shadowkitty
Mistress of Shadows
CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT: NONVUL MONAH
Wyldfyre opened her eyes to a world beyond anything she had ever seen. It stretched out far from sight. Large twisted towers dotted a black oily sea full of writhing tentacles. On the dais before her stood hideous creatures, dressed in flowing tattered robes with faces born from the worst of nightmares. They hovered above the ground and made a clunking, shuddering sound. Wyldfyre heard a flap of wings and a massive, smooth skinned dragon landed a yard away from her. The air was stifling and had a green haze to it. Wyldfyre could not move, her body frozen to the spot. When suddenly she felt a shock running through her and she was thrown to the ground.
"Who are you to dare set foot here?” a voice demanded. When Wyldfyre recovered enough to look up she saw a man in fine robes standing before her. A mask similar to what the cultists wore adorned his face. Miraak. He seemed to be surprised by her sudden appearance. Wyldfyre’s heart beat in her chest as she lay frozen on the cold stones. “Ahh... You are Dragonborn.” He said slowly as he walked towards and peered down at her. He held his hands over her prone body. “I can feel it, the blood coursing through your veins” he then lowered his hands.
“So you have slain Alduin... Well done. I could have slain him myself; back when I walked the earth, but I chose a different path” he paced back and forth. Wyldfyre could only watch.
"Still, you have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield!" He then shouted three words, "Mul Qah Diiv!” Wyldfyre recognised the first two as the Dragon Aspect shout. He was now covered in a spectral dragon-like armour. Wyldfyre now knew what she would look like when she used the shout herself. Miraak postured arrogantly before her, as the creatures looked on.
“This realm is beyond you.” He sneered at her in contempt “You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon they will finish building my temple, and I can return home." He then turned to the four creatures "Seekers, send her back where she came from. She can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel." He strode away and mounted the dragon before taking off into the sky, leaving Wyldfyre alone with the Seekers. They crowded around her, shuddering and showering her with a magic she had never felt before. He body was thrown against the stone floor and she writhed in pain until she blacked out.
“....My lady! Wyldfyre!” someone was trying to rouse her. Wyldfyre blinked and opened her eyes. She was back in the small room, lying on the floor; the black book resting on her chest.
“What happened?” she asked and sat up, letting the book fall to the floor. Her body ached all over. Azaril helped her up, a frantic look on his face.
“I don’t know. You opened the book and then these horrid tentacles wrapped around you and then you were gone. Moments later you re-appeared lying on the floor. What happened?” It was his turn to ask. Wyldfyre shook her head then scrambled to her feet with Azaril’s help. Frea looked on with interest.
“I’m not really sure, but I think I was somehow transported to another realm. There were creatures there, like the ones in this temple, a great dragon and a man. Miraak”
“Miraak!” Frea exclaimed “So it is true then. This is worse than I dared believe.”
“He is extremely powerful” Wyldfyre said “More so than me”
“We must go to my father” Frea then said, a worried expression on her face “He is the Sharman of our village. He will know what to do”. Wyldfyre nodded, still feeling a little queasy from her experience. She could not be certain, but she suspected that realm she had just visited was the home to a Daedric Prince. Something about the energy of that realm felt similar to Hircine’s Hunting Grounds.
“I must insist that Wyldfyre rest first” Azaril said then but she waved it off.
“I’m fine” she said. “Just let me go easy for a little way. I really want to leave this place as soon as we can.” Azaril agreed reluctantly and they left the chamber, Wyldfyre taking the black book with her. She shoved it into her satchel, not wanting to touch it again. They walked through a tunnel that ended with a heavy iron door. It opened back out into Solstheim and after getting her bearings, Frea led them to her village. Along the way they passed two more Ancient stones with enslaved people. They crossed a narrow bridge over a gushing waterfall and Wyldfyre saw the village up ahead. It was covered in a dome of swirling green lights.
“What is that?” she asked the Skaal woman.
“My father has put up a magical barrier to protect those of us who are left. It is quite safe to enter.” She led the way through the barrier and they stepped into the village. Small stone and wood houses surrounded a central area that contained a skinning hut and large hearthfire. To the right was a forge, sitting cold and unused. Wyldfyre assumed that the smith was one of Miraak’s thralls. In front of a large building knelt a trio of Skaal, wearing the same furred clothing that Frea had worn. They appeared to be chanting.
“Father!” Frea called out and ran over to the group. They stopped their spell and the green barrier lifted from the village. Frea helped her father up and the other two walked off. “Father, I have returned.”
“My dear Frea, I was afraid that you were taken as well” the old man smiled at his daughter with relief. He then saw Wyldfyre and Azaril. “And who are these?”
“This is Wyldfyre and Azaril. We entered the Temple and found out what was behind the Ancient stones change.
"Did you now?” the old man’s shaggy grey eyebrows shot up. He peered at Wyldfyre noting the tribal tattoo on her face. “Come here lass” he beckoned to her. Wyldfyre approached him and he studied her face, frowning slightly when he looked into her green and yellow eyes.
“You are Skaal” he announced and Wyldfyre was surprised. But then he frowned again “But you are also a Were Beast. How did this come to be?” She opened her mouth to speak but Frea cut her off.
“Father we don’t have time for lengthy stories. Wyldfyre and Azaril have come to help us. She is connected with Miraak. She has come here to seek your guidance in defeating him”
“Well I have no idea” the old man said then. He looked at Wyldfyre again and pointed at her. “What is it that you carry in your bag?” She was not surprised the old man felt its presence. She could feel it writhing in her satchel, calling out to her.
“Oh, the black book. We found this in Miraak’s temple. I read it and was transformed to some sort of realm” She took it out and made to pass it to him but he held up his hands, refusing to take it.
“Hermaeus Mora!” he hissed. “You were transported into the Daedric realm of Hermaeus Mora, the Prince of Knowledge.” Wyldfyre felt her heart drop; another Daedric Prince to deal with.
“I suspected as much” she said. The Sharman looked at her shrewdly.
“You were able to read the book and survived being transported to and from Apocrypha. Tell me what you are” he demanded. Wyldfyre blinked. The old man was very knowledgeable.
“I am Dragonborn” she admitted. He thought for a moment then nodded to himself.
“I think there may still be hope. In two possible forms. Seek out the word wall at Searing's Watch. It holds a word which I am sure you can use to free our people. As for the Black book, you should speak to the Telvanni Wizard Neloth. He knows a great deal more about them than I do.”
Wyldfyre and Azaril spent the night in the Skaal village. Frea and her father did not make an issue of her Dragonborn status or being a Were to the others. They were shown to a comfortable bed on the upper floor of the meeting hall once everyone else had retired to their respective homes. It was a quiet affair, with many of the villagers yet to return from the Ancient Stones. Wyldfyre lay in the bed staring at the thatched ceiling, listening to Azaril’s soft snores beside her. She was home and yet it did not feel like home. She had thought that once she found the Skaal then things would fall into place and she would have that feeling of sense and worth about herself again. But the Skaal were distant, reserved and even a little self righteous. She was surprised to realise that she had felt more at home and accepted at the Frostmoon camp among the Werewolves. They were her true family, not the Skaal. A small tear dripped from her eye onto the pillow before she sighed and curled up to sleep.
The next morning they set off for Searing’s Watch, a large Nordic compound in the northern part of Solstheim. Frea’s father, Storn had marked it on her map and the best route to take. It was a long journey through mountains and rough terrain. The Skaal had been kind enough to offer them warm furs to wear. Wyldfyre had declined, having a naturally high body temperature, but Azaril gladly accepted. He was rugged up from head to foot in the lumpy furs.
“You look like a large swaddled babe” Wyldfyre had giggled when he stepped out to show her his new winter clothing. Azaril was not impressed by her appraisal.
“At least I will not freeze to death Wyldfyre” he had said sternly, but then couldn’t help himself and smirked also.
Wyldfyre stopped and adjusted her armour. It was around lunch time and she called a halt to their journey to rest and eat. She stared out across the barren frozen countryside and then turned to Azaril.
“Azaril, what is it like, to live longer?” She surprised him by her question.
“I can’t really say My Lady. It’s all I have known. Being mostly raised here on Solstheim I didn’t really noticed anything different amongst the Dunmer. There have not been too many locals who are not of Elvin ancestry. But those who have remained here for a time, I did not notice them aging until one day, they had grey hair and moved a lot slower. Time is different to us. We do not see it as a slow process like you would think we do.” He frowned at her quizzically “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just something I have been thinking about” she said. She shifted her weight off her left foot. “Ever since I returned from Sovngarde, after taking in Alduin’s blood, I... I’ve been afraid...” Azaril’s eyes widened when he realised what she was trying to say.
“....You’ve been afraid that the longevity of the dragons has been passed on to you?” he sat back, astounded “I never really thought about that. Oh Wyldfyre, you must be frantic. Have you spoken to Paarthurnax about this?” She shook her head.
“Not yet but I intend to. I am so worried about it Azaril. What if I do stop ageing? What if I remain like this and the people who I love keep going, and dying until... until I’m left alone, with no-one!” she sobbed out loud. Azaril moved to sit beside her and gingerly wrapped his arms around her. It was the first physical contact between the two. Wyldfyre sobbed into his furs while he awkwardly pat her on the back.
“You need to speak to the Dragon before you work yourself up about this.” He soothed her, “I’m sure you are worried over nothing. You’ll see” Wyldfyre lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek, causing the Dunmer to blush furiously.
“How did you get to be so wise Azaril?”
“Time My Lady. Time”
“Fus Ro Dah!” another shout shot out from the ruins aimed at the dragon. At least one of the Draugr knew dragon shouts; which was why the pair had decided to wait it out and let the Dragon do them a favour. Occasionally they could see far below a Draugr run out from the ruins and take on the dragon when it landed. The draugr did not last long against the frigid winds of the dragon and soon most of them lay still on the frozen ground.
“I don’t think we need to wait any longer” Wyldfyre said from their spot. They left the alcove and crept down the entryway into the grounds below. Wyldfyre looted any draugr she passed, collecting a few gold coins and some precious stones. She found a dark red stone that reminded her of Scarlet and she tucked it into her armour, vowing to give it to her if she ever saw her again. They continued on while the dragon was still occupied with the remaining draugr on the levels above. They could see from their vantage point before that the word wall was situated at the very top of the compound. As they ascended the stairs they heard another shout and a blast of frozen air spilled over the lip of the platform on top of them. Wyldfyre shook off the snow and unsheathed her crossbow, loaded it with a bolt and looked at Azaril.
“Ready?” he nodded and they stepped up and out onto the last platform. It was only small, the word wall covering most of the area. A large ceremonial table lay at the front and on this was a draugr, wearing a two horned helm that Wyldfyre recognised instantly.
“It’s a Deathlord!” she shouted, firing a bolt at it immediately. Azaril bounded into action, running and taking a flying leap at the Deathlord, slicing at it with his sword. The Draugr toppled over the railing and disappeared below. The dragon dipped its wings and dove downwards, searching for the Draugr.
“Quick My Lady! While they are both distracted!” Wyldfyre turned and ran for the wall, the chanting ringing in her ears and the word glowing.
“Come on...come on!” she tried to hurry it up as she swept the sky for the dragon. She felt the word enter her and her mind searched for it, learning and understanding what it meant. Gol, a shout to command the very earth. Yes, this was exactly what she needed to cleanse the stones. “Let’s go!” she turned and ran for the stairs but the dragon appeared in front of them again. She could feel its curiosity as it peered at her with its fathomless black eyes. Then she felt a power building up inside it.
Azaril! Down!” she shouted and the Dunmer hit the floor. She gathered up her energy and released a fire shout just as the dragons mouth opened. Fire and ice collided; spraying ice splinters and steam everywhere, some of it falling harmlessly on to Azaril’s furs.
“Try again, dragon” Wyldfyre said as she raised her crossbow. The dragon sniffed with indignity.
“Dragonborn?” it asked inside her mind as it sifted through her memories. She pushed it out of her head.
“Keep out of my head” she boldly sifted through its mind until she found what she was looking for, smiling up at the dragon with malicious glee “Grahfonah” the dragon’s head snapped back and it blinked. It flapped its wings and Wyldfyre had to step back as it landed on the railing before her.
“How did you learn of my name, Dargonborn?” its icy breath blowing her hair back off her face. Azaril remained on the ground, feeling it best not to provoke the dragon. Wyldfyre lowered her crossbow but kept it ready.
“I can enter your mind, as you enter mine” she answered it. It cocked its head to the side, eyeing her with one large black eye.
“How?” it asked simply.
“Feel the blood inside me Dragon. See who resides in there”. She felt the Dragon enter her mind again but this time it searched her whole body, her muscles, bones, tissue until it came to her heart. It felt the beating of the heart as her blood flowed to and from it. Then it tasted her blood. It withdrew quickly and scrambled back slightly.
“You are the Kriid of our Lord Alduin!” he exclaimed. Wyldfyre gripped her crossbow tighter.
“And what say you to that?” she asked it. A slow minute passed when all was silent and then..
“Nonvul Monah; Noble Mother” it bowed its head and then spread it wings, alighting from the railing and hovering in front of her. “I thank you” it turned and flew off to the north over the mountain. Wyldfyre breathed out an explosive breath.
“Well!” she said with relief “Thank the Maker that Dragon was not an Alduin sympathiser” she looked to Azaril still on the ground. “Oh, you can get up now”
Wyldfyre opened her eyes to a world beyond anything she had ever seen. It stretched out far from sight. Large twisted towers dotted a black oily sea full of writhing tentacles. On the dais before her stood hideous creatures, dressed in flowing tattered robes with faces born from the worst of nightmares. They hovered above the ground and made a clunking, shuddering sound. Wyldfyre heard a flap of wings and a massive, smooth skinned dragon landed a yard away from her. The air was stifling and had a green haze to it. Wyldfyre could not move, her body frozen to the spot. When suddenly she felt a shock running through her and she was thrown to the ground.
"Who are you to dare set foot here?” a voice demanded. When Wyldfyre recovered enough to look up she saw a man in fine robes standing before her. A mask similar to what the cultists wore adorned his face. Miraak. He seemed to be surprised by her sudden appearance. Wyldfyre’s heart beat in her chest as she lay frozen on the cold stones. “Ahh... You are Dragonborn.” He said slowly as he walked towards and peered down at her. He held his hands over her prone body. “I can feel it, the blood coursing through your veins” he then lowered his hands.
“So you have slain Alduin... Well done. I could have slain him myself; back when I walked the earth, but I chose a different path” he paced back and forth. Wyldfyre could only watch.
"Still, you have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield!" He then shouted three words, "Mul Qah Diiv!” Wyldfyre recognised the first two as the Dragon Aspect shout. He was now covered in a spectral dragon-like armour. Wyldfyre now knew what she would look like when she used the shout herself. Miraak postured arrogantly before her, as the creatures looked on.
“This realm is beyond you.” He sneered at her in contempt “You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon they will finish building my temple, and I can return home." He then turned to the four creatures "Seekers, send her back where she came from. She can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel." He strode away and mounted the dragon before taking off into the sky, leaving Wyldfyre alone with the Seekers. They crowded around her, shuddering and showering her with a magic she had never felt before. He body was thrown against the stone floor and she writhed in pain until she blacked out.
“....My lady! Wyldfyre!” someone was trying to rouse her. Wyldfyre blinked and opened her eyes. She was back in the small room, lying on the floor; the black book resting on her chest.
“What happened?” she asked and sat up, letting the book fall to the floor. Her body ached all over. Azaril helped her up, a frantic look on his face.
“I don’t know. You opened the book and then these horrid tentacles wrapped around you and then you were gone. Moments later you re-appeared lying on the floor. What happened?” It was his turn to ask. Wyldfyre shook her head then scrambled to her feet with Azaril’s help. Frea looked on with interest.
“I’m not really sure, but I think I was somehow transported to another realm. There were creatures there, like the ones in this temple, a great dragon and a man. Miraak”
“Miraak!” Frea exclaimed “So it is true then. This is worse than I dared believe.”
“He is extremely powerful” Wyldfyre said “More so than me”
“We must go to my father” Frea then said, a worried expression on her face “He is the Sharman of our village. He will know what to do”. Wyldfyre nodded, still feeling a little queasy from her experience. She could not be certain, but she suspected that realm she had just visited was the home to a Daedric Prince. Something about the energy of that realm felt similar to Hircine’s Hunting Grounds.
“I must insist that Wyldfyre rest first” Azaril said then but she waved it off.
“I’m fine” she said. “Just let me go easy for a little way. I really want to leave this place as soon as we can.” Azaril agreed reluctantly and they left the chamber, Wyldfyre taking the black book with her. She shoved it into her satchel, not wanting to touch it again. They walked through a tunnel that ended with a heavy iron door. It opened back out into Solstheim and after getting her bearings, Frea led them to her village. Along the way they passed two more Ancient stones with enslaved people. They crossed a narrow bridge over a gushing waterfall and Wyldfyre saw the village up ahead. It was covered in a dome of swirling green lights.
“What is that?” she asked the Skaal woman.
“My father has put up a magical barrier to protect those of us who are left. It is quite safe to enter.” She led the way through the barrier and they stepped into the village. Small stone and wood houses surrounded a central area that contained a skinning hut and large hearthfire. To the right was a forge, sitting cold and unused. Wyldfyre assumed that the smith was one of Miraak’s thralls. In front of a large building knelt a trio of Skaal, wearing the same furred clothing that Frea had worn. They appeared to be chanting.
“Father!” Frea called out and ran over to the group. They stopped their spell and the green barrier lifted from the village. Frea helped her father up and the other two walked off. “Father, I have returned.”
“My dear Frea, I was afraid that you were taken as well” the old man smiled at his daughter with relief. He then saw Wyldfyre and Azaril. “And who are these?”
“This is Wyldfyre and Azaril. We entered the Temple and found out what was behind the Ancient stones change.
"Did you now?” the old man’s shaggy grey eyebrows shot up. He peered at Wyldfyre noting the tribal tattoo on her face. “Come here lass” he beckoned to her. Wyldfyre approached him and he studied her face, frowning slightly when he looked into her green and yellow eyes.
“You are Skaal” he announced and Wyldfyre was surprised. But then he frowned again “But you are also a Were Beast. How did this come to be?” She opened her mouth to speak but Frea cut her off.
“Father we don’t have time for lengthy stories. Wyldfyre and Azaril have come to help us. She is connected with Miraak. She has come here to seek your guidance in defeating him”
“Well I have no idea” the old man said then. He looked at Wyldfyre again and pointed at her. “What is it that you carry in your bag?” She was not surprised the old man felt its presence. She could feel it writhing in her satchel, calling out to her.
“Oh, the black book. We found this in Miraak’s temple. I read it and was transformed to some sort of realm” She took it out and made to pass it to him but he held up his hands, refusing to take it.
“Hermaeus Mora!” he hissed. “You were transported into the Daedric realm of Hermaeus Mora, the Prince of Knowledge.” Wyldfyre felt her heart drop; another Daedric Prince to deal with.
“I suspected as much” she said. The Sharman looked at her shrewdly.
“You were able to read the book and survived being transported to and from Apocrypha. Tell me what you are” he demanded. Wyldfyre blinked. The old man was very knowledgeable.
“I am Dragonborn” she admitted. He thought for a moment then nodded to himself.
“I think there may still be hope. In two possible forms. Seek out the word wall at Searing's Watch. It holds a word which I am sure you can use to free our people. As for the Black book, you should speak to the Telvanni Wizard Neloth. He knows a great deal more about them than I do.”
Wyldfyre and Azaril spent the night in the Skaal village. Frea and her father did not make an issue of her Dragonborn status or being a Were to the others. They were shown to a comfortable bed on the upper floor of the meeting hall once everyone else had retired to their respective homes. It was a quiet affair, with many of the villagers yet to return from the Ancient Stones. Wyldfyre lay in the bed staring at the thatched ceiling, listening to Azaril’s soft snores beside her. She was home and yet it did not feel like home. She had thought that once she found the Skaal then things would fall into place and she would have that feeling of sense and worth about herself again. But the Skaal were distant, reserved and even a little self righteous. She was surprised to realise that she had felt more at home and accepted at the Frostmoon camp among the Werewolves. They were her true family, not the Skaal. A small tear dripped from her eye onto the pillow before she sighed and curled up to sleep.
The next morning they set off for Searing’s Watch, a large Nordic compound in the northern part of Solstheim. Frea’s father, Storn had marked it on her map and the best route to take. It was a long journey through mountains and rough terrain. The Skaal had been kind enough to offer them warm furs to wear. Wyldfyre had declined, having a naturally high body temperature, but Azaril gladly accepted. He was rugged up from head to foot in the lumpy furs.
“You look like a large swaddled babe” Wyldfyre had giggled when he stepped out to show her his new winter clothing. Azaril was not impressed by her appraisal.
“At least I will not freeze to death Wyldfyre” he had said sternly, but then couldn’t help himself and smirked also.
Wyldfyre stopped and adjusted her armour. It was around lunch time and she called a halt to their journey to rest and eat. She stared out across the barren frozen countryside and then turned to Azaril.
“Azaril, what is it like, to live longer?” She surprised him by her question.
“I can’t really say My Lady. It’s all I have known. Being mostly raised here on Solstheim I didn’t really noticed anything different amongst the Dunmer. There have not been too many locals who are not of Elvin ancestry. But those who have remained here for a time, I did not notice them aging until one day, they had grey hair and moved a lot slower. Time is different to us. We do not see it as a slow process like you would think we do.” He frowned at her quizzically “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just something I have been thinking about” she said. She shifted her weight off her left foot. “Ever since I returned from Sovngarde, after taking in Alduin’s blood, I... I’ve been afraid...” Azaril’s eyes widened when he realised what she was trying to say.
“....You’ve been afraid that the longevity of the dragons has been passed on to you?” he sat back, astounded “I never really thought about that. Oh Wyldfyre, you must be frantic. Have you spoken to Paarthurnax about this?” She shook her head.
“Not yet but I intend to. I am so worried about it Azaril. What if I do stop ageing? What if I remain like this and the people who I love keep going, and dying until... until I’m left alone, with no-one!” she sobbed out loud. Azaril moved to sit beside her and gingerly wrapped his arms around her. It was the first physical contact between the two. Wyldfyre sobbed into his furs while he awkwardly pat her on the back.
“You need to speak to the Dragon before you work yourself up about this.” He soothed her, “I’m sure you are worried over nothing. You’ll see” Wyldfyre lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek, causing the Dunmer to blush furiously.
“How did you get to be so wise Azaril?”
“Time My Lady. Time”
*****
The Dragon swooped again and let out a fierce jet of frozen air. Wyldfyre and Azaril watched from a hidden alcove as the beast swooped on several Draugr that roamed the ruins of Searing’s watch. Wyldfyre felt its presence in her mind and she was sure it felt hers, but for now it was content to hassle the walking dead.“Fus Ro Dah!” another shout shot out from the ruins aimed at the dragon. At least one of the Draugr knew dragon shouts; which was why the pair had decided to wait it out and let the Dragon do them a favour. Occasionally they could see far below a Draugr run out from the ruins and take on the dragon when it landed. The draugr did not last long against the frigid winds of the dragon and soon most of them lay still on the frozen ground.
“I don’t think we need to wait any longer” Wyldfyre said from their spot. They left the alcove and crept down the entryway into the grounds below. Wyldfyre looted any draugr she passed, collecting a few gold coins and some precious stones. She found a dark red stone that reminded her of Scarlet and she tucked it into her armour, vowing to give it to her if she ever saw her again. They continued on while the dragon was still occupied with the remaining draugr on the levels above. They could see from their vantage point before that the word wall was situated at the very top of the compound. As they ascended the stairs they heard another shout and a blast of frozen air spilled over the lip of the platform on top of them. Wyldfyre shook off the snow and unsheathed her crossbow, loaded it with a bolt and looked at Azaril.
“Ready?” he nodded and they stepped up and out onto the last platform. It was only small, the word wall covering most of the area. A large ceremonial table lay at the front and on this was a draugr, wearing a two horned helm that Wyldfyre recognised instantly.
“It’s a Deathlord!” she shouted, firing a bolt at it immediately. Azaril bounded into action, running and taking a flying leap at the Deathlord, slicing at it with his sword. The Draugr toppled over the railing and disappeared below. The dragon dipped its wings and dove downwards, searching for the Draugr.
“Quick My Lady! While they are both distracted!” Wyldfyre turned and ran for the wall, the chanting ringing in her ears and the word glowing.
“Come on...come on!” she tried to hurry it up as she swept the sky for the dragon. She felt the word enter her and her mind searched for it, learning and understanding what it meant. Gol, a shout to command the very earth. Yes, this was exactly what she needed to cleanse the stones. “Let’s go!” she turned and ran for the stairs but the dragon appeared in front of them again. She could feel its curiosity as it peered at her with its fathomless black eyes. Then she felt a power building up inside it.
Azaril! Down!” she shouted and the Dunmer hit the floor. She gathered up her energy and released a fire shout just as the dragons mouth opened. Fire and ice collided; spraying ice splinters and steam everywhere, some of it falling harmlessly on to Azaril’s furs.
“Try again, dragon” Wyldfyre said as she raised her crossbow. The dragon sniffed with indignity.
“Dragonborn?” it asked inside her mind as it sifted through her memories. She pushed it out of her head.
“Keep out of my head” she boldly sifted through its mind until she found what she was looking for, smiling up at the dragon with malicious glee “Grahfonah” the dragon’s head snapped back and it blinked. It flapped its wings and Wyldfyre had to step back as it landed on the railing before her.
“How did you learn of my name, Dargonborn?” its icy breath blowing her hair back off her face. Azaril remained on the ground, feeling it best not to provoke the dragon. Wyldfyre lowered her crossbow but kept it ready.
“I can enter your mind, as you enter mine” she answered it. It cocked its head to the side, eyeing her with one large black eye.
“How?” it asked simply.
“Feel the blood inside me Dragon. See who resides in there”. She felt the Dragon enter her mind again but this time it searched her whole body, her muscles, bones, tissue until it came to her heart. It felt the beating of the heart as her blood flowed to and from it. Then it tasted her blood. It withdrew quickly and scrambled back slightly.
“You are the Kriid of our Lord Alduin!” he exclaimed. Wyldfyre gripped her crossbow tighter.
“And what say you to that?” she asked it. A slow minute passed when all was silent and then..
“Nonvul Monah; Noble Mother” it bowed its head and then spread it wings, alighting from the railing and hovering in front of her. “I thank you” it turned and flew off to the north over the mountain. Wyldfyre breathed out an explosive breath.
“Well!” she said with relief “Thank the Maker that Dragon was not an Alduin sympathiser” she looked to Azaril still on the ground. “Oh, you can get up now”