14th Frostfall, evening
Have been permitted a few minutes with my journal. Most frustrated to learn the date. I should be at Winterhold tomorrow for the beginning of lectures, but clearly that will not be happening. Rumarin has at least sent a message by courier explaining my absence.
I should really head to Riverwood first. I hope whichever bastard thinks it’s funny to go substituting notes for ancient artefacts is still there. Bloody note got lost when they were wiping venom off me, of course, thankfully the “code” wasn’t hard to remember. Ask for the bloody attic room. They don’t even HAVE a bloody attic in the Sleeping Giant, I don’t think, certainly not with rooms in. How someone that lacking in subtlety got to the final chamber of Ustengrav is, I’ll admit, somewhat intriguing, though. I didn’t have a chance to inspect the outside of the stone door I apparently escaped through, but I doubt it could have been forced open from the outside.
Best stop writing, R will be back any moment. Very tempted to ask him to spend the night. Nothing improper, of course, not in Idgrod’s bed. But I’d like to be held.
15th Frostfall, morning
Must not allow myself to be distracted by how pleasant last night was. Just to fall asleep in someone’s arms. It’s been a long time.
No. I have to remember. The nightmares. I’m not sure what brought them back, though looking back at my journal from the 10th it may have simply been how close I came to death – twice. I’d forgotten so much. Of course, that was rather the point of submitting myself for re-education after the Symposium. It was easy enough, though, knowing their techniques, to prepare myself before it began. Forget enough to keep myself safe, to keep him safe, but remember enough to do a little research from time to time. Nothing too conspicuous, just checking through old records when it was plausibly work-related.
Well, given my current circumstances, perhaps I wasn’t as clever as I thought, or perhaps I was doomed from that night, promoted as long as I was still of use – can’t have the training invested go to waste. 16 years isn’t a long time to the Aldmeri Dominion, after all.
Of course, the most important thing to remember, after Äelberon, is Grand Justiciar Vingalmo. I had to forget them myself, of course, couldn’t risk letting on to the re-educators that I suspected any such thing. The other details of that night were probably less crucial, I think, although one name is probably more likely to be important in Skyrim, if my understanding of the memories is correct. He was never explicit, but it did show up in my research once or twice, and the name sounds, well, not quite Nord, but close. Volkihar.
16th Frostfall, early morning
Have received word from the College, accepting extenuating circumstances and suggesting that I catch up with the other apprentices and Master Tolfdir when they meet at an archaeological site near Winterhold. The message didn’t say much about it, sounds tedious, but in any case, they’ll be there the day after tomorrow.
So, if we set off after breakfast, that gives us ample time to head to Riverwood, find out what in Oblivion is going on with the horn and so on, spend tonight at Riverside Lodge, then I’ve promised Lydia I’ll visit the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun tomorrow. They have a specialist healer, I believe, who should be able to ensure that I’m fully prepared for the journey into the mountains.
I’ve also decided to look into buying a horse. Well, horses, not much point if only I have one, I think Vigilance could keep pace, but the others already run slower than I do. Obviously this is a serious expense, and I am fairly certain I don’t have sufficient funds yet, but Rumarin said Ulundil and Arivanye might give me a favourable price “for getting me out from under their feet.” So, that’s the plan: Riverwood, Lodge, Whiterun, cart to Windhelm, then traipse up through the mountains. But first, breakfast! The little girl, Helgi, has brought some food over from the tavern, she’s rather a sweet child, and much better behaved than most Nord brats like the ones in Whiterun.
16th Frostfall
The journey to Whiterun was taken care of by the Jarl, who had hired the carriage from Katla’s Farm to take them as far as the Honingbrew Meadery. They continued on foot, and as they approached the top of the waterfall and Riverside Lodge, they passed a lone giant, herding a painted cow. He seemed peaceful enough, and even raised his club in what appeared to be a friendly greeting.
Lydia couldn’t stop talking about Nerussa’s “jötunn” neighbour, and when they arrived in the village, she headed over to Alvor’s forge to trade, both materials and tales. Inside the tavern, Rumarin made his way to the bar to order lunch for the three of them. Nerussa scanned the room quickly, saw noone out of the ordinary, nodded to herself, and approached the middle-aged Breton woman who ran the establishment.
“Is it strictly necessary that we keep up the cloak and dagger bit? I can say the key phrase if you’d like, but perhaps we could just have a friendly chat?”
The Breton glared up at her, and Nerussa thought perhaps she should have played along, but she really did not have either the time or patience for such nonsense.
“Fine, in that case, follow me, and shut the door behind you.” She slipped into the only room of the building that actually had a door, and waited. Once the door was shut, she introduced herself as Delphine, and began fiddling around in the back of a large, heavy wardrobe that stood against a side wall. Nerussa kept her distance, but moved so she could see into it. The back panel, as she’d suspected, looked to be made of a lighter wood, probably the local pine, and when it slid aside, it revealed a narrow set of stone steps, leading downwards. Delphine picked up a small lantern from the table beside the bed, lit it, and headed down the stairs, motioning for Nerussa to follow.
At the bottom, the stairs opened out on a small, stone-walled room. A sturdy chest and a weapon rack were against the nearest wall, alongside a training dummy and a pair of… yes, netch leather boots, almost certainly enchanted. Strange to see netch leather in mainland Skyrim, she thought. Something about them seemed oddly familiar, as though they’d been mentioned in a history lesson, or perhaps in a book she had read as a child.
The room also featured a smaller, more practical alchemy setup than the fancy tables on display in the palaces, and the cheap copies in taverns and alchemists’ stores. A table, much like the one in the bedroom, on which stood a well-cleaned alembic, with a smooth, dark-glass mortar and pestle, a calcinator, and a retort carefully stowed in a wooden crate underneath. Next to the table was a bookcase, containing a number of rather tattered books, the spines illegible, at least from this side of the room, and several carefully-jarred and labelled alchemical ingredients, rather more exotic – and toxic - ones than those sold by Orgnar up at the bar.
The centre of the room was taken up with a large, wooden table, which Nerussa suspected was made from the original back panel of the wardrobe upstairs. On it was a large map of Skyrim, and several scraps of paper with notes on, which were hurriedly gathered together and stuffed into the innkeeper’s apron pocket.
“Are those boots..?”
“Former property of an… unofficial Blades agent, yes. I take it you’ve figured out my allegiance?”
Nerussa hadn’t honestly taken the idea seriously until now, but she kept her face stony and shrugged. “So, what’s the point of the innkeeper act? I know being a Blade probably doesn’t pay well nowadays, but there are easier ways to earn a crust.”
“Thalmor spies are everywhere. Best to settle down, act like, if you are who they think you are, you gave that life up long ago. I’ve been in Riverwood fifteen years, the most they can accuse me of is an occasional trip into Whiterun for supplies, and maybe once in a while I have a little chat with the Court Wizard, but Balgruuf’s court is very open, most of the hold’s citizens pop in for one reason or another at some point over the course of a year.”
“Right. Look, can you just hand over the artefact you stole, and get on with explaining what you want from me?”
Delphine paused for a moment, before handing over a surprisingly small horn, intricately inlaid with silver. “I didn’t go to all this trouble on a whim. I had to make sure you aren’t Thalmor.”
Nerussa laughed. “Because I’m Altmer, I take it? One of the workers at the mill is Bosmer, you know, I suppose you keep tabs on him, as well? You do, don’t you! Well, if it helps, I’m actually on the run from the Thalmor. I don’t think they’re happy about one of their own being Dragonborn.”
She hoped Delphine would take “one of their own” to mean “Altmer”, although now she’d said it, she realised the woman was paranoid enough to assume the truth. She rather wished she’d thought to use a small charm spell, but strangely, however she interpreted the phrase, Delphine seemed to relax, if only a very little.
“Look, I’m not your enemy. I’ve already handed over the horn; I’m actually trying to help you. Just… hear me out.”
“Go on.”
“As I said in my note, I’ve heard you might be Dragonborn. My… group has been searching for you, or someone like you, for a very long time.”
She took a breath, and peered up the stairwell behind Nerussa, who glanced over her shoulder to see Rumarin’s boots coming into view. She heard the panel slide closed, and her two companions settled themselves on either side of the stairs. Delphine sighed, and pressed on.
“If you are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you.”
“And how do I know I can trust you?”
“If you don’t, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place.”
“Look, I know arrogance is a bit of an Altmer cliché, but I could very easily say the same of you, and you just admitted you don’t trust me. Even if my friends here hadn’t just come to join us, I’m reasonably confident that even without wanting to Shout in a small, enclosed space, I could handle you fairly easily. I’m a reasonably strong Illusion mage, and my Destruction really is coming along very nicely. I’ve also got this axe that Lydia made for me. Unless Orgnar and Embry are very well disguised elite mercenaries, I think the odds are in my favour. So, how about we dispense with the veiled threats, and you tell me what you want me to do. And preferably why you think I’d care whether or not you trust me.”
Delphine took a breath, and it was clear she had been practicing what came next.
“I took the horn, because I knew the Greybeards would send you to Ustengrav if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable. When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent, and not some Thalmor plant. I am sure you know, whatever your allegiances, that the Blades and Thalmor are long-standing enemies. If my suspicions are correct, the Thalmor have something to do with the dragons returning. But that isn't important right now. What is important is that you might be Dragonborn. The Blades remember what most don't - that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. If you are Dragonborn, then you are the only living creature that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul.” She paused, and looked at Nerussa. Her expression was hard to read. “Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?”
Nerussa stifled a shudder at the word “devour”. It had only happened once, but it felt more like drowning in a stream of hot-cold light than anything so greedily intentional. “I absorbed power from the dragon that attacked the Watchtower at Whiterun when it died. That’s really all I can say.”
“I thought we were dispensing with play-acting? Look, reluctant hero or no, you either are or are not Dragonborn, and I’ll see for myself soon enough.”
“You said "kill a dragon permanently?" What does that mean? The last dragons are long dead.”
"Dragons aren't just coming back, or at least, not most of them. They're coming back to life. The majority weren't gone somewhere for all these years. You’re right, they were dead, killed off a long time ago by my predecessors, except there wasn’t a Dragonborn, so their souls remained… available, I suppose. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it."
“You both realise how crazy this sounds, I take it?” Rumarin asked.
"Ha. A few years ago, I said almost the same thing to a colleague of mine. Well, it turned out he was right and I was wrong."
“You said not most of them. So, some have been alive all this time? How do you know that’s not the case with all of them?”
"Because I’ve visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty,” she pointed at the map, and Nerussa saw that the marked locations corresponded with the spots she’d checked against the Dragonstone and her own map – since handing the Stone to Farengar she had visited a few of the locations, and they had held circular stone “frames”, similar to the entrances to underground tombs, some filled with packed-in soil, others surrounding strange dark holes. Delphine watched her as she stared intently at the map, and nodded.
"Yes, the Dragonstone. I was there when you brought it to Farengar, but for a non-Illusionist, I’m quite skilled at not being seen, or at least, noticed. The Dragonstone was a map of ancient dragon burial sites. I've looked at which ones are now empty. The pattern is pretty clear. It seems to be spreading from the southeast, down in the Jeralls near Riften. The one at Kynesgrove is next if the pattern holds, and if I’m right, it will be tonight or tomorrow. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything else you want to know. I’ve already told you more than I intended to.”
Lydia stepped forward, and Nerussa heard her gauntlet move to rest on the hilt of her sword. “You’re in no position to be ordering the Thane of Whiterun around, thief!”
“It’s all right, Lydia. Let’s ignore the fact that Delphine, as a Blade, should surely have been joining in the fight against Mirmulnir, and would, had that been the case, already have observed my absorbing his soul. You were saying, weren’t you, about having expected more dragon fights by now? Well, now’s your chance, and you’ll be helping to protect the people of Kynesgrove. I’ll do this, Delphine, but on the condition that when I pass your test, you stop trying to manipulate me, and just ask for my help if you need it.” Delphine nodded, reluctantly. “Very well, then it sounds like we have a dragon to kill.”
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