A Daedra's Best Friend
Delphine must have carried me further from Kynesgrove than I expected. The sky had properly lightened by the time I limped through the treeline and arrived at the edge of the village. Smoked curled up from every roof and fires still burned in places. There were people picking their way through the wreckage, mostly villagers with forlorn expressions, but also Stormcloak soldiers in blue. Two of them spotted me as I leant against a tree and grimaced.
"You there! Stay where you are!" one of then called sharply, pointing his spear at me. I was in no fit state to protest so I concentrated on staying upright and not vomiting as the pain made my head spin. The Stormcloaks jogged up the slope and stopped a few feet short, weapons still drawn.
"Who are you, stranger?"
"Lyra, I'm a mage and Thane of Whiterun and Falkreath. I'm here to help anyway I can."
The soldiers exchanged sceptical glances but before they could scoff, a familiar voice called,
"Is that who I think it is?"
My head snapped up and I gave a sigh of relief when I saw Ralof striding towards us. He was back in full Stormcloak regalia and the two soldiers saluted as he approached.
"Found her loitering on the edge of the village, Captain. Could be an Imperial spy."
"She's no spy you lugheads! Get back to searching for survivors."
I waited until they'd moved away before accepting a tight hug from Ralof.
"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," I sighed.
"Same here, lass. But what are you doing here? And why do you look like you crawled through Oblivion to get here?"
"It's a long story," I said wearily. "But the good news is my magic has a come a long way since I last saw you and I'm ready to be helpful."
Ralof eyed me dubiously and pulled my arm over his shoulder.
"First we'll see to that ankle, then you can help."
He supported me through the ruined village to a large blue pavilion pitched near the road. A line a bedraggled villagers waited for food, shivering in the chilly morning again. Ralof sat me down on a crate and had the Stormcloak doctor give my ankle a cursory glance. He bandaged it tightly, gave me a crutch and told me to keep the weight off it for a week. Once his back was turned I sent a trickle of healing magic into it and began hobbling around the village in search of a way to help.
"So, what are you doing out here?" Ralof asked as I healed a burn on a child's arm.
"Hunting dragons," I said casually and Ralof snorted.
"Alright, keep your secrets then. It must have been a hell of a battle. Did you see who felled the beast?"
Before I could shrug and feign ignorance, the little boy whose arm was now back to normal, pointed at me.
"She did, I saw her."
Ralof's eyebrows shot up and I laughed nervously.
"I got a lucky shot in."
I tried to breeze past the moment but more villagers gathered around.
"She slew the dragon, the mage, she absorbed power from it when it fell!" a soot-stained farmer said excitedly.
"Dragonborn, she must be!" an old agreed.
"She is! I saw her Shout," the innkeeper chimed in.
Colour rose in my cheeks as everyone stared at me. Ralof folded his arms.
"You've got some explaining to do, lass," he said and I grimaced.
"I told you, its a long story and there's work to do right now. Then I promise I'll share it over a pint of ale."
As it turned out it took two ales apiece to get the whole tale told. After healing as many villagers as I could manage, Ralof and I sat in the Stormcloak tent and cracked open the keg they had brought with them from Windhelm. I talked so much my throat went dry and I was grateful for the drink.
"So, yeah," I concluded. "I left Delphine this morning and came straight back here."
Ralof, who hadn't interrupted except to ask a couple of questions, blinked at me then drained the rest of his tankard.
"That is quite the tale," he said, refilling at the keg. "Dragonborn – I can hardly believe it."
He gave a low, impressed whistle and I shrugged in embarrassment.
"Sometimes I can't believe it either. But the dragons really seem to have it out for me."
"You do seem to attract trouble," Ralof chuckled. "Anyway, what's next for you?"
"Back to High Hrothgar to deliver the horn. Then, I suppose I'll head back to Whiterun to see if Lydia's feeling better. Then I guess it's time I went north to check out the college of Winterhold. I don't quite have enough coin yet but I'm sure I can pick up a few more quests between here and there."
If Delphine doesn't track me down and kill me for knowing too much, I thought privately. Ralof offered to refill my drink but I declined.
"You sure I can't persuade you to join up with the boys in blue?" he asked with a quirky smile. "Ulfric could really do with having the Dragonborn onside. Think what that would do for moral!"
I pulled a face.
"Absolutely not. I don't want to be anyone's poster girl. I'm happy to lend a healing spell here and there, but that's it."
Not to mention the fact that I didn't entirely agree with Ulfric's cause. My discussions with Lydia had made me reflect on the whole civil war and I had come to the conclusion that Ulfric was as self-interested as any in the empire.
"Ah well, it was worth a shot," Ralof sighed. "At least come with us back to Windhelm. You can resupply, rest up that leg."
"Alright, sounds like a plan," I nodded.
Master Arngeir was kneeling before the shrine of Kyne in the main hall, his eyes closed and his cowled head bowed in prayer, when I entered High Hrothgar. He stood and turned to face me as I closed the door on the howling wind outside. The journey up the seven-thousand steps had been even more daunting than the first time as freezing sleet drenched me to the bone and my injury made every step a trial.
"Dragonborn, I am glad to see you returned to us," Arngeir nodded in greeting. I smiled, my frozen cheeks burning from the change in temperature, and limped forward. Arngeir frowned.
"You are injured."
"A sprain," I grunted, leaning heavily on my staff. "It's an old wound now, I can manage."
The Greybeard beckoned and I followed him to the old cell Lydia and I had shared on our first visit. Arngeir bid me lie down so he could examine my ankle.
"Haas Ahraan," he Shouted, though not loudly. Warmth washed over my ankle and the pain faded away until it was nothing but a distant memory.
"Thank you, master," I sighed. "I didn't realise there was a Shout that could heal?"
"The Voice can be used for much besides fighting," Arngeir noted dryly. I sat up and put a hand on my pack, still damp from the rain.
"Master, I have it, I've brought the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller."
I pulled it from the bag and undid the strings on the cloth I'd carefully wrapped around it. Arngeir took the Horn in both hands and smiled.
"It is well done," he nodded. "Our faith in you was not misplaced."
He stood and I tried to follow suit, but he held up a hand.
"We have much to discuss I am sure, Dragonborn. But for now, you must rest. The Shout of healing renders one drowsy. It is best to sleep and let the Shout finish its work."
My eyelids were indeed growing heavy, and I was barely able to mumble agreement before slipping away in a deep, dreamless sleep.
When I next woke, hours later, Master Bori brought me a bowl of plain but filling porridge and a glass of water. Once I'd eaten and washed I was summoned to the main hall. The four Greybeards stood waiting for me.
"It is time for you to learn the final Word of Unrelenting Force, Dah," said Arngeir. "Step forward, Dragonborn."
Master Wulfgar waved his hand and the burning Word appeared in a blaze of embers of the floor. I knelt and touched the Word, hearing it ring in my ears. When Wulfgar gifted me his knowledge of Dah I took a deep breath.
"It feels – different," I mused. "I feel stronger."
"That is because you have learned all three words of the Shout, they were always meant to be spoken together," Arngeir explained. He nodded to his fellow Greybeards and they all began to speak, not in the common tongue, but in Dragonspeech. I only picked out a few words, Thu'um, Dovahkiin and Shor.
"What did you say?" I asked when they fell silent.
"We greeted you in the traditional manner. It roughly translates as; Long has the Stormcrown 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."
"Ysmir," I repeated. "I know that name, it was one of Tiber Septim's names, right?"
"Indeed, it was bestowed upon him by the Greybeards when he too was summoned to High Hrothgar," Arngeir confirmed. "What will you do now, Dragonborn? Will you reconsider, and remain here with us in prayer and study?"
I shook my head.
"I'm sorry master, but I still intend to go north. I will try to use the Thu'um for good, but I don't think the Way of the Voice is my path."
Arngeir bowed his head.
"I expected as much. Know you are always welcome here if you choose the pledge yourself to Kyne."
"Actually, before I leave, I would like to take council with you, master?" I asked. I wondered if this was a bit cheeky considering I had just turned down the offer to join them, but Arngeir was not perturbed. The other Greybeards disbursed and Arngeir and I took a slow walk through the stone halls.
"What troubles you, Ysmir?"
"The dragons," I explained. "I've fought three of them now, and the last I saw raised from its barrow by a huge, black dragon, the one who attacked Helgen on the day I was meant to be executed. The last dragon spoke to me when we fought, it spoke about its master. Does the name Alduin mean anything to you?"
Argneir stopped walking and stared ahead.
"Master?" I prompted. Arngeir gave a great sigh.
"Alduin, yes. If he has returned then all of Skyrim – all of Tamriel – is in grave danger."
"Who is he?" I asked in alarm.
"He is the Twilight God of the old Nordic pantheon. As Kyne is our aspect of the Imperial Kynareth, Alduin is equivalent to Akatosh."
"The god of time?"
"Yes. He is the World-Eater, the herald of destruction. When the dragons ruled Skyrim in the Merethic era he was worshipped as a God-King. But he disappeared when men revolted against their masters."
"Oh," I said. A sense of dread crept over me but I tried to think rationally. "Maybe – maybe the dragon I fought wasn't speaking literally, maybe he was just evoking his god? The Divines don't typically manifest on Mundus, that's more for the Deadric Princes."
"As you say, Dragonborn," Arngeir agreed. "But I would be weary if I were you."
I thanked Arngeir for his council and remained for one more day to gather my strength for the coming trip. The healing Shout had blown away all traces of my injury and when I expressed and interest in learning it, Arngeir marked a location on my map.
"The ancient Nords carved the first Word here. It was a temple to Kyne, even when the dragons ruled her cult was popular. If you do not wish to kill to unlock its power, then I urge you to meditate on the Word and learn it as we do. It is a long process but more pleasing to the gods."
I bid goodbye to High Hrothgar on a fine, clear day – a world of difference to my journey up the steps. Without my injury to slow me down I made good time, cutting through Ivarstead and through the mountain pass. I gave Helgen a wide berth as always and was soon strolling through the forest of Falkreath, basking in the summer warmth. The Word Wall Arngeir had recommended was on the shores of Lake Ilinalta and I intended to stop off in Lakeview Manner on the way there. With the Word secured I could then continue to Whiterun and reunite with Lydia.
I was just daydreaming about the juniper berry mead at the Bannered Mare when a shaggy wolfhound loped across the path ahead of me. It stopped and barked at me, tongue lolling and tail wagging.
"Well hello," I greeted, glancing around but seeing no owner. "What are you doing out here on your own?"
The dog seemed friendly so I approached and scratched it behind the ears.
"Good boy, you're a handsome one, aren't you?"
The dog cocked its head and then said,
"Thanks toots, but you're not really my type."
I snatched my hand back as if I'd been stung.
"Did – did you just - ?" I stuttered.
"Talk?" the dog finished. "Skyrim is now host to giant, fire-breathing lizards and you're surprised by me?"
Feeling foolish, I lowered my hands which had been ready to cast a defensive spell.
"Right, sorry. Uh, what are you doing out here on your own? Where's your owner? I mean –" I hastened to clarify as that might be construed as offensive. "If you have an owner that is."
"Relax, toots, I got an owner. Only...he and I had a bit of a falling out."
The dog's ears drooped and his tail stopped wagging.
"We got into an argument and things got rather...heated. He's kicked me out until I can find someone who can settle our disagreement."
I quirked an eyebrow.
"O-key, is there anything I can do help?"
"I was hoping you'd offer!" the dog barked excitedly. "Would you be willing to come with me and speak to my master? He should listen to you, he likes talking to mortals."
"Implying that he...isn't mortal?" I asked apprehensively.
"Don't worry, he won't hurt you. He can't, funny quirk of him and me being on the rocks if that it diminishes his power. So, will you help me? Please?"
I chewed my lip and tried to think of a way to say no but the hound looked so hopeful that I couldn't bring myself to disappoint him, so I nodded. The dog gave a joyful yip and ran around me in a circle before bounding away.
"Great! Follow me! My names Barbas, by the way."
I jogged to keep up with the hound as he wended his way through the trees. He led me on for quite a while, nearly a mile and I was soon panting from clambering over fallen trees and pushing through the undergrowth.
"So, who is your master exactly?" I asked. We were approaching the rocky foot of the mountains and the trees were thinning out.
"His name's Clavicus Vile," Barbas replied. "I expect you've heard of him?"
I frowned and racked my brains.
"I vaguely know the name...but I can't place it. You said his powers are diminished without you, is he like a mage or something?"
"Something like that."
He stopped talking abruptly and came to a halt behind a large boulder. He looked back and jerked his head.
"We're here, keep real quiet now."
Concerned, I tiptoed forward and crouched by the boulder. When I peered over the top I saw a cave in the cliffs nearby, and a group of people hanging around by the entrance. My blood ran cold when I saw two of them were tied up and sitting back to back. A pale man in ragged clothes bent down and grabbed one of the prisoners by the chin to examine her.
"Where did you find these ones?" he asked his companion.
"Travelling from the west. I know they're a bit scrawny but they'll do for now."
The pale man sniffed unenthusiastically then roughly turned the prisoner's head to expose her neck. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my cry of horror as he sank his fangs into the woman. She was so frozen with terror that she didn't struggle, she just gave a weak, reedy scream of pain.
"Vampires," I hissed. "Is your master a vampire?!"
"No!" Barbas whispered indignantly. "The vamps are the problem, they're infesting the cave and I want them gone so we can get to master. You can handle then – ain't you the Dragonborn?"
I frowned.
"Hey how did you…never mind. I've fought vampires before but not on my own, and it didn't go so well."
I bit my lip and winced as the prisoner began to sob. I had no choice, I had to free those poor people. Squaring my shoulders I peered around the boulder again and raised my hand to conjure a familiar. My spectral wolf distracted both vampires enough that they didn't notice me approach with flames in hand. I managed to fell both of them before they could counter the attack.
"Hey, are you alright?" I asked anxiously, kneeling next to the prisoners and cutting them free. The woman's neck bled freely and I pressed a cloth tightly against the bite and murmured a healing spell.
"They killed our kin already, on the road," the man whimpered, the woman was still in too much shock to speak. "Butchered them like animals."
"I'm sorry, I really am. I'm going to clear out this cave but you'll have to get yourselves to safety. If you head south you'll hit Falkreath in a few hours."
I glanced up at the darkening sky and didn't like to think about making such a journey through the pitch-black forest. But other than the bite the two seemed fit enough and I saw then on their way with a potion of cleansing pressed into their hands in case any lingering trace of the vampire lingered in their blood. Then – heart pounding and Barbas at my heels – I plunged into the cave.
The fight was exactly as bloody and difficult as I expected. The vampires not only attacked with claws, teeth and swords, but also with a draining spell then left me weak and dizzy. Deeper and deeper into the cave I ventured until finally I came to large cavern, cold as death, containing a statue that towered over all. After dispatching the last vampire I sank to one knee, breathing heavily and fighting to stay conscious.
"I hate these things," I muttered. Barbas – who had done his fair share to help – circled me and kept looking up at the statue. I glanced at it, it showed a man with curling ram's horns holding aloft a strange helmet or mask.
"So, where's this master of yours?" I asked once I'd regained the strength to stand. Barbas barked.
"You're looking at him."
I looked again at the statue and jumped as a voice reverberated around the chamber.
"Well, isn't this a happy day. You helped me grant one final wish to my worshippers."
"Who said that? Who are you?" I cried, conjuring flames in both hands and spinning around. The chamber seemed empty apart from Barbas, myself and the statue.
"You're not too bright, are you? It's me, Clavicus Vile. Daedric Prince of Bargains."
I turned my eyes on the statue and felt my heart drop.
"Daedric Prince?" I whispered in horror.
"Yes. Now, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted. Here I was, pondering how to grant the vampires the cure they begged me for, when you came along and ended their misery! Couldn't have arranged it better myself. Now then, what can I do for you, little Dragonborn?"
The statue's mouth didn't move in time to the voice, nothing at all changed about the stone.
"I – uh – I just wanted to help Barbas out," I stuttered. "I was hoping you would take him back?"
"Urgh," the voice grunted in disgust. "That mangy pup, no deal! I've had enough of his constant nagging."
I looked down at Barbas and he gave a sad whine and nodded his head towards the statue, as if asking me to keep trying.
"Please – uh – mister Vile – Lord Vile? Barbas really has missed you, won't you consider letting him come back?"
An amused snort echoed around the cave.
"Mister Vile, I like that," Clavicus chortled. "You are an odd one, Dragonborn. Most mortals seek me out for power or cures or love. Tell you what, I might consider taking the hound back if you do a little something for me."
"What do you want?" I asked wearily.
"Oh it's nothing really, an easy fetch quest for one as capable as yourself. There's an axe, and extremely valuable axe which I gifted to a mage some decades ago, and I'd like it back."
I chewed my lip and tried to think of a way out of this. I knew little of Daedric Princes, but had always heard them spoken of with great fear. Lydia and I had been treated to a long lecture about the dangers of cavorting with the forces of Oblivion by the Vigilants of Stendar when we met them on the read a few weeks back.
"Where is this mage?" I asked cautiously.
"Barbas can fill you in on the details," said Clavicus and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Bring me the axe, and I'll let Barbas come home. Fair deal, what do you say?"
After a moment of hesitation I sighed.
"Alright, I'll get the axe. But no more! That is where our interactions end, understood?"
"So authoritative," Clavicus laughed. "You have my word as a Daedric Prince."
"Yeah, cause that's comforting," I muttered as I retraced my steps through the cave.
Once outside I took a deep breath of cool, clean air and turned my face to the sun. Once I'd collected myself I rounded on Barbas.
"You didn't think the mention your master is basically a god?!"
Barbas's ears dropped and he tucked his tail between his legs.
"I'm sorry, really, but I didn't think you'd help me if you knew who he was."
I scowled and folded my arms.
"Well, I'm stuck in this deal now whether I like it or not. So go on, what's the story with this axe?"
"One of Clavicus's little jests," Barbas explained ruefully. "A wizard named Sabastian Lort had a daughter who worshipped Hircine. When the daughter became a werewolf it drove Sabastian over the edge. He couldn't stand to see his little girl take on such a bestial form. The wizard wished for the ability to end his daughter's curse."
"And Clavicus gave him the axe," I realised. "Charming. You sure you want to return to this bloke's side?"
Barbas sniffed.
"Eh, he may be a bastard, but he's still my master. Neither one of us is whole without the other."
"Fair enough," I sighed. "So, where are we going?"
A month round-trip wasn't exactly what I'd signed up for when I first agreed to help Barbas on the road, but it was not without its rewards. Sabastian Lort had taken up residence in a cave called Rimerock Burrow after the death of his daughter where he had buried himself in magical tomes, cut off from the rest of the world. Since the cave was located in the northwest corner of Haafingar hold it afforded me and opportunity to visit Solitude for the first time.
I had been taken with the beauty of its buildings and wide, clean streets and would have quite liked the place if not for the grisly sight that met my eyes when I first arrived. I had the displeasure of seeing an execution in progress, one of Ulfric Stormcloak's loyalists was beheaded before an angry mob of citizens. Reminded of my own near death-sentence, I did not linger in the capital.
Sabastian Lort did not go down easily. I had hoped to slip into the cave, nab the axe and be on my way without having to confront him, but the old wizard had grown paranoid in his isolation and set magical alarms all around his bolt-hole. After contending with the flame atronach he summoned as well as his own lightning spells I managed to catch him off guard with a blinding flash from a magelight and then an ice-spike to the chest.
"Sorry mate," I muttered as I lit the small pyre I'd built outside the cave.
I had tried in vain to speak to the mage as he flung spells at me, shouting over the crackle of the lighting for him to hold his fire so we could talk. But Lort didn't even seem to understand me with his eyes glazed with madness. I hoped he found peace in the next life.
I found more than a palpable sense of guilt in Rimerock Burrow, there was the Rueful Axe of course, a wicked double-headed weapon practically oozing malevolence. More interestingly I picked up several enchanted pieces of armour and spell scrolls which netted me a good price when I paused for the night in Solitude.
This was how, when I returned to Falkreath hold midway through Evening Star, I found myself carrying over five-thousand septims. I finally had enough to apply to the college and had already penned my letter requesting entry, ready to be handed to a courier the moment I stepped into a city. I just had to deliver the axe first.
"Ah! You've got the axe, and my dog, splendid!" Clavicus Vile cried when I placed the Rueful Axe at the base of his statue.
"Yep, we're back. Now hold up your end of the bargain," I said, wanting to be gone from this place as soon as possible.
"Excellent work, a hero and her faithful companion, retrieving the ancient artefact from the prince. It's almost…storybook. Ah but it almost seems a shame to give a weapon like that away, doesn't it?"
"Oh come on," I groaned. "I did what you asked didn't I? Please, just take the axe."
"Now hold your horses there, my impatient little mortal. I am trying to be generous here. I suppose I could be persuaded to let you keep the axe. But only if you use it to kill Barbas."
I stared at the statue in disbelief before looking at Barbas. He didn't seem shocked or afraid, he just sighed and hung his head.
"What?!" I cried. "After all you that you want me to – oh for gods' sake!"
"It's simple. You kill Barbas, you get to keep the axe. Take it or leave it."
"Leave it! Definitely leave it!" I snapped hotly. "This is not what we agreed. Just take the damn axe and let Barbas come home."
"Hrmph, you're not fun," the Prince grumbled. "Guess I'll have to make my own fun elsewhere. And with the pup back, I'll be restored to full power! There's a whole world just waiting for me!"
"Great, drinks all round," I muttered. I turned to Barbas who barked for joy.
"I knew I could trust you!"
"Yeah yeah," Clavicus sighed. "Dog gets master, master gets cosmic axe. Everyone's happy, now just get over here mutt."
With what looked remarkably like a wink, Barbas leapt at the statue. There was a flash of purple light and he vanished, reappearing an instant later as a statue beside his master. Clavicus sighed in satisfaction.
"That's feels so much better. You forget how nice supreme power feels when you've been stuck in a cave for years. Now then mortal, I have a very nice mask which can serve as your reward."
"Nope!" I exclaimed, already power-walking out of the cavern. "No more bargains, no more gifts, I am not taking anything from you. Bye!"