Chases-The-Wind
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The beast was denied its kill and growled at me, the denier. I was dwarfed by the dragon in all dimensions, yet we stood as rivals on equal ground. We were predators of a kind.
“Losei Dovahkiin? Hi orin lost vrii!” It spoke. “I reject you as dovah, mortal.”
Xehtasken called for blood. I freed the blade from its confinement.
“I am no dovah,” I hissed. “I am death. If you seek it, step forward.”
The dragon took to the air. Confidence, it seemed, was not a function of size. It flew away above the storm to plan and prepare. I snorted and turned about to the Dunmer, wounded but still alive to my relief. I had feared I would not make it in time.
“Stand up,” I said, lending her my arm. “There… You’ve been injured. Are you alright?” The woman beheld me, blood trickling down her jawline. Her visage prompted a pricking beneath my scales. Gaunt face, small chin, angled red eyes…
I felt as though I had seen her before. The woman was native to Morrowind, I was almost certain of that. Dunmer age slowly and I rarely forget a face. Was it possible…?
“Who are you?” she whispered, with quiet intensity.
“One who desires to help,” I said. I placed a hand on the wounded back of her head. She did not object as my healing spell stopped the bleeding. Deafening winds besieged my ears. There was a man picking himself up off the ground a few yards away. The Dark Elf looked at him as he shuffled over to us.
“Reinhardt,” she sighed with a smile of solace.
The Nord froze and gawked at me.
“You!”
I stared back. “Me?”
“Chase!” Dar-Meena called out. She had finally caught up on the road.
“Dar-Meena, watch the skies!” I called back. “It’s still here somewhere!”
There were a group of others as well, two men and a woman with blond hair out across the turf. I saw many bodies, the carnage that preceded my arrival. A great anger rose in me. If I had been mere minutes faster…
“You used their magic,” the Dunmer said, withdrawing from my presence. “The words, the dash of wind… all the same…”
I looked at her askew. “The same?”
“It’s him, Falura!” the man named Reinhardt whooped. “I told you! I told you he was an Argonian!”
I clutched Xhetasken and swung a hard look between the Nord and elf. “What is this? Why do you care what I am?” I spoke to neither in particular. They were each sweaty and marked with dirt. Dar-Meena came beside me, panting, and held the duo with a sneer.
“And who are you two supposed to be?” she said.
“I’ve a feeling we will soon find out,” I murmured.
“Eh? What’s this?” Reinhardt wiped his brow. “There’s two of ‘em?”
The elf named Falura twisted a ring on her finger. “I did not foresee this either…”
“Hey, lizards. You here to help us slay a dragon?”
Dar-Meena looked up at the dark sky. “Where is the dragon?”
“It’s hiding above the storm,” Falura replied, following Dar-Meena’s gaze.
Is it? Something did not feel right. I welled up a Thu’um.
“Laas… Yah Nir!”
Aura Whisper consumed my vision, revealing the glow of life forms all around me. The Greybeards had taught me the remaining two words, which could extend the Shout’s range of effect by a mile. I looked at the clouds and drew a sharp breath.
“No it’s not!!” I yelled, pivoting around. I saw a large glowing mass quickly getting larger. The dragon swooped over a wall of mountain rock at our rear and flew toward us, fast.
“Falura!” Reinhardt exclaimed.
“I see it!” the Dunmer cried.
She raised her hand and flicked a thumb off her enchanted ring, producing a ward. I brought my own ward up beside hers as the others fell in line. Our combined shields deflected the scorching onslaught of the dragon’s Thu’um.
I watched the monster soar away. It was not the dragon Dar-Meena and I had seen. Its scales were a dull copper color.
“The black dragon!” I snapped at the others. “Where is it? Speak quickly!”
“Gone,” Reinhardt answered.
I glared. “Can you be more specific?”
“It flew off,” Falura elucidated. She seemed anxious to speak, pointing at a strange stone mound in the middle of the turf. “You must listen to me. The black dragon came here for that burial mound! The creature you see flying now was dead moments ago!”
My eyes widened. Embers in the grass around us blew away with the wind.
“Dead?”
“Yes, dead! That black dragon is the cause, the reason all the others are returning! It’s resurrecting dragons systematically across Skyrim!”
Her words were like a thunder strike. Something transpired here that I sorely needed to hear about. Sadly my questions would have to wait. Dar-Meena and I had come to this village to rescue its inhabitants, to help them escape the black dragon’s siege. Since that no longer appeared necessary, a change of objective was in order. It was time to kill my third dragon.
“Dar-Meena, take these two away from here and lay low,” I hissed. “This fight is mine.”
The thief’s fuming retort was cut off by the Nord’s.
“That’s not how this works,” Reinhardt scoffed. “Give me victory or Sovngarde, but we fight this dragon together!”
I gave the man a fleeting backward glance. “Then you will have keep up with me,” I said, breaking into a run.
The wyrm was moving to attack the other survivors, drifting below the tempest above. Dark clouds had begun to slowly disperse. There was nothing maintaining the storm anymore. I intercepted the dragon’s flight path and unleashed the first Thu’um I learned, which I could now call by name: Unrelenting Force.
“FUS… RO!!!”
Two words were sufficient. I held back the third to conserve my Voice. The ring of force that burst from my mouth upset the dragon’s flight. It passed overhead without Shouting at us, its opportunity thwarted.
One of the men I saved spoke an exclamation. “By all I hold sacred... that's a Shout! Just like the dragon!” He was a Stormcloak, carrying an iron sword and scorched wooden shield. His companion shared an astonished expression, hefting a heavy battleaxe. They looked weary, signs of shock and trauma. I remembered the bodies. These men had lost friends.
“I’ll be damned!” the woman with them spoke softly. “They were right…!”
I stopped and studied her, eyes drawn straightaway to her weapon. An Akaviri Katana. I had only ever seen one other in my lifetime. They originate from the distant land of Akavir, a continent to the east of Tamriel beyond the Padomaic Ocean. She carried the sword with a grip of hardened expertise. It was an extension of herself, a statement about who she was. That katana carried weight.
“All you all so enraptured by this one?” I hissed. “Flee from here if you value your lives!”
The woman was unyielding, her expression turning sour. “I’m not leaving until we bring this dragon down,” she growled.
I growled back. “If that is your desire, so be it. Do not stand in my way.”
There was a sharpness to her presence that I found disquieting. She wore leather traveling gear, carried a sword and crossbow, and could shoot an angry stare with vicious hostility. I may as well have seen my own reflection.
“We’ve got to attack the dragon when it lands,” she said. “I can distract it while–”
“It will not land unless it wants to,” I interrupted. “The monster believes itself safe in the sky. We need to alter that way of thinking.”
The woman gave me a look of suspicion. “You have a way to do that?”
“Watch.”
I had what seemed at the time a stroke of cunning. The dragon circled toward us, readying a Thu’um. “YOL…” My thoughts quickened. The others jumped aside to evade the wyrm’s breath. Instinct told me to do the same, but I clutched Xehtasken and readied a ward spell. “…TOR SHUL!!!”
I let gravity tip my body back, front facing the dragon at an upward angle.
“WULD!!!”
Whirlwind Sprint hurled me in that direction. My ward pushed through the dragon’s fire as I ascended at an arc, peaking just beneath its altitude. I swung my sword overhead and slashed through the dragon’s belly in the air. It flew off, bellowing in rebuff. I tried to land feet first. I was… marginally successful. A badly bruised arm and a few seconds of heavy breathing on the ground encouraged me to reconsider my ‘cunning.’
At least it worked.
Dar-Meena was running to me, yelling from afar. “Idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself!?” I was still deciding whether that stunt had been worth the risk, but my answer to her would have probably been, “I think so.”
This was my reply instead: “Stay back!”
The dragon banked hard and landed sideways in front me. I sprang away as it swung its tail, feeling a mild panic at the sight of its barbed tip whirling past my face. Ground fighting suddenly seemed a poorer strategy. I skirted around the dragon, biding seconds for my Voice to return. The dragon used these seconds to unleash its own Voice upon me.
“FAS… RU MAR!!!”
The Shout was strong, too strong for my ward to block. It broke through. Dismay fell upon me like a pile of stones, threatening to crush me under its weight. The sensation seemed to come from a place out of my own nightmares. Cries of panic filled my thoughts, a thousand voices screaming all at once, begging me to end the struggle and succumb to terror.
I smothered them. With a shake of my head I refocused, snarling at the angry dragon. Illusion magic. Petty tricks. If the Zanxhu-Loh could have been defeated with fear spells, we would not have survived our days of bloodletting. Fear kills the mind, but it is not itself a killer. We were the killers – assassins of a new order – and fear was our greatest weapon.
Our teachers trained us to embrace it, washed us in it like an ocean’s tide, in and out, again and again. Some hatchlings were swept away. They perished. The rest of us emerged transformed. We were not numbed to the cold waters of fear; we still felt their sting. But we learned how to swim against them, in shallows or submerged. We could think no matter the terror, move no matter the dread.
I let the voices scream as I went for the kill.
“WULD!!!”
I dashed to strike the dragon’s wing, to ground it, but I wasn’t fast enough. I slid to a halt in a dust cloud. The beast flew away and I roared in frustration. It kept flying and landing repeatedly, exhaustingly. How much longer could the dragon persist before fatigue settled in? I refused to let it escape. My chance to strike would come soon enough.
All of a sudden a fireball scorched the monster’s wing in flight. The elf woman Falura had acquired a destruction staff. Unexpected. Fire, however, appeared to have little effect on the dragon. It touched down to retaliate.
Xhuth, no! My Voice was still returning to me. I had only my feet to close the distance. They moved so slowly, it riled me. I was faster than this! I could dash on the wind! A white-blue Shout hurled at Falura, blocked by her ward. With alarm I realized the dragon’s Voice could recover faster than mine. The Nord Reinhardt stood by the Dunmer; the two fought to hold their own.
I felt it then. Full breath. Whirlwind Sprint sent me flying to the dragon, sliding under its wing with the force of momentum. I rose and felt friction, hilt in both hands, sword dragging across the side of the dragon’s face.
“Leave them alone!” I hollered. “This one is your foe! No one else!!” Though I voiced a demand, it was truly a plea. I had become more powerful, more capable than I ever dreamed possible. I had no excuse. If I could not protect these people now, I was unworthy to wear the mantle of Dragonborn.
Getting in close had been a grave error, as the beast knocked me aside with a toss of its head, smearing the blood of its fresh wound on my chest. I fell on my back and reached for my crossbow. A hasty trigger pull sent a steel-tipped bolt ramming up the dragon’s nostril. It roared with a very visible expression of pain.
More arrows struck it. Dar-Meena had arrived. Both she and Reinhardt were landing easy shots on the wyrm, forcing it to ascend once again. Even a creature as mighty as a dragon could only tolerate so many arrows in its skull. My nictitating membranes blocked dirt and dust from entering my eyes. As the debris settled, the Nord warrior approached me lying on the ground.
“Close one there!” Reinhardt said with a smirk, extending his hand. Reluctantly I grabbed it. He pulled me up with a strong jerk. This man is strangely chipper, I thought to myself.
“We must ground the dragon,” Falura implored, leaning unsteadily on her staff. “This fight can’t go on!”
“I can climb atop its head,” I hissed. “My blade… One thrust is all I need…”
Reinhardt made a face. “So what are we supposed to do?”
“We’re the support, idiot!” Dar-Meena barked, directing him to me. “He’s the dragon killer! Our job is to help him win!”
“I do not want your help!” I angrily replied. “I want you safe!”
“We’ll be safe when the dragon is dead,” Falura spoke in a strict tone.
“Argh, damn that beast!” the Nord said, clenching his fists. “If I still had my sword…!”
“Find another one!” Dar-Meena snapped. “Can’t you see the dead bodies lying around?”
The bodies. Even in the cold winds of the dying storm, I could smell their rot. I wanted nothing more than to see the dragon count among their number, feeling violent desire in me. Yet a small sharp voice spoke in my mind’s ear.
Stop these thoughts! You do not fight for bloodlust! Remember why you’re here!
The dragon flew down to the village of Kynesgrove. We heard it land with a thud.
“What’s it up to now?” Reinhardt jeered.
“The monster grows tired,” I said, reloading my crossbow. “We have worn it down. It is risking a moment of rest.”
Falura called and waved to the blond woman. “Delphine!” She and the other Stormcloaks were heading to the road leading back to the village.
“This could be our chance!” Delphine exclaimed. “Come on!”
Everyone was leaving except for me and Dar-Meena.
“Chase, don’t just stand there!” The young thief urged me on. I gazed out at the brightening skyline, where the storm’s clouds had begun to depart.
“Stay with the others,” I said. “I’m going a faster way.” Whirlwind Sprint gave me a strong head start. My legs touched the ground and I took off, running for the edge of the rocks overlooking Kynesgrove. Dar-Meena yelled something to let me know she was mad. I scaled down slants of boulders, taking extra care to watch for vertical drops. The thatched buildings of the village were drawing closer. And so was the dragon, watching me from a field of crops.
“YOL!!!”
A dense breath of fire flew up the hill. It was slow and easy to avoid, though its size was problematic. The dragon fired off single words as rapidly as it could. I jumped and weaved through clouds of flame hurling toward me, blocking them with boulders, trees and wards as I raced down the slope without stopping. My feet were slick with snow.
It is directing all of its fire on me, I realized. Does it not see the others? Or is it that desperate to stop me? Truthfully told, I was content either way.
I dropped off a final overpass and landed in a roll. The dragon and I stood face to face, just as we had at the start of our battle. My offer of death remained unchanged. I took a step. The dragon backed up, canines exposed, eyes burning with fury.
“Are you afraid of me?” I spoke calmly, belying an assassin’s glare.
It breathed heavily through its nostrils.
“Your Voice is strong... for a mortal…”
Xetahsken demanded blood. In futile attempt the dragon tried to burn its breath of flame through my ward. I could feel my magicka draining, but I was unconcerned. I had the upper hand. These were the dragon’s last moments. I spoke Unrelenting Force, narrowing its cone with sharp pronunciation.
“FUS… RO DAH!!!”
It hit the dragon’s jaw like a hard swung fist, causing it to stumble aside. Its wing almost slapped me as I tried to get near. We danced about. It kept me at bay. The dragon ensured it had a limb it could strike with between us at all times, well aware of the finality my sword would bring. My back was at a mountain and my face was to the village. Just as the wyrm prepared another Shout, it bellowed a growling roar of agony. The dragon twisted its head around, seeing the barbed end of its tail chopped off.
“Hey! You’re not gonna miss this, are ya?” Reinhardt mocked, holding a bloodstained battleaxe in his hands.
The wyrm rotated its body. A fireball from Falura met its face, the side wounded by my sword. It must have stung fiercely. I ran. Arrows pierced its wing. Dar-Meena was a fast shot. The Stormcloaks joined in with their bows, adding to the flurry of missiles overwhelming the dragon. It was losing strength to fight back. Delphine fired her crossbow. I fired mine and abandoned it to shed weight, taking long strides, reaching out to grasp a scaly handhold.
With a high jump I vaulted to the top of the dragon’s head. There were no horns to hold on to. I had to be swift. I balanced myself and singled a spot atop the dragon’s head, pulling back my skyforge steel blade to plunge.
“It’s over!” I roared.
The wyrm beat its wings. I slipped.
Xehtasken fell out of my hands. By some instinct I grabbed on to the dragon’s neck, legs draping off the side. My sword became smaller and smaller as the beast ascended higher with each wing stroke. I heard my name being shouted.
Then the dragon started gliding.
How long did I cling to that monster? A few seconds, perhaps. It struggled to gain altitude, taking us both back to the dragon mound. The wyrm flew at a far cry from its top speed. But this was flight. True flight. Wind blasting in my face, world around me in motion. My stomach lurched as the dragon turned sharply. Some manner of force pressed me against the dragon despite it flying at a tilt. I gripped tighter, trying to kick with my legs, boots scraping scales. I fought to keep from falling into the terrifying blur of land beneath my dangling tail.
At last I heaved myself up onto the beast. It had a plan.
“WULD…”
The whiplash of its Whirlwind Sprint would throw me away. I would plummet to my death. I had no weapons. I was a pest clinging to its neck. Wings spanned wide, the dragon reached the edge of the turf, overlooking the village, and pulled up.
Its plan would have worked.
“…NAH–”
If not for mine.
“…RO DAH!!!”
My Thu’um slammed down mightily upon the beast’s head. Its upward pull became a downward plunge. The dragon crashed into a copse, impaling a pine tree in its chest, before it plowed straight into the ground and down the snowy hill. The impact threw me off to the side in a backward summersault. A massive wing brushed over me. There was a crunching of bone as the monster rammed snout-first into a rock shelf.
I slid to a stop on my back, staring up at clear skies, arms and legs spread out in the snow. A tree creaked and snapped somewhere back up the slope. Its fall filled the silence. Powdered snowflakes began settling on my nose. I think my collar bone was broken.
I laughed.
It is not surviving that… Nothing could survive that…
Still, feeling cynical anxiety, I hunched up to check. The dragon laid motionless, head smashed against the rocks, wings sprawled out. Blood was leaking from a broken pine trunk lodged in its torso. Dead. It was definitely dead. I resumed lying down, happily covered in cuts and bruises, casting a healing spell to ease my pain.
Yes… This is good… This is fine… I will lay here for a while…
The dragon was dead and the others were safe.
There was no urgency…
…
…
…
…I smell something burning…
I bent my eyes down as far as they would go. There were embers drifting in the breeze. The dragon’s corpse was starting to combust. I closed shut my eyes and groaned.
Kaah, waxuuthi… I dislike this part…
In an act not of my volition, I absorbed the dragon’s soul.
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Comments
I love the way how you make Chase counter the dragon with these shouts, especialy with Whirlwind Sprint.