Chapter 11

The fire in the center of the main room at the Kynesgrove inn was cheery, as were the regular patrons of the inn. They had been scared by the dragon but were now drinking and singing because it was dead. Things were not as cheery at the table where the three of us sat, bottles of mead and plates of food in front of us, free and courtesy of the grateful innkeeper.

The shock at my revelation to Delphine had been too much for the grizzled warrior, and she had fainted. Since the inn was so close, and we needed to rest anyway after the battle, Lydia and I had carried her partway down the hill. She’d recovered enough to walk the rest of the way on her own with us supporting her, but she was still unsteady. We’d been hailed as heroes and then left alone to drink and recuperate.

“I don’t understand, Martina. Martin Septim died more than two hundred years ago.”

“That he did, as the living avatar of Akatosh. That’s how his statue still sits in the Imperial City. At least that’s one thing the Thalmor haven’t tried to destroy, for I think they know if they did that the populace would rise in rebellion. In any event, when he died, two Blades, the Grandmaster Jauffre, and another, Baurus, spirited my mother out of the Imperial City. There was too much unrest, and in spite of being his chosen bride and whom he considered his wife, their marriage had never been formalized in any of the Temples, even in what is now the Temple of Saint Martin in Bruma. They had planned for that after his coronation.”

I took a drink of mead. The chill from the frost breath of the dragon was finally starting to leave me. Potions of healing would restore physical injuries, they did nothing for how you felt inside. Which was fine with me, as the cold of the dragon breath matched the coldness of my words. “Obviously only the Imperial Council was fit to rule in the absence of a Septim Emperor. Just because she had risked her life numerous times, traveled to Oblivion, even helped battle Mehrunes Dagon himself, didn’t give her any right to take his place. She wasn’t Dragonborn herself, after all. And worse, from their perspective, she was pregnant with his child. That child WOULD be Dragonborn, even if the heraldry would be marked with the bar sinister.”

“So she had to flee the city. Sometime during that time, she was bitten by an elder vampire, and while the disease was cured, she still had some of the effects in her blood. Which was also, of course, my blood. While still recovering from that, she ended up in another realm, the Shivering Isles, the home of Sheogorath. Keep in mind that I was still not born yet. The true Daedric princes rule their realms absolutely, and are in control of everything there if they want to be. Including their bodies, and even time should they so desire it.”

Delphine looked puzzled. “Why would Lord Sheogorath care what happened to your mother?”

I laughed, one of the first true laughs I’d had in a long time. “Because due to some prophecy, and assorted things that I still don’t totally understand, she ended up taking his place.” At her look of horror, I nodded. “You grasp the issue. My father may have been Dragonborn in his own right, but before I was born, my mother ended up as ruler of the Shivering Isles and a Daedric princess, Lady of Her Realm.”

“Oh, holy shit.” Delphine muttered.

“Exactly. I came to Mundus to find my destiny. The Shivering Isles are ... not always a nice place. Safe enough for me, of course. But in a realm where madness is the norm, I didn’t quite fit in.”

“I don’t understand something. The events in the Imperial City at the end of the Oblivion crisis were two hundred years ago. You’re barely what, twenty-five at most?”

“As time is measured here on Mundus, a bit younger than that. Remember I said how the Daedric princes rule their realms? It may sound like heresy, but they are just as much gods as the Nine Divines. It’s just that they chose to not help create our world and the plane it resides in. Gods tend to do whatever they wish. Lord Sheogorath decided that he would be replaced, and for whatever reason of his own, he chose my mother to do it. She couldn’t be running around about to give birth, so he ... held it in abeyance. Then it took her years after taking his powers to figure out how to allow herself to birth me.”

“Even then, she was starting to be tinged with the madness that affected him. At times I would find myself fully grown, at others I would be a swaddling babe again. I’ve practiced and learned many skills, mastered most magics, and learned how to use nearly all weapons from masters and mistresses of them. Yet I knew I couldn’t stay there. So I received a set of weapons and armor, and with my skills and magic fully ready, left home.”

“Keep in mind that during her time helping Martin find everything he needed to defeat Mehrunes Dagon on Nirn, my mother had acquired many ... toys. Mythical artifacts from all over Cyrodiil. And I’d heard her stories. I’ve visited Bravil, seen the empty Crypt of the Night Mother of the Dark Brotherhood. I’ve stood at the ruins of the Priory of the Nine, seen the desecrated crypts that once held the greatest heroes of their age. The Imperial City, where the Temple of the One still stands, with the statue of Akatosh – my father – in the middle. I’ve been to Bruma, where the only reason Thalmor haven’t torn the Great Chapel of Talos to the ground is because it’s now the Temple of Saint Martin. And I’ve dug through the ruins of Cloud Ruler Temple, seeking clues as to what I am and what I need to be.”

My face probably looked bleak as I continued. “I met Ulfric Stormcloak in the Jerall Mountains. Very possibly near where you say the dragons began coming back to life. Ended up stuck in a wagon, and facing execution with him. That may be why I’m crippled.” Delphine looked puzzled. “Oh, not physically, my limbs are intact. But up here.” I tapped the side of my head.

“I knew every spell imaginable. Given the tools and materials, I could craft any weapon known. Give me the ingredients, and I could make any potion you desired. I was fearless as a fighter, as none could get through my defenses. Now? The breath of that dragon nearly froze me to death. I can still swing a sword, but my skills are as a novice. I know I used to have dozens of spells at my fingertips, now I have to find spell books to study to learn even the simplest ones.”

“I came here to find my destiny. I’m not sure what I’ve found.” I slumped in the seat, my voice low.

From next to me, I heard Lydia softly say, “You’ve found love.”

Delphine seemed to have not heard her, or perhaps she did and choose not to comment. “This can’t be a coincidence. You enter Skyrim and lose your powers, and the dragons begin coming back to life. The only power or skill you don’t have to relearn is that of the Dragonborn, because that’s in your blood. I thought the Thalmor would be our best lead in figuring out who’s behind the dragons, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Why them?”

“Nothing solid. But my gut tells me it can’t be anybody else. The Empire captured Ulfric. The war was basically over. Then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on. Dragons are attacking everywhere indiscriminately. Skyrim is weakened, the Empire is weakened, and you, the one who could have ended it easily if you were as strong as you say, are weakened. Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?’

Lydia spoke up. “So, we need to find out what the Thalmor know about the dragons. Any ideas?”

“If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy, I bet we’d find out, it’s the center of their many operations here in Skyrim. Problem is, that place is locked up tighter than a miser’s purse. They could teach me a few things about paranoia. I have a few ideas, but I’ll need some time to pull things together. Meet me back in Riverwood. If I’m not back when you get there, wait for me. And keep an eye on the sky, this is only going to get worse.”

“We can do that. I probably ought to stop and give the Greybeards this horn, anyway. But before you go, a few more questions, if I may.”

“I told you, I’ll hold nothing back.”

“When mother ... left ... Cyrodiil, there was peace and the Imperial Council was running things, albeit poorly. What happened?”

“The war between the Thalmor and the Empire happened thirty years ago. And Emperor Titus Meade made a treaty to end it with the White-Gold Concordat, a peace treaty. But that treaty allows the Thalmor to trample the sacred name of Talos throughout the Empire. And it cost the Empire nearly all of the Blades as well. We believed that if we found another Dragonborn, we’d need to protect him against the Thalmor, and so we fought them. But they smashed us, and for nearly thirty years I’ve stayed alive and taken revenge when I could. But then the dragons returned.”

She sat up straighter, with even more purpose than before. “And I remembered that the Blades used to be dragonslayers. And that we were sworn to protect the Dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer of all. That is you, my liege.” She rose from the table. “I will do what I can, as quickly as I can.” The smile on her face belied her age. “As I told you before, I have to make things happen behind the scenes. I’ll see you soon.”

Delphine started to get up from the bench. I placed my hand on my arm, stopping her. She looked in my eyes with a questioning look. In a very low voice, I asked, “What did you call me?”

Her face was untroubled by her next words. “Lydia already called you by your proper title. Oh, especially in public she should continue to refer to you as merely her Thane. But now to me as well, you are my liege. You are a true Septim, a true Dragonborn. Whether others recognize it or not, it is your birthright to be Empress. Because you are who you are, I may not be able to protect you as I wish I could, but I will serve you and your line as the Blades always have. Now forgive me, but I must go.”

Delphine left us, hurrying out the door and back to the road. I looked at Lydia. “How are your legs feeling, dear? Ready for another run up to High Hrothgar?”

Lydia looked troubled. “I am but a simple Nord shield-maiden, a housecarl. What I, what we ... Your Majesty, what am I to do?”

“Here now, we’ll have none of that. If for no other reason than technically my father never did formally get to claim the throne, but that’s good enough for now. As for what you are to do? The same as you have, our relationship has not changed. You are my shield-maiden, my housecarl, my friend, my lover. Nothing has changed since yesterday. Oh, I’m sure that when we take this horn up to High Hrothgar, they’ll have some kind of ceremony. Big deal. What some old men think of me matters far less than you.”

“But they’re the Greybeards, masters of the Voice!”

I smiled. “If they’re so good at it, then how is it I can speak and understand more of the dragon language than they do? Come on, we’ve a long walk ahead of us.”

We left the inn. Our walk back to Windhelm was at a considerably slower pace then our hurried rush from there. Based upon the updated map I’d received from Delphine, that was the closest bridge across the river. I knew that once across the river, the road on that side would end up leading us back to Ivarstead.

As we crossed the river, I could see a statue of Talos high on a peak, looking towards the city of Windhelm. It seems there were places the Thalmor feared to go to stamp out his worship after all. The road followed the river. Several structures were visible as we followed the road, but we didn’t leave it. Instead, I spent time picking assorted flowers. Finally Lydia could restrain herself no more. “My Thane, why are you picking those flowers and those other things?”

“Remember I said I knew how to make potions? Mountain flowers, Dragons tongue, jazeby grapes, creep cluster – all valuable ingredients for alchemy. It may look like I’m simply a girl wandering along picking pretty flowers. I assure you there’s more to it.”

That answer satisfied her. We passed by a mill shortly thereafter, but didn’t bother the workers. I was hoping to make Ivarstead before dark. A couple of wolves crossed our path and found their demise. Shortly thereafter a squad of Imperial soldiers escorting a prisoner passed us as well. Other than that, our walk to Ivarstead was peaceful. It was late afternoon when we arrived in town. We grabbed a very quick bite of food, and headed up the mountain. Since we knew the path, it was, relatively speaking, a quick climb, only taking a few hours.

The sun had fallen and I realized that we would, whether they wanted us to or not, be spending the night with the Greybeards. Lydia might be somewhat immune to the cold. My Imperial blood was not. I opened the door to the monastery. The Greybeards were going about their evening meditations, and I tracked down Arngeir.

“Ah, you’ve retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. You have passed all the trials. Come, it is time for us to formally recognize you as Dragonborn.” He led me to the meeting hall, where the other three Greybeards had gathered. “You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force, DAH, which means push.”

Wulfgar gave a small shout at the floor, as before when they had taught me a word. I could read the dragon tongue, absorbing the word into my being. “Master Wulfgar will now share his knowledge of DAH with you.” Again, the Greybeard opened his arms and I could feel the magic flow from him to me.

“Stand between us, Dragonborn. We would speak to you in the dragon tongue. You can withstand this.” They began speaking to me in dragon tongue, the words of power shaking me, yet not disturbing me. And I could understand them as well. This continued for some time, as this formal ceremony continued. Three times they spoke a phrase to me, three times I could feel the power of their voices, yet nothing happened.

Arngeir spoke again to me. “Dovahkiin, you have tasted the voices of the Greybeards and come through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you.”

“So what was that all about? It felt like you were shouting at me.”

“We spoke the traditional words of greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted our guidance. The same words were used to greet the young Talos, when he came to High Hrothgar, before he became the Emperor Tiber Septim.”