Chapter 11:

Ancient Stones

Thoughts of the dragon attack still filled my mind as I trudged through ice-cold puddles of mud and water, my boots getting soaked to the skin. It couldn't be a coincidence that a dragon attacked me right after my most vivid dream yet warned me of it. The fact that Alduin knew where I was scared me even more. It was a lot to process, so it was a good thing that both Lydia and I still had a few more hours to go to reach Ustengrav, the tomb of the first Graybeard.

Many things happened after the dragon was slain. I found that I had a rudimentary understanding of the Dragon tongue, which had astonished the Graybeards. The Graybeards asked questions about my dreams as well, which made me extremely uncomfortable. Ultimately, the attack hadn't set back either Lydia or me, but it was still unsettling, to say the least. A six-day trip back to Whiterun had taken the most time. From there I hired a wagon to carry me to Morthal, the closest city to the ancient tomb of Ustengrav. What could have easily been another four-day journey took half the time, leaving me in the "present", walking down a muddy path.

I was walking through a marsh that extended for miles and miles around, which I'd learned was called the Drajkmyr Marsh from my map. It wasn't barren, but it certainly was nothing like the woods where I had grown up. Trees were few and far between, pines that I had already seen across Skyrim, and short, gnarled trees. Pools of water were everywhere as well, with some connecting to make narrow corridors of water mud. The strangest thing was the lack of life. No birds flitted from tree to tree, and no deer cautiously walked among the trees. The only animals that I saw were fish, insects, and a few hawks in the sky, wheeling overhead. It was eerie- making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

Looking ahead, I came to a stop. Up a gentle hill, further away from the pools of water, rested an ancient ruin. It was circular in design, made of large, fitted stones. Covered in mosses and dried grasses, it exuded a sense of age to the entire structure. I was transfixed, examining the ruins with a keen eye, noting the few carved runes that were still visible in the stones. Lydia, however, was more vigilant. She grabbed my tunic, pulling me down roughly. Without questioning her, I let myself fall to the ground, my chest splashing into cold mud. A moment later, an arrow shot right where I stood. Giving Lydia a quick look, I understood. Bandits.

A yell ripped itself from a bandit' throat, a warcry that made my heart chill for a moment before subsiding. More cries came, and the sound of footsteps pounding across the ground filled the air. My heartbeat quickened, and I drew my sword from my back. I didn't have enough time to unstrap my shield before the first bandit came. A woman dressed in furs jumped over the small hillock that Lydia and I hid behind, brandishing a dagger. Lydia had drawn her bow, and let loose, her arrow flying into the woman's throat. The woman staggered backward, blood gurgling from her throat as she collapsed. First blood. I pushed myself out of the mud, standing strong as another bandit ran towards me. This one was a man- or I guessed he was. The bandit had fur covering his entire body, and his face reminded me of the cat that Malon owned, orange and yellow. My sword clashed with the bandit's weapon, and a test of strength commenced, sword versus axe. After a moment, I eased my pushing, stepping back. This made the bandit stumble, having overextended himself. With the opening, I shoved my blade into the bandit's chest. Second blood.

A cry of anguish filled my ears, and a sudden sense of cold filled my sword arm. Looking to the left, a woman in black robes shot magic at me, freezing my arm and hand. That didn't last for long. I stepped to the side, an arrow sprouting from the woman's chest as I did. With Lydia's help, I set to the rest of my grim work. With several arrows from Lydia and a few stabs from myself, the woman laid on the ground, dead.

Wasteful, I thought. Killing other humanoids, just… wasteful. Lydia had no such issues and didn't show any qualms about looting dead bodies. A few minutes later, she tossed several pouches to me, filled with coins and several small gems. Swallowing a gag, I followed her example, examining the body of the woman in front of me.

The woman was beautiful, with a slim face and dark hair. Her eyes were dull, however, and had no life in them. I did my best to look away from her eyes as I pulled another pouch off her belt. A steel dagger followed, as well as a small book with an arcane symbol on it. Once the looting was done, I stood in front of three bodies, all lined up side by side. A small part inside of me cried out at seeing the three cold forms, begging me to stop killing and stop more bloodshed. I couldn't listen to it- not there, and not until my goal was complete. Skyrim was a wild and dangerous place. There was no other choice, there was…

Lydia shook me gently, bringing me out of his trance. It was getting harder and harder to keep bad memories away as I fought and killed. All of the work Malon and I had done was getting unraveled with every drop of blood spilled. I was reminded once again, that a sword was a curse. A sword can, and only be, one thing. An axe when in peace can be used to chop wood. A dagger can be used to prepare food. A bow can be used to start fires or to hunt. But a sword is always a sword. Always a weapon.

Just like I am, I thought. Looking around more alert, Lydia guided me into the ruins of Ustengrav. A set of stairs spiraled into the ruins, slick with moss and damp. A door, made from black iron and rotted wood was set at the bottom of the stairs, looking like the foreboding eye socket of a long-dead corpse. I looked long and hard at it, trying to discern any meaning from the dark wood. When I found none, I straightened my back and then pulled the doors open.

Damp. Damp was the word that I would use to describe Ustengrav. Much like in Bleak Falls Barrow, the way into the tomb was carved from large stone blocks. However, instead of having a large entryway, it led directly into a hall. Along with the damp came a smell of decay. I looked down, wrinkling my nose at the corpse that lay there. It was a few days old at most, but the conditions around it sped its dekay. I didn't bother to check its belt for gold. Further inside, the hall opened up into a much larger room. Its back was mostly collapsed, with a tunnel half-dug out of the left side. Figures walked around, murmuring in quiet voices. More bandits. They were more difficult to defeat than the previous bandits, having raised two bodies to fight by their side. It was over swiftly, but once again, my sword hand was shot by a bolt of freezing magic. I could barely feel any sensation, and my fingers had turned a light blue. After warming over a fire for a few minutes, they were feeling better, but still stiff and numb. I could still grip my sword, however.

I'll be fine, I thought, It'll wear off in a few minutes, no need to waste a potion on it. So, against Lydia's protests, I set the potion aside in my bag. Little did I know that would be a big mistake.

Soon after I was finished exploring the room, pocketing a few more septims, Lydia led the way further down the passage. To both of our surprise, we found another mage firing magic- but not at us. A swarm of undead, Dragur as the people of Skyrim called them, had killed the man's companions who laid in various pieces across the floor. However, even with the overwhelming odds, the mage still attacked Lydia in a panic, cursing at her in some language I didn't know. What had once been a two-sided battle became a free-for-all, and blood filled the air. Weighing the situation, I decided to hang back from the fight. I unslung my hunting bow, firing it into the mess of enemies. My fingers were still numb from the frost, making me miss several shots. Enough still hit the mage and dragur to make a difference. Arrow after arrow flew, with Lydia finishing the draugar off by severing its head. As the fight went on, the draugar got closer to me, and I had to dodge several attacks before gaining a little distance. I swiped my bow across the chest of a dragur, making it stumble and fall. My boot to its head finished it off, the light dying from its eye sockets. Then, there were only two left. Lydia had taken a beating, with her polished steel armor dented in several spots, and blood leaking from cuts across her arms. Fire against blade, Lydia tried to stab the mage, who was surprisingly still alive. He brought up a magical shield to protect himself, but it was to little avail. Using a burst of energy, Lydia yelled, swinging her blade in a wide arc. To my horror, a withered arm rose from the ground, a darkly glinting blade in its hand- poised to strike her unprotected armpit.

Time slowed. In this crucial moment, I breathed deeply, leveling my bow. It was just me and the weapon, with my fingers pulling back on the arrow. Then everything went wrong. My fingers, which had been more injured than I had given credit for, slipped. The arrow fired too early, sailing through the air, and plunging into Lydia's exposed armpit. A moment later, the dagger finished its course of action, slamming into her breastplate. The magician snarled, hurling a final spell towards her. All in a split-second, Lydia collapsed to the ground, her sword cluttering from her grip. As Lydia fell, all I saw was red. The next moments were a blur of flesh and steel, incoherent bellowing flying from my lips.

"No! Not again!", I screamed. The Great Deku tree. It was all so vivid once more. I had killed him. I wasn't fast enough to break the curse. My father had died because of me. I couldn't let someone else die because of me.

I knelt in front of Lydia, my sword dripping gore, my breath heaving as wild images, fractions of my life floated through my vision. I crawled towards Lydia, desperately grasping her arm to pull her towards myself. I froze as I felt her skin- it was too cool. Then, I heard one of the most wondrous sounds in the entire world: a soft wheeze. Lydia was still alive! Desperately, I tore open my bag of holding, hurling item after item out until I clutched a vial of red liquid. Uncork, pour, grab another vial. Uncork, pour, grab another vial. Every potion that I had bought was poured into Lydia's mouth. She sputtered and wheezed, but her complexion seemed to improve fractionally. Most of the bleeding stopped in her side, and the cuts that had occurred during the fight slowly, ever so slowly, began to close. I was relieved beyond comprehension but was so, so tired. Covered in blood and dust, kneeling on the ancient stones of a forgotten tomb, I fell unconscious, slipping into a sleep filled with half-forgotten memories.

I awoke sometime later. It was impossible to tell what time it was, and the torch I had lit was nearly out. Only embers remained, glowing just faintly enough to see Lydia's form. She was still breathing. I instantly began to sweat, recalling the situation. I had almost killed Lydia. The full weight of the issue came crashing down upon me again. I had been arrogant- dismissing the use of a potion to heal myself. Lydia had even insisted on me using one, but I still declined. And this is what became of it.

As I knelt, my body went onto autopilot. The hours spent bandaging and tending to my own body, as well as the standard Hyrulean knight training had given me some skill in healing. I began unbuckling the straps of Lydia's armor- I needed to see the wounds more clearly. I was stopped by Lydia's voice when I heard her speak.

"Link," Lydia hoarsely said, "You have terrible aim." Lydia chuckled, then grimaced in pain.

I was startled. I'd never heard Lydia make a single joke in their entire time together. Seeing her normally stoic face break into a smile, albeit pained, was… different. Her eyes seemed to shine, even in the dark. As soon as the humor came, however, it left. Lydia looked at her side and grimaced while I gently removed more of her armor.

"You nailed me pretty good, huh? That dragur certainly didn't help either." I looked to the side, pausing my ministrations.

"Lydia, I'm sorry. I should have listened- If I had just drunk a potion instead of being a stubborn fool, I wouldn't have gotten you almost…" Silence rang around us as I sat, head bowed.

"It's fine, Link. You're as dumb as a mammoth sometimes, but you have a gentle heart. Now can you light a new torch? I don't want you to pull this arrow out of me in the dark."

I complied with Lydia's request, lighting a new torch from my meager collection. The process of pulling the arrow out of Lydia wasn't fun for either me or Lydia- it re-opened the wound. I was out of healing potions, having already given them to Lydia, so I had to make do. I cleaned her wound, then wrapped clean bandages across her chest and armpit, tightly wrapping the linen. Throughout the process Lydia managed to keep from crying out- as wise as always, she didn't want to alert any enemies nearby. Once all of her injuries were tended to, I tended to myself. A cut across my arm, a burn across my nose, and a few other injuries had popped up, but I managed to patch or bandage them. Though most of the injuries would be healed within a week, the frostbite in my fingers would have to be carefully tended to if I wanted to keep them. There was no need to rush forward and risk more injuries, so Lydia and I made camp in the tomb. She tried insisting on taking the first watch, but I wouldn't hear of it. As Lydia drifted off into slumber, I sat against the wall, looking at the ancient symbols placed on the wall in front of me. They seemed to twist and swirl as the light from the fire crackled and danced, shadows forming within their carved depths.

Darkness. Darkness was what Lydia and I had been walking through for what seemed like an age, the only light coming off of a flickering torch. Water dripped down moss-covered stones, and the silence was only broken by the jingling of armor and the sound of footsteps. Lydia had taken a few hours to rest but insisted upon continuing on- and I was amazed by the ancient Nords architect. To have an underground structure of such size simply boggled the mind. Then, I saw the chasm. Light began to shine, natural light, and I was blinded for a moment. When my eyes adjusted, my jaw dropped.

"I've never seen anything like that.", Lydia said. And I agreed. Light poured in from an opening far above, with roots and vines growing from the walls around it. Falling far, far below, a waterfall crashed into a pool of crystal-clear water, with trees growing around it. The view was, by far, one of the most incredible sights I had seen in Skyrim yet.

My situation within the tomb wasn't forgotten, however. My eyes caught the movement of several humanoids, and I subconsciously placed a hand on my sword. Skeletons patrolled the ruins far below, rusted arms and armor hanging from their bony frames. I crept more slowly down the tunnels after that- wincing at every jingle of chain and plate.

It took several more hours, but Lydia and I were nearing the end of the tomb. More treasure had been collected, and more draugar and skeletons had been slain. At the very bottom of the chasm, I found another wall inscribed with Dovahzul words. The graybeards had called these walls "word walls", which held portions of shouts. I placed my hand on the cold stone of the wall, and my mind was instantly filled with the knowledge of the word "Feim". Its meaning came to me easily- the word meant fade. I could understand the word itself, but its inner meaning evaded me. I would either need to absorb the knowledge from a willing Graybeard or would have to slay a dragon. After talking for long hours with Arngeir, I knew the basics of my newfound powers. As Dragonborn, I had an innate understanding of Dovahzul and could learn to read and translate the language at an accelerated rate. However, I couldn't use the power of a Shout unless I had the years of knowledge and practice that went along with the Words. So, I would have to wait to use the Word.

I was traveling at a swift speed throughout the entire dungeon, clearing dragur after dragur, and deftly moving over the rubble-strewn ground. However, my progress was stopped by, infuriatingly, a puzzle. A series of iron gates barred the way, but that wasn't the issue. They opened when I passed by several carved stones, but would close quickly. It took me almost an hour, a sore face, and a bruised ego until I realized that I had just the tool for the job. Breathing deeply, I Shouted

"WULD". In a blur of motion and wind, I appeared at the other end. The gates slammed shut with a bam behind me, but I was through. The pull of a lever deactivated the traps, letting Lydia limp through without issue. She nodded at me, her stoic expression back on her face.

Eventually, I began to hear the sound of running water echoing through the stone tunnels of Ustengrav. What started as a rumbling echo grew to a roar as Lydia and I entered the final room of the tomb. It was large, with stone and wood columns supporting the vaulted ceiling at in wondrous arches. Two waterfalls fell on either side of the room, splashing into the pools of dark water, and making a light mist. Torchlight illuminated many different carvings and murals on the walls, and as we approached cautiously, statues rose out of the water with a muffled grinding sound. The bird-shaped statues were covered in the slime and algae of the millennia, but I could tell that they were once grand creations, carved with intricate details on every inch. At the end of the path where Lydia and I stopped, laid a black tomb. Four dragon heads were set at each corner and snarled in each direction as if protecting the burial ground. A claw, much like a dragon, reached up as if grasping something- but nothing was there.

I stared blankly at the tomb. No horn. I looked at the ground around the tomb. Plenty of small urns, a few rolls of bandages, but no horn.

Did the Graybeards really send me on a wild Cucco chase? After taking a closer look, Lydia found a small piece of parchment tucked into the dragon's claw. It was rough in texture but was clearly much newer than the other ruined scrolls and books by the tomb's base. Lydia read Tamrielic much better than I did, so she read the note to me.

"Dragonborn, I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you.- A friend" Lydia looked up after reading the note, an eyebrow raised.

"A friend? Did you tell someone about our trip here?" I shook his head. I had actually made sure to be vague about where I was going when I stopped in Whiterun. I was nearly mobbed by a crowd of guards in Whiterun and didn't want to be slowed down by an entire entourage. So I made up a story of going to Morthal under the Jarl's orders. Nobody save for Lydia and the Graybeards knew where I was going- unless someone had been spying on us. This was bad news, and the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller was missing. I sighed and looked at Lydia.

"We're going to Riverwood?" I asked. Lydia looked back at me, her shoulders slumped.

"Yeah, we're going to Riverwood." She sighed. It was going to be a long trip back.

*Today I learned that the plural of "Dragur" is "Draugar". The more you know!

Translations:

Wuld- Whirlwind

Feim- Fade