Chapter Forty-Nine:

The Dragon Priest

I groaned as an aching pain made its way through my bones, but whether it was from the wind, the snow, the rocks or the wounds I'd sustained, I wasn't entirely sure. Muted shuffling made way through the room I was in. When I slowly opened my eyes, I realized I was in High Hrothgar. I had to breathe a sigh of relief that I wasn't shoved off the mountain itself. Still, it was a bumpy ride.

I sat up and groggily glanced around the room. Master Borri was tending to some flowers in the far corner, but when he turned around and saw me, he smiled a gentle, elderly smile.

"Dovahkiin," he breathed, although the very foundations of the monastery shook. I supposed it was both a greeting and an alert to the others that I was awake.

I swung my legs over the side of the stone bed. "Master Borri," I greeted, smiling. "Was I asleep long?"

Borri's answer was to point at me. I looked down at myself. My leather armour had been substituted for some simple clothes, but underneath were bandages that covered the wounds I'd sustained from Alduin... and the cuts and bruises from my rather ungraceful "fall".

"So a bit longer than usual?" I offered. The Greybeard nodded and left the room, smirking to himself. "Thank-you!" I called after him.

Milos entered with Arngeir a short while later, grinning from ear to ear. "This is the second time I've seen you bounce down a mountain, Taryn," he quipped. "You really need to get out of the habit. If Alduin had seen that, he may have died by crashing into the ground because he was laughing so hard!"

"Pfft! I wish!" I fistbumped Milos and then turned my attention to Arngeir, whose arms were crossed. "What happened to the other guy?"

"Both you and he were rendered unconscious from your fall," he answered. "Ever since he's awoken, he's been nothing but a nuisance. Master Wulfgar nearly lost himself and was readying a rather powerful Shout to keep him out of our hair."

"Your beards, you mean." Milos smirked when the Greybeard rolled his eyes.

"Who is this stranger?" Arngeir asked. "He refused to answer any of our questions, and exhibit very violent behaviour whenever we asked him in the Dragon's Tongue."

I shrugged, the memories of the Elder Scroll lingering in my head. "I... I remember he was speaking common to Felldir and Hakon. Then he ran at me. He saw me, somehow, when no one else could."

"You were watching a memory. How could he have made his way here?" Arngeir rubbed his beard. "Maybe you can make sense of it later. He has made some shrewd comments about you."

"Oh?"

"'The Thu'um-wielding bitch', 'the stringy woman', 'the non-believing whore'..." Milos listed each name off on a taloned finger. "And those were the ones that they Greybeards didn't censor, and that he didn't mutter in the Dragon Tongue."

"Charming fellow." I rubbed my head in annoyance. Stringy woman... Peh!

"Yep." A resounding crash throughout the monastery interrupted us. Arngeir sighed long and heavily. It was clearly the unwelcome guest. "So, shall I?"

The Greybeard nodded. "Please," he said. "We do not leave here much to buy pottery."

Milos offered his arm to help me up. I was relieved that the pain had subsided, but I didn't want to take any chances. If I was going to confront him, I needed my strength, considering his obvious hostility.

We got to the eastern wing safe and sound with Milos leading the way in. A few of the stone chairs around the table had been tossed around, and some pots were clearly broken. The seething, furious masked man was cursing profusely at Hiemdall, who had his hand on his greatsword and was cursing all the time back at him. Aldren was standing near Master Einarth and Wulfgar, while Cha'qim and Javin were positioned next to Borri, and Arngeir went to join them. They had the way out guarded, and the man knew that. From the way the others were glaring, I'd gathered that he'd tried to escape at least once before.

The man's mask turned to meet me. With no way to read his expression, his body language was the only thing I could turn to. He marched towards me and pointed, spitting out rapid Dragon language.

"Zu fent krii meyz! I shall kill you!" he shouted at me. I could see his curved dagger in the possession of Arngeir. "Meyz fent hind wah mah kotin dinok ont zu'u oblaan! You will wish to fall into death once I am finished!"

I bit my lip and then approached the fuming man. Taking a deep breath, I tried to look him dead in the eye. "Lok, Thu'um," I said softly. "Sky above, Voice within."

The man snorted and turned away from me. "Unslaad nax sul... Eternal cruelty this day..." He stopped and looked back at me. "Why I should suffer because of a bitch like yourself is beyond me! I demand you return me to Hokan and Felldir, the tahrodiis joorre! Traitorous mortals!"

I frowned at him. "I don't know how to get you back."

"You used a Kel! You can use it once more! So either do it, or I shall!" He marched up to me again. "Or I will break you."

Hiemdall grabbed a fistful of the man's violet robe and yanked him backwards. "Say that again, fool. I insist."

The man cringed then punched Hiemdall hard in the face. "I told you bron not to touch me! Nord!"

Hiemdall grappled with him and landed a few punches of his own. Milos and I quickly stepped in, and as much as I felt safer trying to haul Hiemdall away, I stayed with the man. When he attempted to strike me as well, I dodged and hit him back. He furiously punched me once in the gut before Milos ripped us both apart, commanding Hiemdall to stay where he was in the process. I was furious with him.

"Fus Ro Dah!" The Shout catapulted the man into the wall. When he sank down, clutching his torso as he did, I realized that he may have been wounded as well. Had he been tended to? Was this what caused the violence?

My hand throbbed from my fist connecting with his mask, but I had to stomach it and broke away from Milos. I approached him slowly. A part of his robe had slumped from his chest to reveal ancient everyday clothes, but they were stained with blood. I'd seen him use his magicka before, but maybe he hadn't wanted to reveal to us his wounds?

I sighed. The weakened masked man still gripped my arm with surprising strength, but I peeled his fingers off and pulled his robe back more. Some of his wounds clearly hadn't been caused by rocks. There were some injuries from blades of all sorts.

"Hands off of me, woman," the man growled. "I am a priest of Alduin. If you wish to keep those fingers, you will step back."

"Dovah Sonaak?" I asked. "Dragon Priest?"

He looked away. "Geh. Yes."

"Golah mun," I remarked, smirking. His head turned back to glare at me. "Stubborn man. Was poison on the blades that gave you these?"

The man hesitated, but he knew that he was too weak to stand at the moment. The force of the Shout was likely dizzying. "Geh. Bein hokoron. Yes. Foul enemies." He seemed to be examining me, for he didn't say another word. "Dovahkiin?"

I nodded. "Geh. Yes." I gestured to the Greybeards. "In Arngeir, In Einarth, In Wulfgar, In Borri. Oniik muz. Master Arngeir, Master Einarth, Master Wulfgar, Master Borri. Wise men." I held up my hand and summoned some healing magicka. "Hin ahraan?" I asked him. "Your wound?"

"Lost lo," he stated. "You deceive."

"Zu drun meyz aaz. Lah hin slen. I give you mercy. Magicka to your flesh."

The Dragon Priest looked over to the others watching us. He made a gesture with his hand that I understood, so I asked them all to leave. Both Milos and Hiemdall merely walked out of the room and began guarding it like it was the White-Gold Tower and I was the emperor, but the rest left respectfully. When they were gone, I began applying the healing magicka to his body. He flinched several times, clearly unaccustomed to the intrusion, but allowed me to continue.

"My name is Taryn Greystone," I said softly. "What's yours?"

The Dragon Priest hesitated for a very long time. Long enough that I assumed he simply didn't want to say. But then he stopped my hand and sat up fully. "Zu'u Lokbruniik," he answered. "Dovah Sonaak Alduin, Thuri. Meyz dii hokoron. I am Lokbruniik. Dragon Priest of Alduin, Overlord. You are my enemy." He paused again. "Faal eruvos? What is the year?"

"Year 201 of the Fourth Era," I told him, taking my hand away. "You passed through many ages. It must be disorienting for you."

Lokbruniik looked away. "I am not some weak joor. Mortal. I am not so swayed by time. Alduin is the kul do Akatosh. Son of Akatosh. He is the keeper of tiid. Time."

"I know who Akatosh is," I assured the priest. "I also know that Alduin's almost killed me. Twice. And a lot of Dragons have engaged me."

"How many?"

"Several." I stood up, wincing a bit at the pain in my gut. "Look, I have a few friends who know their poisons, and they can heal a heck of a lot better than I can. If you cooperate so they can check you out, I'll see about getting you back to your time. No promises though."

"Then I shall not promise my full cooperation," Lokbruniik retorted, and used the wall to help him stand. "And if that bron dares put his hands on me again... Nord."

"I'll ask him not to," I assured him. "But just try to be nice."

Lokbruniik turned his face upwards. "Niceties should be reserved for those who outrank me. No one here does."

"Then I suppose you'll just have to stomach an angry Dragonborn enemy." I grinned. "I'll send them in. Thank-you for calming down, Lokbruniik."

"Don't expect it again," he retorted, crossing his arms indignantly.

I rolled my eyes as I left. Great. He must be some sort of a noble if he's a Dragon Priest. How in Oblivion am I going to get him back to his time?!

Once I'd left the room, Hiemdall and Milos immediately swooped in, the former even grabbing my arm.

"Did he do anything to you?!" he hissed. I noticed a new, nasty purple bruise forming on his cheek.

I shook my head. "No. The reason he was so wild was because some of the wounds he'd sustained were poisoned. How long was he and I out?"

"He was unconscious for a few hours," Milos answered. "You were for about half a day."

Well, I got that sleep I wanted. "Then he's been poisoned and his wounds have been unattended to for the last few hours." I looked at Hiemdall. "Please, please get Javin and Aldren. Have them check and treat the poison. He's not dead, so it's either slow or not completely life-threatening. And don't say anything rude. Maybe he'll be nice if you are."

"Maybe?" Hiemdall repeated, rubbing his cheek. "For you, I will. But I won't say a thing to that prim bastard."

"Thank-you." I looked to Milos. "Where's my pack? And the Elder Scroll?"

"Arngeir brought everything down for you," Milos explained as Hiemdall left to find the Redguard and the Dunmer. "Didn't you see it when you woke up?"

"No..." I rubbed my head, and then took a deep breath. "Thank-you, Milos."

"Arngeir told me that Paarthurnax said the Time-Wound is closed." I went from rubbing my head to my eyes, tiredness and annoyance assaulting me. "If you're planning on reading the scroll again, you'll only blind yourself like those Moth Priests back in Cyrodiil."

"Figures. I'll have to break the news to Lokbruniik..."

The Argonian snorted. "That's a mouthful of a name..."

"It is, but it's his name, and I need to use it."

"Or we can wait for Hiemdall to make a nickname for him."

"At this rate it's going to be something profane..."

"I don't doubt it." Milos began checking my bandages. "Is your stomach okay? I saw him hit it..."

I patted Milos' hand. "It'll be fine. You can stop worrying about me now, mom," I joked. He jabbed my forehead with his finger and rolled his eyes, and then walked off towards the western wing.

I smirked and watched him leave, then began searching for extra bandages that the Dragon Priest could use. Now that I was on my own, I had a hundred questions spilling through my mind. What race was he? What did he do? How long had it taken him to learn the language of Dragons? Why enlist in Alduin's service? And why was he targeting Hakon and Felldir, and whomever was with them (me)?

I wanted to ask him, but I had a feeling that the shock of coming to a different time in the blink of an eye was a bit much. And then I'd have to tell him that I had no idea how to get him back. But I realized I couldn't just leave him with the Greybeards. Since Paarthurnax was their Grand Master, and Paarthurnax didn't follow Alduin, Lokbruniik would consider them enemies as well. Granted, I was sure with the Thu'um they could handle themselves, but I didn't want to leave him. And bringing him to a place used in ancient times like the Labrynthian would possibly only serve his nostalgia for home. I was in one hell of a pickle.

I finally found some bandages and entered the room where Lokbruniik was being tended to by Javin and Aldren. I handed them what I carried, and then sat against the far wall next to Hiemdall, who was watching the priest with a certain amount of disgust.

"This kind of poison is ancient," Aldren murmured. "I've only seen it used a few times. It's good for making men lose their heads to rage."

"Clearly," Hiemdall muttered. Either Lokbruniik had heard him and chose to ignore it, or had missed his comment, but the Dragon Priest didn't spare Hiemdall a gaze.

"It's a strong frenzy potion," Aldren continued. "Looks like your enemies wanted you to turn against your allies and took a chance with it."

"But it is curable," Javin said, and held up a vial of whatever kind of cure he'd whipped up in whatever time he'd found. "I need you to drink this."

Lokbruniik took the vial, uncorked it, and then glanced around. "I shall not remove my mask until all are no longer present."

Hiemdall sighed loudly. "Great... And why is that, O mighty villain?"

That time, Lokbruniik directed his gaze to the Harbinger. "Those lesser than I should know only the mask I wear, and know to fear it. For me to remove it in the presence of others I do not deem worthy is like the Dovahkiin suddenly shedding all her clothing and dancing naked under the moonlight with a hundred spectators."

I frowned at him. "Thanks for using an odd mental image," I grumbled, and then turned to Hiemdall. "Be nice," I whispered. "Remember, you're the Harbinger of the Companions. For someone who doesn't know the rank, you need to earn his respect. That starts with you both tolerating eachother."

Hiemdall placed his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand, but said nothing. It was an assurance that he'd be silent.

Javin took the bottle back from Lokbruniik. "Then we'll just apply the tonic directly to your wounds. It'll hurt, but it'll get the job done."

Lokbruniik nodded. "I can tolerate it. Just be certain you have it over with thoroughly."

Hiemdall sighed again. I nearly mimicked him, but suppressed it. I had a feeling that Lokbruniik wasn't the only one who was about to be tolerating a stinging pain for however long. All at High Hrothgar were about to be just as pained as the Dragon Priest.

And my feelings said that I would be getting the brunt of the complaining from the others at the end.