Chapter 13
Dark Wings
"Dark Wings on the horizon signal doom! Dark Wings on the horizon summon death! Do not stand before them! Flee and you might survive but fight and you will surely perish."- A warning recovered from an ancient parchment. Extreme age prevents accurate dating, assumed First Era.
Rain hammered down from darkened skies and thunder rolled like the rumble of a dragon's belly. Hammel was soaked to the bone, his Legion-issued leather was useless at keeping him dry, and deafened from the constant drumming of rain on his steel helmet.
The other recruits were fairing no better, except for Tavin-Leem, an Argonian, who seemed pleased with the weather. They stood steadfast in the Castle Dour courtyard with their arms clasped behind their backs, remaining motionless in line as the rain assaulted them.
Striding back and forth before them, moving with ease despite the weather and peg leg, was drill sergeant Vokniss. The old Nord looked more like a slab of beef than a human, eyes squinting behind his wrinkled brow, meaty hands looked more than capable of beating an Orc to death. His peg made an impressive thud with each stride, his voice cut through the rain, thunder and lightning with ease.
"You are here," Vokniss said, voice rumbling low, "because you've shown some potential, and because you've got guts." His stern gaze passed over each recruit in turn, glaring right through them. "You've all made it this far because you think you can be Legionaries and you still believe it." The sergeant spat a wad of phlegm on the ground, "I admire your conviction, but most of you won't make it."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "This is the Imperial Legion! We accept only the best and right now I don't see that!" His breath rose from his nostrils in clouds, visible in the cool air. "The next few weeks will be brutal. Some of you will quit, many more will try your best and still fail. But some of you, the lucky few, might actually be transformed into soldiers. Ask yourself,' is it me?' Better yet, say, 'It is me!'"
Vokniss quit pacing and looked one of the recruits, a young Orc girl, square in the face. "Why are you here, recruit?"
She gulped, "Sir, because I didn't want to be married off, sir!"
Vokniss snorted, "You think you've got what it takes to be a Legionnaire, greenskin? Why should I let you join us? What good are you?" The question clearly caught her off-guard.
"I'm strong sir," she replied, " I've killed my share of beasts."
Vokniss didn't seem impressed. "Is that so?" Those words dripped from his mouth with venom. He didn't ask her more questions, stomping down the line for another recruit to torment.
Hammel didn't hear the questions Vokmiss asked Tavin-Leem's, but the Argonian didn't seem pleased, his tail shaking nervously after their conversation. Two others were grilled and subsequently ripped to shreds by the sergeant, his words booming across the courtyard louder than any thunder crack.
Hammel became aware he was under scrutiny when Vokniss halted, his peg leg splashing a puddle directly before him. Hammel was slightly above six feet, his wiry frame packed with muscle, but the older Nord seemed to tower over him. "Tell me son," he asked, voice rich with disdain, "Why are you here?"
Fighting back a sense of rising fear, Hammel answered, "To make something of myself, sir."
Vokniss paused, looking at Hammel more closely, "I know you. You're that bastard kid Naveev picked off the street. He saw something in you." Vokniss looked him up and down, taking in every inch. "You're scrawny and you look weak." Jaw set, he looked at Hammel and issued him the same challenge. "So tell me, bastard, what can you do?"
"I can run, sir."
Running across the tundra, easily outpacing the guardsmen, Hammel felt his scouting instincts return. He was surprised by how easily he slipped back into the old role. It was something he was good at, he'd been trained for, and focusing on that training kept him from thinking about what he was running towards.
While they hadn't seen any signs of the dragon itself, Ri'saad hadn't been kidding about the watchtower. A thick cloud of dark smoke billowed across the tundra, the smell of ash and charred stone filled the air. He listened intently for beating wings, but by the blessing of the Nine, he didn't hear them.
The tower slowly came into view, still standing despite obvious damage. Most of the grass had either burned away or was currently burning against the backdrop of fallen rubble. Flames, hot enough to continue burning against stone, smouldered in the wind. Though it was too far away to make out any corpses, the shape of the tower made it clear that there would be plenty. There was nothing in sight, no guards, no dragon, not a single bird.
Irileth spotted the tower first. She signalled for both silence and a halt with a raised fist. The men stopped, letting their battle songs fade away. With another wave of her hand, she motioned for Hammel to join her. Without a sound, he moved toward her, surveying the ruined tower.
"Whatever hit the tower was massive," she commented, shielding her eyes with one hand. "But I don't see any dragons."
"That doesn't mean there isn't one," Hammel responded calmly, trying not to dwell on the implications.
"You aren't wrong there," she answered without enthusiasm. Irileth scanned the horizon a moment longer, looking for anything suspicious. "Regardless, we need to move in. We won't truly know what happened here until we locate the survivors."
Hammel nodded, his fingers tightening around his bowstring. Sweat started working its way down his face, despite the coolness of the day.
Irileth spoke decisively without fear. "Alright men, the tower looks deserted. We move in, secure it, and rescue anyone still alive. Questions?"
There were none. Without another word, she waved the men forward. They were no longer singing and standing tall. Each man was hunched low, moving as silently as a field mouse, dashing from brush to brush. Unfortunately, the tundra was not rich in hiding spots and provided little camouflage for the twenty-odd men. Even worse, and something Hammel was painfully aware of, it provided no protection from the air. If a dragon flew overhead it would spot them easily.
The tower was still quiet as they drew close, but now he could see the bodies. Some thirty feet away from the base lay the remains of a guard. His corpse was charred beyond recognition, limbs splayed out at every angle, and resting in a small crater that looked suspiciously like the body. Several others were visible, each burned or broken beyond recognition. Nothing was moving.
"Damn monster," a guard behind Hammel growled, "It's just like in the tales."
"If that's true," another stammered, "We can't fight it. It'll rip us to shreds!"
"Quiet!' Irileth snapped, her voice sharper than a razor's edge. "We'll move in and have a closer look. There's bound to be someone still alive. Move forward."
As they moved closer to the tower each man held his breath. It was an eerie silence, the kind Hammel had experienced only a handful of times and none of them pleasantly.
Knuckles whitening with fear, Hammel and the guards drew ever closer. The tower grew larger, crumbled features glaring down at them like an angry father readying his fist. Nimbly, Hammel sidestepped fallen rubble and charred bodies, moving toward the entrance without a sound. The wooden double doors had been burned away, leaving only an empty ash-covered portal. All was quiet except for the rustling of the wind and the heavy breathing of the man behind him.
That quiet was shattered in an instant.
Dashing from the tower, flailing his arms wildly in a "stop" motion, was a guardsman. His helmet was missing, face horrifically burned, and his orange uniform in tatters. Blood ran down his arms, flowing from a vicious gash near his elbow. The left side of his face had suffered the most, burnt beyond recognition, his hair had been incinerated and his left eye had swollen shut from burns. "What are you doing?" he cried. "Get to cover!" He glanced around wildly, as if terrified the dragon could materialise at any moment. "Abbaik tried to make a run for it," the panic in his voice was obvious. "He was snatched up before he made it a hundred yards."
An earth-shaking roar split the air around them and shook the earth beneath their feet. The survivor's head snapped in the direction of the sound and he cried out in fear. "Kynareth preserve us! Here it comes again!" The guard pulled an amulet of Kynareth out from around his neck and held it before him in a filthy hand.
Everyone turned toward the sound and felt the icy cold grip of fear on their hearts. Flying lazily towards them, the setting sunlight glistening off its dark scales was, indeed, the dragon.
The only one who seemed unafraid was Irileth. "You have bows men, what are you waiting for? Use them!" Her order cut through the haze of fear that had enveloped the guardsmen's minds and each responded with varying degrees of speed and skill. Bows were drawn, arrows notched and strings pulled tight. Still the dragon flew on, unimpressed by the raggedy band of soldiers and their tiny bows.
"Wait for my order," she commanded, hand held high. Despite his heart pounding in his ears, Hammel listened to Irileth, holding his arrow alongside the others. The dragon soared closer still, releasing another heart-stopping roar. "Steady," Irileth commanded, hand still held high. "Steady lads." The men with open-faced helmets bore looks of terror, their skin white with fear. Even the closed helmets couldn't hide the fear emanating from them.
Images flashed through Hammel's mind. The fires of Helgen, the screams of dying people and the roar of the dragon. It was too late to run, all that he could do was pray and hope his arrow struck true.
The dragon was close now, no longer a speck on the horizon but blocking out the sun as it filled the skyline. Its eyes gleamed with vile hatred and the desire to destroy. If the dragon got any closer, Hammel would be able to smell its breath.
Fortunately, Irileth didn't wait that long. "Loose!" she ordered while dropping her hand. With admirable precision, the guards fired, sending their arrows sailing towards the beast. Unfortunately, the results were less than spectacular. The dragon didn't even slow down, shrugging off the arrows like a man would raindrops. A few managed to punch tiny holes through the wings but most simply bounced off the dragon's armoured hide. The dragon let out another bone-chilling howl, before opening its maw wide.
Irileth yanked the light crossbow off her back and snapped off a defiant bolt before ordering, "Everyone find cover!"
Having already encountered a dragon once, Hammel knew what was about to happen. Flinging himself behind the sturdiest piece of rubble he could find, Hammel hunkered down as far beneath the stone as he could. He avoided the cone of fire by mere moments.
The dragon's flame struck the guardsmen like the fist of an angry god. One soldier was incinerated almost instantly, unable to scream as his body turned to ash. Two others were horrifically burned, falling back, tunics aflame and helmets melting as they howled in agony. The grass around them caught fire, blazing brightly against the dusky sky. Despite the stone between him and the flame Hammel felt like he was standing inside a smelter as the heat washed over him. Enormous drops of sweat rolled down his face, almost drying faster than his body could produce them.
Even with her men panicking and the dragon roaring overhead, Irileth maintained her composure. "Fire whenever you can!" She barked, reloading her crossbow. "We need to bring it down!"
Ignoring the screams of the dying men and pain in his own body, Hammel readied another shot. Pulling the bowstring back to his ear, Hammel took careful aim before launching his arrow. It struck the dragon in its enormous flank, finding a crack between scales and sinking in. However, if the dragon noticed the hit it didn't show it.
Swooping down faster than thought with hind legs extended, the dragon dived low, snatching up an unfortunate guardsman in its talons and flying away. Another ragged volley of arrows was equally ignored. With an almost contemptuous growl, the dragon dropped its victim. The guardsman fell, howling all the way, before slamming against the ground with a sickening crunch.
The guardsmen fired again to no avail. Hammel fired his own arrow, striking the beast in the left wing and punching a hole clean through the membrane. The trio of nearest guardsmen followed his example, aiming their shots for the left wing. Two of their three arrows struck true, slashing the tender membrane and raining droplets of blood on the ground below.
The dragon seemed to feel these wounds, roaring angrily before flying around the tower and out of sight. Hammel looked about furiously, trying to see the beast before the next pass, unfortunately, he was too late.
With a roar that shook the remaining stones of the tower, the dragon burst forth, shooting another cone of fire. Three more men were caught in it, burning away and dying in agony. Hammel was just at the edge of the blast, the fire licking his right side.
The pain was immense, scalding his skin, and blackening his leather armor. He shrieked, dropping his bow and falling to the ground. Flame danced across his breastplate and toward his helmet. Hammel rolled back and forth in the grass, ignoring both the roar of the dragon and the screams of dying men, desperately trying to smother the flames. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Irileth standing defiantly, firing another crossbow bolt into the beast's underbelly.
He was face down in the dirt, when a guardsman screamed, "Talos save us! The beast is landing!"
With the mighty roar the monster landed. One guardsman was unfortunate enough to be caught underneath the dragon's mighty foot and was crushed. The dragon snatched a second guardsman up in its mouth, swallowing the man whole in a single gulp.
Rising shakily to his feet, Hammel looked around in a panic for his bow. To his horror, he saw only charred remains, it had been caught in the same blast that almost cooked him. Hammel had been too busy saving himself from the flames to notice his weapon burning. Swords were all he had left.
Irileth yanked her own longsword free and pointed it at the dragon, calling her men to attack the creature. The order was suicidal but the men obeyed. They hadn't harmed it with arrows but now they had a chance. Swords, hatchets and greataxes were drawn as men screamed, rushing the dragon like a horde of ants.
The dragon seemed to mock their display of courage. Another blast of fire struck down the soldiers not fast enough to dodge. With a swipe of its mighty wing, the dragon scattered the front line, throwing men contemptuously aside. Still they pressed on. A guardsman swung his greataxe with all his might, burying the iron head deep in the dragon's leg. Another gripped his sword with both hands and stabbed viciously between the ribs. Irileth struck with the force of an enraged bear, blade carving a gash in the narrow strip of flesh between scales.
Knowing he couldn't stand idly by while the guardsmen went toe to toe with the legendary monster, Hammel whispered a hurried prayer to both Talos and Azura, drew his swords, and dashed towards the dragon.
The situation was oddly surreal. He was rushing towards a creature whose kind had once enslaved Tamriel, who had just reduced the mighty western watchtower to rubble. It would kill them all in the next few moments but his heart felt no fear. His hands were firm, and his will was iron. Whispering his vengeance to the darkening sky, Hammel dashed towards the dragon's rear.
Knowing the creature expected an attack on its legs and wings, Hammel did the unexpected. The dragon's massive tail hung low to the ground, unapproachable to the others. However, the dragon hadn't seemed to notice him. Rushing up behind the monster, Hammel made a straight run for the tail.
Azura must have been watching over him, because he reached it uncrushed. With a cry of, "For Skyrim!" He sunk both blades down to their handles in dragon flesh. The dragon howled, and smashed its injured tail into Hammel.
He was launched backward, leaving both blades embedded in the dragon's tail, slamming painfully into the ground. He felt his breath rushing away, body wracked with pain as stars floated before his eyes. Gasping air into battered lungs, Hammel forced himself to his elbows, glancing towards the battle.
Guardsmen were swarming over the dragon's legs and wings, hacking away with their weapons, bleeding the monster. Mangled and charred bodies littered the area, but the survivors fought doggedly on.
It seemed the dragon had had enough of ground combat and, with a mighty roar, took to the skies again. Its powerful wings beat back the guards with the force of a hurricane leaving more dead as it flew away.
"Bows men!" Irileth ordered, still alive much to Hammel's surprise, "We must bring the beast down again! On the ground we can kill it!"
Hammel's gaze fell upon the Kiss, his Dwemer dagger still belted on the underside of his arm. With both swords and bow gone, it was his only remaining weapon. Unfortunately, a dagger wouldn't be much help in these circumstances.
Then an idea struck him. It was so insane that if the Daedric Prince Sheogorath had appeared right at that moment and personally suggested it to him, Hammel wouldn't have been the least bit surprised. However, it was also just insane enough to work.
Drawing the Kiss with one hand and yanking off his helmet with the other, Hammel shouted, "Irileth, drive the dragon towards the tower! I've got an idea!"
Without a trace of hesitation, she ordered, "You heard him! Come on, send up a volley!" As guards scrambled to their bows, Hammel raced towards the tower as fast as he could, Kiss in hand, trying not to think about the sheer stupidity of his actions.
By the time he'd reached the tower's door, six men had found bows and had begun firing arrows. Hammel was halfway through the damaged archway as another two guards joined in the volley. Hoping it would be enough for his plan to work, Hammel took to the stairs.
Even with the tower crumbling, the stairs remained. Hammel ran upward, leaping over the missing steps, his heart pounding in his chest. The sounds of combat were interrupted by a mighty roar, the dragon calling vengeance down on the little men who had wounded it. Hammel ran, motions automatic and mind quiet. His whole purpose was reaching the watchtower's peak.
Reaching the uppermost platform, Hammel was greeted with a magnificent view. The city of Whiterun was sprawled out before him, the sun a blazing orange ball sinking in the west as the stars began to appear. The surviving men below him were fighting against overwhelming odds, nobley giving their lives for their city. The dragon was diving towards them, hugging as close to the watchtower as Hammel had hopped. It seemed the arrows had done their job.
Hammel waited until he could see the glint in the dragon's eye, he waited until the creature's wingtip brushed the stone, he waited until the moment felt right. Hammel took one last deep breath, cursed himself, and jumped.
It was a funny feeling, free falling with failure meaning certain death, and success almost certain death. The fatalism was oddly liberating. The wind whistled through his hair, the fading sunlight gleamed off the dragon's armoured hide.
His jump was both a success and failure. Hammel actually managed to land on the dragon's back. Unfortunately he miscalculated the timing, impaling his leg on one of the razor sharp spines running along the dragon's back.
Screaming in pain, Hammel held on grimly. If the dragon noticed his arrival, it gave no acknowledgment. Warm blood poured down Hammel's leg, staining his burnt leather a dull red. Every flap of the dragon's wings further jostled his impaled leg, shooting bolts of agony into him. Unfortunately, Hammel couldn't afford to rest because the guardsmen below needed him. Gripping the Kiss in his teeth, leaving both hands free, Hammel felt the wound. Fortune was with him because the spine had punched clean through, narrowly missing any bone. All that pinned him in place was a few inches of flesh, nerve, and self-preservation. He knew what he had to do but didn't want to.
Here we go. Azura damn it.
Biting down on the Kiss in an attempt to stifle the pain, Hammel grabbed his leg and pulled. His skin tore with a sound like ripping a sheet of parchment and a wave of excruciating pain washed over him. He felt warm blood gushing freely from the devastated leg as each nerve ending burned with pain. The world around him darkened, yet he held stubbornly to his consciousness. If he passed out, he would die.
Dagger still clenched in his teeth, Hammel took hold of a spine closer to the dragon's head, dragging himself painfully forward. The dragon's rough scales rubbed against his tattered leg. His eyes watered with pain, his body ached, yet he pressed on. Pulling himself forward, Hammel moved from spine to spine, trying desperately to make it to the dragon's head. Though the dragon flew and jostled him, Hammel held on. His will remained firm even as the strength drained from his body.
Finally, after what was no doubt a minute but felt like an eternity, Hammel was clinging grimly to the dragon's neck. The great beast had still not noticed him, but he certainly would.
"This plan seemed so much better in my head," Hammel mumbled as he spat the Kiss into his right hand. His left was wrapped around the dragon's last back spine, his battered body ready to make that near suicidal leap at the head. If all went according to plan, he'd wrap his free arm around the dragon's head and stab it repeatedly in the eye with the Kiss. The life-draining magic would heal his grisly wounds and simultaneously weaken the great beast. The combination of a blinded eye, confusion, and magical draining would hopefully cause the dragon to crash, allowing Hammel and the guardsmen to finish it off.
Hopefully I'll survive the landing.
Hammel took one deep breath, braced himself with his remaining good leg, gripped the Kiss tight, and launched himself forward.
It seemed the Nine were personally watching over him, because the first step worked. Hammel slammed onto the dragon's head, gripping its ear tightly with his free hand. Even as the dragon snarled and tried to shake him free from its head, Hammel put the second step of his insane plan into action. Gripping his dagger tightly, Hammel snarled with anger and pain, driving the Dwemer weapon deep into the dragon's massive eye. It exploded like an overripe orange, shooting gore in all directions.
The dragon dropped with a howl, the ruined eye spouting gore. Yanking his dagger free, Hammel stabbed the dragon again, driving the point into the soft flesh around the now decimated eye, and triggering the Kiss' enchantment.
Man and monster howled as one, the dragon's lifeforce painfully rekniting Hammel's tattered leg. Though a beast as great as a dragon had a mighty reserve of life-essence, the sudden loss, combined with the eye trauma, had the desired effect.
The dragon plummeted, howling its rage and anguish to the world. Hammel clung to it with all his desperate strength, the dagger still buried in the flesh. His mind was filled with hurried prayers to Azura and the Divines begging them to spare his life. His lungs and heart seemed to leap out of his chest as man and beast fell, shoving their way into his throat.
The ground rushed up to meet them. There was a deafening crack as several bones snapped on impact. The dragon's body ploughed through the dirt, uprooting trees and digging a deep trench. Hammel was flung from the dragon's head, slamming painfully onto the ground.
His head buzzed with pain, leg still raw. Groggily, Hammel pushed himself to his hands and knees, body swaying in agony. Nothing felt broken, though that hardly meant something wasn't.
I'm running on adrenaline, I need to check myself properly.
A roar originating from behind him, remindeding Hammel that the battle wasn't over. Fear did wonders for his body, driving him back to his feet in seconds.
Standing tall and spinning around, he realised the full danger of his situation. The rough landing had thrown him directly in front of the dragon's mouth. The view when he turned around was not pleasant.
He was standing squarely in the sights of the wounded beast, alone. Up close, the dragon seemed ever more terrifying than it had in the air. Its head was as big as Hammel's entire body and its remaining eye burned with hatred. The dragon clearly wanted nothing more than to consume him, body and soul, and he was right in front of it. As the dragon forced itself upward on its wings, Hammel glanced around desperately for a weapon. His swords had been lost in the creature's tail and the Kiss had fallen from his grasp when he'd been thrown off the dragon's back.
Azura blessed him with her luck because the body of a fallen guardsman, the shattered remains of a bow clutched tightly in his hand and a sword remaining in its sheath, was mere steps from him.
Hammel saw it but so did the dragon.
Without thinking, Hammel dashed towards the corpse, ignoring the screams of protest from his devastated leg. Simultaneously, the dragon snapped towards him in an attempt to swallow him whole. Throwing himself into a forward roll, Hammel felt the dragon's jaw snap overhead, gashing the air where he'd been an instant before. Mid-roll, he shifted his trajectory towards the left, dodging the blast of flame the dragon released as a follow-up attack. The heat singed his body, but left him unharmed.
In his state of pure defence, Hammel was vaguely aware of a woman howling for more arrows, yet he couldn't afford to give her any attention. The dragon also seemed to ignore them, focusing instead on the mortal with the gall to take the Dovah's eye.
Hammel leaped forward, narrowly dodging a bite that would have split him in two. The dragon was striking with the speed and precision of a powerful serpent, with only years of training, the monster's half-blindness, and insane luck had kept him alive.
Another agile movement brought Hammel to the body, the fallen warrior staring eternally towards the skies.
Thanks brother. A swift journey to Sovengarde for you.
Hammel pulled the sword free with a rasp of metal on leather. It was a cheap-looking weapon, made from crude iron with a handle bound in sheep skin, yet at that moment Hammel felt it was more beautiful than the finest Akaviri blade.
Gripping the sword firmly in both hands, Hammel pivoted as the dragon snapped forward. As the dragon's head snaked past, Hammel put all his pain and rage into the blow, cutting a deep swath in its neck, the two-handed strike staining the blade with dark blood.
Growling, the dragon swung its neck towards him, striking with the force of a falling cedar. This time Hammel was ready.
Dropping to his knees, he thrust the blade upward, puncturing the tender flesh of the dragon's neck. The dragon's momentum did the trick, the blade cutting a vicious stripe down the centre of its throat. Hot blood trickled down Hammel's neck and shoulders, he'd delivered a painful wound but not a lethal one.
Hammel was rolling again, the wounded dragon lashing out with a wing tip, clipping him. He kept moving forward, ignoring the pain. Rising to the other side of the dragon's head, Hammel launched another two-handed blow, cutting a small chunk of flesh from the dragon's face. Hammel dodged the retaliatory strike and scored another quick cut on the dragon's muzzle. He was leaving wounds all across the dragon's head. His dance was of death and pain, his blows growing stronger even as the dragon weakened. The continuous rain of arrows was having an effect now, the few remaining guardsmen contributing, but in Hammel's mind it was just him and the monster.
"Come on then, beast," he snarled between clenched teeth, blood dribbling from his bashed mouth, bubbling around his words. "Let's take our place in history."
Curiously, the dragon seemed to understand him, a hint of sorrow misting in its remaining eye before the blazing hate took over once again.
The dragon snapped forward, neck extended, teeth gnashing, as it had done before, breathing a gout of flame that would melt the walls of Solitude.
But Hammel was ready.
He side-stepped the mighty dragon, ignored the smothering heat, pain in a thousand places, ribs he was certain were cracked, and leg that was tattered like a ripped cape. He ignored the fatigue in his battered arms and his exhausted shoulders. With a scream of anger and defiance, Hammel raised his blade over his head with both hands and plunged it into the dragon's neck with all his strength.
The flame ended mid-burst, sword punching cleanly between scales, shredding the dragon's throat. Its eye grew dim as Hammel tore the blade free. With another roar, he plugged the blade down again, ramming it even deeper into the dragon's throat.
Iron punched through flesh, the cheap blade shattering and launching shards of metal all along the monster's throat. The dragon shuddered once and collapsed. The impact of its body shook the ground and knocked Hammel onto his back, his adrenaline finally giving out.
The dragon lay still. A moment passed, then something unexpected happened. A deafening sound, like a great wind, rushed throughout the area. The dragon's corpse shuddered before flashing a brilliant white. In an instant the corpse was stripped of flesh, muscle, skin, and nerve, leaving nothing behind but bones. It happened so quickly that Hammel couldn't believe his eyes.
However, the experience wasn't over. Suddenly he felt something, a great power washing over him, energy he couldn't see but surely felt, reaching into every corner of his being. His mind filled to the brim with a rush of memories that weren't his, words he couldn't understand, faces he didn't know. He collapsed to his knees, shutting his eyes tightly and grabbing his head in both hands, trying to expel the images from his mind. It was crushing him with its power and suddenness. Tears of pain leaked from his eyes, his mind battling the invading one.
Then, as quickly as it started, it ended, the images faded from memory, words all silent. All words but one. A word he had learned back at Bleak Falls Barrow.
Fus.
Instinctively he knew something about that word Fus, something he should have known before but didn't.
Fus, he felt an uncontrollable urge to speak it aloud.
Staggering to his feet, ignoring the onrush of guards gaping at the fallen dragon, Hammel faced the skeleton and shouted. "Fus!"
A shock-wave of energy ripped from his mouth, slamming into the skeleton with the force of a warhammer. The bones shifted and a tooth was knocked free from its mouth. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, men arguing about what this display meant. Hammel ignored them, retrieving the dragon's fang from the ground. It was as heavy as a dagger and razor sharp, still wet with human blood.
Raising the tooth high above his head, Hammel shouted, "For Skyrim!"
The surviving guards echoed his call proudly, "For Skyrim!" They shook their weapons and pounded their chests, screaming their victory for all Skyrim to hear. Hammel pumped the tooth again before the men, his heart filling with pride. They had done the impossible.
The cheer slowly changed as one man shouted, "Hail the Dragonborn!"
That comment stunned Hammel. Dragonborn? Him? As he attempted to ponder what the man had said, the strange rush of energy he'd felt upon the dragon's death vanished. A cloud of blackness swarmed his vision, dragging him downward, he was vaguely aware of another man shouting, "He must be Dragonborn!"
The men started chanting "DRAGONBORN! DRAGONBORN!" as he hit the ground and blackness consumed him.
Thousands of miles away, an old man's eyes suddenly snapped open. He was dressed in simple dark grey robes, the hood left down exposing his face to the elements. His features were weathered and wrinkled, hair and beard as grey as the robes blowing about in the fierce wind. He sat on a straw mat, legs tucked beneath him, meditating on the open-air tower. Snow covered his head and shoulders, coating his beard with little white flakes, yet he remained motionless.
His meditations had been interrupted. Something had happened, something he had not felt in many years. "Dovahakiin?" He breathed the word almost silent. His whisper was instantly swallowed up by the fierce winds of Skyrim, blowing away like the snowflakes.
He stretched out with his essence, feeling again for the power of the thu'um. It was there, beating faintly. "Dovahakiin." He said again, aloud this time, confirming to himself what he already knew.
The old man smiled, the snow on his face falling away due to the sudden movement. It had been many years since his heart had swelled as it did now.
A Dragonborn had come.