The Way of the Voice
The day had one more surprise in store for me. As I trudged back to Whiterun with Irileth and the rest of the guards, trying to ignore their stares and mutterings, a great shout echoed over the valley.
DOVAHKIIN.
"What was that?" I asked wearily, gazing at the snow-capped mountain to the east where the call seemed to have come from. The guards were also looking in that direction and muttering in worry.
"I don't know," said Irileth slowly. "There's a lot about this day that I don't know, and I don't like it. Come on, we need to get back to Whiterun and report to the Jarl."
I found Irileth's pragmatism in the face of mystery comforting so I fell in step with her and accompanied her up to Dragonsreach whilst the guards filtered into the barracks and dispatched a runner to the temple of Kynareth to fetch a healer. All through the city the residents were peering through windows and standing in the streets all looking around for the source of the booming voice. Dragonsreach was similarly abuzz with speculation when we entered the long hall. Balgruuf stood by his throne, seemingly too agitated to sit, speaking with his brother Hrongar. Avenicci flagged us down as we appeared.
"Good, you've returned. The Jarl wants to speak to you right away."
As we approached, I heard Balgruuf say,
"You heard the summons, what else could it mean? The Greybeards…"
He broke off when he saw us and he smiled approvingly.
"I'm glad to see you both unhurt. The watchmen on the walls reported that the dragon fell. Tell me what happened."
"We engaged the beast in battle and it was defeated. Our young mage here struck the killing blow," said Irileth, looking pointedly at me. She clearly left the rest up to me to explain.
"I knew my trust in you was not misplaced. Well done," said Balgruuf and I felt my face grow hot.
"Thank you, my Jarl. But, um, there's something else you should know."
Balgruuf didn't speak, he just waited for me to spit it out. How to go about explaining this?
"When the dragon died, the body started to burn up. Then – I don't know how – but I absorbed some kind of power from it."
The Jarl and his brother's eyes went wide and they exchanged significant looks.
"So, it's true. A Dragonborn has appeared amongst us," Hrongar murmured. "Talos be praised."
"That's what the guards said, but I don't know what it means!" I said with an edge of desperation. "I don't have dragon blood; I don't even remember who I am or where I came from!"
"There is much about the situation we cannot understand," said Balgruuf. "But one thing is clear, you are Dragonborn, and you have been summoned by the Greybeards."
"Didn't you hear them call just a few minutes ago? Dovahkiin, it means Dragonborn in the ancient tongue. They are summoning you to their monastery, High Hrothgar," Hrongar exclaimed.
I looked at Irileth who shrugged, as if to say, it's all Nordic to me.
"Who are the Greybeards?" I asked. "And what do they want with me?"
"They are holy men, masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion on the Throat of the World. As Dragonborn you are uniquely gifted in Shouting, however they can teach you to hone your gift. I would urge you to answer their summons," said Balgruuf.
So much had happened today in such a short space of time that I was struggling to process it. I rubbed my tired eyes as I tried to think of a response but Balgruuf smiled and put a hand up to stop me.
"Nothing needs to be decided yet. You need healing – and rest. Go and get yourself cleaned up and return here in the morning."
"Thank you, my Jarl," I sighed gratefully and with that I tottered off in search of Danica Pure-Spring and a hot bath.
The next morning the only thing anyone in Whiterun could talk about was the dragon attack. I asked Saadia to bring my breakfast up to my room so I wouldn't have to endure the locals asking for a blow-by-blow account of the adventure. After I'd eaten my fill and applied the cooling salve Danica had given me last night to the burns on my neck and shoulder, I made my way up to the keep. People stared and even cheered as I passed. Lucia waved enthusiastically from her perch up on the temple roof.
I was surprised to find the hall of Dragonsreach brimming with people when I arrived. I spotted some of the important faces in Whiterun, Olfrid Battle-Born and Eorlund Gray-Mane – standing as far apart as possible, Nazeem, Danica Pure-Spring and Kodlack Whitemane of the Companions. All eyes turned to me as I walked the length of the room towards Jarl Balgruuf seated on his throne.
"Well met, Lyra the mage. I welcome you to my hall and offer you bread and salt."
His words were more formal than I was used to, and a serving woman brought forward a platter of shredded bread sprinkled with salt. I frowned slightly and glanced between the offered food and Balgruuf, who gave a tiny nod and a smile. I took a bite and replied.
"Thank you, my Jarl. I – accept your hospitality."
There was a rustle of approving nods around the hall. Balgruuf spoke loudly and clearly.
"Lyra Shield-Sister, you proved your worth in battle yesterday against a formidable foe. To show my gratitude, I hereby name you Thane of Whiterun. You have the freedom of the city and a place in my court should you wish, but I suspect your quests will take you away for some time."
I was surprised by the gift, and I glanced at the others in the hall. Some smiled and nodded, others, like Eorlund Gray-Mane, barely repressed snorts. Perhaps it galled him to see a Breton take a position intended for a Nord.
"Thank you for the honour, my Jarl. You are right, I think I have a long journey ahead of me."
I'd had time to think last night whilst I had my wounds seen to. What I wanted above all else was answers about my past and now, what being Dragonborn meant. If they Greybeards could help me, I saw no reason not to go.
"Please accept this gift from my household armoury to aid you on your quest," said Balgruuf and Irileth approached this time to offer me a long-sword with a horse-head pommel. "And I appoint Lydia to act as your personal housecarl."
The black-haired young woman I'd fought with at the western watchtower stepped forward and clashed her fist against her breastplate.
"I swear to serve faithfully, to shield your back and keep your council, my Thane."
That concluded the formalities and Balgruuf rose from his throne so we could speak more privately.
"I really am honoured, my Jarl," I said, belting the sword around my waist. "But I didn't kill the dragon on my own, Irileth and the guards did as much or more."
"No false modesty, I prefer plain speaking from my Thanes," said Balgruuf with a touch of amusement. "Now, have you decided to make the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar?"
"I have," I said, hoping I sounded more determined than I felt.
"I'm glad, I have already briefed Lydia on the situation so she can act as your companion." The Jarl's eyes went somewhat wistful. "You know, I envy you. I made the pilgrimage myself many years ago, up the seven-thousand steps. It's a peaceful place, detached from the troubles of the world. I wonder if the Greybeards even notice what is happening down below. But they have taken notice of you and you had best not keep them waiting too long. Fare thee well, friend."
We clasped hands and after bidding farewell to a few other people like Irileth and Farengar, Lydia and I left the hall. As we descended the steps to the Wind District I thought out loud,
"You know when he said seven-thousand steps, you don't think he really meant it, do you?"
We spent the morning gathering the supplies needed for the journey ahead. I chatted with Carlotta in the market as I bought travel rations whilst Lydia headed to the barracks to gather her belongings to say her goodbyes to her friends.
"And you know who to call if Mikael gets too big for his boots again," I reminder her which made her laugh.
I also stopped by Arcadia's to replenish my stock of healing and magicka potions, and Barthen's to sell a few nick-nacks I had from previous quests. When I emerged, Lydia was waiting for me and we made our way to the main gate. I'd barely stepped onto the drawbridge when I spotted Lucia lurking in the shadow of the barracks. I veered off to speak to her.
"Why so glum?" I asked her. She did indeed look dejected and kicked at the dirt with her over-sized boots.
"Do you have to go?" she mumbled. "Can't you stay? Or can't I come with you?"
I went down on my haunches to I could speak to her properly.
"I'm sorry, it's really important that I go. And it's too dangerous for you to come with me."
I'd grown fond of Lucia over the past month. She knew every nook and cranny of Whiterun, and she was more competent than half the adults. I'd paid her to run odd jobs for me and I hated leaving her to her life on the streets. Lucia hesitated then threw her arms around me.
"Be safe," she muttered.
I squeezed her in return.
"Don't worry, I've got Lydia to protect me. Whilst I'm gone, you'll have to look after things here for me, keep an eye on the other kids, help Danica in the temple, basically keep the place standing till I get back."
Lucia grinned and after Lydia and I passed through the gates she scampered to the top of the ramparts to wave us off.
"Is she a relative, my Thane?" Lydia asked.
"No, I – I don't think I have any relatives," I said. Lydia looked confused and I realised I had to explaining to do.
"I'll tell you more once we're on the road. Right now, we need to sort out where we're going."
"The village of Ivarstead stands at the foot of the Throat of the Word, where the pilgrim road up High Hrothgar begins," said Lydia. We'd reached the stables by now and I drew her over to lean on the fence and consult the map. She pointed out the village she meant.
"It's on the other side of the mountain to us," I said in disappointment. "Right, it looks like there's two paths we could take. We could head around the north side through Eastmarch, or south and through this mountain pass. What do you think?"
I considered the map.
"Eastmarch is Ulfric Stormcloak's territory. We might run into difficulty if we are stopped by his men, as we are sworn to Jarl Balgruuf and Whiterun has so far not declared for the Stormcloaks."
"Good point. South through Falkreath hold it is then. I'm more familiar with Falkreath anyway."
I rolled up the map and Lydia jerked her head towards the stables.
"We can procure horses for the journey."
"Oh," I coughed, "I don't think I can afford horses, sorry."
Lydia blinked.
"As Thane, you will not need to pay. You are on business for the Jarl."
"Well I – I'm not really, this is my quest after all and, uh…"
Lydia continued to look puzzled and I sighed.
"Look, the truth is, I've never ridden a horse. I'd much rather get there on my own two feet, if you don't mind?"
If Lydia found this surprising or annoying in any way, she didn't show it. She simply nodded and said,
"As you wish, my Thane."
Clouds rolled across the sky as we left the city behind and walked past the farms and meadhalls lining the main road. I pulled my hood up as a light rain began to patter on the ground.
"Another lovely day in Skyrim," I quipped. "So, anyway, how long have you served in the guard?"
"Five years, my Thane. I was born and bred in Rorikstead but after father fell in the Great War, mother moved us to Whiterun so we could be closer to my grandparents. Always had a knack for swordplay so when I came of age, I pledged myself to the city."
"You fought well yesterday, there's not many who would face down a dragon's jaws," I commented, and Lydia smiled, the first time I'd seen her do so.
"Thank you, my Thane. You also fought well, and your healing was most appreciated."
She indicated the bandages on her left arm.
"I need to work on my magicka endurance," I mused. "Especially if more of those scaly bastards are lurking in the clouds."
We fell into easy conversation as we left the plains behind us and ascended the hills towards Riverwood. Lydia told me more about growing up in Whiterun and gave me a run-down of the factions in the Jarl's court. Having stayed in the city for the past month I had not failed to notice the hostilities between the White-Manes and the Battle-Born, but Lydia was able to give me some more background. In turn, I filled her in on my adventures of the past few weeks and my quest to restore my lost memories. I tried to get her to stop calling me 'my Thane' but she struggled with the concept. Ah well, perhaps after we'd been traveling a few weeks she'd loosen up.
Falkreath hold was beautiful place, especially once the sun came out and sparkled off the waters of Lake Ilinalta. The dense pine forests teemed with deer and wolves, which I was able to keep at bay by scaring them with a few flame and frost spells. Mountain flowers, Nightshade and Thistle grew in abundance in the shrubbery and my alchemy pouch soon became full. That night we took turns sleeping at the campfire whilst the other kept watch. We didn't run until any trouble until the second day of the journey when Lydia suddenly stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the road.
"What is it?" I asked, glancing up from the mushroom I was trying to identify. Lydia's eyes were narrowed as she listened hard.
"Someone's in trouble," she muttered.
I cocked my head and then heard it too, scuffles in the undergrowth and faint whimpers of pain. I rose and put a finger to my lips before picking my way through the ferns, Lydia behind me. The sounds of struggle grew louder, and I could now make out men's voices.
"Give it up old man, you'll only make it worse for yourselves."
There followed a thud and a grunt. I crouched behind a fallen tree with Lydia and peered through the branches. Four men in rough leather armour stood around an elderly couple kneeling on the damp moss. The woman was crying, tears tracking down her wrinkled cheeks. The old man had crumpled to the floor clutching his belly whilst the thugs sniggered. I bristled as they rifled through the couple's packs.
"Bandits," Lydia hissed. "We have to stop them!"
I put a hand on her sword arm and whispered.
"Yes, but we have to be careful, or they'll hurt the prisoners. I have an idea, wait until you have a clear shot."
I cupped my hands together and focused on a spot between two trees about fifteen feet away. A burst of purple magicka drew the bandits' attention and they cried out in shock when a ghostly wolf appeared. The familiar bared its teeth and growled but did not charge ahead right away. The bandits acted as I had hoped, three of them moved to attack the familiar with axes whilst the fourth stayed by the prisoners. Lydia took aim and shot him through his thick neck with an arrow.
The old woman gave a small scream as the man thudded, gurgling, onto the ground beside her. His fellow bandits jerked around in shock but were torn between helping their comrade and dealing with the wolf.
"Go!" I cried. Lydia vaulted over the log and rushed to stand between the bandits and the prisoners, her sword and shield locked into position.
My familiar took advantage of their distraction and knocked one of them to the ground, tearing at his throat. Lydia engaged in a clash of steel with another whilst the last bandit was treated to a surge of sparks that made his armour glow like embers.
Soon enough the clearing fell quiet, and four bodies littered the floor.
"Are you alright?" I asked as I came around the log and knelt to help Lydia untie the prisoners. The old man accepted Lydia's hand so he could stand.
"Yes, no broken bones as far as I can tell," he wheezed. His wife – I assumed – put her arm around him and gave a great sigh of relief.
"Those monsters attacked us on the road. They took everything we had left – they were going to kill us, I'm sure of it!" she said in a quivery voice. Lydia began collecting their belongings and stowing them once more in the bags whilst I checked them over for injuries.
"You've been burned," I said in concern, gingerly casting a healing spell on the woman's hands.
"Yes, but not by this lot," she grimaced, nodding her head at the bandits. "Our farm was burned down by a dragon two nights ago, I foolishly tried to rescue some treasures from the flames."
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"We were heading for Falkreath when this lot ambushed us. Could you possibly escort us the rest of the way?" asked the old man.
"Of course! I don't think it's far. I'm Lyra, this is Lydia."
"Freya and Bjorn," the woman smiled, indicating herself and her husband. "Thank you so much for helping us."
We continued our journey a little slower than before since Bjorn limped with every other step and my novice healing wasn't enough to alleviate the pain for long. Luckily, Falkreath loomed out of the trees after only a short time. It lay in a dip in the valley, a cluster of wooden buildings with sharply peeked roofs. A simple wooden palisade surrounded the town and guards in purple livery watched us approach.
"Trouble on the road?" one asked off-handedly as he took in Freya and Bjorn's dishevelled appearances.
"Bandits," I explained. I expected him to rush forward and help support the old man, but he merely shrugged and turned his eyes back to the road. Lydia and I exchanged annoyed glances.
We helped the couple into the local inn, charmingly named Dead Man's Drink.
"Here we are, you can rest and get some food now," I said as Bjorn settled onto a bench. Freya clasped my hand and then Lydia's.
"Thank you again, I don't know what we would have done without you."
We stayed with them a little longer to eat a quick lunch of rabbit stew but since it was still only midday, Lydia and I decided we ought to keep travelling. However, once we stepped outside, we were stopped by a couple of town guards and an Imperial man in steel armour with the crest of the empire emblazoned on his pauldron.
"Halt, I have some questions for you two," he said. I frowned.
"Is there a problem?"
"That is the mark of Jarl Balgruuf is it not?" asked the soldier, pointing to the horse-head pommel of my sword. "Are you sworn to his service?"
"You address Lyra, Thane of Whiterun," Lydia announced, straightening her back and fixing the soldier with a steely glare. "I am her sworn sword."
The soldier smirked.
"You must be new to Balgruuf's court, I don't recall hearing your name before. What brings you to Jarl Siddgeir's lands?"
"We are on pilgrimage to High Hrothgar," I explained. "We only stopped to help some people we met on the road."
"Yes, the gate guards told me as much. Jarl Siddgeir has summoned you to the long house."
A ripple of unease ran down my spine and Lydia's glare became a scowl.
"Please send my apologies to the Jarl, but like I said we did not intend to stop in town, we are in a hurry."
The soldier took a step forward.
"I don't think you understand the meaning of the word summon, do you? Come, the Jarl is waiting."
So, we had little choice but to follow the Imperial with his guards marching along right behind us. I glanced worriedly at Lydia who gripped her sword hilt. What could we possibly have done to have angered Jarl Siddgeir?
The long-house was not as grand as Jarl Balgruuf's great hall but it did share a central fire-pit and a wooden throne at the far end draped in furs. A young man lounged in the chair, younger than me, barely older than a boy in fact. The soldier bowed.
"My lord, the travellers as you requested. Lyra of Whiterun and her housecarl."
The boy's eyes lit up as he looked us up and down. I didn't much care for his lingering gaze and I crossed my arms.
"Thank you, Legate Skulnar. So, you're Balgruuf's new lackie. I only heard about your appointment this morning and then you turn up in my city. What cause have you cross my lands?"
"Pilgrimage, and what can we do for you Jarl Siddgeir?" I asked curtly. Privately I thought, this place counts as a city? Siddgeir picked at the armrest of his throne.
"The guards say you fought off some bandits on the road. I have a similar problem I could use your help with. A nest of brigands has been terrorising my people and I want you root out their leader. I have it on good authority that a few of them have staked out the road between here and Helgen, I'm sure if you captured one of them you could persuade them to reveal the location of their headquarters."
I had to fight hard to keep the indignant look off my face.
"With all due respect, my Jarl, don't you have your own Thanes or guards to call on for this task? We have a long journey ahead of us and we don't have time to fight bandits for you."
"And yet you have done so already," Siddgeir countered. "Of course I have my own housecarls, but I would rather keep them close to the city. I simply thought you had already taken an interest in the bandit problem. Of course, I can also promise you compensation for your troubles. Pilgrimage is all very noble, but travel still requires coin, does it not?"
I pursed my lips together and frowned. I did not like this boy's attitude one bit, but he did make a fair point. After a moment's hesitation I uncrossed my arms.
"Very well, we'll take the job. Where on the road did you say we'd find these bandits?"
Finding the crude trap the bandits had set up on the road turned out to be easy, as did fighting and subduing them, since all three were drunk off the Argonian wine they're filched off the last unfortunate merchant to pass their way. I had expected some resistance but once we had them tied to a tree and Lydia flashed her steel, they all began jabbering at once and gave us not only the location of their boss's hideout but a description of the traps and the number of their brethren waiting inside.
"No honour among thieves," Lydia remarked dryly.
We left the bandits tied up for Siddgeir's guards to pick them up whilst we made our way to the hideout, an abandoned cottage further up the road.
"Why do bandits get such nice real-estate?" I wondered as we observed the cottage from a distance. "Seems like such a waste."
The property did indeed have a large back garden, perfect for growing herbs or vegetables, and a pretty pond full of frogspawn bordered it to the north. We easily spotted the single bandit left outside on guard, half asleep in a bush near the front door. Lydia took take of him with a well-aimed arrow. We then ran to the door, crouched low in case anyone was watching from the grimy windows, and pressed our backs to the wall on either side. Quietly and slowly, I turned the handle and pushed the door open. After peeking inside and seeing it empty we stepped over the threshold. It had the layout of a typical Nordic farmhouse, a single room with a large fireplace against the back-wall – stone cold – implying it hadn't been used in a while.
A ladder led to the basement which held more signs of life, crates and barrels brimming with loot from the bandits' victims.
"If this is the headquarters, why is there only one bandit here?" Lydia muttered. I groped around the walls looking for another door and came to an empty bookcase that seemed out of place. I could feel a faint breeze emanating from between it and the wall.
"Ah ha!" I whispered triumphantly as my fingers encountered a button. Once pressed, the bookcase slid back to reveal a tunnel leading further down. A lit torch burned in a bracket a few feet in.
"This looks like an ancient Nordic tomb," I mused as we passed smashed urns and the dirt wall gave way to slabs of stone. "They must have broken in to loot the place."
Any guilt I felt about killing the bandits vanished as we ventured further into the tomb and we came across a pile of Khajiit bodies, obviously the owners of the crates in the basement. Lydia and I made quick work of the bandits we encountered with sword, bow and spells. I even got to use my gift from Balgruuf when one Orc dodged my flames and charged at me with a heavy war-hammer.
Finally, the bandit captain – a battle-scarred woman with sinewy arms – fell to Lydia's practiced blows. She had obviously been a paranoid woman as her sleeping-quarters were rigged with bone chimes to alert her of intruders. She had a key on her belt which led to a treasure room – heavily trapped – but full of valuables. Lydia and I discussed it briefly then filled out coin-pouches with a few loose Septims as a fair finder's fee and left the rest for Siddgeir's men to collect when they came to clean up the place.
The whole escapade had taken a day out of our journey and with night approaching we headed back to Falkreath for some well-earned rest and a mug of ale each. Before we'd even put a foot into the town however, Legate Skulnar came clanking over and dragged us before the Jarl again.
"This kid is really starting to get on my nerves," I muttered to Lydia out of the corner of my mouth and she nodded darkly.
Siddgeir had not moved from his throne in the time we'd been gone but he now had a serving girl at his elbow refilling his horn of mead.
"That took a lot longer than I expected," he whined. "Well? Is the wench dead?"
"How did you know the bandit captain was a woman?" I asked suspiciously and Siddgeir shrugged.
"You know how rumours spread. Now, is she taken care of?"
"Yes, Pinewatch has been cleared out. There's plenty of treasure there but once your men have collected it, I recommend you have them seal up the tomb in the basement. Don't want draugr wondering out."
Siddgeir chuckled.
"No indeed. You know, I like you. I might just make you Thane of Falkreath if you keep up the good work."
My eyebrows shot up and I tried to look flattered rather than irritated.
"That would be a great honour, my Jarl. But I'm afraid I'm already pledged to Jarl Balgruuf."
"Oh, yes of course," Siddgeir sighed. "Still, there must be some boon I can grant you for your hard work?"
I cocked my head and considered then an idea occurred to me.
"Actually, yes there is. Pinewatch is empty now but the land is still good. Would you consider gifting it to some good, reliable folks I know?"
The next day Lydia and I were finally able to make our escape from Falkreath. Siddgeir had hinted at some other errands he wanted us to run so we set off at the crack of dawn so we wouldn't have Legate Skulnar in our faces again. Freya and Bjorn waved us off, thanking us again for securing their new home from the Jarl.
"That was a kind thing to do for them, my Thane," Lydia commented as we speed-walked out of town. I smiled sheepishly.
"I have a confession to make," I chuckled. "My motives weren't entirely altruistic. Pinewatch has a side-track that leads to Riverwood, so with Freya and Bjorn there we'll have somewhere to stop off other than Falkreath next time we pass through these parts. If I never see that idiot boy again, it'll be too soon."
Lydia nodded in fervent agreement. I was about to make a further flippant comment of the odious young Jarl when I drew up short. Lydia glanced back at me.
"Is something wrong, my Thane?"
I stared at the wooden road sign ahead of us pointing towards the town of Helgen. It took me a second to realise Lydia had spoken.
"Let's take a different path, I have a bad feeling about this one."
It took us two days to walk from Falkreath, through the mountain pass and to the Rift of the other side. Luckily, we were far enough into the spring that the pass wasn't completely blocked by snow but we still had to watch our step on the slippery stone. The weather picked up considerably on the other side and soon we were walking through copses of silver aspen, approaching a small village in the shadow of the mountain.
"Not a thriving pilgrimage route," I commented as we passed the sleepy inn.
"I think the climb alone is enough to put most devotees off," Lydia replied and as I gazed up at the peak of the mountain, lost in the clouds above, I couldn't help but agree. A fisherman sat on the edge of a bridge spanning the river and he waved a greeting.
"Hail travellers. Come to make the climb?"
"Yes, we have business with the Greybeards. Are you a pilgrim too?" I asked and the man chuckled.
"Not I, I live here. But I do make the journey up every now and then. I bring the Greybeards provisions, dried fish and fruits, you know, things that keep well. In fact, I'm due to make another delivery but these old legs aren't what they used to be. Would you mind taking the pack up for me?"
"Of course," I smiled. The fisherman set his rod aside and led us to his cottage to retrieve the provisions. Lydia asked,
"What can you tell us about the climb?"
"Never had any issues myself, except the odd wolf. There are markers along the way and I've seen pilgrims meditating on them."
"What about the Greybeards? What are they like?" I prompted but the man shrugged.
"They keep themselves to themselves, part of their vows probably. I've never been into the monastery; I just leave the provisions in a chest outside when I can."
Lydia and I divided the provisions between us and after thanking the fisherman for the information, we crossed the bridge and found ourselves at the foot of a set of stairs carved into the mountain.
"Right, seven-thousand steps. Let's go," I sighed. It wasn't so bad to begin with, the sun shone intermittently through the clouds and a light breeze blew in our faces. We came across the first of the markers the fisherman had mentioned after only a few hundred steps. The stone slab stood off the side of the road and another pilgrim, a young woman paused on her way down to touch the writing on it reverently.
"Good day," she greeted. "Did you hear the Greybeards call a few days ago?"
We nodded and the woman gazed towards the sky.
"I was in the village when I heard it. Never thought such a thing would happen in my lifetime. A Dragonborn, returned to the world."
She continued on her way and I fiddled with my pack self-consciously. To shake off the odd feeling, I bent to examine the writing on the marker.
"Before the birth of men, the dragons ruled all Mundus. Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sun and flood the lands."
"I know this story, it tells of the birth of the first Nords," said Lydia wistfully. "Sons and daughters of Kyne. My father used to tell me stories of the old ways."
"Kyne," I mused. "That's the Nordic name for Kynareth, right?"
"Yes – but my father would say Kyne was more than what the Imperials said she was. She is the goddess of wind and sky, wife of Shor."
We found more markers the higher we went, each continuing the story Lydia mentioned. We stopped at each one to pay our respects but also to rest as the climb was starting to take its toll on me. Not Lydia though, who'd barely broken a sweat. Not wanting to look weak I soldiered on, my tunic sticking to my back and the breath scraping in my lungs. The steps grew icy after a while and the sun disappeared as we walked through a cloud.
"My Thane, wait," said Lydia suddenly. I stopped and raised my head which had been dropping lower and lower. We had reached a bend in the road with an overhang looming over on both sides.
"Good thinking, we can take shelter from the wind," I said through chattering teeth. Lydia grabbed my arm.
"No, something isn't right. I think we're being watched," she muttered.
Just as the words left her lips a hulking mass of shaggy white fur dropped from the top of the overhang and landed with a crash in front of us.
"Troll!" Lydia cried, reaching for her sword but the troll was too quick.
It hit Lydia with a vicious swipe of its arm and sent her flying off her feet. She landed hard on her back in the snow and the creature turned on me instead, its inch long teeth bared and the stink of its breath washing over me. I moved on instinct and threw up my shield as it clawed at me then I fired flames into its face. The troll yowled and staggered back beating at the flames singeing its fur.
I backed away and raised my hands ready to cast again but the troll charged headlong at me, forcing me to dive to the side and break my concentration. Lydia pushed herself back to her feet and ran to swing her sword at the monster's neck. The steel bit into flesh and drops of blood landed on the snow, steaming where they fell. A few more hacks took the head off and the body thumped into the drift.
"Thanks," I puffed. "Just wolves my arse!"
Thankfully we didn't have far to go after the troll encounter. A few more hundred steps and High Hrothgar came into view through the mist. It was a simple keep built of dark stone and perched precariously on the edge of the cliff. The steps led to a set of metal doors engraved with old Nordic art. Lights flickered in the mullion windows and I paused on the stairs, suddenly nervous.
"Here's the chest the fisherman mentioned," Lydia said, brushing snow off the lid.
I tried to gather my courage as we deposited our burden and climbed to the door. After knocking, it opened of its own accord and we stepped into a stone hall lit by braziers. Stairs led up and further into the monastery and I peered around for signs of life.
"Hello?" My voice echoed off the walls. I heard soft footsteps and then a man emerged from a corridor on the left. His pale face was lined with age and he wore floor-length robes with the hood drawn up, the colour of storm clouds. Lydia and I instinctively bowed in respect.
"So...a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."
The man spoke softly but there was something about his voice that reverberated in my chest. I glanced at Lydia then took a small step forward.
"I am answering your summons, sir. I'm Lyra and this is my housecarl, Lydia."
"Well met, shield-maiden," the man nodded to Lydia. "And well-met Lyra. You are both welcome here, however, you must leave your weapons here at the entrance for we are men of peace and we do not permit blades within High Hrothgar."
Lydia and I unbuckled our swords and laid them on a stone table by the door, along with my dagger and Lydia's shield. Lydia also removed her helmet and shook out her black hair. When we returned to the hall we found the first Greybeard had been joined by three others, all cloaked in the same garb.
"Now we shall see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice."
I swallowed then focused on the word I'd found in Bleak Fall Barrow.
"Fus."
Though I tried to speak quietly, the power still burst from my lips strong enough to stagger everyone and shake the tapestries on the walls.
"Sorry," I muttered sheepishly. My throat hurt just like it had the first time I said the word and I swallowed again.
"Dragonborn, it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am master Arngeir. Now tell me, why have you come here?"
It felt a bit stupid to say, because you asked me to, I assumed he wanted to know what I hoped to gain from coming here. I thought for a moment.
"I've come to learn what it means to be Dragonborn, to learn how to control this gift I have and...and to find answers about my past."
Arngeir considered me.
"All noble causes. We will endeavour to help you in whatever way we can. Come, you and your companion must be weary after your journey. You may rest and eat before we discuss your training."
Lydia and I were given a small cell to share. The beds were not stone, as I'd half expected, but they were hard and uncomfortable. Still, everything was spotlessly clean and we had a chance to see to the scratches we'd picked up during the fight with the troll.
Sometime later, after we'd eaten a plain fare of bread, light cheese and water, I re-joined Arngeir in the main hall. Lydia stayed in the cell to rest. I'd removed my armour and I shivered as the full chill of the hall hit me. Arngeir sat cross-legged before a shrine carved with the stylised image of a woman – Kyne – I guessed.
"Please be seated," Arngeir held out a hand.
I settled down facing him and glanced at the carving curiously. The style reminded me of the wall reliefs in Bleak Falls Barrow.
"You said you wished to learn what your role as Dragonborn meant. I am here to guide you, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
"There are other Dragonborns out there?"
"You are not the first. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed that gift upon mortal kind. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age…that is not ours to know. You are the only one that has been revealed thus far."
I nodded.
"I'm ready to learn."
"You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out before you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power."
"I found the word Fus in an ancient tomb, it sort of – sang to me. But I couldn't use it in a Thu'um until after I killed a dragon and absorbed its power."
"You absorbed its soul and thus – its understanding of the word Fus. It means Force in the common tongue and it is the first of three words that make up the Unrelenting Force Shout."
"You mean – I stole its soul?" I asked with a pained expression. Arngeir studied me closely.
"This troubles you?" he prompted.
"Well, yes. That dragon tried to kill us, I had to stop it. But taking its soul seems…wrong. Isn't there any other way to learn Shouts?"
I could have sworn there was a glint of approval in Arngeir's eye as he said,
"You can find Words of Power etched into ancient tombs all across Skyrim. They were left there shortly after the dragon wars by the remnants of the Dragon Cult. To be able to use them in a Thu'um you can study and meditate upon them as we do, though it can take years to master them this way. Alternatively, someone who has already mastered a Word can willingly impart their understanding of it to you. Allow me to demonstrate."
Arngeir waved his hand over the stone floor between us and muttered,
"Ro."
The sound sent a shiver down my spine and a burning rune appeared on the floor.
"This is the second Word of Unrelenting Force, 'Balance'. Combined with Fus it will focus your Thu'um more sharply."
I reached out and brushed my fingers over the glowing lines which faded away but rang in my mind like Fus had done.
"Breathe deep and calm your mind," said Arngeir. "I will now impart my understanding on Ro."
A warm wind began to swirl around us and Arngeir glowed faintly. I felt the power flow through my lungs and heart, like when I absorbed the dragon soul but far less disturbing. It only took a few second and when the wind died down I could taste the new Word on my tongue.
"Come," Arngeir rose to his feet. "Let us practice what you have learnt. Master Borri?"
I blinked in surprise as I realised another of the Greybeards had arrived without me noticing. I got to my feet too and waited, tense, for the test to begin.
"Strike the targets with Unrelenting Force as they appear," Arngeir instructed with a nod to his companion. Borri spoke three Words I did not know.
"Fiik…Lo…Sah."
A ghostly blue figure materialised before me, an ancient Nord warrior with a horned helmet a double-headed axe. I planted my feet so I wouldn't be blown backwards again and spoke.
"Fus Ro!"
The figure vanished in a puff of smoke and I clenched my teeth together as pain lanced through them.
"Good, again."
After three tries my skull was aching and I pressed my palms to my eyes.
"Aw," I muttered.
"Ah, this is a side-effect I should have foreseen," Arngeir intoned gravely. "Your quick mastery of the Voice is impressive, Dragonborn, but you still lack discipline and focus. We must teach you to still your mind when you Shout or you will be overwhelmed. The Dragon tongue was not meant for mortal mouths after all."
For the next few days, I stayed with the Greybeards and learned what I could from them. Arngeir taught me to meditate and quiet the competing dragon Shouts roaring in my mind. Balgruuf had been right, High Hrothgar was a peaceful place and life moved slowly here. Most of the Greybeards time was taken up by prayer and training their Thu'um in the courtyard behind the monastery.
The rest of the time was devoted to silent chores. We ate simple meals together but only Arngeir spoke to me. He explained that a vow of silence was part of their teachings and only he was permitted to speak when necessary. I sent Lydia back down the mountain to let the fisherman know his delivery had been made and to get the local news, but mostly to prevent her from growing bored.
"Master, can you tell me more about the Way of the Voice?" I asked one day in the courtyard. We were watching Master Wulfgar practice Become Ethereal, a Shout I was particularly interested in learning.
"Certainly. The Voice was a gift of the goddess Kyne, at the dawn of time. She gave mortals the ability to speak as dragons do. Although this gift has often been misused, the only true use of the Voice is for the worship and glory of the gods. True mastery of the Voice can only be achieved when your inner spirit is in harmony with your outward actions. In the contemplation of the sky, Kyne's domain, and the practice of the Voice, we strive to achieve this balance."
"That sounds like a hard path to walk," I mused. "Are there only four of you?"
"Five," Arngeir corrected. "Our leader, Paarthurnax, lives alone on the peak of the Throat of the World. It was he who sensed your awakening and bid us call you here. When your Voice can open the path, you will know you are ready to speak to him."
I watched master Wulfgar in silence for a while but didn't really see him. My mind was elsewhere. Arngeir cocked his head.
"Something troubles you, child?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, master, but I don't think I can walk the Way of the Voice. I'm grateful for what you've taught me, but I have other things I need to do, things I need to find out."
I looked up at him apologetically and Arngeir bowed his head in acknowledgement.
"I understand, I had hoped you would remain here with us and take the spiritual path, but I know that is not the destiny Kyne has in mind for you. You still intend the travel to the college of Winterhold?"
I nodded and he smiled wryly.
"Have a care there. They have great knowledge and appreciation for magic, but they lack wisdom and caution. Before you journey north, would you accept one more task for us?"
"Of course, master."
Master Borri looked over at us and Arngeir nodded to him. We all began to walk to the far side of the courtyard.
"For this quest, you shall need to learn a new Shout. Whirlwind Sprint. Master Borri will teach it to you."
Borri cast a flaming rune on the ground and I bent to place my hand on the cold earth. Wuld rang in my ears. When I straightened up and nodded to indicate I was ready, Borri put his hands together and closed his eyes until the warm wind began to blow around us.
"We are sending you to retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder. It rests with him in Ustengrav. Whirlwind sprint will allow you to pass certain barriers in the tomb, as Master Borri will demonstrate," Arngeir explained. He and I stepped back to make room as Borri focused on the gate ahead.
"Wuld."
I flinched as Borri moved at unbelievable speed, practically disappearing and reappearing at the far end of the courtyard in the blink of an eye.
"It is a particularly tiring Shout," Arngeir warned. "Calm your mind before and after use. Now it is you turn."
I took up position and blew out a long, steady breath.
"Wuld."
Despite seeing the Shout in action I wasn't quite prepared for the heart-stopping speed it gave me. It was like flying on the wind but the power faded within seconds so that I staggered and fell to my knees in the snow.
"I like this Shout," I panted, not quite loud enough for the Greybeards to hear.