Dragonborn Ascendant (8)

A/N: My thanks to everyone new and all of those still supporting me, and as always, if you want to receive a shout out or be mentioned on my author notes when chapter 6 goes out, leave a comment with your name or send me a message.

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I was done with this. Done with this place, done with the undead, with the cold, done with everything.

I felt heavy almost two hours later, exhaustion having finally settled in and now dragging my body down. My movements felt sluggier, my body tired, reluctant, almost unwilling to respond to my command. When I looked back to Aela, who was considerably better now than a couple of hours before, her wound had recuperated although still very painful and sensitive; she didn’t seem to be faring any better than I was, actually looking worse. There were bags under her eyes, imperceptible as they were, and her already fair skin looked even paler, an unhealthy, gaunt white colour that would have made me worry if I didn’t know it was because of the blood she lost.

However, just like me, she pushed through her pains and discomforts, showing incredible steel and determination to see the job done, and unwillingness to stay here a minute more than necessary. An opinion I shared. So we drank water and ate bread with cheese together with strips of salted meat to give some substance to the meal; enough to fill our stomachs before the last chamber.

We encountered a vault blocking our path. A combination lock, the dragon claw just as I had said. Finding the right combination was an easy task, the key had the answer to it literally on its palm, and after changing for the right animals, the claw slid into place smoothly, twisting and unlocking the mechanism that made the door seamlessly go down.

We both had to pause at that last chamber.

It was massive and rustic. No, not rustic, primitive was a better word; as if the barrow had purposefully tried to preserve the original cavern or maybe grotto should I say, as best as possible for the final resting place of whoever was buried here. And that left me a question. This was an important place, obviously. Although I was half expecting the guards protecting this chamber to be able to use the shouts, I suppose the actual ability outside of dragons and dragonborns was something indeed very rare and only achievable after years of intense studying and contemplation.

So what was this place?

I couldn’t answer it as it was, of course, but I was sure if I actually researched it I’d be able to find at least a lead as to what it could have been, the importance and significance of it.

Still, I had the inkling suspicion that this was, or had been at some point, the lair of a dragon in the past.

It was fascinating.

“Keep your eyes on that altar,” I told Aela as we explored the massive chamber. “I bet the Dragonstone will be there, as well as whoever this tomb was made for.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to take care of the draugr with your magic?” The huntress questioned on my side, a curious brow raised.

“I wouldn’t be counting on it,” I shrugged, shaking my head. “I mean, you Nords don’t like magic very much, which… fair enough, there are plenty of reasons for you to not like it. But your ancestors?” I shook my head another time. “Some, if not all of the greatest human mages of the Merethic Era were Nords, and for good reason. Atmora was a brutal place, and it probably has only gotten worse by now. If the ancient Nords wanted to survive, then they’d have to have used all tools at their disposal.” I told her. Many of them possessed such great power even their dragon overlords coveted them as their priests.

“So you’re saying you can’t set it on fire.” She muttered darkly.

“I’m saying that: if I can set the draugr on fire, then it can also probably freeze me instead,” I corrected. “Divines, I’m honestly surprised none of their guards threw any spells at me. Though I suppose this could be a rare exception of a high standing Nord warrior of old unable or unwilling to use or perform magic. Probably because of hatred if you asked me.”

There was a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as we explored further into the chamber, leaving the covered cavern to end up in the area directly underneath a hole where light filtered in and water dropped forming a waterfall, a stream of cold water running next to an altar of smooth carved stone. It was something that should have been noted. But there were no other guards within the tomb, except for a single sarcophagus standing right before a stone wall arranged in a half circle.

“So this is it?” Aela turned, eyes narrowing as they trailed along parts of the chamber she couldn’t check before. My eyes snapped then, and I only came to realise then that I was standing in front of the wall. I could feel something calling me to it, a gut feeling, an instinct that wanted to take over control of my actions even if for just a moment. “Where is the Dragonstone?” She asked.

A hum escaped my lips, as I drew a breath. My fingers twitched with the faint calling and my blood pumped, soaring to answer the call of… of what?

And then I saw, carved on the stone, almost imperceptible except for the unmistakable thrum of power contained behind them, the chanting, the singing of power.

“Het nok faal vahlok,” I found myself whispering, the words coming to me, their meaning just simply… there. “Deinmaar do dovahgolz, ahrk an fus do unslaad rahgol ahrk vulom.”

“Magnus?” I felt my body tense ready to spring when I realised it was Aela who had spoken to me, her hand on my arm. Her eyes flickered to the stone wall I stood in front of, and she frowned, eyes searching. “You were muttering something there. Were you… Do you know what those scratches mean?”

“I… I do…” I breathed, feeling… what was I even feeling right now? Conflicted? Resolute? Accepting? Resigned? I… I wasn’t sure, except it did make me work my jaws and suck in another deep breath, nodding as…

Well, there was no other way around it anymore, right? I had to save the world now.

“I do,” I said another time, firmer. “It’s a memorial, like the words engraved on a tombstone. It says ‘here lies the guardian, keeper of the dragonstone, and a force of unending rage and darkness.’”

“That doesn’t inspire much-”

Thump.

“Confidence. Fuck!” The redhead cursed, swirling around while picking her bow. I did the same, unsheathing my sword and readying my magicka.

I felt my eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as the two tall horns rose atop of the draugr’s helmet, and I felt a lump forming on my throat that I forced myself to swallow.

Of the draugr warriors in the game Skyrim, there were two that only started to appear once your character reached a higher level. They were the Draugr Deathlord and the Draugr Death Overlord, formidable enemies with an enormous lifepool for undead and matching martial prowess, two things that, alone, already made them enemies more dangerous than virtually any other single humanoid in Tamriel.

But it could get worse.

“Fus…”

“Get away!”

“Ro dah!”

I was unashamed to say that I threw myself away from the shockwave that slammed against the word wall. Surprisingly, it did not shatter or break upon impact, nor did it so much as shake or tremble. Mighty sturdy it had to be said.

“Right,” I wheezed, picking myself hurriedly from the ground. Shouts. They could shout in the tongue of the dragons and enforce their will upon reality, rewriting it freely. A terrifying power that was now being used against me.

Fire left my hand and I hoped that it would be enough to hurt the draugr, even if only a little bit. But I shouldn’t have been so naive, for the guardian raised his own hand in turn, a cold, freezing wind matching against my flame, and in fact, overwhelming me. I grit my teeth, realising that the only avenue I could possibly hold an advantage over the draugr was denied to me, and decided that going to the melee against the guardian would be my best option.

Still not a good one, I found, eyes widening not for the first time as I locked myself against an ebony battle axe against all things, and that made me grimace.

Right, I forgot about that.

“Hi sahlon med faas,” the draugr spoke on my face with a guttural, rough voice, piercing blue eyes shining unnaturally as we stared. “Zu’u vis pruvos nii.” He snarled another time, and I understood his words.

You smell like fear, I can feel it.

I pushed him back.

“Die!”

“Ro dah!”

I stumbled. Before I could cast my fire spell, I stumbled.

“Viir!” The draugr roared, stepping up and raising his great axe above his head, ready to swing it down and cleave me in two.

An arrow hit it on the back. “Ung.” The creature grunted, misstepping and missing my neck for a narrow margin.

The axe descended either way, but instead of making me a head shorter it came down on my left shoulder. The plate of my armour was smashed, almost torn apart and I cried, water coming to my eyes at the unbearable pain. I felt my shoulder breaking, the collar bone shattering with the impact and I was left breathless, gasping for air like a fish out of water as I felt three of my ribs just simply snap.

But I managed, somehow, to fight against the pain and scurry away from the follow up attack that would have surely killed. And it was almost blindly that my good hand wrapped itself on the flask of the last minor health potion I had left before I chugged it down completely in less than an instant, not savouring the sweet liquid for even a moment as I felt the pain subdue for a moment, enough for me to move like a troll.

“Hi los sahlo.” The draugr taunted with an evil laugh, and I grit my teeth, feeling something inside of me stirr with his words, watching as he stepped towards me with a stiff walk.

He was right, I am weak, and that… I hated that. I hated being weak. I hated this powerlessness when facing a mighty foe. I knew, deep inside me, that this was just simply the nature of things. Mortals were feeble and pathetic next to dragons, daedras or the gods.

But…

But I wasn’t any mortal. I was- I am the Dragonborn, a dragon in the form of man.

I could not- would not be weak.

“Hi fen dir aan reimokurii dinohk!” The draugr barked, raising the dark axe another time.

I tackled it to the ground.

We fumbled for a moment trying to maintain our footing, but the guardian of the Dragonstone still fell, and I with him.

He opened his mouth.

“Fus…”

But before the shout could leave his mouth I had already rolled from him and went to find my sword.

We both raised in tandem, staring at each other for a silent moment. My entire left side felt like a massive bruise but I knew that, if I pushed, then I would probably be able to trade a few blows with the undead. If none of his attacks caught my left side, which I knew he would be focusing on.

We snarled.

We faced each other.

An arrow flew from behind me and I saw a flicker of surprise appearing on those ghost eyes for an instant as the arrow hit and scraped against the helmet of the draugr, turning the equipment slightly. I rushed in then, too fast for the guardian to raise his guard against my swing.

The iron blade traced an arc in the air, hitting against the horned helmet, snapping the draugr’s head with a loud metallic clank. My feet shifted, and I went in for another swing, but the guardian caught it with the head of his axe, pushing me back and forcing me to distance myself one step or two before he took his own swing. It cut nothing but air, just as the following did, and with a final snarl he stepped forward with a quick high strike that would have shattered my ribs in two. But I slapped the attack away with my blade, who groaned in response, and slammed myself against the draugr with my good shoulder. The steps that shoulder check opened me were enough for me to open a clean cut on the undead’s neck, and when I was about to launch my next strike-

“Ro dah!”

I stumbled, and then was swept from my feet with a hard shove from the draugr, agonised cries leaving my lips as I landed heavily on my left shoulder.

I was not ashamed to say that I whimpered when the guardian stepped, nor that I flinched when Aela’s arrow, despite managing to pierce the draugr’s armour and hit it right on the heart; proved to be utterly useless in making it stop or even miss a step. But I was certainly proud to say that, as it held the axe with two hands, ready to raise it above his head for a final swing down on myself; that I somehow managed to move both my arms and cast a single spell, feeding it all of my magicka.

“Aaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh!” The undead shrieked, and I only kept shouting.

“Burn motherfucker! Burn!”

The flames engulfed its body quickly, and even despite the armour that was possibly enchanted in some capacity, there was no denial that its body was set alight as the roaring flames expanded and sought to consume the undead’s corpse. I was lucky that, while the guardian wreathed and thrashed, trying to put out a fire it wouldn’t be able to, that the battleaxe fell to the ground, clattering loudly against the stone floor and as I struggled to pick myself up, my hand found its handle.

A savage grin came to my face then.

“You…” I hissed, finding the strength to get myself back to my feet. “You were a tough bastard. Tougher than I imagined.” I breathed in admittance. “And… and you will…” I felt something then. An instinct, a primal force from inside me. My dragon soul. My soul. It made me snarl as my eyes narrowed, staring down at the pitiful creature wailing on my feet, and I remembered the words said to me when our positions were reversed.

I raised the battleaxe high above my head, an effort that felt like an herculean struggle so heavy was the ebony blade and so painful was my left shoulder. But I persisted, and the charred draugr looked up at me, our eyes meeting, his ghost orbs shining with nothing but eternal hatred and the promise of vengeance.

I snarled another time.

“Hi fen dir aan reimokurii dinohk!”

The draugr howled an infernal shriek of impotent fury just as the blade of his own weapon descended, filling the air with the last furious cries of the guardian, an eternal force of rage and darkness.

There was silence.

-x-X-x-

Words in Dovahzul:

Hi los sahlo = you are weak

Hi fen dir aan reimokurii dinohk = you will die a vermin's death

Other words and phrases weren't translated either because I didn't notice them or because their translation is already in the text.

In any case, I hope you guys enjoyed this fight. It was a big one and honestly pretty fun to write, still not as big as the one coming on chapter 10.

And to remember everyone, I will be taking a small break after posting chapter 9, and chapter 10 will come out one week later than usual, on September 9th.