Chapter 5

Hunt

"A dragon is guarding the pass?" Brevyn repeated, frowning deeply. "You are certain it hasn't simply decided to make its home in the mountains?"

"I am certain," Emari stated firmly. "Our men have reported that it does not attack Nordic caravans. Only those of our people."

"Truly? Why?" Brevyn asked, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Emari shook his head. "At first, I believed it was simply a wild beast attacking caravans for their loot. Then, once I realized that it was only targeting our caravans, I wondered if perhaps it had struck a deal with the Nords – that they encouraged it to turns its wrath upon us, and in exchange, it could keep our goods. However, I now believe there is more to it than that," he said, leaning forward slightly on his elbows. "I believe the dragon is attempting to prevent any Chimer from reaching Skyrim that has not been approved by this city's Nordic ruler."

"What?" Brevyn asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. Vahkiir likewise stared at the captain blankly. "How can you be certain?"

"I have spoken with other travelers and caravanners," Emari explained. "According to one guard, when she was accompanying one of the governor's caravans, the dragon left them be, though she could feel it watching them intently. When she was protecting an independent trader's caravan, however, it came under attack, and she barely escaped with her life. I have heard a half-dozen others state the same, even if they were lone travelers who had nothing of value."

Brevyn frowned deeply and tilted his head. "But… to what end? Why would the governor be stifling trade to and from Skyrim? Especially since our caravans bring Blacklight a great deal of wealth as well, and he benefits directly from it. Why would he stymie that?"

"Well, for one, the Chimer rebels in the countryside have become far more active in the past few months. I suspect that by closing the pass, the Nords can both prevent the rebels from escaping the Nordic war parties that have been tasked with hunting down, and to ensure that the chaos the rebels are unleashing does not bleed into Skyrim." Emari then smirked slightly. "However, more importantly, I also believe that the Nordic Empire is in a far more dire state than it is letting on. Its jarls have been vying for Skyrim's throne for decades, and it is impossible for any kingdom to remain powerful when it is constantly caught in the throes of a civil war. Thus, I believe the Nords are trying to allow as few of our people into Skyrim as possible – particularly those they do not deem trustworthy – lest we discover how weak they've truly become, and the rebellion becomes emboldened."

Brevyn's mouth hung open, and then he shook his head. "Come now," he said incredulously. "That is a mad theory."

"It is," Emari conceded. "And yet I cannot help but wonder at its veracity."

Vahkiir and Brevyn traded glances. "If it does not attack Nordic caravans, why not simply allow me to pretend to lead your caravan?" Vahkiir suggested. "Then it would leave us be, yes?"

Emari shook his head. "Others who have attempted such a ruse have failed," he replied. "Even if we could find enough Nordic mercenaries to bolster the illusion, the dragon seems to know who to allow to pass, and who to attack. Perhaps there is some signal the Nords friendly to it give, or a marking they place on their own caravans, though we have not yet discovered it. Much as I would like to."

Brevyn tilted his head at Emari. "You seem unusually interested in reaching Skyrim," he remarked, his tone suspicious.

"Of course I am," Emari replied with a shrug. "After all, if our merchant cannot peddle his wares, my men and I will not get paid, and there are only so many times one can cover the same routes in Veloth before his goods lose their value. There is far more coin to be made in Skyrim, so it is in our best interest to help him reach his destination."

"But surely this pass cannot be the only route into Skyrim," Vahkiir pointed out. "We arrived by sea, after all, and could have simply sailed around the mountains if we wished."

"You could. Yet you did not," Emari pointed out. "Because while this is not the only road, it is the swiftest and the safest. If you wish, you could travel south until you reach a road that connects to another pass, which will take you to the jarldom of Riften. However, such a journey would take you over a month to complete. What's more, I hear that pass is also guarded by a Nordic garrison, and I do not know if they would be any less willing to allow you entry into Skyrim, if this ban on travel extends throughout the Nordic Empire. Still, perhaps you might have better fortune with them."

"Which begs the question of why a dragon is guarding this pass," Vahkiir remarked.

Emari sat back on his stool slightly. "This may be a long discussion. Before I explain, are you two hungry?" he asked. "You might prefer to hear what I know over a meal." When both Brevyn and Vahkiir hesitated, he chuckled, then added, "I could pay for you. If you still wish to work with us, we can simply consider it part of your wages."

Vahkiir grimaced uncomfortably. "We have rations-" he began.

Before he could continue, Brevyn interjected, "We would be honored to share your table, captain. Thank you." Emari grinned and pushed himself up, and as he made his way over to the counter, Brevyn leaned over to speak in a low voice to Vahkiir. "If a meal is offered to you in this land, it is polite to accept it. To decline is to suggest that you think yourself better than your host, and that you feel he needs the meal more than you do. It is an insult." The Chimer then grinned. "Besides, I had the opportunity to sample your people's food. It is only fair that I introduce you to some of our dishes."

Vahkiir hesitated, but since Emeri was already speaking with the barkeep, he meekly nodded in reply. Silently, he reminded himself that so long as he was in another land, he should follow their customs, just as Brevyn had done when he had resided with the Skaal. So, while he still felt uncomfortable accepting a meal from a stranger, he sat quietly until Emari walked back over, carrying a wooden tray laden with food.

Emari set clay bowls in front of each of them, which were filled with what seemed to be a thick vegetable stew. The two guards on either side of Emari began spooning the stew into their mouths through the slits in their helmets, rather than removing them to eat. Brevyn picked up his spoon and stirred his bowl, inspecting the ingredients, and then he leaned over and murmured to Vahkiir, "Planter's stew. It's probably what has been simmering in that large cauldron behind the bar," he added, nodding to the enormous pot that was resting over the fire in the central hearth behind the counter. "This seems to have standard fare – ash yam, marshmerrow, mushrooms, saltrice… common vegetables found in fields throughout Veloth. Hence its name. It is a simple meal, but well-loved in this land."

Vahkiir nodded, then picked up his spoon and dipped it into the thick brown gravy. Swimming in the broth were large pieces of a dark orange tuber, bits of a crisp, dark green vegetables, slices of mushroom, and long white grains. He pushed as much as he could onto his spoon and tentatively sampled it. He was immediately struck by how salty it was, almost unpleasantly so, though he did not voice his displeasure aloud. After a few moments, the sharp flavor mellowed as he chewed the vegetables, and an unusual earthy sweetness filled his mouth which helped dispel the saltiness. It was an odd flavor, and while he could not truly say that he enjoyed the dish, it was hot and filling, and he was not boorish enough to complain.

As he ate, he noticed that the Chimer were also breaking pieces from a loaf of bread in the center of the table, which they dipped into a gelatinous red mound resting in a bowl beside the plate the bread was on. When Brevyn noticed him eyeing it curiously, he leaned over and murmured, "That's scrib jelly. Take a piece of bread and scoop a bit onto it… but never not use a piece of bread you have already bitten from."

Vahkiir did as Brevyn suggested, reaching across to take a piece of bread, which he then dabbed into the mound and brought to his lips. He was surprised to find that the jelly was quite sour, though he found it strangely enjoyable, as it helped to counteract the saltiness of the stew. He nearly dipped the bread into the jelly again before he noticed Brevyn glaring at him and he stopped himself, instead hastily shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth.

In addition to the food, Emari had also brought back a clay bottle, which he had used to refill his men's tankards before pouring two more for Brevyn and Vahkiir. As the salty stew continued to wear on him, Vahkiir finally took his tankard and brought it to his lips. He was met with a sweet, yet tart taste, which washed over his tongue and mingled with the lingering sourness of the jelly. The drink was rather frothy, and his tongue stung with the distinct undertone of alcohol. Brevyn watched him take three deep swigs of the drink before he reached out and touched his shoulder.

"You shouldn't drink that too quickly," he warned, though he was grinning with amusement. "Greef is not the strongest beverage in Veloth, but it can lead to drunkenness if consumed too swiftly."

"It tastes somewhat familiar," Vahkiir remarked, peering into his mug at the burgundy liquid. "Is it made from snowberries?" As the words left his lips, though, he realized that it was far too tart to be snowberry juice.

"It's a brandy made from comberries, actually. They're a fruit native to Veloth," Brevyn replied. "Similar, but not quite identical. I'm pleased that you're enjoying it, though," he added, his grin broadening.

"I am," Vahkiir admitted with a sheepish chuckle as he set his tankard down. The drink had helped to clear his palate, and he was able to swallow a few more bites of the stew, which he had thankfully grown accustomed to, though he still felt it was too heavily seasoned.

They ate in relative silence for a short while, until they were about halfway through their meal, when Emari spoke up again. "Now then," he said as he lowered his tankard of greef. "To answer your question, we do not know exactly why the dragon has allied itself with the Nords. However, we have heard tales of a sorcerer in Skyrim who has discovered a way to command dragons."

A grim scowl settled on Brevyn's face. "Yes… I had heard much the same," he admitted in a low voice.

Emari nodded. "As such, I believe that this dragon is a thrall of that sorcerer, as unbelievable as it sounds. I do not know how it is being controlled, and I do not truly know why it is guarding this pass in particular, but I cannot believe a dragon would willingly ally itself with the Nords. Legends say that there was a great war between them in the distant past, and I am hard-pressed to believe they have reconciled."

Vahkiir took a slow drink of his own greef, then asked hesitantly, "Then there is no chance we might simply speak with the dragon ourselves?" he suggested. "Suppose that it is not being controlled by magic. I know that dragons can comprehend our speech. Surely we might be able to reason with it?"

Brevyn scoffed. "After our last encounter with a dragon?" he asked, not bothering to hide the disdain his voice. "You wish to try to speak with one?"

"Well, since it has no reason to attack us…." Vahkiir replied with a pointed look. Brevyn narrowed his eyes at the tacit suggestion that he had brought the dragon's attack on himself for stealing the claw, but he said nothing.

Emari glanced between the two, then cleared his throat. "To answer your question, no, I do not believe that is possible," he said. "Even if it is not being controlled by magic, only an absolute fool would attempt to negotiate with one. It is impossible to reason with them. All you would achieve is a swift death – after it finished laughing at your arrogance, I presume."

Vahkiir sighed. "Then what other option is there?"

Emari shook his head. "In truth, I am uncertain. The merchant I am accompanying has repeatedly requested an audience with the governor, but he has been turned away every time. So, unless someone were to slay it, it seems that we will not be departing anytime soon."

Vahkiir noticed Brevyn trying to catch his eye, and when he turned to the elf, he noticed a sly grin starting to spread across his lips. Vahkiir's eyes widened with alarm, and he slowly shook his head as the elf's grin broadened.

"No!" he said sharply. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emari frowning, even as Brevyn's infuriating grin broadened. "We were nearly killed the first time! We only survived because of sheer fortune! I will not risk my life a second time!"

"I'm sorry?" Emari asked. His companions on either side of him glanced at one another, seeming equally confused, but they said nothing.

Brevyn turned to Emari, and before Vahkiir could protest, he asked, "A question. Does this dragon always attack travelers in the same area?"

"Typically, yes," Emari answered slowly. "While the exact location differs, all who have survived its attacks claim that they were ambushed while they were passing through a narrow canyon partway through the Velothi Mountains."

"And is that where the dragon makes its lair?" Brevyn added.

Emari stared at him, then noticed Vahkiir's ashen-faced expression. "Come now," he said with an incredulous chuckle. "Surely you two are not considering hunting it?"

"I certainly am not!" Vahkiir snapped.

Brevyn raised an eyebrow at him as he took a slow drink of greef. "Who better to do so?" he retorted. "Did your shaman not claim-?"

"I don't care what she claimed! No matter what soul I may supposedly carry, my body is very much human, and very much not equal to the task of fighting another dragon!" Vahkiir snapped.

Emari glanced between the two, then lightly coughed. "If I may… what are you two talking about?"

Brevyn hesitated as he looked over at Emari, then turned back to Vahkiir. "My apologies," he said with a grimace. "If you do not wish for me to tell him…."

Vahkiir sighed, then shook his head. "I shall." He then turned to Emari. "We have slain one dragon already – through sheer chance," he added, pausing to glare at Brevyn, who grinned at him cheekily.

Emari's eyes widened with a combination of fascination and disbelief. "Truly?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "I believed such a thing was impossible. Dragons are said to be immortal, and thus cannot truly be killed."

"Yes, well… according to my village's shaman, I am Dragonborn," Vahkiir said.

"Which makes him one of the few who can kill dragons," Brevyn added smugly.

When he saw Emari's eyes starting to widen hopefully, Vahkiir quickly shook his head. "Yes, but can does not mean I shall!" he said firmly. "Do not misunderstand Brevyn here, Emari. I am not some great hunter of dragons. We did manage to defeat a dragon a short while ago, but we only barely survived the encounter, and I have no desire to try my luck twice."

Emari's hopeful expression faded slightly, though he still seemed to remain optimistic. "But you can, yes?" he pressed.

Vahkiir sighed deeply. "Yes. Just as a rabbit can kill a man if it manages to kick him in the throat. That does not mean one should fear a rabbit, any more than I believe a dragon should fear me. I know my own mortality, captain, and I know well how dangerous a dragon can be."

"Vahkiir, no one else-" Brevyn began.

Vahkiir rounded on him, anger suddenly flaring in his chest. "This is not the same as stalking an elk, or even a bear!" he shouted. All conversation in the tavern suddenly died as every eye turned to stare at him, but he ignored them. "A dragon is not a dumb beast! They are clever, with minds clearly equal to any man! Their bodies are harder than stone, and they can fly more swiftly than eagles! Their claws and teeth are as deadly as spearpoints! They can breathe a wind that is colder than the harshest winter I have ever endured!" He shook his head in frustration. "And I know my own limits! No matter what the legends claim about the Dragonborn, I am just a man, armed only with a bow and a few arrows! Little more than a few sharpened twigs! I have no delusions about my own ability to slay a dragon! So, no, I shall not hunt down this beast for you!"

There was a heavy silence as the other patrons of the tavern continued to stare at him. "Then the pass will remain closed." Emari commented simply.

"So be it!" Vahkiir snapped, turning back to Brevyn. "We can still sail to Winterhold, yes? Surely navigating past a few ice floes cannot be more dangerous than risking our lives attempting to slay a dragon!"

Brevyn gazed at him silently for a few long moments as Vahkiir seethed, though he could already feel his anger cooling. He then realized that although Brevyn was frowning at him, his expression was not one of anger, but disappointment. With a soft sigh, Brevyn replied quietly, "If that is what you wish. After all, I am in your debt, so if this is the path you've chosen, I shall follow it."

Vahkiir hesitated, caught off-guard by Brevyn's passive acceptance. He had expected the elf to argue, and his quiet agreement unsettled him. "I… would prefer that, yes," he said.

Brevyn nodded once, then turned to Emari. "Then you have our answer, captain. I am afraid that we will not be joining your caravan," he said reluctantly.

Emari sighed deeply. "You are free to do as you wish, of course," he said. "After all, I cannot force you to hunt this monster. I suppose that in the meantime, we will simply have to wait for the pass to open. More of our people may be attacked in the meantime, but perhaps we can warn them away…."

Vahkiir turned back to him and narrowed his eyes, his anger starting to simmer again. "Enough," he snarled. "Do not attempt to use guilt to sway me."

Emari opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of what he was about to say and instead inclined his head. "My apologies," he said. "In that case, I suppose that we have nothing more to discuss. A pity."

"I do have one last question," Brevyn said, pushing his bowl away from him and reaching down to pick up his leather bag, which he set on his lap. "Is there perhaps a house of weavers in this city?"

Emari frowned faintly at the question, but then he blinked, as though he realized something. With a slight smile tugging at his lips, he replied, "That depends. Would you rather speak with those that work by daylight or candlelight?"

Brevyn slowly grinned. "Candlelight," he answered.

Emari chuckled as he laced his fingers together. "Very well. When you leave this tavern, turn right and head south along the street until you reach the guar stables. From there, take another left, and you will see a small building nestled between a mason and a dyer. You will find the weavers inside."

Brevyn grinned brightly and inclined his head. "Thank you," he said graciously.

"Not at all," Emari said, his eyes gleaming with interest. "You surprise me. I had not expected you…."

"Good. I would hope not," Emari retorted with a chuckle.

"Indeed," Emari said quietly, before tilting his head slightly. "Might I ask why you wish to speak with them?"

"You might. But that does not mean that I shall answer," Brevyn replied evasively. "Though I suppose that since you aided me… if you must know, I simply wish to deliver something to them. I will not say anything more," he added, glancing around the room at the other patrons, though from what Vahkiir could see, most seemed to have returned to their drinks.

"I understand. Wise of you," Emari said, before pausing to take a slow drink from his tankard. When he lowered it again, he sighed. "Well… with that, I suppose that our business here is concluded. If you should decide otherwise, however, feel free to return. We shall likely still be here. It's not as though we can travel anywhere else," he added drily. "If not, though… all that I can say is may your ancestors watch over you."

Brevyn shot a final, quick look at Vahkiir, as though asking him if he was certain he did not want to entertain Emari's offer any further. When Vahkiir began to push himself up, however, the Chimer sighed and reluctantly followed suit. "And you as well," Brevyn answered. "Thank you for your offer."

"Indeed," Vahkiir agreed. He began to step away from the table, but then he paused and added, "Should… circumstances change, you shall indeed be the first that we seek. And thank you for the meal. It was the finest we've eaten in several days."

"Well, at the very least, let no one say that you want for gratitude. It was my pleasure," Emari replied with a polite nod of his head. "Safe travels… Dragonborn."

Vahkiir winced at the title. For some reason, it almost sounded like an accusation, though he quickly pushed that thought aside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brevyn quickly climbing back up the stairs, and he had to hurry after the elf. Moments later, they were back out in the noisy, chaotic street, and Brevyn was threading his way purposefully through the crowd, with Vahkiir struggling to follow.

For a few minutes, neither said anything, partially because Brevyn was quickly pushing his way through the crowd, and Vahkiir could barely match his pace. When Brevyn abruptly turned right, however, they found themselves on a much less crowded street, and Vahkiir was finally able to catch up to the Chimer. However, when he tried to catch his eye, he noticed that Brevyn was avoiding his gaze.

"If I might ask a question?" Vahkiir said hesitantly. There was a heavy, lingering silence where Brevyn didn't answer, and after the awkward pause stretched uncomfortably, Vahkiir added, "Why are you seeking weavers?"

Brevyn remained silent for several more seconds, but just as Vahkiir began to wonder if Brevyn was ignoring him, the Chimer answered, "They are the ones that I must deliver the claw to."

"…Weavers?" Vahkiir repeated skeptically.

"Yes," Brevyn answered curtly. Vahkiir stared at him, hoping he might elaborate, but Brevyn did not say anything else.

They walked in silence for a few moments longer, and then Vahkiir tentatively asked, "Are you angry with me for declining Emari's offer?"

Brevyn turned to him, a hint of a scowl on his face. He considered Vahkiir for a long moment, then slowly replied, "More disappointed than angry, I suppose."

"Why?" Vahkiir asked coldly, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Because I do not wish to risk my life fighting a dragon?"

Brevyn shook his head. "No. I understand that you do not wish to charge recklessly into danger. In fact, it's admirable that you are not so foolhardy." He then sighed and swept his arm around the city. "However, I had hoped that you might help my people. They are already oppressed by the Nords – robbed of their lands, their coin, their very right to rule themselves. Now they must also contend with a dragon. And you are Dragonborn, Vahkiir. The natural predator of that beast that is holding them hostage." He turned to face Vahkiir, narrowing his eyes. "While I cannot, and do not, expect you to overthrow the Nordic rule of this city, you are the only one who can kill that dragon."

Vahkiir narrowed his eyes indignantly. "So it is my duty to hunt down every dragon in Tamriel?!" he demanded.

"No," Brevyn replied simply. "Nor is it your duty to save my people. I understand that, and I respect your decision not to involve yourself, which is why I am not pressing you on the matter." He then sighed and turned to him with a weary look. "But I cannot help but wish you had chosen otherwise."

Vahkiir opened his mouth halfway, anger and regret warring inside of him. Before he could say anything, however, Brevyn held up his hand and pointed to a building off to their right. "That is our destination," he announced.

Nestled between a large building with mud bricks stacked outside its door and a mid-sized building with vats of foul-smelling, brightly-colored liquids in large tubs behind it, was a tiny dome-shaped shell with a beaten wooden door. Beside the door, an old Chimer woman sat on a faded red cushion, idly knitting. She paid the two of them little mind until she felt Brevyn's gaze on her, whereupon she looked up from her work with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you want, boy?" she asked in a tired, raspy tone.

"I seek a tapestry, made from the finest silk threads, and woven by black hands," Brevyn replied.

The woman set down her knitting and eyed him, then jerked her head towards the door behind her. "Go inside," she said shortly.

Brevyn nodded, then glanced at Vahkiir. "Would you mind waiting here?" he asked softly. "I will not be long."

Vahkiir glanced back and forth between Brevyn and the woman, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Is there a reason I cannot join you?" he demanded.

Brevyn smiled mysteriously, then reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "I will only be a moment," he said. "I simply wish to deliver this claw, and then we can be on our way."

"You did not answer me," Vahkiir pointed out.

Brevyn hesitated, grimacing uncomfortably, and then glanced at the old woman, who was watching them silently. "I can only tell you that this is a matter I must see to alone. I did not pry when you went to speak with your chieftain and elders," he pointed out, turning back around to face Vahkiir. "I must now ask that you show me the same courtesy."

Vahkiir scowled, but he had to admit that Brevyn had a point. "Very well," he agreed reluctantly.

Brevyn grinned and squeezed his shoulder gratefully. "Thank you," he said as he pulled away. "As I said, I will not be long."

With that, he turned back around and strode towards the small building. The old woman withdrew a small copper key from within her tan robes and unlocked the door for him, then pushed it open. As soon as Brevyn disappeared into the shadowy darkness inside, she quickly shut the door behind him and relocked it. She then gave Vahkiir a pointed look – a warning, he suspected, not to try to follow – before settling back down onto her cushion and blithely resuming her knitting as though nothing had happened.

With nothing else to do, Vahkiir wandered over to an empty stone bench on the opposite side of the street and settled onto it to await Brevyn's return. After gazing up at the ash-filled sky for a few moments, he pulled out his waterskin and took a slow drink, hoping to wash some of the lingering salt out of his mouth, while he watched the occasional Chimer wander down the narrow street. Most were occupied with mundane tasks, not too dissimilar from those of his own village. One was carrying an armload of firewood, while another held a wicker basket full of dirty robes that he suspected were being taken to be washed. The familiarity of such simple chores was strangely comforting.

Yet, Vahkiir could not deny that he was in an alien land, with alien customs, and he was already weary of feeling as though he was an unwelcome outsider. Even as he sat alone on the bench, not bothering anyone, he could feel the suspicious eyes of the passing Chimer lingering on him, as though they were expecting him to lash out at any moment. At first, he tried to sympathize, wondering if this was how Brevyn had felt when he first arrived in his home village, but he quickly realized that there was no true comparison. Though the Skaal had initially been wary of Brevyn, they had swiftly accepted him with few reservations. He had been welcomed as a guest, allowed to roam the village as he pleased, and not a hint of hostility had been directed towards him.

By contrast, ever since he had set foot in Blacklight, Vahkiir had been treated with constant fear and distrust. The Chimer people as a whole struck him as secretive and cynical, especially towards outsiders. Had Brevyn not insisted, he had no doubt that Emari would have happily spoken to Brevyn alone, in elven, without bothering to translate. Even Brevyn, who had claimed that Vahkiir was a companion that he trusted, would not reveal what lay beyond the door of that strange, small building he had entered. Vahkiir scowled to himself as he gazed into the mouth of his waterskin. Did Brevyn perhaps believe that Vahkiir must share his knowledge freely, while he should be allowed to keep his secrets?

As he felt his anger starting to rise, Vahkiir took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. Was it truly so strange that the Chimer mistrusted him? Brevyn had told him several times that his people were living under the rule of the Nords, and he did look like one of them. He had even experienced the injustice of the city's rulers firsthand, when the guards had demanded tribute from him when he and Brevyn first arrived. If the Chimer daily suffered that sort of indignity from the Nords, then it was little wonder they were so hostile towards him.

Vahkiir sighed as he stoppered his waterskin and looked up at the sky again. That, of course, was why Brevyn and Emari had both hoped he might hunt the dragon, so that he might alleviate some of their peoples' suffering. He understood that. However, while he did pity the Chimer, he still could not bring himself to fulfill their request. After all, he still knew very little about their war with the Nords. Why had the war begun? Who was the aggressor, and why? Thus far, he had only heard of this war from the Chimer's perspective. True, this city was clearly in Nordic hands, but why had the Nords conquered it? Was it retribution? Perhaps the Chimer had attacked them first. Were the Chimer simply bitter that they were losing? And, most of all, if he slew this dragon – who was supposedly allied with the Nords – would that be akin to siding with the Chimer, and declaring war upon Skyrim? He shook his head as he looked down again. No, it was better that he not allow himself to become embroiled in a war that he knew almost nothing about, at least until he had learned more about it. At the very least, he wished to hear the Nordic perspective as well.

"All the more reason to reach Winterhold quickly, then," he murmured to himself. He then noticed a Chimer that was passing by stop to stare at him talking to himself. Vahkiir scowled at her, whereupon she quickly looked away and hurried down the street.

Suddenly, an unearthly screech reverberated through the city. The high-pitched keening made the hairs on Vahkiir's neck stand up and his teeth clench as it echoed painfully in his ears. A moment later, a large shadow swept over him, and he snapped his head up towards the sky in time to see a massive shape swoop over the city. His eyes narrowed as a crimson-scaled dragon soared over the rooftops, nearly grazing them due to how low it was flying, before flapping its wings mightily to regain a bit of altitude, creating gusts of wind that blew over baskets and tapestries in its wake.

Even as he stared up at the dragon, out of the corner of his eye, Vahkiir noticed that the Chimer nearby had stopped to gaze at the dragon as well. Every one of their faces was frozen in an expression of abject terror. Even the old woman sitting outside of the weaver's house, who until now had worn a mask of stoic sourness, was gaping up at the dragon in fright. What was even more apparent than their fear, however, was the utter despair on their faces as they watched the enormous beast soar overhead.

As the dragon passed overhead, Vahkiir could swear that it let out a sinister chuckle before letting out another piercing screech. As the sound rang through his ears, something began to stir in his chest. Liquid heat filled his veins as he glared up at the dragon, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. Somehow, he understood the meaning behind the dragon's scream. It was crowing triumphantly, openly announcing its utter domination over the pitiful creatures below. They were nothing more than its thralls, allowed to live only by its whim, and it was reveling in their helplessness. Its scream was not merely a cry of triumph, however. It was a challenge, a taunt to anyone who wished to defy its rule… and a smug sense of certainty that none would dare.

The fury simmering in Vahkiir's veins intensified, until his body became almost unbearably hot. He was no one's thrall! No creature would dominate him, least of all this impertinent dragon! To him, the dragon's screech was more than mere goading. It was a threat against his very being, as though he was staring down a known murderer who had trespassed into his house and declared that he would slaughter him and his family, simply because he could. Vahkiir felt compelled to answer the dragon's challenge, to ensure that it would never dare to threaten him again. What frightened him most, however, was that his rational mind still recognized the terrible threat that the dragon faced… and yet he could do nothing to suppress the instincts that commanded him to answer the dragon's challenge anyways.

He was so transfixed, watching the dragon fly away from the city towards the distant mountains, that he did not even notice movement to his right until a hand touched his shoulder. He swung around with a snarl, only stopping short when he saw Brevyn standing beside him. The Chimer quickly held his hands up when he noticed the almost feral look on Vahkiir's face.

"Peace!" Brevyn said soothingly. The rage boiling inside of Vahkiir slowly cooled, and he forced himself to take a long, slow breath. Brevyn peered over his shoulder at the retreating form of the dragon, then asked, "I take it that was the dragon that has been holding the city hostage?"

"So it would seem," Vahkiir growled, running his hand over his eyes. Even though the dragon had departed, he could still feel the blood pounding in his ears. Shaking his head to clear the red fog lingering in the corners of his vision, he asked curtly, "Have you concluded your business?"

"I have," Brevyn said slowly, holding up his hand. To Vahkiir's surprise, he was still holding the bronze claw. "I have been asked to keep the claw for now. My… associates are curious about its purpose, and they wish for me to determine its function."

"Indeed?" Vahkiir murmured, folding his arms over his chest.

"Indeed," Brevyn smiled slightly. "Though their request is… rather vague. They are certain that the claw was forged in Skyrim, but little more than that. As such, they have asked me to travel there to see what I can uncover." He grinned sheepishly and scratched behind his ear as Vahkiir frowned. "To that end, I believe that we should set off for Winterhold as soon as possible." He looked back down at the claw in his hand, then asked slowly, "You… still wish to sail there, yes?"

Vahkiir hesitated, slowly turning back around to gaze at the distant mountains. Somewhere in that range, he was certain, the dragon had made its lair "No," he growled. Brevyn blinked at him as he turned back around. He could feel his eyes burning, and suspected that they were bloodshot. "Do you believe Emari knows where the dragon has made its nest?"

"He… might," Brevyn said hesitantly, taking a half-step back from Vahkiir, clearly unsettled by his demeanor.

"Good," Vahkiir snarled. "Because he may yet get his wish. I shall hunt this dragon for him."

Emari was, predictably, delighted when Vahkiir and Brevyn returned and offered to hunt down the dragon, and he was eager to help however he could. While he did not know the exact location of the dragon's lair, he did at least provide directions to the canyon where the caravans had been ambushed. He even offered to have his own caravan act as bait for the dragon, but Vahkiir declined. Of course, he did not want Emari to risk his life unnecessarily, but he also did not want the dragon to suspect that something was amiss. Now that he was actively hunting it, he was following instincts that he had honed for several years, and one of the truths he had learned was that beasts could often sense when a trap was being laid for them. He wasn't certain if the dragon's mind was closer to man or beast in that regard, but he feared that such a ploy might alert the dragon to the fact that it was now being hunted. Instead, he would pursue it on his own.

When morning came, Vahkiir set out for the canyon with Brevyn in tow. He was somewhat surprised that the Chimer had chosen to accompany him, but when he assured Brevyn that he did not have to join him, the elf waved his protests aside.

"As I have said, I owe you a debt, and I intend to fulfill it," he had explained as he hiked his bag a bit higher on his shoulder. "And since part of that debt is ensuring that you do not get yourself killed, I am honor-bound to accompany you."

Vahkiir wasn't sure whether to be grateful or irritated by his cheeky response, so he settled for nodding in reply, and then they set off.

Much to his chagrin, Vahkiir soon found that the ashlands were terrible hunting grounds. While the ash clouds did obscure them somewhat, much of the terrain was open plain, interspersed only with the occasional high rock formation or boulder to provide additional cover. Worse, it was impossible not to leave footprints in the ash, and he was certain that if viewed from the air, the dragon would be able to easily track their movements. In fact, he suspected that might be how it was able to stalk caravans for miles into the canyon, if their wheels were leaving clear trails that the dragon could follow.

Nevertheless, he and Brevyn pressed on through the dead, arid lands, watching the skies carefully for any sign of their quarry. As they walked, Vahkiir also surveyed the ground for any additional signs they might follow. As the dragon was an enormous creature, if it landed, it would leave noticeable impressions in the land. He remained alert for broken stone formations, craters of disturbed ash, or corpses of large beasts that it might have preyed upon.

Unfortunately, the wastes held few signs of any life. The only creatures that he spotted on the first day were a spindly grey insect that Brevyn identified as a harmless scrib, and a strange, two-legged, reptilian beast lurking on a cliff above them, which Brevyn said was an alit. The latter, Brevyn warned him, could pose a threat, but it seemed content to leave them be as they wandered through the ashen wastes.

After searching in vain for most of the day, the pair finally made camp when the moons began to rise. As he settled in to sleep, Vahkiir realized that he had been nearly silent for most of the day. His thoughts had been utterly consumed by his pursuit of the dragon, and while the persistent voice in the back of his mind pressing him onward was allowing him to rest for now, it would not allow him to turn back. There had been a few times throughout the day where he had considered abandoning his hunt, but each time that thought crossed his mind, the primal part of his mind immediately quashed it and demanded he continue searching for the dragon. It was more than a simple thirst for vengeance – it was an obsession. And it frightened him.

Vahkiir abruptly awoke the next morning when a shadow passed over his tent, his eyes instantly snapping open. He quickly crawled outside and immediately began searching the sky while he fumbled to nock an arrow into the bowstring. As he squinted up at the hazy red sky, he spotted a large reptilian shape hovering overhead. However, when his eyes began to focus, he realized that the creature flying overhead was much smaller than a dragon, and had a slightly different shape.

"A cliff racer," Brevyn announced. Vahkiir glanced down to see the Chimer poking his head out of his own tent and shielding his eyes as he gazed up at the sky as well. "Admittedly, they can be quite aggressive and dangerous in their own right, but they are a far cry from a dragon."

"So it would seem," Vahkiir sighed, letting the tension out of his bow as he watched the beast circle overhead. "Well then, let us break our fast-"

Suddenly, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, and he turned just in time to see a massive shape swoop in from the cliff racer's right side. Before it could do more than let out a startled squawk, the creature was caught in the massive jaws of the dragon. Vahkiir's mouth dropped open as the dragon snapped up the cliff racer like a bird swallowing an insect, and then it let out a triumphant roar as it continued flying west.

Vahkiir pulled the arrow back again, blood pounding in his ears. The dragon did not even seem to have noticed them, which infuriated him to no end. Either it had not seen them… or it did not care. The thought that it did not even consider them a threat, even after issuing its challenge, was intolerable, and the rage-filled part of his mind demanded they pursue it immediately. However, a moment later, he lowered his bow and tried to force himself to relax. The dragon was far too high in the air for him to shoot it, and even if he somehow miraculously did, any wounds would be superficial at best. Fortunately, the primal side of his mind accepted his rationale and calmed down, though his simmering anger still burned beneath his skin.

Vahkiir shielded his eyes with one hand as he stared intently after the dragon in the predawn light. He watched as it soared for a while longer, before finally landing atop one of the distant mountains. Vahkiir's eyes widened slightly as he burned the location of the mountain into his mind, noting its features and position from where he was. He then turned to Brevyn, who was watching him warily.

"It seems we have our destination," Vahkiir muttered in a bloodthirsty growl. "Let's press on. We can eat as we travel."

The two set off once again across the ash desert, traveling as directly towards the mountain the dragon had landed on as possible. The terrain grew increasingly rough and difficult to navigate as they headed deeper into the mountain range, but Vahkiir was pressed tirelessly onward by the rage burning in the back of his mind. Brevyn followed him silently, despite the fact that he seemed to be growing increasingly exhausted. Even with his constant anger clouding his thoughts, Vahkiir could not help but admire how Brevyn did not voice a complaint even once, and he was truly grateful for the elf's dedication to what Vahkiir knew was a foolish, reckless hunt.

After a few hours, the pair reached the base of the mountain where the dragon resided. From where they were, Vahkiir could see the beast lurking inside of a cave near the summit of the mountain, its tail flicking in the open air, and he could hear grotesque chomping sounds as it feasted upon something inside. While the mountain was steep, it was not impossible to scale – in fact, it had a gentle enough slope that he suspected they could climb it without needing ropes. In truth, Vahkiir was surprised that the dragon had chosen to make its lair on this mountain when there were surrounding mountains that were much steeper and more defensible. His question was answered, however, when he noticed wheel marks in the ash-covered rock, suggesting that the dragon preferred the shallower slope because it allowed it to simply drag the wagons it captured up into its lair, rather than being forced to waste its strength flying them up to the cave.

"So, we've finally found its nest," Brevyn said softly as he walked up beside Vahkiir. He was short of breath, and beads of sweat were running down his forehead. Even so, he nodded up to the dragon above them. "Shall we finish our hunt, then?"

"…No," Vahkiir said slowly, even as he glared up at the dragon. When Brevyn shot him a surprised look, he explained, "If we try to attack it now, it will have the advantage, and I have no desire to foolishly risk my life."

"As though that's stopped you until now," Brevyn quipped. When Vahkiir turned to glare at him, however, the Chimer held his hands up in a placating gesture. "My apologies. Just a bit of humor," he added quickly. "Shall we attack at night, then?"

"I do not believe that to be wise either," Vahkiir replied softly, turning back to the dragon as he folded his arms over his chest. "We know nothing of this dragon – its habits, when it feeds, when it departs from its lair. I would rather we learn as much about it as we can before we attempt to slay it. The more we know, the better a chance we have of killing it."

"That is… rather pragmatic, actually," Brevyn remarked, sounding both surprised and impressed. "I feared that, based on how you have been behaving over the last few days, you would be all too eager to face it directly."

Vahkiir let out a low chuckle. "I still wish to slay it, mind you," he admitted in a dangerously soft voice. However, it seemed that the bloodthirst that had driven him thus far had cooled somewhat now that his prey was within reach, and it was content to allow him to prepare whatever measures he deemed necessary to slay the dragon… so long as he did not attempt to retreat.

Brevyn eyed him warily, then motioned to his left, towards a small cave nearby. "Then shall we make camp?" he suggested.

"Indeed," Vahkiir agreed, sliding his pack off of his shoulders as he continued to stare up at the dragon above them.

For the next few days, the pair kept a close watch on the dragon's lair. As Brevyn saw better in the dark than he did, the elf kept watch at night while Vahkiir slept, and Vahkiir watched the cave during the day as Brevyn rested. They carefully noted when the dragon was in its lair and when it was absent, as well as roughly how long it was gone. While its absences varied, over the course of the next four days, they did begin to notice patterns in its habits. It seemed to sleep at night, for roughly as long as a human, and it left its cave occasionally during the day to hunt, often returning with a large creature to gorge upon. It also slept soundly after it ate, and it seemed to only require one meal per day.

While it was awake, it watched the canyon below it attentively, apparently awaiting any caravans that might be passing below it. When it was at its most alert, Vahkiir and Brevyn remained in their own cave, not daring to venture out. Occasionally, its gaze did sweep over their cave, but if it ever saw them, it did not react to their presence. Either it truly did not know that it was being watched, or it simply did not care.

On the third day, when the dragon left its lair to hunt, Vahkiir dared to climb the mountain and inspect the cave where it dwelled. He knew that he had only a scant few hours before it returned, but he wanted to see if it had erected any defenses. When he reached the apex of the mountain about half an hour later, he saw that the dragon's cave was surprisingly small for a creature of its size. It could comfortably curl up inside, but by Vahkiir's estimation, it was comparatively the same size as his own tent. What he did notice, however, was that there were several small wagons, laden with goods, stored at the back of the cave. Most appeared to be untouched, and Vahkiir could not help but wonder why it was hoarding the carts. He seriously doubted that the dragon bartered with other creatures, so the only likely explanation was that it was simply keeping the wagons because it could. They were the dragon's prizes, symbols of its utter domination of the region, and even if they had little material value to the beast, it still considered them its trophies. Aside from that, however, the cave was empty, and the dragon did not seem to have prepared any traps or defenses to better protect its lair. Vahkiir presumed that it arrogantly assumed that its size and strength were more than sufficient to defend itself and its territory, and that nothing would be foolish enough to attack it. The thought brought a grim smile to Vahkiir's face as he began to descend the mountain again, not wanting to be nearby when the dragon returned.

"We should attack tomorrow night," Vahkiir said softly that evening, while he and Brevyn were crouched in the darkness of their cave, gnawing on hard strips of horker jerky and chewing on mixed nuts and berries. "I believe that we now know enough about its habits that we can predict when it will be at its most vulnerable."

Brevyn slowly chewed his mouthful of berries before swallowing hard and lowering his head slightly to peer up at Vahkiir. "You are certain about this?" he asked cautiously.

"I am," Vahkiir confirmed. Privately, he admitted to himself that he was growing impatient. While his instinctive side was willing to allow him to prepare however he needed – even allowing him to eat and rest as necessary, as it seemed to know that a weary hunter was a weak hunter – it would not permit him to dally any longer than necessary. It still demanded an answer to the dragon's challenge, and the longer Vahkiir waited, the more difficult it was to restrain himself. He feared that if he continued to simply observe, his impatience would eventually give way to recklessness, which would surely lead to his death.

Brevyn nodded slowly as he dusted his hands off, then pushed himself up and stretched. "Very well. Tomorrow morning, I shall leave camp for a short while, if you can watch for the dragon in the meantime." When Vahkiir gave him a curious frown, he explained, "I wish to scavenge for some ingredients that will make our confrontation with the dragon somewhat easier… provided you do not care how we slay the beast."

Vahkiir hesitated, then shook his head. "Not particularly, no," he admitted. "In fact, I intended to build some traps. I have no intention of granting this monster a fair fight."

Brevyn grinned broadly, clearly pleased with his response. "Very good!" he exclaimed. "Then if you don't mind, I shall take to bed early this evening, and depart first thing in the morning."

As promised, Brevyn left their camp at dawn, his figure fading into the orange, ashy haze until he was out of sight. In the meantime, Vahkiir chopped down some small trees that were nearby, and then he set to work carving them into long wooden stakes, which he then hardened by blackening their points in a small fire he had built just outside of the cave after he had seen the dragon leave to go hunting. He had completed five of them, and was in the process of making a sixth when Brevyn returned. He tilted his head slightly at the work Vahkiir had been doing as he set down his leather bag, which Vahkiir noticed was stuffed full of various plants.

"I see that you've been hard at work," the elf remarked as he began unpacking his bag.

"Yes, but unfortunately, I cannot build anything more elaborate in the short time we have," Vahkiir explained as he held up one of the stakes. "I do not know how well dragons see in the dark, but if we can position these at the entrance to its lair, it might impale itself on these, should it try to escape."

"Clever. I'm pleased to see that we think alike," Brevyn replied with a slight grin.

"Indeed? Where have you been all day?" Vahkiir asked, glancing down at the bag at his feet. "And what have you gathered?"

"Ingredients for poison," Brevyn replied simply. "In truth, I do not know how effective it will be, since I am uncertain as to whether dragons are resistant to poison, if not altogether immune. However, if they are not, then this will likely grant us an additional advantage in our battle with it."

"I see," Vahkiir said slowly. Usually, he was opposed to the use of poisons during a hunt, though much of his reluctance to use them was because it would spoil the meat. Since he had no intention of eating the dragon, he supposed that he had no reason to object, especially if it helped kill the beast faster. "What are you mixing, then?"

"This is a simple concoction of fire petals, gold kanet blossoms… and a bit of corroded metal for good measure," Brevyn said with a wicked grin. "I am certain it will not slay the dragon outright – especially since I am not a master alchemist – but it may weaken it."

Vahkiir raised an eyebrow at Brevyn as he sat down in the shadows of the cave and began tossing the flowers into his wooden bowl. "Did you also learn to make this during your time as a herder?" he asked drily.

Brevyn glanced up from his work with a mysterious smile. "As I said, I've had a long time to learn a vast array of skills, Vahkiir," he replied softly. He then fell silent as he began crushing the flowers with the base of his knife, using it as a pestle, while Vahkiir watched silently. When the flowers had been ground into a fine paste, Brevyn slathered the mixture onto his knife, then did the same to Vahkiir's ebony arrows. He then applied it to the wooden stakes as well, being careful not to cut himself on the sharpened points. They then took some time to rest, as they were unlikely to sleep for very long that night.

Vahkiir woke just as the moons were beginning to rise into the sky. He crawled over to Brevyn and shook him awake, then pressed a finger to his lips and motioned outside. The Chimer nodded, and the two settled in to wait for the evening to deepen. As they watched the dragon's lair, they took the opportunity to eat a few handfuls of nuts and berries and drink a few swigs of water – the only meal they would have that evening.

When a little less than half the night had passed, the pair finally began to make their way up the mountain. Scaling the slope was not particularly difficult, even while they were carrying the stakes, but because they needed to remain silent, their ascent was slow. It took them nearly an hour to finally reach the mouth of the dragon's cave, whereupon they quickly hurried to either side of the entrance and cautiously peered inside.

Curled up in the middle of the cave was the dragon, sleeping peacefully in front of its hoard of stolen goods. Its massive flank slowly rose and fell with its deep breathing, and as it exhaled, Vahkiir nearly gagged from the stench of sulfur emanating from its mouth. Neither he nor Brevyn moved for a few minutes, the pair watching it warily to be certain that it was not merely pretending to be asleep. Only when they were sure that it was unconscious did they finally begin to move.

As Vahkiir began to stick the poisoned stakes into the ground, Brevyn fastened the copper knife that Vahkiir had lent him to the end of his staff with a length of rope. When he was finished constructing his spear, he nodded to Vahkiir, who finished driving the stakes into the ground at a sharp angle, pointing inwards towards the cave. Vahkiir then nodded to him in return and unslung his bow, then drew one of the jet-black arrows that Brit had made for him.

Vahkiir's heart began to pound furiously as he slowly inhaled and drew the arrow back. Now that his quarry was in front of him, his instincts were all but screaming for its blood, urging him to slay the monster as swiftly as possible. Fortunately, the hunting habits that he had honed for years steadied him, allowing him to remain relatively calm even as his face turned red with barely-contained fury. He exhaled slowly, watching the way his arrow rose and fell in time with his breathing, and then he inhaled again. When he was finally ready, he let out a sharp whistle.

Instantly, the dragon's large yellow eye snapped open, the reptilian pupil dilating in the low light. Its gaze immediately fell on Vahkiir, standing a short distance from the mouth of the cave, and it let out a low growl. Before it could react, however, Vahkiir loosed the arrow. The dragon's eye almost seemed to glow in the darkness, and it was as large as a rabbit. From this distance, it was impossible for him to miss.

The ebony point tore through the dragon's eye, and for a brief moment, Vahkiir hoped that it might pierce all the way into its brain. However, a split second later, the dragon threw its head back and let out an agonized scream as thick streams of dark blood ran out of its socket. Vahkiir swore to himself and readied another arrow as the dragon lowered its head slightly, showing that the shaft of the arrow had been caught by its thick, scaly eyelid, which had reflexively closed when the arrow had struck its eyeball, and which now held it fast. The dragon was now half-blind, but very much alive – and utterly furious.

The dragon bellowed in pain and surged forward, its one good eye burning with hate as it lunged at Vahkiir. He quickly backed away as the dragon slithered towards him, but just as it reached the mouth of its cave, it stopped short and let out another pained bellow. Two of the sharpened stakes were buried halfway into the dragon's breast, lodged deep in its soft underbelly. The others had been brushed aside by its bulk, unable to pierce its thick, scaly hide, and now lay strewn across the ground. Nevertheless, it was clear that the monster was severely wounded.

Still, though the dragon was injured, they had failed to kill it outright, and Vahkiir's heart sank as he realized that they were now in serious danger. The dragon shook its head in a futile attempt to dislodge the arrow in its eye, and when that failed, it turned its head to fix its gaze on Vahkiir. Malevolent hatred burned in its gaze as Vahkiir readied another arrow, but before he loose it, the dragon reared its head back.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" the dragon screamed. Vahkiir, remembering how Iizlaarnah had breathed ice at him, immediately dove to the side. Heat washed over him, and he cried out as a stream of fire rippled through the air to his left. Though he avoided the worst of the flame, he screamed in pain as the sheer heat of the dragon's breath singed him. As the blinding light faded, he looked down to see that his left hand was bright red, with small blisters forming on the back of it. He had not even been caught in the dragon's breath, yet even the edges of its flames had been enough to burn him.

Hissing in pain, he fumbled to put the arrow back in his drawstring as the dragon charged towards him. Just as he drew his bow back, the dragon loomed over him, snapping its jaws. Vahkiir was once again forced to roll to his right as the dragon's teeth nearly grazed his side. Growling with fury, the dragon reared its head back again, but before it could snap at him once more, it suddenly roared in pain and whipped its head to look over its shoulder.

From where he was beneath it, Vahkiir could just make out Brevyn crouching near its right wing. Blood was dripping down the thin, leathery membrane through a gaping hole, suggesting that the Chimer had snuck around to its blind side and pierced its wing with his spear. The dragon whipped its body partway around to face him, but Brevyn remained on its blind side, plunging his spear into its unprotected wing two more times before the dragon knocked him away with a flick of its forelimb.

While the dragon was distracted, Vahkiir's eyes fell on one of the stakes protruding from its chest. His thoughts flashed to how he had slain Iizlaarnah, and he quickly pushed himself up and grabbed the stake with both hands. He let out a short grunt as he shoved the stake deeper into the dragon's chest, trying to force it between its ribs. The dragon let out a furious roar and thrashed wildly as hot rivulets of blood streamed out of its wound, soaking Vahkiir's hands. However, he was only able to push it in another few inches before the dragon slammed its foreleg onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him and pinning him in place.

With its good eye burning with unbridled fury, the dragon opened its mouth, and Vahkiir's eyes widened as he saw a faint glowing in the back of its throat. A sinister, toothy grin spread across its lips as it began to shout, "YOL-!"

Before the dragon could finish its shout, something welled up inside of Vahkiir. Instinctively, he opened his own mouth, and almost before he realized what he was doing, he shouted in return, "FUS!"

The air around Vahkiir's mouth exploded outward, slamming into the dragon's chin. Its head rocked back from the force of his word, nearly cracking its skull on the low ceiling above it. What's more, the flames in the back of its throat died immediately as it was left momentarily stunned. However, the dragon's daze lasted only a moment, and when it recollected itself, it slowly lowered its head down again and let out a low, menacing growl.

"Dovahkiin," it murmured, the word tinged with both hatred and fear. It stared down at him for a long moment, as though considering what to do with him, and then it lowered its head and once again opened its jaws. Vahkiir was momentarily relieved when he saw that there were no flames burning at the back of its throat… but then he realized that the dragon was simply going to clamp its jaws down around him instead and be done with it. He struggled under its grasp, but the beast was far too strong, and he was utterly helpless to do anything but watch in horror as it distended its jaw like a snake.

Then, suddenly, the dragon let out an unearthly roar of pain and rocked its head back. Vahkiir glanced up in time to see that Brevyn had once again rushed at it from its blind side and grabbed the arrow sticking out of its eye with both hands. The elf let out a short yell as he drove the point of the arrow as deep into the dragon's skull as he could, tearing through what was left of its eye and burying the bolt into its brain.

The dragon's grip on Vahkiir abruptly let up as it reared back and screamed in pain. Vahkiir took the opportunity to scramble out from under it, with Brevyn sprinting out of the cave beside him. Once they were about fifty feet away, they turned and watched in horrified fascination as the dragon writhed around impotently, grasping at its eye with one claw. Its movements gradually slowed as the poison quickly spread through its brain. After about half a minute, its writhing came to a halt, and the dragon finally lay lifeless on the floor of its cavern.

Vahkiir gasped for breath as he gingerly touched his bruised ribs, where the dragon had held him pinned. Beside him, Brevyn seemed just as tired, with his long, twisted hair falling wildly around his shoulders and his body covered in dark blood. Both men were filthy, battered, and exhausted, but at least they were alive.

"Thank you," Vahkiir grunted when he had finally managed to catch his breath. Brevyn tilted his head at him curiously, and he continued, "Were it not for you, I would have surely perished tonight. Thank you for accompanying me on this… foolish venture."

Brevyn shook his head and let out a soft, weary chuckle. "Think nothing of it," he replied in a low sigh. "You did the same for me, after all. The least I could do is slay one dragon for you in return."

Vahkiir began to laugh, which turned into a painful cough as his ribs ached in protest. When the fit subsided, he noticed something glowing off to his left. As turned to watch, the dragon's skin began to dissolve in front of him, turning luminescent as it faded into ash. A whirlwind of light rushed towards Vahkiir, enveloping him and seeping into his very skin. As the light faded, he felt much of his fatigue vanish as warmth spread throughout his body. With it, his anger finally faded as well, leaving him with both an immense sense of satisfaction, and a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"It seems that it's truly dead, then," Brevyn remarked, folding his arms as he gazed at the dragon's bare skeleton.

Vahkiir gazed down at his hand, slowly flexing his fingers, before turning around and looking down the mountain. "Indeed," he murmured softly. "We should return to the city, then, and inform Emari of our success."

"Yes… and we should bring proof," Brevyn added. Vahkiir turned back around to see him approaching the skeleton, his head tilted thoughtfully. After examining it for a moment, he reached up and grabbed one of the dragon's horns. Vahkiir frowned deeply as the elf tugged at it, and he was on the verge of suggesting that removing it would likely be impossible, but to his surprise, the horn abruptly came free. Brevyn stumbled backwards a few steps, seeming equally surprised by how little effort it had taken. Perhaps the horn had been held in place by tendon rather than being fused to its skull, Vahkiir mused.

"First, though, we should rest," Vahkiir added as he looked up at the twin moons, which were more than halfway across the horizon. "After all, it isn't as though we must return immediately, and I imagine that Emari and the others are still asleep as well."

"A fair point," Brevyn agreed as he stuffed the horn into his leather bag. As he hoisted it over his shoulder, he let out a wry chuckle. "Though I do hope we needn't slay a dragon every time we wish to travel somewhere new."

Vahkiir let out a snort of laughter. "Well, at least next time we should have an easier time of it." Brevyn tilted his head curiously as Vahkiir smirked. "After all, any dragons we might face must now contend with two dragonslayers."
Brevyn's eyes widened with surprise, and then he grinned and clapped Vahkiir on the back as they made their way back to their camp.