Chapter Eighteen:

Time Moves Slowly

I was right. Those two hours were the longest of my life. Between retching up blood and the muscle spasms, I was completely occupied. And I was awake during every second of the pain.

Milos was still holding me down, but I'd still managed to hurt myself a few times on the table when he couldn't hold me. Javin was creating all sorts of other tonics, but in the end he would scoff and toss them against a wall, sure it wouldn't work. Aldren was standing guard outside of the door to the room to stop anyone who was curious enough to come near. He refused to come into the room where I was slowly bleeding to death.

Death? Divines, it probably was that. But I didn't feel cold. In fact, it felt more like I was burning. It wasn't like absorbing a Dragon's soul, where I would feel like I was on fire temporarily, and then suddenly feel well enough to get on my feet. No… It was a lasting heat that was ripping my muscles apart and burning me from the inside out.

I couldn't close my eyes like last time, either. In the Jorrvaskr, I had felt so weak that it was impossible to keep them open, regardless of the pain. Now they were wide open, thought anything but aware. I could catch the odd word, but I was too focused on being on the brink of death, thank-you very much.

Two ungodly hours passed before I heard raspy breathing come closer. I wasn't sure if I was just becoming aware of my own breathing, but the look on Javin's face told me otherwise.

"Sorry… I'm late!" Hiemdall gasped. "Here!"

Javin took a small vial in his hands and examined it quickly. "What is this?"

"It'll help!" the young Nord insisted.

Javin opened his mouth, but a look from Milos told him to shut it. Shrugging, the Redgaurd got Milos to lay me on my back. He carefully tipped the contents in while making sure no more of my blood would get onto his robes. I had to help to force it down. I didn't want to die so soon. Twenty years, for me, wasn't enough yet. And if I had to fight for it, by the Nine, I'd even go kicking and screaming!

My heart started beating faster and faster, until I was having trouble breathing. My hand shot to my chest and I grabbed onto my bloody novice robes as tightly as I could, as if I could force my heart to slow. My magicka wasn't listening to me as I tried to heal myself. I was pathetic.

And then my heart slowed. The fire died out, and I stopped moving. I grinned as the pain left, and I finally got to close my eyes in relief.

"What'd you put in this so-called 'tonic' of yours, Beardsy?" I heard Hiemdall ask.

"Basic elements of alchemy. It hadn't failed me until today. I suppose she'll need quite a bit of rest now," Javin said, "considering the amount of blood she lost."

"From what I've seen, this room looks like a massacre and a tornado were having a party," Aldren said from up the stairs. "Javin, what you gave her earlier should have killed her, easily. It's a miracle she made it one hour without whatever that dog brought, on top of your 'tonic'. Two hours… She's hard to kill, it seems."

"Well, she used to say she was lucky," Milos grumbled. "Aldren, get two rooms. She's going to need the sleep. I'll come back and clean up. I don't think Delphine is going to like her room like this."

"I'll help!" Hiemdall volunteered.

And that was the last I heard. I was so relieved to feel numb as a tree, my body relaxed, being able to breathe normally… I wasn't taking that for granted, that was for damn sure. Milos had taken me straight to one of the rooms he'd just rented and closed the door. I fell asleep instantly, somehow comforted by the gigantic Argonian who was taking care of me… who had sworn when he was young to protect me, even though it was sometimes him who needed it. We definitely had some issues to sort out.

"Britsaviikzii!"

The giant black Dragon beat his wings above the snowy ground, sending plumes of the tiny cold icicles everywhere in his wake. He landed on the ground and growled, his red eyes narrowing and his neck rising high above the ground.

A younger Dragon bowed her head automatically. Alduin's presence shot fear through her heart, but neither respect nor admiration. In truth, her head was only bowed out of habit, and when she raised it so it nearly met his, he snapped at her with his teeth.

"Britsaviikzii!" Alduin repeated, his voice thundering. "You are a traitor to our kind! To all Dragons! Sahloknir has revealed to me your treachery! What say you?"

The younger Dragon, Britsaviikzii, bared her teeth and growled. "Traitor to Dragons, indeed! If it makes me a traitor to oppose you, Alduin, then so be it! We need those who live on this land! You would have them all killed! Mortals need to live to keep us in balance, Alduin!"

Alduin snapped at her, nearly catching her neck in his teeth. "Stupid child! You are barely a hatchling! What would you know? I am the son of Akatosh!"

"And my father is your brother!" Britsaviikzii roared.

"Enough of this!" Alduin snapped his wings outward and took to the skies. "You dare defend the Mortals? Then you shall die like one!"

The black Dragon descended and sank his claws deep into the younger Dragon's hide. She roared in pain and bit at Alduin, clipping one of the many spikes on his body. She snapped it off, and Alduin clamped his teeth around her neck.

I shot up out of the bed, and then painfully laid back down. Breathing hard, I moved my fingers carefully to make sure all were in working order, then my toes, and then I moved on to the limbs themselves. I clenched a fist, but it was weak, and ended up loosening quicker than I'd hoped. I sighed and slowly rubbed my eyes.

I felt bad for arguing with Milos, but… He didn't know what I'd gone through. And if I could help it, he'd never find out. It was selfish of me, but that was the point of crossing the border. Escaping the old life and making a new one.

Milos carefully opened the door, though with some difficulty since he was carrying plates of food inside with him and they were balancing precariously on his arms.

"I'm awake," I told him. "No point in trying to keep quiet."

He kicked the door open, slamming it against the wall, and then nudged it closed as he entered. He had a sheepish smile on his face.

"Well, as long as I didn't wake you." Milos placed the plates on the end table and sat on my bed. "Feeling better?"

I nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," he answered. "I sent word to Delphine that you weren't feeling well. With luck, she received it without any problems."

I put a hand on my forehead. "How bad was it?"

"You want it easy or straight?"

"Straight."

Milos sighed and fingered one of the horns on his head. "Taryn, from what Aldren told me, the amount of blood you lost…"

I groaned. "Just say it."

"Honestly, you should be dead. Six feet under and drinking in Sovngarde. I'm taking his word for it, since I'm sure he sent a considerable amount of people to wherever the Eight deem to send us when we die." Milos stopped fiddling with his horns and looked seriously at me. "Don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled that you're alive. But we need to figure out what's going on."

I nodded slowly, taking it in. Maybe I was allergic to Dragon souls… Well, that'd be incredibly inconvinient. Both times I reacted the way I did, I absorbed a Dragon's soul within a few hours…

"Maybe I'm allergic to Dragon souls?" I suggested.

"That's like saying you're allergic to magicka," Milos grumbled. He rubbed his eyes slowly. "I haven't got any ideas. Hiemdall says he suspects something, but he's refusing to tell me about it. He says he 'doesn't have enough evidence'."

"He didn't strike me as the investigative type."

Milos snorted, as if he agreed, and then pointed to the food he'd brought in. "Hungry?"

"Starving, but not strong enough to eat yet," I admitted.

"Then I'll—."

"Spoon-feed me and I'll find the strength to ring your neck!"

Milos shot me a toothy grin. "Okay, but how 'bout I help you sit up?"

I agreed to that. Milos carefully slid an arm under my back and helped me up, though I did my best to make it easier on him. Pathetic. That stupid word was echoing in my head just like it had two days ago, when I'd tried to summon my magicka to help. I didn't feel like, well, me anymore. Stronger than I'd wished, and weaker than I'd hoped for. I felt like "Taryn the Dragonborn" was about to become the dominant thing in my life, and yet "Taryn the Ill" was making her debut.

Why blood? Why couldn't I just have a cold? I rarely got sick as it was, and now I was reacting to something I shouldn't! And whatever it was… Well, I had a feeling that if it ever happened again, we wouldn't be just two hours away from Whiterun.

"Hiemdall did grab more of that stuff," Milos said as if he'd been reading my mind. "I wish he'd just tell us what it is. I don't want it to be some sort of drug that you'll be hooked on."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" I chuckled, forcing a smile. "I… don't really care what's in it."

Milos clasped his hands together and sighed. "Taryn, I'm… I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have brought Cyrodiil up. I should have trusted you more and been a little bit patient."

My smile faded as I remembered our argument. Milos hadn't trusted me to be on my own—. No, he'd just been concerned about me. He knew about the toll being Dragonborn was taking on me. I could do things that I'd never even dreamed of, even when I was young and the kids at the orphanage took turns "defeating" Mehrunes Dagon and summoning the avatar of Akatosh.

"Don't worry about it," I said automatically.

"But I am worrying." Milos' reptillian eyes examined me quickly. "Hard not to. I was gone for five years, wondering if I'd ever find the answers about my parents. I was selfish leaving you behind. I should have brought you along, and we could've looked together—."

"They were your parents," I interrupted swiftly, "not mine."

He nodded slowly. "I'm… sorry. Five years was too long."

It seemed I had enough strength to clench the sheets of the bed. I sighed, suddenly aware of the silence between us. A silence I didn't like at all. To some, the silence would seem like just that—silence. But to us… to two best friends who grew up under the circumstances we did… the silence was a huge field in-between us. We'd have to work to walk back to each other.

I decided to take the first step. "You needed those five years. It's not like we can go back and change anything. And you found the answers you wanted, right? So it's fine, Milos. It's fine."

He smirked and put a hand on my head, ruffling my hair. "What happened to the little rebel from Anvil? You sound like a priest now."

"Oh, please. I gave those priests a run for their money shortly before I left Cyrodiil! They won't forget me any time soon!"

Milos removed his hand and then stood up, stretching, then grabbed a plate of food. "So, about my parents…" He cleared his throat, as if he was uncertain about telling me. "It turns out they were diseased with something."

"That sucks," I said. "Is there any real good news?"

He shook his head. "Only that they're dead and it's over with. Oh, and I didn't get what they had."

I grabbed a plate of food (cooked rabbit haunch and vegetables) and carefully nibbled at the contents. "Do you know what with?"

Milos picked at his food, once more uncertain of revealing anything. Who could blame him? I didn't want to talk about what happened in Cyrodiil. If he wanted to get even, now would be the time.

"They were Werecrocodiles," he said simply, taking a bite out of his rabbit. "Argonians are immune to most diseases, but that seems to be the exception with all the 'Were-creatures' around Tamriel. Shortly before they were killed, they were bitten, but they didn't get me. I guess I should be thankful for the Shadowscales that had been sent after them, but they were my parents."

I smiled and put a hand on Milos' shoulder. "Don't worry about it. What matters is that your parents loved you, even when they were faced with that."

He nodded. It seemed like a weight had been taken off of his shoulders. Was he really that terrified that I'd judge him, based on what his parents had become? Man, he was right. Five years was too long.

"Coming to Skyrim and seeing you again got me thinking, Taryn," he admitted. "You told me once that a man with a grey beard dropped you off in Anvil. Did you ever wonder if it had been the Greybeards themselves who did it?"

I blinked, taken by surprise. The Greybeards? They wouldn't go all the way to Anvil just to drop me off, would they? If they'd known I was Dragonborn, I would have grown up with them, saving time. If I wasn't… why even bother?

"Why would solitary monks go all the way to Anvil just to get rid of me?" I inquired. "I mean, there are closer places, easier ways… For them to do it personally? I don't think so."

Milos shrugged. "I just thought that it made a bit of sense."

"I mean, it kind of does, but the puzzle pieces need to fit, right?"

He furrowed his brow, and then pointed at my plate. "Good thing I brought extra," he said. "Hiemdall told me to, just-in-case."

I looked at my plate. It was clean, with no remaining food. I was surprised, having not even noticed how ravenous I was. I guess emptying the contents of one's stomach and losing enough blood to make it seem like a massacre could do that.

I grinned. "More please."