---Sun's Dawn, 8th, 4E 201---
Thousand Septims? For this? I’ll get a steed more befitting for half worth at Riften." Demanded the traveler, studying the horse, slightly stroking its dense mane.
"Then you'd better take your coin there." Skulvar retorted casually, gazing blankly to the distance.
"Come now brother, lend a hand to a fellow Nord?"
"I wouldn't care if you were my dead father, the Nine bless his soul. Thousand, no less, no more." Skulvar said with finality, as his gaze fell upon a familiar figure in the distance.
The morning sun rose shyly across the horizon, hugging the foot of the colossus that was the Throat of the World. Whiterun’s clouds gladly bathed in the golden sunrays, to the backdrop of azure blue. Nimriel was already out on Pelagia farm, tending to her cabbages, taking in the sense of morning’s delight.
"Morning, Nimriel." A familiar voice greeted her.
"Yvienne!" Nimriel spun around, as she jumped over the wooden fence to greet her friend.
"Careful there woman." The two women embraced, giving Yvienne's being a much needed ease.
"It feels so good to see you." Nimriel sighed.
“You too Nim. Severio treating you well, I gather.” Yvienne remarked, noticing the glow on Nimriel’s face.
“Yes, Severio’s a sweetie.” Blushed Nimriel. Lucky Bosmer.
It didn’t take long for Nimriel to notice the tired look on Yvienne's face. "What was it this time?" she asked with concern.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Nim." Yvienne unconvincingly replied.
"Fine but..."
"No buts Nim. Tell you what, why don't you fix me your exceptional venison roast for dinner, I'll completely satiate your worrying mind. Now, I really must rest with a belly full of Hulda's divine mead."
"As you wish." Nimriel withdrew. As pleasant the morning seems, for some people there's always darkness.
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It wasn’t the first time Hulda was requested a distinguished ale made with Juniper with crushed lavender paste. In times of war and turmoil, rest was paramount for the soldiers. But Hulda felt a lingering feeling of pity for Yvienne. The poor thing, out there fighting the real war. Her hazel eyes lit with pride, as she gladly prepared the concoction.
Yvienne lay on her bed under the cover of the Bannered Mare, the soothing melody of the lute creeping in her ears, filling her with delight, making her head light. That Mikael, as hard as he tries, he sure can play that lute.
Her thoughts started to focus, as she remembered the dream she had the night before. Something changed, this wasn't the same dream she's been having for years now. Every time it was the same -
A little girl, holding hands with a man, walking in the nightclouds, ethereal. Through thunder, rain and wind, a blackhole circling above. Down below in the distance, a bleak, barren landscape, riddled with dead trees and desolate ruins. She tries to look at the man holding her hand, but there's nothing there but an outline. No face, just a silhouette of a man, transparent like a spirit. She raises her hands towards him, he takes her tiny figure in his arms, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, to the backdrop of rumbling clouds. She feels comfortable, safe.
All of a sudden, she sees a glowing blue ball of light, growing slowly into a spiral. It starts to grow around them, engulfing them like a web. A crackling sound gradually gets louder and louder silencing the lightning's roar. All that she hears now is the crackle, all she sees is the magical web around her. She covers her ears with her infant hands, closing her eyes. Then, the man lets go. The air tears at her body, as she falls out of the web, screaming helplessly, moving her hands trying to grab the air. She hits the ground.
Then she would wake up, sweating and trembling, feeling her heart jump out of her chest. But last night it was different, something even more incomprehensible and terrifying -
This time, the man reveals himself. His outline starts to take form, as a face materializes in front of her. Holding her in his arms is a pale white man, bald, with hollow deep-blue eyes threatening to jump out of the black eyeliner. The girl feels a cold shiver across her back. Then she hears it, a whisper behind the crackling. "Yvienne..." Before the voice could finish, the man lets go of her, and she wakes up.
She had tried to decipher her dreams many times. Taking the counsel of many a mage, healer, illusionist, but in vain. One time she had believed Vaermina had taken hold of her dreams, her doubt proven otherwise by the priest Erandur at Dawnstar.
"This is from your own past, child. Your will is strong, so your past recognizes it. There is some wrong you need to make right." He had told her. After what she dreamt yesterday, she knew the answer lay within her consciousness, waiting to be found.
Questions hanging in her head, she slowly turned to her side. Her dark crystal-blue eyes closed softly as her worn out mind plunged into sleep.
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"Welcome, Sorceress. The Jarl awaits you." Greeted the Dragonsreach guard. Yvienne looked over to the east, night was slowly encroaching. She had not slept like this in a long time. Considering what I do, that's saying something.
"Yvienne, you are a sight for sore eyes." Jarl Balgruuf stood up from his throne, with a sense of respect towards a commoner rare for a Jarl. As the guard closed the doors behind Yvienne, her entry painted the majestic hall with an ambiance of optimism. Everyone eagerly greeted her with a sense of gratitude and respect, pleased at her arrival. In this abyss of chaos, a glimmer of hope.
"Settle yourselves everyone, it's only been a couple of months." Yvienne announced, happily meeting their courtesy.
Past the greetings and warm exchanges, she now stood face to face with Farengar the court-wizard, and a worried Jarl, his hands crossed against his chest.
"The Broken Fang Cave was abandoned when I arrived. As usual, I snuck up on them from quite a distance, so I don't think they expected my arrival. Even spent the night." Yvienne informed, with a tone of distinct sincerity.
"Damn!" the Jarl exclaimed. "Those monsters, cunning!"
"I have left a couple of my familiars and atronachs surrounding the cave. If anything stirs up, the moths will let me know. You can rest assured, my Jarl. " Yvienne reassured, crossing her arms against her chest. The Jarl nodded with a renewed confidence.
"Well, we have no doubts in your abilities, Sorceress." Farengar remarked, unimpressed, as he proceeded to sit. "That is why we request your help in another matter." Yvienne stood alert.
"A friend has mine has uncovered a secret map of Dragon burial mounds. She thinks that dragons are being resurrected somehow, awoken from their slumber."
"Well, it was not your friend who uncovered it, but the man who you sent to his death, the same man, who not long ago, absorbed a bloody dragon soul in front of my eyes." Irileth corrected, as she entered the room, her stride assertive as always. She liked to put Farengar in his place. The Jarl managed a smile too.
"So you believe he's the Dragonborn, Irileth? You, of all people? How many of our soldiers died under the Dragon's fire, will this....man...account for them?"
"I never said I believed what I saw."
"Enough you two." The Jarl interjected. "Settle down. Farengar, I suggest you continue with the matter at hand?" He demanded, pointing at Yvienne, who seemed to be enjoying the little argument before her.
"My apologies, your majesty. So as I was saying, my friend believes that the mound in Kynesgrove will be disturbed next, thus awakening the terror that lies in it." Yvienne strained her brow. Being a Nord, she knew all about the return of Alduin, and the Dragonborn prophecy. Her literary acumen had ensured an in-depth understanding of Nord history. It had also made her who she was, the Sorceress.
"She doesn't have much faith in this self-proclaimed Dragonborn, so she has asked me to request for help, specifically you. Now..."
"I would send Irileth with some of my men, Sorceress”. The Jarl interrupted, before Irileth could speak. "But, with the civil war and also the fact that you refused, time and again, to join my legio...."
"I understand." Yvienne cut in with assertion. "And I stand by that decision." I refuse to take part in this silly scuffle between men when Gods and monsters threaten our existence.
A slight feeling of helplessness crossed the Jarl's face. If only I could have that choice, Sorceress. If only.
"Very well, it's settled then. You leave for Windhelm tomorrow." The Jarl turned towards Yvienne, and put his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you. On top of what you do, this is pure generosity."
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As she started to descend the steps of the great hall, Yvienne's thoughts went out to the dragonborn. She had heard rumors here and stories there in her travels. Travels...Hmph, death missions. Some said that he was a Nord, others said he was a dragon taking a man's form. Some went as far to say Talos descended from the skies. None were true. While it didn't surprise her that someone would require her services, but who would be brave enough to hunt down a dragon, she wondered. As if vampires and hagravens weren't enough for her.
Dreams. Dragons. All these thoughts brought to her attention the soft growling in her stomach. Ah! The venison roast! That Nimriel, she was a sorceress in her own way.
"A pleasure, Sorceress." the guard interrupted her thoughts, as she came out in the open. Hesitantly, she greeted him back.
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Typo fixed.
I refuse to take part in this silly scuffle between men when Gods and monsters threatenour exis... more