17 Heartfire 4E201, High Hrothgar

Ivar bowed slightly, presenting the Horn to Arngeir with both hands.

"The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller," the old man murmured. "I almost did not dare to hope."

"I can see why you considered it a proper test. Without the Voice, I would never have been able to reach the Windcaller's tomb. I almost failed even with the Voice." Ivar hesitated for a moment. "I must be honest with you, Arngeir. I didn't find the Horn in the tomb. It had already been removed."

The Greybeard looked up from his cherished relic, startled. "How so?"

"Someone else beat me to it, although she left a message to tell me where to find her. I know her as Delphine, the landlady at the inn in Riverwood, although that must be only a role she plays. Anyone who could reach the tomb without the Voice must be very dangerous."

Arngeir frowned. "Describe this woman."

"Breton, I think. Gold-bronze hair, hazel eyes. Very good physical condition, lean and strong. When she isn't paying attention to her masque, she moves like a swordsman, and I saw calluses on her right hand to match. Hard to tell how old she is. At first I thought she might be in her early thirties, but something makes me wonder if she isn't older than that."

"Hmm." Arngeir reached up to strike his beard in deep thought. "I may know who this woman is, but I can't be certain."

"Who, then?"

The Greybeard shook his head. "Best that I not say, not yet. I could easily be wrong. I would advise you to be wary, until you learn more about her."

"I'm always wary." Ivar smiled, despite himself feeling a rush of affection for the old man. "So what happens now?"

"More lessons. Then a small ceremony, I think."

Ivar shook his head at the thought of more lessons, but he followed Arngeir without complaint. He soon found the lesson well worth his time.

"You have already learned the first two Words of this Shout," said Arngeir patiently. "No doubt you have already made use of the partial Shouts, Fus . . ."

The floor trembled slightly under Ivar's feet.

". . . and Fus Ro . . ."

Again, this time with more strength.

"I would advise caution. A completed Shout is always far more powerful than its individual Words, the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. The Shout known as Unrelenting Force can be a terrible weapon. It may stagger even a mighty enemy, such as a giant or a dragon. It may kill a weaker foe, without any need for bow or blade. Do not use this Shout unless you intend to kill."

Ivar cocked his head in curiosity. "Arngeir, I'm surprised that you would teach a Shout that could be used for violence. I had believed you Greybeards to be pacifists."

"Normally we are. Violence is the least of the ways of the Voice. Our role is not to exercise force in the world, but to seek greater understanding, and to teach those who are capable of learning." Arngeir gave Ivar a sad smile. "Yet there are times when violence is necessary, and the gods send a Dragonborn into the world. I fear that such is your task. We would fail in our duty, if we refused to give you the tools you need."

Ivar nodded, and watched as Wulfgar showed him the runes for Dah. Once he had absorbed the Word, he demonstrated the complete Shout for Arngeir for the first time.

"Fus Ro Dah!"

The mountain itself shook.

"Very good," said Arngeir, after he had recovered from the force of Ivar's Shout. "So ends our instruction, Dovahkiin. We can advise you further in the use of your Voice, perhaps help you seek out the ancient records of other Words hidden across the land, but you can be our apprentice no longer."

Ivar bowed deeply. "Thank you, master Arngeir."

"Now come. It is time."

"A moment, master. May my housecarls witness this?"

Arngeir frowned. "Normally we would not put outsiders at hazard. Yet it is true, all of our breath and Voice will be focused upon you. If the young women will stand where we bid them, and make no attempt to interfere, they should be safe enough."

Thus Lydia and Rayya came into the great hall of High Hrothgar for the first time, both of them trying not to gape like yokels at the ancient place. They moved off far to one side, obeying the firm gesture from Einarth that bid them stand completely still.

Ivar took his place in the center of the Hall. The four Greybeards took up the compass points around him, their heads bowed, standing like hieratic icons for a long moment as they meditated in silence.

Then, all at the same instant, the four of them raised their faces and began to Shout in perfect unison.

Lydia clapped her hands to her ears, her face twisted with terror and awe.

Rayya stood tall and motionless, like a statue carved from obsidian and dark wood, her eyes gleaming at what they saw.

Ivar's mind went white, as the force of four Voices seemed to slam through him and into the distant reaches of his soul. He threw his head back, his eyes shut tight, his arms spread wide, and listened.

Listened, and understood the dragon-speech for the first time, as if he had been born speaking it.

"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom! Dahmaan daar rok!"

Long has the Storm Crown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon.

By our breath we bestow it now to you, in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of old.

You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North! Hearken to it!