9 Heartfire 4E201, Near Ivarstead
Rayya followed her thane patiently, exercising self-discipline.
He hasn't said a word since we left High Hrothgar. Nothing but a grunt or a nod when I ask him questions. It's like playing charades to get any direction out of him.
Clearly, whatever the Greybeards had told him, it had given him a great deal to think about.
Finally she could bear the silence no longer. She stepped up her pace to get in front of him, and then planted herself firmly in his path, fists on her hips and face like a thundercloud.
"My thane, I respect your need to think about what has happened. Yet if I am to serve you well, I must understand your plans."
Something got through. Ivar stopped. He actually looked at her. Some emotion glimmered in his eyes.
Now, is he paying attention to what I said, or is he taking notice of my face and form?
I will take either, if it pulls him out of the clouds.
"I'm sorry, Rayya. You're right, I haven't been very attentive. That will end now."
She softened. Slightly.
"That's good, my thane. Walking through Skyrim lost in thought is a very fine way to end up dead. Especially with dragons on our track."
"True." The smith took a deep breath, obviously tasting the cool, crisp air with relish. "The Greybeards have given me a quest, to test my mastery of the Voice. Also, no doubt, to test my character."
Rayya nodded gravely. "That seems reasonable. What is the object of our quest?"
Ivar smiled slightly at her pronoun. "There's an ancient ruin called Ustengrav, far to the north in the Hjaalmarch. Deep inside the ruin is a relic of Jurgen Windcaller, the founder of the Greybeards. I am to fetch this trinket for them."
"Very good. When do we begin?"
"As soon as we can return to Lakeview Manor, rest for a day or so, and gather supplies for the journey."
Rayya nodded. "Thank you, my thane."
They set out down the road once more, this time walking side by side, like partners.
Afterward, Rayya was unable to decide what had warned her. Something in the tenor of the natural sounds, in the forests on either side? A scrap of color that seemed out of place, when seen out of the corner of her eye? A shift in the wind?
At the last moment, birds flew up from the brush, less than a dozen yards from the road on the right.
Rayya tackled her thane around the waist, bearing him to the ground.
An arrow went thwip through the space he had just occupied.
Ivar bounced to his feet, his shield coming around to cover his left side, Dawnbreaker flashing like fire in his right hand. "Talos!"
Rayya found herself fully engaged with a swordsman, wearing strange robes and a full-face mask. Two fast swords against one, and it seemed an even match. Old training called her into the sword-dance, light feet and graceful movement, two edges forming a zone around her in which nothing could live for long.
A thump from behind her, and a strangled scream.
"Skyrim! Talos and the Nine for Skyrim!"
FOOM. A bolt of fire soared across the road, missing Rayya and her foe by inches, setting a tall sapling ablaze like a great torch.
"Death to the false Dragonborn!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Rayya could see Ivar charging across the road, bearing down on a masked figure standing in the shadow of a tree.
Her opponent saw it too, and made the mistake of paying attention for an instant.
Rayya's right-hand blade licked out, and the swordsman stared in horror at the spurting stump of his wrist, in the instant before her other edge slashed across his throat.
She couldn't see the fire-mage's face behind his mask, but his body language was clear enough to read.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way!
Then he turned to flee, a moment too late. Seventeen stone of enraged blacksmith descended upon him. Dawnbreaker flashed brightly.
Thump.
"I am growing very weary of ambushes on the road," Ivar panted, standing over the last of the masked men.
"At least it wasn't Thalmor this time," said Rayya, cleaning her blades.
"I think I would almost prefer Thalmor. I can understand why they hate me, and the feeling is entirely mutual. Who in the name of the Divines are these people?"
"Let's find out."
Rayya bent to search the body at her thane's feet, first lifting the mask from its face.
"That's odd." Ivar bent close. "Not human at all, but Dunmer."
"Why would the dark ones be your foes?"
"I don't know." He picked up the mask, from where Rayya had let it fall to the dirt. "This looks almost familiar. I saw something like it up on High Hrothgar, in a book Arngeir showed me about ancient times. The Dragon Priests of old wore masks like this."
Rayya frowned, her hands still searching the body. "The Dragon Priests were powerful sorcerers, from all I've heard. These three were dangerous enough, but not to that degree. Ah, here's something."
A scrap of parchment.
Board the vessel Northern Maiden, docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, and then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Ivar the Smith, before he reaches Solstheim.
Return with word of your success, and Miraak will be most pleased.
"Solstheim?" Ivar muttered. "That's a long way from here. Old Nord territory, although many Dunmer live there ever since the fall of Morrowind. I never had any plans to go there."
"False Dragonborn," Rayya mused. "Fanatics wearing masks like those of the old Dragon Priests. My thane, I would say that you threaten someone."
"Apparently I threaten a great many people," he said, rising to his feet and returning Dawnbreaker to its sheath with a sharp snick. "This Miraak will just have to take a number and wait in line."