Those Whom the Gods Forsake - Chapter 19

• Posted by Accursed February 28, 2016 - 997 views

  Chapter 19: A Dragon's Son

  I must say, this undead thing was much easier to kill than the one I had gotten the Staff from. It was weaker, and this time I had brought a small army. It was quickly overwhelmed by my men, and we found the tablet we had came for in its crypt. We noticed a way out through a door that is hidden from the other side, and we continued out of the ruin to find ourselves just east of Riverwood. We took a shortcut through Brittleshin Pass and heard a loud rumbling as we passed through the middle of the mountains. We scrambled out quickly, fearing a collapse of the tunnel, and came out the other side next to the road, which we followed along in the direction of Whiterun.

  Almost instantly, we saw smoke rising ahead of us, from the location of an old watchtower. We jogged up to it, the smoke burning our lungs and stinging our eyes. Scorch marks littered the stone tower and the surrounding area, and a good number of guards had been bitten in two or severely wounded. We rounded a turn and saw it: a dragon.

  Well, it's skeleton. Not exactly the whole dragon.

  Parts of its flesh were sizzling and falling off the bones, releasing the stench of rotted eggs. A contingent of guards stood around the felled beast, lead by Irileth, Balgruuf’s personal guard. With them was a young Imperial boy in armor too big for him and awkwardly holding a sword. He was short, even for his kind, and had not yet begun to grow facial hair. His eyes were of a pale blue, his hair a dark brown. He was not well-muscled, nor did he appear particularly brave. In fact, he smelled quite strongly of burnt hair and urine.

  “It's you! It has to be! The Dragonborn…”

  “Him? Look at him, Jornfief! He’s barely a man!”

  “Shut it Leifson. This boy will save us all. You all saw how he absorbed the dragon’s power.”

  The guards nodded, a few stray “Ayes” among them. Irileth grunted in amusement and marched up to the front with Jornfief and Leifson.

  “I don't know about this ‘Dragonborn’ business, but anyone who can face a dragon and live is man enough for me. Get back to your posts in the city.”

  The guards murmured and shuffled back to the city, taking their last glances at the remains. Irileth and the ‘Dragonborn’ stayed behind, and their focus turned towards us.

  “You’d better get back to the Jarl, then. Farengar had been whining like a milk-drinker that he didn't get that stone before the dragon appeared.”

  I waved it off.

  “What's happened here?”

  Irileth motioned to follow her as we walked back to the city. She grabbed the kid by the arm to make him keep pace.

  “Dragon showed up not long after you left. Cidius here was reporting back after scouting Helgen and following the dragon in the mountains. When we got the news of the dragon appearing the Jarl thought it best for Cidius to come with the guard, as he had observed the dragons. When it died, he absorbed some kind of power, then a few moments later there was a loud shout from the Throat of the World. And that's all that's happened.”

  Cidius was staring at me in amazement. It was unnerving, to be fixated on by one who was so much younger.

  “How old are you?”

  He blurted out, instantly looking embarrassed after shouting the question.

  “I think the question should be; how old are you?”

  “Seventeen… sir? Lord? You look like a lord.”

  I sighed as we approached the city gates.

  “I am not a lord, not until my father dies. I am seventy-seven. Actually, what day is it?”

  Valund thought for a moment before replying.

  “The twenty-first of Frostfall.”

  I clapped my hands.

  “Ah! I will have seen my seventy-eighth season tomorrow morn.”

  Cidius stared at me wide-eyed.

  “And how old is your father?”

  “347. And before you ask, no, he was not at Crystal Tower during the Oblivion Crises.”

  “Crystal Tower? What's that?”

  I looked at him in abject horror, then continued to walk up to Dragonsreach.

  Farengar nearly exploded with anger for not returning sooner. Many of his words were unintelligible, much of it being yelled in Altmeris. It was refreshing to hear the language spoken again, but not with the words “bastards” and “teat-suckling vermin”. After he calmed down and apologized, he looked over the stone, quickly realizing it wouldn't have helped anyway; it was just a map of burials. At this he simply tossed it abstractly on his desk, folding yet more ancient texts, and stomped off to his private study.

  The Jarl himself apologized for the wizard’s actions and took me aside to the upper levels of the palace. Cidius and Irileth were standing around a table, awaiting the Jarl and I.

  “The Dragonborn, eh? That would explain the Greybeards and their shouting.” Said the Jarl after some explanation. “But you? You're hardly more than a boy!”

  “I am not familiar with this tradition,” I followed with. “yet I am inclined to agree with the Jarl. You should not ascend the sacred mountain by yourself. There may be dangers along the road.”

  Irileth agreed and promised to find the best guards in Whiterun to assist Cidius, but the boy protested.

  “No. If I'm to be climbing the tallest mountain I want someone experienced to guide me. I want him.”

  He pointed to me.

  “Cidius, I have my own duties, among them my two sons. I cannot accompany you.”

  “Then I won't go.”

  I crossed my arms and started toward the stairs.

  “How old are you? Act your age and handle your responsibilities.”

  The Jarl put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around.

  “Caranthir, it's what the boy wants. Let's not upset the Dragonborn, eh?”

  I breathed deeply and uncrossed my arms.

  “Fine. I'll take the boy up to the monastery. He can find his own way down, though.”

  Irileth shook her head at me from across the room, and the Jarl noticed it too. He glared at her to make sure she said nothing and went to see us outfitted more properly for a mountain path.

  When we had a moment where Cidius was out of earshot, I asked to speak with the Balgruuf.

  “You should know I am not comfortable with this. A Nordic temple dedicated to this ‘Jurgen Windcaller’ and Talos? Not exactly a welcoming site to an Altmer.”

  “It isn't like that. The Greybeards have no religions, no politics. All they have is the mountain and the Voice. You'll be okay.”

  “But what of the rest of the populace? Will they be so happy to let me travel the 7,000 Steps?”

  “I trust you. The boy cannot die. Get him up there, and all will be fine.”