Chapter Thirty-Eight:

Cyrodiil's Most Wanted

I left the Throat of the World shortly after Paarthurnax had achieved a desired result concerning my Voice. Let's just say the path was easier to travel on the way down, despite how I had to Shout to continuously get rid of the mist that obscured the summit.

When I reached the arch that allowed passage to the Throat of the World, I realized that the Greybeards had already left the brimming fire at the dais. Well, now that I think about it, it's pretty late in the afternoon, I thought. Just how long did I spend up there with Paarthurnax...? Master Wulfgar, I could hear, was Shouting at the top of the tower for practice. So perhaps the rest were in High Hrothgar?

That being the only obvious place to search for the Greybeards, I entered the monastery and glanced around. It sounded like my companions were in the eastern wing, and they were being very loud. I assumed then that the Greybeards would likely be in the western wing, away from the noise (and, probably, the drinking).

Arngeir was in the centre of the western hallway. He had his head bowed as he sat still on his knees, his hands folded very gingerly in his lap. His breathing, I realized, was even. He must be meditating on some Words...

"Arngeir?" I felt almost guilty for interrupting the Greybeard, but he showed no signs of annoyance at all. In fact, he seemed to smile.

"So, you spoke to Paarthurnax." Arngeir examined me with a bit of scrutiny. When he was satisfied, he nodded. "The Dragon Blood burns bright within you." I offered a hand to help Arngeir up. He waved me off and slowly helped himself to his feet. "Did he tell you what you wanted to know? Did he teach you the Dragonrend Shout?"

I shook my head slowly. "No. But I've been told how to learn it. That's enough for now."

Arngeir nodded solemnly. "So be it. If he believes it is necessary for you to learn this, we will bow to his wisdom."

"There's a catch," I told the Greybeard. "I need an Elder Scroll. You wouldn't happen to...?"

"We have never concerned ourselves with the Scrolls. The Gods themselves would rightly fear to tamper with such things. As for where to find it..." The Greybeard took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Such blasphemies have always been the stock in trade of the mages of Winterhold. They may be able to tell you something about the Elder Scroll you seek."

Javin! "Thank-you, Arngeir!"

"Wind guide you, Dragonborn," Arngeir intoned, bowing his head and returning to his meditation.

I ran from the eastern wing to the western as quickly as my feet would allow. It would be just my luck that some idiot had spilt some mead on the floor. I slipped in it and landed hard on my back, lamenting that I was now desperately in need of a bath (because I still hadn't gotten all that Dragon saliva and blood and dirt off of myself already...).

Milos' hand waved in front of my head. "Uh... We forgot to tell you..."

"I noticed now, thanks." I glared at him. "If I was a Greybeard, I'd have broken my hip. So..."

"I get it. I get it." Milos hefted me to my feet and left the room in search of a mop. He'd always had a problem cleaning up after himself...

"You were gone for a long time, Greystone." Aldren's voice brought me back to the present, where I preferred it. "That Greybeard chat your ears off?"

I sat down at the table. "Not really. He's pretty reclusive, so I can understand his need for company. But I have some information that will help." I looked to the Arch-Mage. "Javin, I need an Elder Scroll to learn that Shout to beat Alduin. Long story short, the ancient Tongues had to use an Elder Scroll to stop Alduin. Thing is, they threw him into Time and he's reappeared now. If I can get an Elder Scroll, then I can learn the Shout."

Javin looked taken aback. His eyes were wide with interest. "Truly? An Elder Scroll...?"

"Their like has not been seen or used for many centuries by the common folk," Cha'qim explained. "The last time was when the Gray Fox stole one from the Imperial Palace itself back at the end of the third era. Cha'qim cannot remember if Uriel Septim had already died by that point, but it had been stolen around then."

"Most Elder Scrolls would be in the care of the Moth Priests at the White-Gold Tower," Javin added, "but I assume we need something closer to home, yes?" When I nodded, Javin began stroking his beard. "I see. Well, if one had a desire to find an Elder Scroll in Skyrim, my bet would be Urag gro-Shub would have at least an inkling to its whereabouts. He's the librarian at the Arcanaeum in the College. A more studious Orc you will never meet."

"Arngeir said we'd need to visit the College..." I murmured.

Javin shrugged and began to play with the hem of his robes. "The Greybeards are as astute as I've heard. Worry not; Urag will aid us."

"Then we ought to set out in the morning," Aldren chimed in. "Fastest way to the College is through Riften. If we hire a carriage there, we'll get there faster than cutting across the province on foot. May have to camp out for a night or two though."

"With a wagon, we could all just sleep there while we go," Cha'qim pointed out.

Aldren rolled his eyes. "And how do you suggest keeping the driver awake, cat?"

The Khajiit shrugged. "A fair point. Then we should make camp..." She pulled a map from one of the various pockets on her armour. "If we could make our way to this arc here near the Treva River..."

"Looks good," I commented, nodding when she pointed the location out. "I'll let the Greybeards know that we'll depart in the morning. Let's also set up some bedrolls in this room here. I don't want to take their beds a second time."

After I had told Arngeir of our plans, I returned to the room with the large stone table to see Hiemdall in a new set of armour. I was thoroughly confused, as he appeared to be testing it out, but if I remembered my time reading up on my third era history, that was armour from the Blades. The dark blues and grays and the Akaviri designs were hard to mistaken, as they seemed less rugged than Nord make and more refined than Imperial concepts, like the fact that the folds of the pauldrons overlapped each other as the armour travelled down the arm, disappearing before Hiemdall's elbow. The gauntlets sported a gold design under the wrist that almost sang of a Nordic origin though.

Hiemdall fastened a dark Blades helmet on his head and rotated his shoulders a few times. "What do you think?" he asked Milos, who was examining the Nord with scrutiny.

"It looks too light for my liking," the Argonian replied. "How does it feel?"

The young Nord grabbed the weapon from his back and swung the blade a few times. "Good to move in. Not as free as my usual stuff, but I like it. Skjor used to say I'd do better in heavier armour..."

"Skjor?"

"Ah, old warrior in Jorrvaskr. Died after I formally joined the Circle a few months before the Dragons." Hiemdall spotted me looking and grinned, spreading his arms after replacing his steel greatsword onto his back. "Well? What do you suppose, Dragonborn?"

I shivered. "Please don't call me that. I'm just Taryn."

"Well, just Taryn kind of died crossing the border to Skyrim." Hiemdall shrugged. "Got any opinions? This isn't meant to be a fashion statement."

"Could've fooled me... and the Greybeards." I crouched, letting my arms rest lazily on my knees. "It suits you. And if you like it, you may as well wear it. But I don't remember you grabbing it before..."

"Cha'qim did," Hiemdall responded promptly. "While we were immersed with the Wall, she found a back room and took some things."

I groaned. "You mean she stole them?!"

"Khajiit did not steal," Cha'qim insisted as she entered the room again. "Taryn is the Dragonborn. The Blades are sworn to aid the Dragonborn, therefore they must also aid her companions. Cha'qim only took things she thought would aid us."

"That sounds terribly reasonable..."

Cha'qim grinned as I stood up. "She grabbed something fitting for you, as well."

"How did you even grab all that crap?!"

"Thief secret. Now, close your eyes!"

I blinked. "Uh... What?"

"Close your eyes! This is a surprise from Cha'qim to Taryn!"

"Why?"

The Khajiit's ears drooped at the same time she rolled her eyes. "You have never before had a friend of the same sex, have you?"

"She hasn't," Milos mumbled.

"Your bluntness is refreshing." Cha'qim patted my shoulder. "It is fine. Cha'qim promises no harm. She simply wants to have Taryn be surprised."

Shrugging, I did as she asked of me. Cha'qim grabbed my right hand and pressed something into it.

"You may open your eyes," Cha'qim said, stepping away.

Well, I happened to really, really, really like the surprise.

I recognized it as being of similar make to Delphine's sword, although it seemed much older. The blade was curved like Delphine's, had black leather wrappings around its hilt, and the guard resembled a brass, stylized snake. But unlike Delphine's, the blade was well-preserved and seemed to glow in my hands. The glow was caused by the tiny sparks that appeared along the blade. An enchantment, of sorts. I'd never really held an enchanted sword before...

"Does the Imperial like?"

I nodded while I turned the longsword over to examine it further. "Oh yes. Imperial likes. Imperial likes a lot."

"Cha'qim is happy." The Khajiit caught my attention by raising my ebony sword. I glanced down at my sheathe to realize that I'd been pickpocketed while my eyes were closed. I frowned at her. "Khajiit noticed your ebony sword was dull and in desperate need of a blacksmith. The previous owner did not take very much care of their weapons. You may as well use that one."

Hiemdall came over to me and looked at the sword. "I was wondering when I saw Delphine's, but what's with the snakes?"

"Probably to represent the Tsaesci," Milos offered. "There are a lot of theories being thrown around about their people. Some say they're snake-people, others say they're gods that controlled the Akavir. Whatever the case, they're somehow close to the Akaviri people, so the influence is there."

"Probably why the Blades are associated with Dragons," I murmured. "Serpents and stuff, you know?"

"Serpents with wings, yes." Cha'qim grinned. "But that sword is old. Take good care of it. Cha'qim thought she saw mention of its name, 'Dragonbane'. She could be wrong though."

"I guess we'll see how it cuts through Dragons later," Milos mumbled.

"Indeed we shall."

We set out the next morning after thanking the Greybeards again (Milos left them another offering of Honningbrew Mead. The other had strangely disappeared since our last visit...) and arrived in Ivarstead with good time on our hands. We stopped momentarily to sell a few unneeded things and then went on our way east, towards Riften. I realized that we had already passed into the month of Frostfall. I'd arrived in Skyrim during the middle of Last Seed, passed through Heartfire...

I've been here a long time...

"We should be to Riften by noon tomorrow if we camp near the Treva," Cha'qim told me, snapping me from my thoughts. "You can have a chance to clean yourself."

"How'd you know I still needed to get clean?"

Cha'qim grinned. "Khajiit's sense of smell is very... acute. Do you not wonder why Hiemdall and Aldren are leading the group?"

"Oh... My bad. I didn't even notice."

"All is forgiven." Cha'qim grinned. "Besides, Cha'qim is as you are. She too sees the value in being clean. Unlike some of the others who have not bathed since Cha'qim began to know them."

"I resent that," came Milos' voice from behind us.

Cha'qim playfully pinched her nose and turned to face the large, trailing Argonian. "Resent all you wish. It does not mask the smell."

Milos frowned as I grinned with the Khajiit and imitated her. "Now that she mentions it, you do smell rather... putrid."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. Terrible, in fact."

"Not as badly as you do, I can tell you that. You should wash."

"I was planning on—."

Quick as a snake, Milos ducked, grabbed my legs and swung me upward over his shoulder. I couldn't keep track of the amount of curses and insults that I hollered at him, but Milos had begun sprinting down the road, Hiemdall running after us and laughing his head right off.

Milos and I made it to the Treva River considerably far ahead of the rest. He walked right up to the bank and turned so his back was to the waters, but I was staring right at it.

"Milos," I said, my warning tone clear as my eyes widened to rival a plate, "don't you dare."

"Weren't you planning on washing?" he replied smartly.

"Milos..."

"Enjoy!

"MILOS—!"

The Argonian threw me into the deep water of the river with enough force that I had literally twisted in the air and landed on my back. I clawed to the surface as quickly as I could, gasping for air and hurrying to the riverbank.

He crouched beside me, grinning widely. "You smell better already!"

I glared daggers at him and dropped my now-soaked pack onto the dirt. "But you don't."

I grabbed him and yanked him into the water, and then made sure he was in shallow enough water that I could sit on his chest and keep him underwater.

A few minutes later just as the sun went down, the others arrived at the river. Frankly, I was still sitting on Milos.

Hiemdall looked concerned and pointed. "Uh, is he...?"

"He's an Argonian, you stupid mutt!" Aldren snapped. "He can breathe underwater!"

"Right. Forgot about that." As if for some reassurance, Milos' hand came out of the water and waved. Hiemdall nodded and left with the rest to build camp.

Milos' hand made a gesture. "Are you done?"

"I won't be done until the next era!" I growled at him. "You got all of my things wet! I don't even have spare clothes while waiting for them to dry! And where's your pack?!" I paused when Milos' hand went back under the water. "Right. That's why you stink. Riften, eh?"

Milos offered a thumbs-up.

Grumbling, I stood and grabbed his hand to help him to his feet. He glanced at his wet armour and looked at me, frowning.

"You deserved it," I told him, grabbing my pack. "Let's go to camp. I'll need some of my things to dry before I wash."

"So I should just run around as naked as the day I was hatched?"

"If it pleases you. But warn me, will you? I want to dig a hole to shove my head into during that time."

"That'd be quite the sight."

"Better sight than what would be offered on the surface, that's for damn sure."

The campsite was just south of the road in a small clearing surrounded by birch trees. While we were exposed to other travellers coming down the road, it also gave us a good vantage point of any enemy attacks. Frankly, I was pretty sure the Thalmor weren't yet done with me, and after Sven I wanted to make sure we weren't taken by surprise. I didn't want anyone to be hurt because of what I'd done, or what I was.

I quickly got to work on drying my spare clothes. Using some magicka, I heated my palms and carefully went through everything in my pack, as well as having to dry Dragonbane with a handkerchief that Javin provided. When everything but myself was dry, I grabbed some spare clothes and went to the river. I'd already warned the boys about what'd happen if they dared come while I was cleaning.

I had just finished putting my spare clothes on after drying when I realized that I was on the opposite side of the river, and closer to a fort not far from our camp. I'd put my clothes on the other side so no one would play a prank on me. I thought I'd bring them to the other side when I was done. Annoyed, I began walking east on the road to the stone bridge not far from our camp that crossed the Treva. I could already see the others.

"NOW!"

Crossbow bolts shot out from the darkness. Milos' armour deflected the first two, but the third caught his thigh as he hurried to grab his weapon. Two struck Javin in the stomach, one in Hiemdall's side, Cha'qim's shoulder and leg were wounded, and Aldren received a lovely bolt in the back. I screamed in horror at the same time a bolt struck through my right calf and pinned me to the ground as I fell forward on the bridge.

"Hurry! Grab the Blades agent!" a Thalmor in dark robes cried.

Following his command, armoured Altmer grabbed my arms and began dragging me to past the camp. Hiemdall hefted his greatsword above his head, crying out in pain as his side flared with the bolt still stuck fast. The robed Thalmor—the wizard—shot a bolt of lightning at him, striking him down.

"Go! We cannot be delayed!" the Thalmor yelled. "Fire at them again if you must! We go now!"

"Yes sir!" one of the men dragging me yelled.

I angled myself so I was looking at a mass of the Thalmor soldiers, anger running rampant through my veins. "FUS RO DAH!"

The Thalmor were blown away, but one of them still had a hold on me and I went flying with them. My wounded leg hit the ground hard, burying the bolt further into my flesh. I screamed, tears of pain welling up, but I forced them down. Before I could get up though, they were on me, smashing the handles of their swords and the crossbows against my body.

And then the hilt of a sword found my head, and the sounds of my companions eventually dimmed into nothingness.