unsure and the corners of her almond-shaped eyes were tight. It was a weakness that Etienne knew only a handful of people were allowed to see.
"Yeah," he said simply. "You were."
"How long?"
"About half an hour."
"Gods," she breathed, then fell silent again. Truthfully, she was having a bit of a hard time coming to terms with this new development. She had died. She had been dead, truly dead, for half an hour. Had this been a one time occurrence? If she were killed again, would she be revived a second time? Did the number of times she could be returned to life depend on the number of dragon souls she had absorbed, or was it unlimited? She had so many questions, and close to no answers.
And what of J'zargo's theory? What if she really could resurrect dragons? The implications of that were stunning. As the Dragonborn, Rhys was already well aware that, if she were to lend her power to one side or the other, she could potentially decide the very outcome of the civil war plaguing Skyrim, which was why she had stayed well out of it, but with a literal army of dragons at her side, resurrected from their slumber and bound to her command…
Then would I be any different that Alduin himself? Or Ulfric, or the Thalmor, or any of the forces playing for control of Skyrim right now?
That thought sent a chill down her neck. In her never-ending quest for understanding, the Greybeards had always been stubbornly tight-lipped in response to Rhys questions about their history, and more specifically, the history of those born with the Dragon Blood, but she had managed to glean a fair amount of knowledge on the subject from the College of Winterhold's extensive library. In one ancient, crumbling tome, Rhys had found a faded chapter roughly translated from the original Ancient Nordic language that spoke of the very first Dragonborn, who had risen up against the dragon overlords enslaving mankind at the time, freeing his fellow man from the cruel dominion of the dragons. His power grew, far greater than any other in that age, man or dragon, and he in turn used that power to enslave those very same people he had freed.
But I'm not like that, thought Rhys firmly. I don't want power or control.
Still, the thought festered in her mind, and she recalled something her father had once said of politicians; "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Coming back from the dead, now that was pretty powerful, dragon-raising possibilities aside.
"Rhys?" said J'zargo, pulling her back to reality. She opened her eyes quickly, not realizing she had closed them, and fixed him with her slate-grey gaze.
"Sorry, I was… thinking. This is a lot to handle right now."
"I understand," nodded the Kahjiit.
"I need to speak to the Greybeards," stated Rhys with resolution. "No, not the Greybeards. Paarthunax. I need to speak to Paarthunax. He can answer questions the Greybeards refuse to, and I have a lot of them right now."
"Surely you don't mean right now, do you?" asked Etienne, starting. Rhys shook her head. "No, we didn't bring enough supplies to go all the way to Ivarstead. Let's just go back to Riften for now. I… I don't really want to go to Helgen right now. I've had enough to deal with today without adding ghosts into the picture."
"Is Helgen really haunted?"
"I was speaking metaphorically, Etienne."
"Oh."
Pushing herself up from the ground, Rhys stood shakily. Her body felt weak, and she had to grab onto J'zargo for support.
"I think when we get back, I'm going to sleep for a week," chuckled Rhys humorlessly. "Who knew dying would be so exhausting?"
"I have a feeling it was the coming back that was the difficult part," replied J'zargo seriously.
"Er, yeah," muttered Rhys, unsure of what else to say. She looked between the two. Both men looked like they wanted to say something, and she waited expectantly for one of them to speak until Etienne finally burst out, "I'm really glad you're alive, Rhys."
"Yes. This one feels the same," agreed the Kahjiit. "J'zargo's adventures would not be nearly so exciting without you."
"I… thanks. Me, too," replied Rhys, blushing. She hesitated, then continued, "When I was… when I realized how bad I was hurt, I remember hoping you guys would be okay without me, and how sad I was when I realized I would never see any of you again. I'm… glad I could come back."
No one said anything after that. Unbidden, Rhys felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, and she turned away to dig for her mask, Krosis, to hide behind. She rarely wore the mask in the company of her friends, but neither man commented, just as Rhys pretended not to notice the tear-tracks cutting through the dirt on Etienne's pale cheeks, or the dark stains around the fur surrounding J'zargo's yellow eyes.
They had wept for her. Though she felt badly about scaring them like that, a part of Rhys was glad that they cared about her that much. She'd never had much of a family growing up, just her father, really, but J'zargo, Etienne, and all the rest of the Guild made her feel like she had a large, albeit dysfunctional, family to call her own. It made her feel almost… proud.
With her mask in place, Rhys went about helping the other two clean up the camp and prepare to leave, or more accurately, Etienne and J'zargo gathered their supplies while insisting that Rhys rest after the tiny Breton nearly fell over several times while attempting to help. A short time later, they were ready to leave, and together, J'zargo and Etienne helped Rhys onto Arador's back, where she was at least able to keep upright, if only barely.
As they set out through the trees surrounding the base of the Jeralls, Rhys suddenly sighed loudly.
"What is it?" asked Etienne, bringing his horse up next to hers.
"I just thought of something," groaned Rhys, though there was a touch of humor back in her voice. "Delvin's going to kill me when he finds out about this. I promised him and Bryn that I'd be more careful after the last time I came back injured. And after that time I almost got blown up at the College. And after Mercer tried to kill me and then told everyone I was dead. And after I got arrested by the Thalmor. Twice. Azura's ashes, I really do put you guys through a lot, don't I?"
"It's the price of having the legendary Dragonborn as a friend, I'm afraid," laughed Etienne. "Don't worry about Delvin, though. I'm sure he'll just be happy to have you in one piece. Besides, it's a long way back to Riften. You'll think of something to say to him."
"I'm sure your apparent immortality will soften the blow a bit," pointed out J'zargo. "Rhysan the Firebird, we can call you."
"Firebird?"
"It is an old legend in Elswyer," explained the Kahjiit. "It is about a magical bird made of fire that lives its life and then dies, only to be reborn from its own ashes. It seems fitting."
Rhys considered that for a moment. "Rhysan the Firebird. I sort of like that," she admitted. "But don't go spreading that around. I already have more titles than I know what to do with."
J'zargo chuckled, and together, the three companions made their way westward for Riften. Rhys still felt scared and unsure about this whole immortality business, but for now, she was just glad that she was still around to make jests with her friends. As if sensing her thoughts, Arador tossed his head and snorted, and Rhys thumped him on the neck affectionately. Yes, you too, you big brute. I'm glad you're here with me, too, she thought, shaking her head. Paarthunax and explanations could wait a few days. Right now, the sun was peeking through the clouds, and Rhys could never remember it feeling so warm.
Took a bit of a break from writing, but I finished! I really do like Rhys. She's probably my favorite character I've created. This is part of a (currently short) series of ficlets on the SKM featuring Rhys. Anyway, please review if you liked this. It really does mean a lot.
