Chapter 27: Severus
It was now the middle of winter and the hall was closed except to emergencies and for special guests.
Like them. If the Nerevarine needed to stay a day or so on his journey to further discover Azura's purpose for him, the priests were happy to give assistance.
The Prince hadn't spoken to them, just wafted the scent of roses on the icy breezes that swirled around her shrine, but Severus didn't expect her to talk to him. He'd made his feelings clear to her when he'd quit Morrowind over a century ago.
He'd been exploring Solstheim and getting to know the Skaal after Hircine's Bloodmoon Hunt when Red Year happened. After running around Solstheim and finding all the southern villages and Fort Frostmoth flattened by Red Mountain, he'd used his last Almsivi Intervention scroll to teleport to the nearest major temple.
Mournhold and Blacklight and Narsis on the mainland were overwhelmed. All that was left on Vvardenfell was Necrom, the City of the Dead.
He'd tried to rescue who he could when the Argonians began their rampage of vengeance.
He'd shut down a couple Oblivion Gates.
He'd returned to stand over the earthquake collapsed Hall of Failed Incarnates, and, while choking from the ash and clouds of poisonous gases from Red Mountain, roundly cursed at Azura for bringing him back to — what? — "I'm bringing you back to fulfill my prophecy of the fall of the False Gods. They have failed to keep their power; they have failed to achieve their dreams; it is time to purge the failures.
"Sweet Nerevar, you didn't need to know that by ending them, taking away the last of their power, Sheogorath's curse will finally strike. But all that doesn't matter, dear Nerevar. The point was that I am not to be put aside and ignored."
He'd left Morrowind after that. He hadn't felt at home in Skyrim, his mother's birthplace of Dawnstar in the Pale, so he'd gone south to Cyrodiil where he'd been born and raised. By chance, while wandering the lands around Niben Bay because of an invitation by an unknown sender, he'd come across a sad Imperial woman answering the same invitation. They'd recognized in each other the pain of unspeakable loss, and together had turned away from the glowing otherworld door their invitations had brought them to.
She was called the Champion of Bruma, the Champion of Cyrodiil, the Hero of the Oblivion Gates. She'd watched her first love, Martin Septim, burn out his soul to pierce the barrier to Aetherius to summon Akatosh. The God of Time came, shredding Martin's flesh and bones to reshape it as the dragon form vessel through which he battled the Mehrunes Dagon, Prince of Destruction.
They'd settled in Colovia, building a small estate. Minimal contact with the outside world as they both strove to bury the pain of their respective pasts. Martin's daughter, he'd raised as his own. The Septim line was alive and well back home, raising herds of sheep and goats and creating a tasty business in cheese and wool. They didn't know they were Septims; they were happy to be the children of the Champion of Cyrodiil and the Nerevarine of Morrowind.
Some had died in the Battle of Red Ring, joining the armies of General Decianus when his armies were hiding in the Colovian Highlands, awaiting the start of the battle to retake the Imperial City from the Dominion. Severus had also fought in that battle. He was there to guard the back of Antony Felix, who was leading the battle disguised as the Emperor Titus Mede II, who was hiding and recovering from a nearly successfull assassination attempt.
Were any of his wife's descendants a Dragonborn? Maybe.
Had they heard the call of the Graybeards? Yes.
But none of them, including Severus, understood the word or knew anything of Nord mythology. The event was only a momentary marvel that coincided with a hectic week of sheep shearing and was readily forgotten. None of them felt the urge to leave home and travel north.
Curtis hadn't played Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion. He'd heard about this from his brother. When he'd tried his brother's setup of the game, well, his brother had installed a survivalist mod which made it almost impossible for a casual player like Curtis to make it out of the playground tunnels. Curtis's avatar kept blacking out from exhaustion and starvation and getting eaten alive by giant sewer rats. Plus, in real life, Curtis was too busy building up his business to have any spare time for gaming, so he'd never gotten into it.
Severus had come out of seclusion again because he'd gotten a visit from "Wulf," an acquaintance he'd once met at the Tower of Dusk at the Ghostgate while he was mustering his thoughts and emotions before he set off to battle Dagoth Ur. He was also concerned about two particular Felix family members; one was the Dragonborn, and the other had recently been adopted by Titus Mede II to be his heir to the Empire.
"Yes, Curtis, this time I realized Wulf was more than an old soldier standing around waiting to give his lucky coin to some fool idiot heading into the battle. Not in the flesh this time, else I'd have punched him, but in my dreams. He had the gall to tell me Morrowind needs me again. Then he tells me he wasn't just doing this because he was interested; he was just delivering the plea from Sotha Sil."
Wow. That was … something. Curtis did wonder what happened to the souls of the Almsivi.
"Seht is trapped in Clockwork, the personal dimension he built as a god. Some of his worshipers are there."
"Where is Clockwork?" asked Curtis.
"Seht's Vault, underneath Mournhold," answered Severus. "Whole city was built over—"
"Oh, wait, the Morrowind Tribunal expansion mod," Curtis said suddenly.
Severus lifted an eyebrow. "—Barnz-Amschend. Your, hm, game explores these ruins?"
Curtis shrugged. "Probably. I read about the mod, but I didn't buy it. Got busy with other stuff. I did buy the Bloodmoon mod, but I never finished the game. Again, I got busy with work and just never got back to it. So, Sotha Sil is soul trapped to Clockwork. What about the others?"
"Almalexia," Severus sighed, "the kindest would be to be dispersed into chaos, dying and still believing herself to be a divine goddess. Vivec's fate is still unknown.
"There is that irritating story in the Imperial Library called the Trial of Vivec. Absolute garbage in my opinion. One, it states Vivec used that trial as an opportunity to bind Azura and her powers. Two, if Vivec was ultimately so stupid as to tie himself to Clavicus Vile …
"Molag Bal to Clavicus. Idiot. Especially with that fuckery Clavicus pulled on him in the Second Era. Vehk the god had extremely bad taste in bed partners."
"Probably limited pool to choose partners from," murmured Curtis. "I haven't heard about the Clavicus Vile thing. Is Vile really as childish, petty, and malicious as the Game makes him out to be? And what's this thing he pulled in the Second Era?"
"You must tell me later about what Vile's role in your otherworld game was," said Severus. "But childish, petty, and malicious — yes, that's Vile. From what I heard and understand, Vile had Vivec's own archcanon assassinated so he could swap in a daedroth to take his place, and Vivec never even noticed! The daedroth's job was to steal power from Vivec. Almost succeeded, too, which would have caused Baar Dau to crash down long before I was born. But some timely hero foiled the plot."
"Of course someone did. Can't have Morrowind being destroyed before you can get there," Curtis said.
"At any road, Azura hardly appears bound and rendered inconsequential, not when she's got the Dragonborn as her champion. As we can see, the Mother of all Egos is enjoying a renewal of worship here."
"I ain't a devout follower, but maybe hold off on the dissing while we're up here?" asked Curtis. "I would really like not to get another crap ton of snow dropped on us if she thinks you and she is needing some 'together time' up here." Severus laughed.
"So, that Dwemer city, any of the machines still working there?"
"I wouldn't be able to tell, to be honest," said Severus. "Why?"
"Oh, the weather control project there being built in the eventuality of Red Mountain ex—" Curtis stopped to scowl. "That wasn't in the mod description," he said to no one in particular.
Severus and Taliesin exchanged glances.
This whole trip was a "get to know the guy who may have been my best friend in a past life." Gelebor came with Curtis as his bodyguard, while Taliesin tagged along with his uncle out of curiosity.
Curtis didn't have to repeat the entire "I'm from another world where this reality is a computer game" explanation. Gelebor had heard it before and Severus and Taliesin had written permission from the Archimage to access her travel journals and the permission-only archives, so they'd read up on him.
They were also going to Mount Anthor to see if Severus reacted to the word wall there.
Now, he'd read the copies of the several word walls in the College's collection, but they did nothing for him. Maybe there was some other magic embedded in the stones that couldn't be transferred to paper, and so it didn't trigger any response from the Morrowind's "Dragon born and far-star marked" hero. Mount Anthor was the nearest wall.
As for the Dragon sighted over there, the priests at the shrine all agreed that this new one was a quiet one and had offered no threat to them or to any pilgrim coming to the shrine.
They started down the mountain of Azura's Shrine at the break of dawn. It was an uneventful trip except for a couple of frost trolls; most the predators were congregating at the coast looking for fat horkers.
Normally, a hike between the two mountains could be accomplished by fit, determined hikers in about a day during the summer. Three or four days in winter if they were insane enough to try snowshoeing up slopes made deceptively smooth by the fill-in of snow, then there were white-out storms and winds. But Gelebor, the Snow Elf, knew how to find the safest route up without accidentally triggering an avalanche, Taliesin and Severus knew magic to warm up a campsite fast and ward away animals, and Curtis and enough enchantments on his clothes and his jewelry to keep him toasty. They all carried emergency bottles of health and stamina potions.
When they got to the top, a white Dragon was roosting atop the word wall. It had silently watched them approached for the past few hours. Encouraged by its apparent indifference to their presence, Curtis bellowed, "Drem yol lok!"
The Dragon didn't immediately respond or move. "Drem yol lok," it eventually returned.
"We just want to look at the wall. We mean no harm," Curtis yelled.
The Dragon shifted side to side, but eventually it said, "Geh."
"That's a 'yes,'" Curtis told Severus. "Let's get up there then."
It was a steep climb up the slope where stairs should have been. Once they got to the top, they could only see two lines of text. They had to bring out the shovels and dig down to uncover the rest.
"You hear anything, Severus?" asked Curtis.
"Chanting. Damn it."
"Bingo," said Gelebor. Curtis had introduced the game earlier this winter. It was very popular in town.
They dug the rest of the way down. Once the entire writing on the wall was revealed, Severus stood defiantly in front of it, arms akimbo, glaring at the words slashed into stone.
The Dragon above them hissed and spread its wings as power from the word wall flowed into Severus.
"Yo! You's a Dragon, Nerevar!" Curtis declared, grinning.
"I heard …" Severus shook his head. "Slen? Flesh?"
"The Shout is Iiz Slen Nus; the popsicle maker," said Curtis. "I think the other two components are in Saarthal and, um, some crypt. I can't recall its name, but it's the one with a pretty underground garden and a bunch of ice wraiths or something."
"So, I believe the next step to be able to use this Shout is to …" Severus cut himself off. They all avoided looking up at the Dragon.
The Dragon made a sound. "Ofan, dovahkiin, ruz bo ahst drem. My gift, dragon slayer, then go in peace," it offered.
"Generous and admirable," said Severus, looking up. "My thanks."
The Dragon turned to look at Curtis. "Paarthurnax tinvaak do drem. Counsels peace. I try."
"You talked to Paarthurnax?" Curtis exclaimed, "Fantastic! So you are the Dragon that was killed almost couple years ago?"
"Geh."
It looked at Severus. The rest of them took several steps away. A whisper of wind, a swirling of light motes between Dragon and the Dragon born.
"I see," said Severus. "SLEN!" he shouted and a sheet of ice covered the word wall. "I am Severus. Do you have a name?"
"Se Vah Ruz? Of Spring After? Yet, you are here now. But niid, I have not yet earned a name."
"Well, if you let us give you one, we can let the krosse and other joor at Winterhold know you're not killing anyone so they know to leave you alone," said Curtis, drawing the Dragon's eyes back to him.
The Dragon took its time regarding him, but at last said, "Geh."
"Great! How about 'Frosty?' There's a saying in battle situations where saying 'Stay frosty' means to be the opposite of a hot head, to be somebody able to keep calm and think their way through a bad situation and doesn't let themselves be controlled by hot, impulsive rage or fear. So, Frosty?"
"Geh."
"Oh, and by the way, my name is Curtis." On the way down, Curtis attempted to compose a cheery ditty that started out, "Frosty, the Dovah…"
"Curtis, you and that Dragon have met before?" asked Taliesin.
"Oh, that. Yeah. Kinda. It attacked Winterhold some time ago and the guards and wizards killed it. It was just lying there outside the town because nobody knew what to do with the body, and the Archimage wasn't around to take its soul. I was feeling a little silly that day so I went to look it over and I started talking to him. I knew he wasn't really dead, couldn't be if he still had his soul. He was just temporarily inconvenienced. I do remember telling him that if he revives before the Dragonborn comes back, he should go see Paarthurnax. Evidently, he actually heard me. Wild."
Severus chuckled. "Every day, Curtis, you show how Dumac has changed. He was never so comfortable relating to non-Dwemer."
"Chalk one up for Nurture," quipped Curtis. "Act like that and get slapped by momma for acting all uppity. 'Don't you be giving me that racist bullshit!'" he mimicked, his voice switching to higher feminine tones. "'Ain't no denying skin color gives a first impression, but we all bleed red underneath, and that's the only real color that matters!' 'Course, then momma bitches about the white newby girl getting a promotion out of all the colored girls who'd been working the job longer …"
"And a point to Nature," Severus murmured. Curtis grimaced.
"Yeah. It blows."
"It's fascinating how much of Nerevar's memories arise every time I talk with you," said Severus. "I'm recalling more of his memories of the Dwemer. Dumac said the hardest laws to break are the ones we are born with."
"Yeah, well, even that's open to debate. Nature versus Nurture argument with no clear argument that I've ever heard."
"Aye. It's an old argument that is strangely comforting to Nerevar. You talk and reason so strangely from any I've heard in my life, yet to Nerevar, it is familiar and he rejoices. I have been having dreams of sitting in a Dwemer study, full of Dwemer machines, listening to Dumac speak of things the Nerevar part of me understands, but I do not."
Curtis shrugged. He'd been having his own weird dreams of late.
And in those dreams, he sounded colder. Stay frosty? How about always frosty? Illogical savages, so proud of their volatility, their ability to make war. Their elaborate courtesies to reign in a nature of destruction, which one is to expect of worshipers of Daedric forces.
Yet of Nerevar, there was silence.
He and Severus had two different space and time journeys of thousands of years, and now their paths met again. They weren't the same men. Severus seemed to have found balance with Nerevar; Curtis and Dumac, not yet. What was the half-life of a soul? How much energy did each of them have left to put into whatever was being demanded of them now?
He glanced at Severus. The man only shrugged back at him. A memory had been shared, but not returned. He was patient about it. That only made Curtis feel guilty.
They spent the next three days snowshoeing it over to Saarthal. A skeleton crew dared winter in place to continue excavation and studies. They'd made a living area in the top level of the tomb with tents to trap warmth. Severus and Taliesin showed the wizard in charge their authorization passes and Curtis led them down to where the word wall was.
Iiz, Ice.
"Well, Frosty on Anthor, obviously, is off limits. There's Shearpoint, or there's always some lizard flying around the volcanic parts of Eastmarch or the mountains of the Rift."
While Severus and Taliesin leaned against the word wall and discussed Dragon hunting, Curtis wandered back to the orb room and sat in the throne chair. The table before him had scrolls and writing supplies left there by researchers. He wasn't interested in reading the ongoing research notes. He slumped down and tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling.
This was as good a time as any. Tolfdir and Drevin had him doing place meditations, urging him to meditate when he was at Skytemple or here, in Saarthal, or visiting the research station in the Sightless Pit, once known as the Temple of Xrib. Big places for "trigger object" meditations, theorizing that the places would nudge deep memories to surface. He made himself relax and let his mind float, making free-form associations and resisting the urge to guide the thoughts or images or voices that came to mind.
Last night's dream replayed. He had been sitting at his desk and reading the transcribed message his Listeners had received from Speakers of Fal'Zhardum Din.
"Kinlady Mrabwyr's people speak of the core of an unnamed, forgotten Tower. They believe it was the very first tower Magnus set to be the first pinning of what was to become Mundus. The first stake in a point of chaos around which matter began to conglomerate. They were convinced that the Falmer knew more despite the current Snow Prince and his predecessors before him swearing ignorance of that power.
"Mrabwyr wants me to visit and to talk to the Falmer thinking because I found accord with the savage Dunmer, I can also win the trust of the Falmer. I must tell her that is not a logical assumption.
"Not even Nerevar could talk to the Falmer. They worship Auri-El, and he's devoted to his Daedra. The two are unlikely to put aside their religious differences to think of sharing secrets. Neither side has incentive to do so."
They returned to Winterhold to report to Tolfdir their success in discovering Severus was another Dragonborn, just not the "Last Dragonborn" of prophecy. They also reported on Frosty. The College could try to build a relation there, but probably best not to push it too soon and probably designate someone — not Curtis — to handle that project.
127_v4
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