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Posted February xx, 2012.
SUMMARY: Mazhe discovers something about himself during a battle with a creature long-believed extinct in Tamriel; Justin is reunited with the group due to the circumstances; and a trek to a ruin in the western part of the province in search of an ancient artefact has Mazhe fuming.
22: DRAGONBORN
17 - 18 Last Seed, 4E201
They arrived with a noisy crack within spitting distance of the sawmill in Riverwood, a small village directly south of Whiterun. There were only a couple of merchants, a few houses, and a single inn, a rather quiet life for those wishing for that sort of thing.
"Harry! Gods..." Mazhe exclaimed, embracing his younger friend tightly—and for a moment, Harry thought Mazhe was going to kiss him! He looked of fright, now wearing the armour of the Stormcloaks, instead of his Guild armour. He was covered in numerous scratches and cuts, and Harry could guess he'd not seen much sleep recently.
"What happened to you?" Tommy dared ask.
"Bad things, Tommy. Very bad things," Mazhe answered, as he and Harry separated. "First. A new friend. This is Ralof. Ralof, my friends Harry and Tommy."
The stranger at his side was dressed in identical armour. He was an average-sized but muscular Nord with dirty blond hair.
"Aye. Welcome, friends," he answered, gruffly.
"So what happened? Err... here." Harry pulled out a few healing potions from his satchel and handed them over.
"Thanks." Both men were more than appreciative.
Mazhe began, "I was returning to Riften from my... assignment. You guys know where Darkwater Crossing is?"
"North of Shor's Stone isn't it?" Harry remembered.
"I'd just started up the road when the woods came alive with Imperial soldiers. Took one look at my armour and that was it."
He rubbed the back of his head.
"Bastards whacked me over the head, an' next thing I know, I'm stuffed on the back of a wagon with Ralof here, a horse thief from Rorikstead, an' four others, including Ulfric."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "They captured Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Yeah. My thoughts exactly. You guys know I have no love for the Empire, and after this?" Mazhe let out a huff. "After this, the lot of them are enemy number one. 'Course now we have much bigger fish to fry.
"We were on the road for two days. They brought us all—about four wagon loads—up to a little hamlet called Helgen. That was about two hours ago."
"They had us all lined up for the chopping block, and were ready to start chopping," Ralof picked up, "I thought we were done for... but then a dragon attacked! Hardly believed it, and I was there!"
"Shor's balls," Harry cursed, "I saw it fly east of here. Wondered what it was. We were camped overnight just outside the gates to Whiterun with a Khajiit caravan." He ran a hand through his hair. "Where's Jarl Ulfric now?"
"Haven't seen him since we escaped up through one of the towers at the fort."
"Don't worry about Ulfric, it'll take more than a dragon to finish him, friend," said Ralof, confidently. "You support us then?"
"Not directly, but whatever Mazhe decides to do, I support him."
"Oh. I see." Ralof frowned, but continued, "We were driven into the keep, where we were able to escape from the dragon."
"Why didn't you call us, Mazhe?" Tommy asked.
"Couldn't," Mazhe answered, only now taking the time to rip the remains of the bindings off his wrists, "This... was most humiliating."
Both Harry and Tommy understood at once. Being bound, there wouldn't have been any way to get to his mobile, and landing in an unfamiliar location, there wouldn't have been any way for them to help him anyway. It was only once he was in a familiar location that he was able to call for help.
Mazhe flipped his hair out of his face. "Ralof's sister here asked us to go speak to Jarl Balgruuf, let him know what's happening. There aren't any guards here, so Riverwood's exposed. If the dragon comes back..."
"Right." Tommy understood at once.
"Can't be going there looking like this though. Harry, you have your chest with you right?"
"'Course." Harry reached into his satchel and pulled out his chest, then set it on the ground. A tap with a finger restored it to its rightful size.
"You can find me again at my sister's place, you're all quite welcome there," said Ralof, "Talos guide you."
"And you," Mazhe answered.
They waited until Ralof was out of hearing before Harry opened the lid. Once inside, Mazhe wasted no time stripping out of the armour he was wearing, and pulling out a change of clothes.
"Vex's gonna be disappointed... don't generally fail assignments," he muttered, as he changed. Knowing he was going to speak to the Jarl, he wore something half-decent. "Gods... gonna have to purchase a new set of armour from Tonilia. No clue what the Legion did with it and all that—likely burned it. The bastards emptied my satchel... got no coin left..."
"You're still in one piece, that's all that matters," said Harry.
Mazhe let out a huff, but finished dressing. "Gods... much as I'd like to get some sleep, this can't wait. Harry, you mind Apparating us up to Dragonsreach?"
The meeting with the Jarl was a short one. Surprisingly, Balgruuf was already aware of the dragon—he'd been involved in a rather heated argument with his brother, his housecarl, and his steward when the trio entered the vast hall. Mazhe had received a small reward for his assistance, and quickly sent on their way to Bleak Falls Barrow, this time with a little more urgency.(1)
None of them were the least bit surprised to find a group of bandits camped out around the entrance to the Nordic ruin several hours later. Careful observation revealed six enemies, half of them armed with bows. Two were up near the enormous entrance, two were out on the towers extending from the sides of the main stairs, a single target was down at the bottom of the stairs, while the last seemed to be asleep, resting against one of the enormous pillars, knees drawn up to her chest.
"Tommy, hang back a bit," said Mazhe, "Harry, got your cloak?"
"Always," Harry answered with a smirk, and digging in his satchel. He draped it over his shoulders.
"Ready?"
"Yeah. Take the lower targets, I'll take the three near the entrance," Harry decided.
"Good plan. Tommy, they catch onto what's going on, back us up."
"Yeah, of course." Tommy had already retrieved a modified M39 Enhanced Marksman Rifle from his own kit. As angry as he was at the Commonwealth, he still had all the equipment they'd given him. After all, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. The rifle was magically enhanced to be completely silent, require zero maintenance, and produce ammunition on the fly.
"Gods..." Mazhe had not seen Tommy use this particular weapon before.
"If I can take the shot I will."
"But we-"
"I'll be able to see you," Tommy answered, "Scope's infrared."
"Our bodies give off heat," Harry clarified, "C'mon, let's do this."
The entire assault took under a minute. Before the bandits knew what was going on, two of them had been felled, one of them now missing the back of his head. The one who had been resting began to stand, only to find a blade of ebony shoved through her side. She collapsed in a heap, as the deadly poison added to the massive internal wound Mazhe's blade inflicted.
"Oblivion take you," Mazhe hissed, wiping the blood off his blade.
Passing through the enormous doors, they found themselves in an equally enormous room supported by numerous pillars. They could easily hear voices at the far end—Tommy quickly picked out at least three individuals. There had been more, but they lay dead close to the entrance, the victim of nasty slashes across their bodies. The remaining trio were quickly silenced, and both Mazhe and Harry collected anything useful from the dead and the large chest which rested nearby.
"Shor's balls, really hope this place isn't filled with bandits."
"Rather bandits than Draugr, Harry," Mazhe answered, "They're somewhat more predictable."
"So are Draugr," Harry argued, "C'mon, let's keep moving."
Typical of so many Nordic ruins, the corridors never ran very long in a straight line, leading off in twists and turns, with many branching corridors being blocked from collapse or debris. Even now, Harry was always impressed with how the old ruins were still dimly lit, even after centuries lying dormant. He chalked it up to magic—after all, why not, considering what magic could truly do.
Then—
"Is... is someone coming?"
The accent made the speaker to be a Dunmer. Everyone remained quiet, quickly applying appropriate stealth equipment.
"Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?" the voice cried out again.
Creeping into a larger chamber, they found it filled with spider webs, the tell-tale sign there were frostbite spiders lurking about. Given it was just one person, they revealed themselves.
"You there! Yes! Get me down," the victim called out.
The Dark Elf had become entangled in a web stretched across one of the exits at the opposite end of the chamber.
"Wait," Mazhe warned, glancing around carefully.
"Look up," said Tommy, gesturing to the ceiling. Sure enough, there was most definitely a spider lurking, suspended in the shaft vanishing up out of sight. It would have been a nasty surprise, had anyone actually attempted to cross the room.
"Want the honours?"
"Got it." Tommy switched his sniper rifle for something that packed a little more punch, in this case a riot shotgun. Modified like the rest of the weapons he carried, it featured an inexhaustible ammo supply, a silencing charm, and a charm which kept it from requiring servicing. Tommy took aim, pressed the trigger, and the only indication the weapon had ever been fired, was the awful squeaky death throes the creature went into, as it plummeted to the chamber's floor.
"Is it dead? Gods... quickly now, get me down!" the elf pleaded.
Harry obliged, producing one of his daggers, and proceeding to cut through the web. The stuff was rather strong, although all considering the size of the arachnid which spun it, it should be no surprise, really. A few cuts, and the Dunmer was freed. He scrambled to his feet, allowing a nasty smirk to cross his face.
"Fools, why should I share the treasure with anyone?!" He bolted down the newly opened corridor.
"So much for being a good Samaritan," Harry muttered, as the three of them took off after the man.
It was Harry and his friends who had the last laugh, though, as they entered another chamber, to find the elf laying in a pool of his own blood, slain by a rather strong Draugr. After dispatching it, Harry checked the corpse, to discover a rather-strangely shaped ornament. It somewhat resembled a dragon's claw.
"Damn, looks like solid gold," Tommy guessed.
"We'll see if Tonilia can fence it," Harry decided, as he slipped the claw into his satchel.
An hour later, after passing through what seemed like many winding corridors and chambers (including one which contained a locked gate with a pillar puzzle), they came to a door the likes of which none of them had encountered to this point. The door had three enormous disks on it, with what they assumed was a button at its centre. On the button was an etching of what looked like a dragon's claw.
"I wonder... Harry, let's see the claw we picked up earlier," Mazhe suggested.
Harry pulled it out, and passed it over.
"Hmm..." Mazhe reached over and gave the large outer ring a push, then glanced at the claw again.
"What... how are you reading it?" Tommy asked.
"Look." Mazhe turned the claw over, showing him the three pictures etched on the back of it. "The claw contains the solution." He began moving the other rings until they matched the pattern on the claw. Once satisfied, he placed the dragon claw on the centre button, so the claws on the ornament matched the grooves.
The key easily pushed inward, and there was an ominous CLUNK as the key returned to its original state. All three rings spun around rapidly to show the same picture, and the door began to slide downward, a cloud of dust falling as it did so.
"We must be getting close."
The chamber they stepped into was enormous, with an underground stream cutting through its centre, and waterfalls on either side. At the far end of it was a most curious monument of some sort, something none of them had seen before. It was nearly white, save for strange engravings and markings all over it, and as they drew closer, the bottom part of it, a curved section of wall had letters engraved in it that Harry was somewhat familiar with.
"The dragon language," Harry whispered, "This is—Mazhe?"
Mazhe seemed to be in some sort of trance, and it was then Harry noticed, a group of letters were casting a blue glow, with a swirl of energy twisting and turning its way into the chest of his best friend. "Mazhe?!"
Harry went to grab his friend, but Tommy held him back, not sure of exactly what was going on. The glow finally faded, and Mazhe looked a little dazed for a moment.
"Mazhe?"
"It... it's all right, I'm fine."
"What happened?"
"I... I'm not sure how to explain it, really. You know more about this language than I do. But... this word..." Mazhe indicated the word that had been lit up moments earlier—it still glowed slightly.
"Fus... force," said Harry.
"Force... exactly."
"Isn't that what that Draugr used on me back in Saarthal?" Tommy recalled.
"One in the same I think. I feel a little weird though. C'mon, let's see if we can find that stone Farengar—"
Further conversation was interrupted by a crash as the lid to the single sarcophagus resting nearby burst open, and a particularly difficult Draugr sat up. It had a helmet with tall horns, matching the one Jyrik Gauldurson had wore.
"Oh hell no," Tommy swore, brandishing his shotgun, and pulling the trigger several times. Harry and Mazhe produced appropriate spells to back their friend up, but it was unnecessary. The shotgun had made rather short work of the undead, and it now lay slumped in the sarcophagus.
Harry reached in, and located the item they'd come in for, an oddly shaped tablet with a crude drawing etched on one side. Now safely deposited in his satchel, he side-Apparated his friends back to Dragonsreach.
Stepping into Farengar's domain, they found he was not alone. Delphine was back, and stood behind the desk with Farengar, speaking in low tones. They couldn't hear the conversation, but Harry cleared his throat to get their attention.
"Ah, you've returned from Bleak Falls Barrow," Farengar stated.
"We found the stone," said Harry, producing the item.
"You recovered the dragonstone?" said Delphine, "I'm impressed."
"We all did," Harry answered, "Is there anything else you need help with?"
"No, I think we'll have everything in hand—"
"Farengar!" It was Irileth, the Jarl's housecarl. "You must come at once. A dragon's been sighted nearby." She stepped into the work area, glancing sharply at Mazhe. "You should come too."
They followed the dark elf up a flight of stairs, into the back part of the castle, an area set up like a war room, with an enormous map of the province laid out on a nearby table. The Jarl was present, as was his brother, and several of the city's garrison.
"Tell the Jarl what you told me," Irileth instructed, indicating the member of the city guard. He looked to be far beyond exhausted.
"Right. It came from the south, faster than anything I've seen before," said the guard, still breathing heavily. "I ran as fast as I could, afraid my next step would be my last until I got to the city gate."
"Where was it?" Balgruuf asked.
"The Western Watchtower, sir," answered the guard.
"Very well done, soldier. Retire to the barracks for some food and some rest, we'll take it from here." The Jarl turned to Mazhe. "Now is not the time to stand on ceremony, Mazhe, we need your help again."
"What can we do?"
"You have more experience with dragons than the men do. I want you to go with Irileth, and help her fight this dragon."
"I—we... of course," Mazhe answered, glancing at his two friends. There was unspoken agreement between them.
"But I still haven't forgotten your service you did for me in retrieving the dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I've instructed Avenicci you are permitted to purchase property in the city. And please..." Balgruuf drew his axe from its holster, and held it out for Mazhe, "Accept this axe from my personal inventory."
"Thank you, sir," said Mazhe, with a bow of the head in respect as he accepted the offered weapon.
Arriving at the Western Watchtower with Irileth and a detachment of the city guard an hour later, they found it in shambles, with smoke and flames billowing from the upper part of the structure. The ground was scorched in many places, the choking smoke being near-blinding.
"No sign of any dragon, but it sure looks like he's been here," Irileth muttered, then, "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened, and if that dragon's still skulking around somewhere. Spread out, look for survivors, we need to know what we're dealing with."
Everyone drew weapons or produced spells, as the men followed Irileth's instructions. The area resembled a war zone, it was the best way to describe it. In some other lifetime, in some other world, someone Harry's age would have no business being put in such a scene. But that was neither here nor there, and as far as Harry was concerned, he was going to back up his best friend, no matter what.
The three of them arrived at the bottom of the steps leading up into the tower, when a frantic guard made a startling appearance in the doorway.
"No! Get back, it's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor were grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!" the panicked guard exclaimed.
"Guardsman! What happened here? Quickly now, where is this dragon?!" Irileth demanded.
"I don't know... Kynareth save us, here he comes again..."
Sure enough, a winged creature was flying in from the south, a black silhouette against the blue late afternoon sky. The sight made Harry feel a little weak in the knees. A legend... the prophecy... it was all coming to light, right before his eyes.
"Here he comes!" Irileth exclaimed, "Find cover, and make every arrow count!"
The dragon was virtually on top of them. The guardsman back at Dragonsreach hadn't been kidding about the creature's speed. It had taken all of ten seconds from the time it had been sighted until it bore down on top of them.
"Yol... TOOR SHUL!" It screamed, a bloom of deadly fire raining down across the landscape. One defender not quick enough to get out of the path of the inferno was set ablaze and badly burned.
KAWHACK! Harry's ice spike narrowly missed its wings, and the dragon let out an awful shriek, twisting about and flying around the opposite side of the tower. Tommy had found a spot of cover, and now set up his sniper rifle again—though it was questionable as to how much damage that would actually do against something as big as a dragon.
"Harry... blasting curse maybe," Mazhe suggested. Harry nodded in agreement, producing his wand, as the dragon came back around.
"Zok morokei! More souls to feed my master's hunger," the dragon spoke, making eye contact with Mazhe. It flapped its enormous wings, and settled down in front of them, unfazed by the arrows raining down on it.
It was, however, not expecting the powerful magical attack on the part of Harry.
"REDUCTO!" came the powerful shout, and with it, a blast of red magic slammed into the dragon's chest, blasting a massive hole in the chest cavity. Rib cage, heart, lungs, part of the digestive tract, all of it rendered a bloody pulp by the particularly powerful cast.
"Dovahkiin, no!" the dragon shrieked, and slumped over, its head falling within feet of the pair.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, wiping the blood splatter off of his face.
"Gods, Harry," said Mazhe, impressed. His younger friend had just killed a creature of legend with one spell.
"Uh, guys..." Tommy said, uneasily, pointing at the dragon's tail. It was beginning to glow, and actually burn, by the looks of it.
"Shit, get back! Everyone get back!" Harry shouted, and the lot of them quickly scrambled away from the carcass, which was beginning to burn all over. The guards equally took Harry's advice, and gave the burning remains a wide berth, unsure of exactly what was happening. And then... a twisting, swirling mass of energy connected the distance between the carcass and Mazhe, surrounding him in a soft red glow for several moments. Mazhe felt a surge of power burst into him; it was nearly intoxicating.
"Mazhe?"
"No... it's... it's fine," Mazhe answered, looking weak in the knees, as the glow at last began to subside, "Shor's beard..."
Tommy was about to ask what had just happened, but a nearby guard answered the question for him, addressing Mazhe.
"I can't believe it. You're... Dragonborn..."
"Dragonborn?" Mazhe looked confused, momentarily forgetting what Harry had told him about the legend.
"In the very oldest tales, back from when there still were dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed the dragon's power?"
"I... I don't know what happened to me."
"There's one way to find out. Try to Shout... that would prove it," the guard answered, still awe-struck, "According to the old legends, only the Dragonborn can Shout without training, the way the dragons do."
Most of the other guards had gathered around by this point, including a stoic-looking Irileth.
"Shout? But how?"
"Force. Fus. The word we found earlier. Think of it in your head, Mazhe."
Remembering what he'd seen of the Draugr using it back in Saarthal, he concentrated on the word he'd learned that morning. Making sure he was facing a direction devoid of people so as not to hurt anyone, he took a breath, and focused.
"FUS!"
Mazhe was startled by the power which rolled out of him by way of his voice. The brown scrub and dead grass was pushed along by the physical wave sent forth by the shout.
As the guards bickered amongst themselves, Harry, Mazhe, and Tommy began the trek back up to Dragonsreach. At Mazhe's insistence, they chose to walk back, rather than Apparate—he was still more than a little unsettled at what had just happened, and that mode of transportation was not really a great idea, at least from his standpoint.
"I guess now I know what you feel like sometimes, Harry," said Mazhe, as they approached the stables. "The prophecy says I'll have to defeat Alduin. The harbinger of the end times."
"You know I'll fight at your side, Mazhe. Nothing in the prophecy says you have to do it alone... just like mine."
"And so will I," Tommy promised, "You guys have been really cool with me, it's only fair I have your backs."
"Just... guys... dragons... Shor's balls."
It was then the air was filled with what sounded like a clap of thunder, and on the air, the faint call: "Do-vah-kiin."
"Gods... what was that?"
"Don't know. Let's just get back up to Dragonsreach and let the Jarl know what happened," Harry prompted, "Maybe then we can get back to Riften."
"Good plan. This is so unsettling," said Mazhe, shaking his head.
"Dragonborn or not, you're still just Mazhe to me," said Harry, slinging an arm around his best friend.
Silence fell between the three of them as they made their way up through the city proper and to the castle itself. It was clear the news of the attack had reached the city, as everyone around them seemed to be extra tense, weary and concerned. No kidding, considering the situation. The Jarl's words of earlier carried a lot of truth: old stone walls would do nothing against a dragon. Skyrim was a dangerous place as it was, and now, things just got exponentially worse.
As they spoke to the Jarl, Harry was still somewhat lost in a haze, realizing the place he had truly grown to love was under a terrible threat. Perhaps the best thing would be to get back to Riften, let Remus know what was going on. He needed to be aware so he wouldn't be caught off guard should a dragon actually show up there. And perhaps... maybe the Commonwealth should be made aware as well.
NO. The Commonwealth had no place in their lives now. Even well over a month later, the betrayal still hurt afresh; it would be a long time before he would forgive them, if ever.
"Harry?"
"Oh—err... sorry." He'd been stuck in a daze since they stepped into the castle.
"Harry... uh, this... this is Lydia. The Jarl has assigned her as my housecarl," Mazhe introduced.
"Housecarl... like Irileth," Harry remembered, "Gods, I didn't hear a word of what was said back there. So that means then, you're coming with us?"
"If that is what my thane desires," answered Lydia. She was a young adult Nord woman with an average frame, and dark hair. She was dressed in a set of steel armour, and a steel sword was secured in a scabbard strapped to her thigh.
"Actually, Remus might—maybe... if Harry agrees, maybe she could stay at Remus' place," Tommy suggested.
"Harry has... family... just outside of Riften. We still need to ask, but if it's suitable, would you be okay with providing extra security there?"
"Of course," Lydia answered, with a smile.
"Then I guess we're going back to Riften. Harry, you mind fashioning us a Port key? High Hrothgar can wait an hour or so."
"Let's tackle that tomorrow," Harry decided, "Remus will want a full explanation of what's going on, and I'd like to see a memory of what happened."
"Right."
Minutes later, the four of them arrived in a blur of limbs in the yard of a two-storey cottage, situated only a short distance from the city's east gate. Lydia looked quite disoriented from having travelled in such a manner, but she climbed back to her feet, focusing on what was around. It was clear she was a warrior, ready to charge into battle head-on.
Inside, they found Remus most occupied with two young children: Tommy's nieces.
"Remus," Harry greeted.
"Harry."
"Here, I'll take over," Tommy offered.
"Something's happened?"
"You could say that," Mazhe muttered, "May we take this into the office?"
"Oh. Of course."
Remus cast a worried glance at Harry, but the group moved into the small office. The house was built in somewhat more modern style, rather than the open designs of local structures. There were four bedrooms, a study, a kitchen, a bathroom with modern amenities, and the lounge—which more resembled a play room at this point.
Once settled in the comfortable chairs, Mazhe introduced Lydia.
"And how did you earn such a title?" Remus asked, curiously.
"If you could fetch your pensive, and if someone could help me pull out a memory, I'll show you," said Mazhe.
Remus fetched his clay pensieve from a cabinet, while Harry helped Mazhe to pull the appropriate memory. It was then placed in the bowl, and everyone stuck a finger in.
The gravity of the situation was not lost on anyone, witnessing the very graphic destruction of a small village just north of the border between Skyrim and Cyrodil. The dragon was enormous, larger than the one they'd just faced at the Western Watchtower, using not only its terrible fire breath, but its own body to reign down destruction on the mostly wooden structures which made up the settlement. At least twice, they witnessed the monster actually eating a soldier whole, and in another instance, a man was flung high into the air, and it was unclear as to exactly where he landed. It was a safe bet the poor man likely died from the fall, if not from the bites.
"Given the gravity of the situation, I think it would be more than suitable if Lydia remain here as an extra pair of eyes and hands," Remus said, leaning back in his chair, "Equally, I would suggest you not wait to visit High Hrothgar, as much as you may like to rest. Perhaps take a few hours, but no more."
"He's right, Harry. This can't wait. Let's Port key up to the monastery."
"If that's what you want to do. I'd still like to drop by the Flagon, let people know what's going on."
"And Harry. Though you may not trust the Commonwealth any more, Justin is a friend. I would suggest you get in touch with him—no, hear me out," Remus persisted, seeing Harry about to protest, "As much as I would lend my wand here, Tommy's nieces do take a bit of priority. We need another wand here."
"Harry, he's right," said Mazhe, "I could likely get Onmund to come along, but really. We need another witch or wizard from your world."
Harry let out a sigh.
"Fine. Dobby."
Pop. "Harry Potter sir call for Dobby?"
"Yes. I need you to go back to the Commonwealth and collect Justin. We... need his help. To be clear, he's the only one we're inviting right now, I'm still beyond furious for what they've done to Tommy and I."
Dobby gave an enthusiastic nod, and popped away.
It was nearly ten minutes later before Dobby returned, bringing a rather surprised young wizard.
"Harry," Justin said, simply.
"We'll have a nice long chat in the near future," Harry spoke, simply. "For now, we need an extra wand, and... as Moony has pointed out, you were... uh, I mean... are... a friend."
"Something's happened?"
"You remember the stories about the dragons returning to Skyrim?"
"How can I not? Urag insisted on Tamriellic lore being included in Harry's history lessons. Why?"
Mazhe simply glanced upward at the ceiling.
"Fus."
The room actually shook, even though the focus had been on the ceiling. Justin arched an eyebrow.
"For real?"
"For real," Harry said.
Justin shook his head. "Jesus, guys. Out of the frying pan and into the fire."
"Gods, my thoughts exactly," said Mazhe, "The past two and a half days have been harrowing, to put it lightly. Alduin destroyed a small hamlet on the border between Skyrim and Cyrodil this morning."
"The prophecy is in motion, then."
"Come on, we'll fill you in further while we're walking back to the Guild."
They travelled on foot back to the Ragged Flagon, where Mazhe also delivered the news of his failure. It was due to circumstances beyond his control, but it was still a failure.
"The important thing is, you're still in one piece. Situations get the better of us. If you're interested, I do have another assignment," said Delvin.
"It's... everything here's gonna have to wait a bit," answered Mazhe, "Gods, this is so messed up. Apparently I have to visit the Greybeards up on High Hrothgar. So likely I won't be taking any assignments for the next few days."
"Do what'cha gotta do," said Delvin, clearly understanding the situation.
By the time they had Port keyed up to the gates of the monastery, Justin had gotten a basic explanation of all that had transpired in the past couple of days. Not a word was said about Harry's ongoing anger toward the Commonwealth, and for now, Justin was only happy to leave that topic be. If anything the young wizard/scientist was overjoyed to be back with his first student and a dear friend.
The four of them stepped through the doors to the enormous monastery, into a large hall lit by a number torches. An individual was sitting in a meditative position at the opposite end, and didn't seem to notice their arrival.
"Err... hello?" Harry said, cautiously.
"So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."
Harry was not the only one startled by the seemingly sudden appearance of an ancient-looking man in hooded grey robes at the top of the stairs. He descended the stairs, and stopped in front of the group.
Mazhe gathered up his courage. "I... we... I'm answering your summons."
"I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards." He gave the group a pointed look. "Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"
Still feeling very much on the spot, Mazhe answered, "I... you summoned me here, sir."
Arngeir furrowed his brow a moment, but said, "First, let us see if you truly are Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice."
"You want me to shout at you?"
"Mazhe..." Harry cautioned.
"You cannot hurt us," Arngeir reassured, "Come, show us your voice."
Mazhe was still uncomfortable with the idea of actually using a shout on someone, but if that was what the old man wanted, then so be.
"Fus!"
Arngeir was staggered back and nearly toppled over by the potent force Mazhe had projected. Mazhe was alarmed, concerned he might have hurt the old man, but his fears were for nought, as Arngeir regained his balance, and gave a steep bow.
"Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar."
"You... I didn't hurt you, I hope." Mazhe was still concerned.
"No, not at all."
"My name is Mazhe. And... I... my friends, Harry, Justin, and Tommy."
"Drem yol lok," said Harry, with a nod.
Arngeir was startled by the greeting which came from the dark-haired young man beside Mazhe.
"Ah. Well, welcome." He gave Harry a pointed look. "You know the dragon tongue?"
"Bits and pieces."
"He's been learning since he was seven or eight," Mazhe supplied.
"To speak the ancient tongue is indeed a rare thing in these times." Arngeir turned back to Mazhe. "And have you been learning the language?"
"Honestly, no. Harry knows far more than I do, sir."
"Mazhe, remember back when we met Tommy... the word you used in Atlantic City..."
"Viik," Mazhe answered.
"Defeat," said Arngeir, "Then you have used the thu'um before."
"Thu'um... shout," Harry translated.
It was then Arngeir remembered the incident so many months prior that had disturbed him as he lay down to rest. The ancient language, the shout, a faint offering in the wind. The question was, how competent would he be? Would he be up to the fate in store for him?
"You have shown you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift," Arngeir intoned, "But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen."
Arngeir indicated Mazhe step to the centre of a square decoration on the floor. "If the rest of you would please wait off to the side." He indicated a bench to the opposite side of the hall.
"It's good, guys. I think we're safe here," Mazhe reassured.
Harry, Tommy, and Justin followed the old man's instructions, as two more grey-robed individuals had arrived from other parts of the monastery, to join their counterparts. The third, who the the group had seen as they stepped into the stronghold, had now moved to one corner.
"Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your voice into a thu'um... a shout. Now let us see if you are willing, and able to learn."
"I'll do my best, sir." Mazhe was still not completely convinced of his place, but he would do his best.
"When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power," Arngeir lectured, as he moved to the vacant position at a point on the floor. "All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger."
He indicated the man in front of Mazhe. "Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro', the second Word in Unrelenting Force."
"Ro," Einarth whispered, although Mazhe could feel a pulse of energy be projected at the floor by the ancient man. A series of letters began to form on the floor, and they began to glow a fiery red colour.
"Ro means 'Balance' in the dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus - 'Force' - to focus your Thu'um more sharply."
"Ro," Mazhe whispered, daring to step onto the glowing words. And, much like what had happened at the Word Wall in Bleak Falls Barrow, he could feel the single word imprinting itself within his mind. Ro—balance.
Arngeir, meanwhile, looked impressed. He'd been a little more than skeptical when the ginger-haired young man had stepped into the monastery. He looked to be nary a boy let alone a man. Yet, he could shout—if only with one word, one of nearly two-dozen different shouts. With him learning the second word of a shout, it was more than clear this was no fluke, no prank. Mazhe was the real thing.
"Well done. You learn a new word like a master. But learning a word of power is only the first step. You must unlock its meaning through constant meditation an practice in order to use it in a Shout. At least, that's how the rest of us learn. Being Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro'."
Exactly as had happened only hours prior, Mazhe felt a surge of energy wash over him, as a red arc of magical current connected him with the elderly man. Unlike that afternoon, however, the absorption didn't result in a death. Einarth gave a low bow as he pushed his knowledge forward on the stream of energy.
Mazhe stood quietly for a few moments, allowing the fuzzy feeling to subside, then gave a bow of the head. "Thank you." That got a bow in return, although Einarth said nothing.
"Masters Einarth, Borri, and Wulfgar's voices are too strong for them to engage in ordinary conversation," Arngeir explained, "Even a whisper could cause great harm, or even kill you."
He then stepped back out of the square.
"Now. Let us see how quickly you learn. Masters Borri, Einarth, and Wulfgar will conjure up a targets for you. Use your Unrelenting Force shout to knock them back as they appear. Are you ready?"
"Yeah."
Einarth stepped forward. "Fiik... LOH SAH!"
A purple globe of energy appeared, the tell-tale sign of a conjuration, and out of it stepped a ghostly figure.
"Fus... RO!" Mazhe shouted, sending a significantly more powerful, invisible shock wave at the apparition, causing it to vanish instantly.
"Well done. Again," Arngeir indicated.
The exercise continued for well over an hour, as the Greybeards helped Mazhe to understand the power he now controlled. It then moved out to the courtyard. This time, Mazhe was taught a completely new shout called 'Whirlwind Sprint', which would allow him to cross a long distance with lightning speed. It meant another hour of practice, and it neared dinner time before they were finished.
"Your mastery of a new Thu'um is... astonishing," said Arngeir, impressed, "I've heard of the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it myself?"
"Well... err... thanks," said Mazhe, sheepishly. He was not all that comfortable with the praise, nor the spotlight. "I guess... what next?"
"You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Here, allow me to mark it on your map for you."
Mazhe produced his small map, and Arngeir marked the location with a piece of charcoal .
"Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."
18 Last Seed, 4E201
This time, everyone was on the same page about waiting until morning. Therefore, after the morning exercise routine and subsequent calming exercises, the four of them took a Port key to Morthal, and hiked the rest of the way to the ruin. They arrived without a whole lot of difficulty, only to discover a rather active bandit camp practically on top of the entrance.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one bandit sneered, readying his bow.
"Looks like we got ourselves a hero," came another. It was followed by the tell-tale THWACK, as an arrow impaled a tree nearby.
"Fus... RO!" Mazhe shouted, knocking the group of bandits back.
KAWHACK! Harry's ice spike neatly impaled the first, while Justin produced a shield to block another volley of magical attacks on the part of a mage in the bandits' ranks. Said mage suddenly collapsed like a bag of stones, a bullet having entered her left temple.
The fight was over in a matter of seconds, with the combined efforts of the four of them. All said and done, the quartet finally found the entrance to the tomb, and stepped inside.
From there, it was for the most part a typical dungeon-crawl, populated with the usual bandits, Draugr, skeever, and frostbite spider. At least, until they reached a particular section with a set of steel portcullis gates. In front of those, were three stones, which, when passed, opened each of them. The thing was, they never stayed open long enough for anyone to pass through all of them.
"Hold on a tic. What if Harry, Tommy, and I activate the stones, then you use that sprint shout you learned?" Justin suggested.
"It's brilliant!" Harry agreed.
"Uh, right. Good a solution as any. Activate them one at a time once I get to the gate," said Mazhe. He crossed the floor, and stood by the gate, then gave a nod. First Harry, then Justin and Tommy activated their pillar, and each gate opened.
"WULD!" Mazhe shouted, and became a momentary blur as he blasted through the open gates to the other side. The gates all slammed closed, but immediately sprung open again, as if in defeat.
"Bloody brilliant!" Harry grinned, as they caught up with their friend.
The way to the tomb's main chamber was far less exciting, with them only having to deal with a few frostbite spiders. Between the four of them they made quick work of the arachnids, and finally arrived at one last steel portcullis. Activating it, they stepped into the main chamber in time to see four enormous dragon statues emerge from their dormant positions, from within two pools on either side of the stone path.
"Damn. Now that's something," said Justin, shaking his head.
"No kidding. C'mon, that looks like the sarcophagus," said Mazhe, pointing to the ornate stone object at the far end of the room, well-lit by torches.
"Mazhe. Hold on. Look." Tommy pointed to an upright sarcophagus to the left side of the one made of stone. The lid had busted open, and a Draugr lay splayed out on top of it. "Someone's been here before."
It took no further prompting for everyone to have weapons at the ready, as they crossed the chamber, to at last arrive at the large decorated monument. Up close, it was truly magnificent, a fitting tribute to the founder of the Greybeards. However, it was more than apparent up close, that something was missing. In the place obviously meant for the horn, was instead a note. Mazhe snatched it up, and opened it.
Dragonborn—
I need to speak to you. Urgently.
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.
—A friend
Mazhe sneered as he read the note.
"Someone is going to die."
Mazhe didn't say another word from then until they landed back in Riverwood. They stopped just outside the inn, and the Dragonborn turned to face his friends.
"Wait here. I should be only a few minutes."
"Mazhe..."
"Harry, trust me. I'll deal with whoever this meddling fool is, then we're on our way back up to High Hrothgar. Do me a favour and prep us a Port key."
"Uh... okay then. Just, be careful."
Harry still had his doubts about his friend going into an unknown situation on his own. Of course, Mazhe was by no means a naive boy, and was more than capable of seeing after his own safety. He didn't need his hand held.
He was gone for no more than five minutes. He stepped out, blood splattered across his cheek and neck. He had a vicious smile on his face.
"What? You think I was joking? The woman was a real piece of work. C'mon, let's get this back to Arngeir so we can call it a day."
"She likely only wished to speak to you," said Justin, "Was it truly necessary?"
"You do understand the gravity of what's going on, do you not?" Mazhe snapped, "Her life or the lives of everyone? Which is more important?"
"What if she knew of what was going on? She could have been a source of information, Mazhe."
"That may be true. But had she wanted to discuss matters with me, or share information, there were other ways of doing it that did not involve sending me off chasing my tail. Now let's get back up to High Hrothgar so we may finish our business there and we can retreat back to Riften."
Harry gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze in support, then held out a small stone in his hand, programmed to take them up to the Greybeards' monastery. Within seconds, they vanished in a blur of limbs.
They found Arngeir meditating just inside the door.
"Ah. You have retrieved the horn of Jurgen Windcaller," he said, seeing the ancient artefact in Mazhe's hands. "You have now passed all of the trials." He stood up. "Come. It is time for us to recognize you formally as Dragonborn." He glanced at the others. "If the rest of you could wait off to the side."
The ceremony or ritual which followed was rather brief, with Mazhe learning the third, final word to the Unrelenting Force shout, and receiving the Greybeards' greeting, all of it spoken in the dragon language. Harry was able to pick up bits and pieces of the words spoken, but very little, considering it was excessively loud, making it difficult to concentrate. Mazhe then bid the Greybeards good-bye, with the understanding he and his companions were more than welcome there.
Another Port key deposited them just outside the Ragged Flagon.
"What are we doing back here?" Tommy asked.
"Rest, a break," Mazhe answered, "It's been three days of... hell. I want some rest, something to eat, some time to think about things. Need to compose a few letters as well... and I think tomorrow we need to get back to the College of Winterhold. Tolfdir needs to know what's going on, and I'll need to have a chat with Urag, see what he might know."
"We should also talk to Farengar again, given his obsession with the beasts," Harry suggested.
"Agreed."
They quickly claimed their usual table, and Vekel was already making his way over with a platter of bottles.
"Good to see you've all made it back in one piece." Mazhe turned his head to find Brynjolf had come out of the corridor leading into the inner Cistern.
"It's been no picnic, 'Bryn. And it's far from over."
"We're just here for the night, then it's off to the College of Winterhold," said Harry.
"A pair of strange fellows were roaming the market this morning. They were looking for you, Mazhe," Brynjolf said, producing a single folded parchment and passing it over. "They were rather light in the pockets, other than this."
"Thank you."
Mazhe unfolded the note.
Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Mazhe before he reaches Solstheim.
Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased.(2)
Mazhe frowned as he read the note.
"Well?"
"Most bizarre... seems not even a day has passed and I've managed to somehow draw attention to myself, and not in a good way."
"Solstheim? Where's that?" Tommy asked, looking at the note.
"It's a small island Northeast of Skyrim... it's actually a part of Morrowind. It's very confusing... the Greybeards have only just officially recognized me as Dragonborn."
"It surprises me as to how fast information gets around here, guys. Even with what seems like limited lines of communication," Justin noted.
"Still. Solstheim isn't close. It's like crossing the province to get there, except by boat."
"Sounds like magic to me," said Harry, shaking his head.
"Seriously. Whatever's going on, these guys are a threat, we're all in agreement, am I right?" Tommy asked.
"Yeah, agreed. What'd they look like, 'Bryn?" Mazhe asked.
"About my height, rather thin, tan outfits and strange masks. By their accents they were dark elves."
Mazhe gave a little smirk.
"Any clue where they were headed?"
"Sorry lad, I didn't ask—though they did head into the Bee and Barb a short time later."
"What?" Harry asked.
"You do remember my meeting with Septimus Signus sometime ago?"
"Gods, that was ages ago."
"Seems like it now, yes," Mazhe agreed, "Anyway, the little assignment he gave me... requires but one more item—the blood of a Dunmer."
He took a deep swig from the bottle in front of him.
"How convenient that this little group show up as they do."
"Perhaps they've stayed in town."
"We'll check in the morning."
The early morning found the group entering the Bee and Barb. None of them were surprised to find Telen-Jai at the counter—the inn was open most of the time, only locked up for a few hours in the early morning. Keerava was likely getting some rest. They got a few steps in.
Then-
"You there! You're the one they call Dragonborn?" came the demand from the doorway leading down to the cellar.
The pair were exactly as Brynjolf had described—wearing tan robes, and strange masks. If Harry had to compare them to something, they somewhat resembled starfish with too many arms.
"Yes, I'm Dragonborn. And I know why you're here," Mazhe answered, and before they could react-
"Fus... RO DAAAH!"
It was a clap of thunder that rolled forward, slamming the two strange individuals heavily into the wall. One fell sideways, and tumbled down the stairs into the cellar, while the other simply slid down the wall, and collapsed into a heap, the mask dislodged from his face. Blood was coming out of both his nose and his ears.
Mazhe glanced around, mentally thanking several divines the place was actually empty. Talen-Jai was rooted to the floor, staring at the group in shock, and noises upstairs told them everyone in the building was now wide awake.
"Bloody hell! Did—Gods, Mazhe, he's dead."
"Good. The point of the exercise, now, wasn't it?" Mazhe snarked, as he knelt down beside the body. He rummaged in his rucksack, and pulled out a strange-looking device. He twisted a few knobs on the top of it, then plunged it into the dead man's chest.
"We should've at least interrogated them, find out who actually sent them after you. There will likely be others," said Justin, shaking his head.
Mazhe only sent him a glare as he stowed the strange device away in his rucksack.
"Looks like we need to visit Septimus. Harry, d'you mind making us another Port key?"
UP NEXT: Harry and the circle have an encounter with the Daedric prince of forbidden knowledge; Harry and Tommy have a discussion with Justin to sort out where things stand between them; a second attack from tan-robed cultists nearly costs lives, resulting in Mazhe and the group travelling to Solstheim and a trek into another enormous ruin; Harry is treated to a most bizarre dream; and an encounter with one of Hermaeus Mora's black books somehow separates Harry from the rest of his circle...
CHAPTER NOTES: So. Mazhe has murdered Delphine. Anyone who has played Skyrim knows how much of a bitch she is, and equally, I know there are loads of you out there who would like nothing more than to send her ass to Oblivion. Of course, that also means some interesting complications with regard to the main quest, right? Don't worry, I have it sorted ;-)
Now with the "Dragonborn" expansion being out, and yes, I've played it, I can weave that part of the story into mine. And once again, sort of poking holes in a game-mechanic here. How is it the cultists just suddenly show up from a place as far away as Solstheim? Gotta love how the game just plops things down, rather than making them actually travel. It's the same as the courier... gah! At least make him actually have to travel.
(1) It's interesting that Balgruuf already knows about the dragon when the Dragonborn approaches him. Meh, guess that's how games work, eh?
(2) Verbatim text (C) Bethesda.