Dragonborn Ascendant (5)

A/N: To all my patrons, first, thank you guys for the support, I haven't been able to really follow my Patreon with my classes having resumed. Second, if you want to appear on the chapter that I'll release Sunday, then comment or message me your nicknames on QQ. In any case, please enjoy!

The late night was quiet inside the Jorrvaskr. After an afternoon and evening feasting and drinking, many of the resident warriors went to theirs - or others - beds and that only left a scant few still awake amongst them. Kodlak, Vilkas and I sat around a round table playing a game of dice, us two youngsters being utterly dominated by the elder that held a great advantage hanging over our heads. There was a piece of ham together with us, as well as a loaf of bread, a jug of mead we shared pouring a mug or topping another’s every so often; and a big slice of cheese we nibbled on.

“Five threes,” Kodlak declared, an upside down cup trapping the five dies he had.

“Six twos,” Vilkas was next, his voice gruff sounding challenging. “You?”

“Two sixes.” I made my bet. Kodlak chuckled.

“Bold.” He said and we all uncovered our cups, revealing the dies. There were four ones rolled up, three twos, one three, two fours, three fives, and lastly, two sixes. “Lucky.” Commented the Harbinger with a smirk, taking a tile from his pile of points to give it to me. Vilkas clicked his tongue in response, but did the same.

He was now at a disadvantage of three points, and only four more unlucky rolls from losing. Not that I fared much better, with now six points and only a small breathing room.

We gathered the dies, five for each, and put them back inside our cups, shaking them and then bringing them back to the table.

“Four fours,” I called.

“Four threes,” was Kodlak’s bet and Vilkas settled with a “Three ones.”

One one, five twos, two threes and four fives were the results.

We all threw a tile to the stack in the centre.

The times I spent with both Kodlak and Vilkas outside of training were very rare. The Harbinger, despite not going out to fulfil contracts like the rest of us in his more advanced age still, liked to give pointers and impart wisdom to any and all who sought his advice. He was an experienced warrior, and more than that, a wise man, which was why I often found myself seated next to him at every meal, so I could hear his words and ask my questions. But moments in which we interacted casually were rare, like this one.

“So the Reach is up to the neck covered in Forsworn, eh?” Vilkas muttered, a dark look on his face as he glared intently at his cup. As if that would wield any better of a result for him.

My answer came a moment later with a lazy bob of my head. “Aye,” I said, casting my dice another time. “There has to be a few thousands of them just around the Karth River. Markarth will be in deep trouble if they don’t do anything to solve this problem soon.”

“Do you think they will send a Legion if the city is overrun?” Vilkas asked, shooting a look at Kodlak. “The Imperials, Harbinger?”

The old Nord hummed for a moment, scratching his chin. “Perhaps,” he said with a tentative nod. “The Reach, but especially Markarth produces a lot of metal from their mines. If they don’t offer their aid and instead Ulfric does like he did in the past, there’s a chance the city might turn their allegiance.”

The brunette hummed. “I see.” He said, and left it at that.

The grey haired man, however, continued. “And you, Magnus?” He asked. “You have barely returned and are already preparing to depart another time.”

I sighed. “Farengar has found a lead on something the Jarl asked him to look more deeply into,” I started, telling what my not-quite-teacher had tasked me with earlier when I rose to Dragonsreach. “According to him, it’s a stone tablet that supposedly contains scriptures detailing the locations of ancient dragon burial sites. A Dragonstone, he called. And he wants me to retrieve it for him.”

“Sounds interesting,” the Harbinger hummed another time, smiling as he won another round. “But you don’t look too happy with it. What’s the problem? Do you not know where this Dragonstone is supposed to be?” He asked and I shook my head.

“Supposedly,” I said, “It’s buried somewhere within Bleak Falls Barrow.” And then he blinked.

“Ah.”

If this was another world, one might have laughed at his expression, but here, draugr were far from the canon fodder represented through their counterparts in the game Skyrim.

Draugr were undead reanimated to their unlife through ancient magic to serve their masters even through death. They dwelled in truly ancient structures dating back to the Merethic Era, now ruined and lost for the most part, but still being maintained by the hundreds, sometimes thousands of reanimated servants dwelling inside. Of course, in the Fourth Era, after so long time, even their numbers started to dwindle, but even the most conservative and small of tombs still held dozens if not more of draugr inside, all of which could fight as well as any man, every single one of them relentless and untiring and, even worse, some of them even capable of using the power of the voice to utterly decimate any that ever dared to violate the sacred sites.

Of all the ancient Nord ruins that dotted all around Skyrim, it was impossible to say if one ever was explored to its end if draugr dwelled inside of it.

“That’s rather troublesome, I see,” Kodlak muttered. “You know you have our support if you need any help, right?”

“I do.” I nodded. And then I sighed. “I even have someone in mind that will be able to help me.” I said, though my thoughts on the matter remained unspoken. I’m just not sure if I should go alone or ask for help.

After another two matches we retired for the night.

Two days passed and I was done with my preparations, having given enough time for Roach to rest. Morning came to the sounds of rain pittering against the roof of Jorrvaskr, though a few rain drops occasionally managed to slip through cracks and enter through holes on the hull of the old ship that protected the hall from the weather. The hall was conspicuously empty, only a few early risers present when I came from the underground bedrooms.

“My, look what we have here,” Aela purred, eyes narrow as she watched me approach.

“Don’t push it, Aela,” I grumbled already in a foul mood by convincing myself to speak with her. “I need your help.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, shifting on her seat in absolute curiosity. “Colour me surprised. I’m listening.”

I took a breath and resisted the urge to sigh. Why was I even doing this? “Farengar gave me a job,” I started. “A fetch quest to retrieve something for him. Problem is, it’s in a dungeon infested with draugr.” I told her, watching her reaction from the corner of my eye. She seemed intrigued. “I could probably do it alone, but that would take more time than I have to spare not to mention it being needlessly risky and stubborn on my part, which means I need someone to act as my partner. Someone small, agile and nimble. Fast.” I said, and she kept staring at me.

I hesitated for a moment.

“And… and you were the first person I thought could do it.” I muttered.

“What was that?” The red haired huntress interrupted, leaning forward for a moment. There was an evil glint in her eyes and I knew what she was going to do before she even opened her mouth. “I didn’t quite hear what you said just now. Could you say it again, please?” She smiled.

For a brief moment we stared at each other, and I worked my jaw pondering quietly in my head if going alone was worth the risk even if it only spared me from this. Sadly however, sensibility won over since I wasn’t too keen on possibly dying because of pride.

My jaw tensed and I swallowed, eyes and expression hardening as I returned to stare at her emerald eyes.

“You were the first person I thought could do it,” I repeated in clear sound. “Can you do it?” But I would never give her the satisfaction of a clean victory, Not without a quipback.

Her face twitched briefly and I thought I saw a scowl forming on her face before she quickly schooled her expression. “‘Can I do it?’” Aela scoffed, raising to her feet. “I should be the one asking you that instead.” She huffed, voice clipped. “When are we going?”

“Do you have your bow with you?” She scoffed another time and I smiled, showing a row of teeth. “Excellent.”

Shoving the woman a cloak to cover herself and handing her a bag with supplies, she picked her bow and a quiver before be promptly left the Jorrvaskr’s warm embrace to the cold streets of Whiterun when rain was pouring, making a quick way to the stables outside of the city walls where Skulvar had Roach saddled and ready. There were a few grumbled protests but she didn’t offer much resistance to riding with me. Not when the alternative was to go on foot.

We decided to stop and set up camp on the woods before the crossing to the White River, where we would take a slight deviation to Riverwood to stock up on any supplies that we might need and so I could hand over Roach to Alvor and his family’s care while we climbed the mountain. It still rained on the morning of the other day, but considerably less than the day prior which was leagues better than the torrential downpour that had been falling on our heads. Autumn wasn’t a season known for being wet in Skyrim, but it rained on occasion, generally in the first half of the season when the warmth of the summer still lingered before the cold winds from the north made the temperature plummet with the proximity of winter. This was one of the last rains of autumn, and it showed. Not quite a storm but close, and the ground was left drenched and wet, the air becoming heavy - in a given sense - with the dampness that was brought.

The White River raged, white foam and bubbles forming as it crashed on the stones of the bridge’s base and the rocks on the rapids.

“Alvor!” I called the smith, the blonde Nord stopping on his hammering of a dagger blade when he heard my voice. “Ho!” I raised a hand, sliding from my horse.

“Magnus!” The bearded man smiled in recognition, face lighting up at the sudden visit. “It’s a surprise to see you here, especially with a weather like this.” He smiled, slinging his apron off him and taking off the thick gloves to work with metal. His eyes then darted to Aela that slid from Roach and pulled back the hood from her cloak after getting under the roof from his little covered forge.

His smile became even wider.

“And with a lady friend no less,” he noted, nodding approvingly at the red head. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Ah, how I wish Hadvar could bring home a woman of his own…”

“You are reading too much where there’s nothing,” I told the man, bringing him to a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, lad,” he smiled, patting me on the back. “And I will be forever grateful for you relaying my request to the Jarl. The guards he has stationed here have been a great help in making the area safer.”

“I’ll bet.” I nodded, feeling inwardly satisfied with myself.

“Then,” the smith cleared his throat, eyes moving to the woman next to me, Aela’s own eyes inspecting the forge with some curiosity. “Who is your lady friend if I might ask?”

“Aela,” the redhead herself answered, offering a polite smile to the man. “Huntress of the Companions. Your… friend and I have some business to conduct nearby.” She said, and Alvor’s two eyebrows rose high.

“A Companion, eh?” He hummed, turning to regard me with reevaluating eyes. “It’s an honour to have one in my humble smithery. Is there perhaps anything I might interest you with?”

“Perhaps,” she smiled another time. “How many arrows do you have?” Inquired the huntress. “I’m afraid I brought only one quiver with me, and might not suffice against the adversities that will be crossing our path.”

“Arrows?” He nodded. “I have a surplus of them as it happens. What do you think, two more quivers of iron tipped arrows for ten silvers?”

“Done.” The redhead smiled, fiddling with a pouch on her hip procuring the agreed money. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, lady huntress,” Alvor smiled, watching as she slung the two quivers one on each shoulder. Then, with a much quieter voice he added. “Charming woman you have there, lad.” I sighed.

What made it worse was the fact I was sure Aela had heard him.

“I’m telling you, Alvor,” I insisted. “There’s nothing between us. We really are here to do just a job.”

“You can never know, lad. Love can bloom in the strangest of places. But, if you say so,” he hummed, deciding to not press it further, thankfully, though he did raise a sceptical eyebrow.

“Right. Can you take care of the horse for a few days?” I asked. “A week at most?”

“I could, certainly,” the smith nodded, a curious look on his face. “I’m sure Dorthe would love to do it, though I must ask, why?”

“We are going up the mountain,” I told the blonde. “We have something to fetch at Bleak Falls for the Jarl’s court wizard.”

“The Barrow?” Alvor grunted, eyes wide. “That’s a dangerous job you will be doing there then. Also, I think you should know then that there seems to be some bandits up on the mountain. Lucan has been moaning for more than a day now that a Dark Elf stole something from him during the night, and I don’t disagree with him. Strange fellow. Came from nowhere one day and looked around for a few hours, didn’t like the way he was looking at my forge.”

“We’ll keep on them if that’s the case.” I nodded. Then I gave a look to Aela who met my eyes and gave a curt nod, she had already taken the bags with all the essentials we would need. “I’ll be leaving Roach with you then.”

“Aye, you do that,” the Nord nodded. “Good luck for you two there.”

Thank you, Alvor, I nodded to the man. We might need it.