Wyldfyre

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”
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”

CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE: TO NCHARDAK

The Skaal were a proud and stubborn people. Try as she might, Wyldfyre could not get the small group that remained in the village to stay behind while she went to cleanse the Ancient Stones. A small throng had joined her after Storn had asked her to use the shout on the stones. They were armed with weapons and would not be persuaded to stay behind. At best she was able to get them to gather on a rise above the first stone, out of any danger. She stood before the stone and swallowed, not knowing what to expect from shouting at it. She knew that dealing with something Miraak had tampered with was dangerous. Not to mention that he was aligned with a Daedra. Wyldfyre gathered in her energy, her crossbow at the ready. She nodded to Azaril who stood at her side.

“Grol!” a yellow force field emanated from her and blasted the stone. The strange arched structure that had been built around it shuddered as one by one the enthralled people stopped what they were doing and shook their heads as if waking form a dream. They milled about in confusion until Wyldfyre yelled at them to run. People scattered as the whole structure shook and then the arches blasted away from the stone. Rock flew in all directions in the explosion and in the chaos a large creature emerged from the water that surrounded the Ancient stone. It stood two men high and had the head of a fanged fish-like creature. Its body was armoured with large scales and its hands and feet finished in sharp deadly claws. It roared, throwing its body left and right and great gushes of black liquid spewed from its mouth. Wherever the liquid hit the ground, green noxious gases rose and the snow melted and bubbled. Wyldfyre heard a rushing behind her and the villagers flew past to engage the creature.

“Return to Oblivion foul beast!” one cried.

“Oh for the love of...” Wyldfyre cursed and ran in to join the throng. Soon the creature was dead but they had lost two of their number. The Skaal mourned their loved ones as they carried them back to the village. But they were also happy to be free from their enslavement. Wyldfyre was thanked over and over again and that night a special meal was prepared. It was not a large meal, due to there being no-one able to hunt while being tied to the stone. But what they had they offered freely to their new Skaal friends. Azaril seemed to be having a hard time shaking off the advances from two separate ladies. He gripped Wyldfyre’s hand at one stage, his eyes darting from side to side.

“Save me! I beg of you!”

“Azaril. You are what, 300 years old and you are still afraid of the attention from ladies?”

“I am not 300 years old I am only....”

“Oh pfft” she cut him off “Go have some fun, you need to relax. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine” she winked at him, then saw one of the ladies searching; a pretty brunette. Wyldfyre waved her hand over her head and the Skaal noticed, her eyes brightening and then made a bee line for the Dunmer.

“How could you do this to me?” he whimpered before he was swept away. Wyldfyre never saw him again that night. Later, Wyldfyre slipped away from the celebration and made her way down to the shore line. The moon shone brightly and she wandered the shore for a time before sitting on a rock that jutted out into the sea. She stared into the water sadly, imagining Farkas’s face amongst the small wavelets.

“I miss you so much” she whispered, letting her fingers run through the water. A crushing of rocks underfoot alerted her to someone behind her. She turned to see a man in ragged clothing looking up wistfully at the lights of the village. She cleared her throat to make herself known. Whirling around the man spied her then frowned.

“You are not Skaal” he stated. His eyes blazed with the same fire as hers. She sniffed the wind and detected a familiar but slightly different scent.

“You are Were!” she exclaimed. He blinked the sniffed as well.

“As are you” he said with surprise. “But not like me. You are wolf”

“What are you?” she asked him, standing. He stepped back.

“I..I am bear” he took another quick glance back up at the village. “The hunter. Wulf Wild-Blood. He is all right?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

“Yes, he is” Shadow took a step towards him but he shied away. This Were was wild, untamed. She looked up to the village but when she turned back to the man he was already half way down the beach.
“Hey! Come back!” she shouted, but it was too late. He was gone.

“No! No, No!” echoed the irritating voice of Master Neloth. “Are you trying to kill me? This is terrible. Terrible! Make it again” Wyldfyre and Azaril had left Skaal village and made their way back to the southern part of the island were the wizard’s strange home was. They had come upon another of the Ancient Stones and she used her shout to cleanse it. Again they had to defeat one of the creatures that spewed black oily tentacles. It was a tense moment, as the people enslaved at this particular stone seemed to be mostly bandits. Though when the creature was dead they scattered, leaving the pair alone. They continued on to Tel Mithryn. Wyldfyre hardly believed her eyes when she wandered through the giant mushrooms to come upon a massive structure bigger than any tree she had seen.

“How?” she asked in wonder; gazing up at the huge fungi.

“The Telvanni are very clever wizards, they grow these towers from special fungal spores, imbue them with magics that turn them into this” he pointed to the central mushroom. A great winding staircase lead half way up the stalk to a wooden door. Before she opened it Azaril stayed her hand and gave her a warning.

“Don’t be frightened when you enter and start floating upwards. It’s supposed to do that”

“All right” she nodded. Azaril hesitated. “What?” she asked him.

“Err My lady. If you don’t mind me saying, I was wondering if you should let me handle Master Neloth? He can be rude and abrupt and I know that you have no tolerance for people like that and I, well I don’t want....”

“You don’t want me Fus’ing him off his giant mushroom?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well, yes. Sorry”

“I get it” she sighed. “Fine, whatever! Just ask him about the book and make sure he tells you everything. I will remain dutifully silent” Azaril didn’t really believe his friend but they entered the tower anyway. It was a strange sensation to go floating up the stalk of the fungi. Once Wyldfyre reached the top she was gently deposited onto a landing platform. Azaril had already sought out the wizard, but the Telvanni seemed to be having some sort of dilemma.

“Yes Master Neloth!” a younger Dunmer hurried off with what appeared to be an earthenware cup. He muttered as he passed Wyldfyre, giving her only a fleeting glance. “First he refuses to teach me and now I’ve become his tea lady” Tea? His dilemma is about tea? Wyldfyre walked over to Azaril and the Wizard.

“Ah, you again” Neloth said as she approached. Wyldfyre raised an eyebrow at Azaril and he quickly intervened.

“Master Neloth. We have come seeking your guidance on a matter of dire importance”

“Well of course you have” the wizard sniffed “I am the foremost expert on all things of dire importance. Now instead of wasting my time, why don’t you tell me what it is you are interrupting my precious tea time for” Wyldfyre pulled the black book out of her bag. Neloth’s eyes widened when she held it in front of him. But like Storn, refused to touch it. Wyldfyre could tell that he itched to have it though.

“And how is it that you came to have this?” he asked them.

“I recovered it from Miraak’s Temple” she said “When I read it...”

“You read it?” he exclaimed, then paced around Wyldfyre, studying her. “Well you don’t appear to be any worse for wear. No tentacles protruding from your extremities. Count me slightly impressed” he said when he faced her again. Wyldfyre continued.

“When I read it I was transported to some other realm. A plane of Oblivion.” She narrowed her eyes “But you know that. Don’t you?” she said shrewdly.

“Of course I do” he said with his typical condescending tone “You were privileged to be in the realm of the Daedric Prince, Hermaeus Mora. What you hold in your hand is one of his Black Books. A powerful source of knowledge. For those who survive reading it of course” He nodded to himself and muttered.. “Very interesting”

“Master Neloth, We found this in the depths of Miraak’s Temple” Azaril prompted the Wizard, who appeared to be off in a world of his own.

“Hmm? Oh yes.. Well I knew the Daedra was behind what was happening here on Solstheim, but I never believed this Miraak was involved...until now. This is a very dangerous path you are travelling down” he narrowed his eyes at Wyldfyre.

“If I am to defeat Miraak, I need to know what he knows” she said then “Do you know where to find more of these Black books.”

“I do. In fact I have one here myself. I’ve been using it to locate others. It just so happens that I know of one not far from here. In the Dwemer ruin of Nchardak.”

“Dwemer ruin?” Azaril said, surprised.

“Hmmyees” The Wizard replied as he moved off and began stuffing items into a small bag he then threaded over his shoulder. "Forbidden knowledge was somewhat a specialty of the dwarves. It seems the ancient Dwemer discovered this book and took it to study. I have found it sealed in a protective case which so far I haven’t been able to open. But perhaps the three of us together will be able to get the book. To Nchardak, then. Follow me!" And he strode off before the others could say a word. He passed the hapless assistant, who smiled and presented a hot steaming cup of tea to the wizard. But the Telvanni waved it off.

“No time for that now. I shall be away for a day or so. Continue with your study!” He stepped off the end of the platform and sunk out of sight. Wyldfyre threw a sympathetic glance at the assistant who sighed and drank the tea himself.

The way to the Dwemer ruin saw the trio walking north along the coast from Tel Mithryn. Master Neloth chatted almost constantly the entire time about things that Wyldfyre either did not care about or didn’t understand. She was nervous about reading this next book. The Wizard had suggested that this particular dark tome was the power source behind Miraak. Did that mean the Daedric prince himself resided amongst the pages? Wyldfyre did not want to deal with another Daedra.

They came to the ruins and discovered that Bandits had made their base amongst the flooded towers. Nchardak had been abandoned long ago and the sea had claimed most of it, leaving only the tops of a few of the higher towers sitting out of the water. The trio dealt with most of the bandits, the rest of them running off into the wilderness. They made their way across ramps and walkways to the largest dome where Neloth had sealed the entrance to the ruins below. He took out a strange cube and inserted it into a column that stood next to the large golden doors. The cube whirred into action and the doors swung open.

“Well here we go” Neloth said and entered the ruins. As the door closed behind them, Wyldfyre and the others stood for a minute while their eyes adjusted to the gloom. The room they were in was rounded and had a glossy glass floor. Sitting on a small pedestal underneath the glass floor was the Black Book. Wyldfyre could feel it almost throbbing as she rested on her knees, studying it through the glass.

“So what do we need to do to get the book?” she asked when she stood back up. Neloth turned and walked over to a large Dwemer work station. He showed the others the map of the ruins that had been etched into the top of the counter.

“See here are the locations of more of these cubes” he held up the cube he used to unlock the main door. “We need these to activate the boilers to get the steam going. I suspect that’s what will open up that chamber the book is encased in. But it won’t be easy. Follow me” He led the way to an elevator that came to rest in a large chamber that was flooded with sea water. When he set the cube into another pedestal, a great rumbling shook the ruins and slowly the water level dropped to reveal four large boilers, each with an empty pedestal in front.

“We need to find the rest of the cubes to get all four boilers working.” Neloth said and headed off down a tunnel.

"There seems to be an inexhaustible supply of these Dwemer contraptions." Neloth grunted as he dispersed of yet another Dwarven sphere. They had traversed through the ruins, swam through freezing water, and battled many spheres and spiders and a few of the larger Centurions before finally collecting all four of the cubes. When they had placed them on their respective pedestals the whole ruin had come to life as the boilers started to steam and the Automatons tried to defend their city. After they disposed of the last of them they returned to the top level where the book lay encased. Neloth moved to a small column and pushed a button and the glass slid away and the pedestal that the book lay on rose out of the floor. Wyldfyre looked to Azaril then Neloth. The Telvanni Wizard raised an eyebrow.

“Be my guest” he gestured to the book. “I’m not going to be the first to touch such a dangerous object, that’s what assistants are for”

“You are too kind” Wyldfyre muttered and walked up to the Black book. She could feel the waves of malevolence as it lay there pulsating. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she stretched a hand towards it. Once her fingers touched the book she found she could not let it go. She opened the leather-bound cover and peered at the first page. Suddenly, writhing tentacles spewed forth from the pages and wrapped themselves around Wyldfyre, drawing her in as her vision blurred and all went black again.

Wyldfyre was tired and bleeding as she stepped up to what she hoped to be the final chamber of Hermaeus Mora’s Apocrypha. After reading the book she had once again been transported to the Daedric Prince’s plain of Oblivion. She was taken through a gauntlet of moving tunnels; vast rooms piled high with stacks of books, bridges and great expanses of that oily writhing sea. She had to fight off two of the creatures that had attacked when she had cleansed the ancient stones, as well as the Seekers Miraak had with him when she had first entered Apocrypha. She had been tossed around by the Seekers magic, and received a nasty gash to her leg from one of the fish-like creatures.

It took all of her magical, shouting and fighting skills to defeat each foe. By the time she dragged herself to the top tower, she was almost done. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spied the book, lying on a pedestal. Wyldfyre opened the book but suddenly was thrown against it and her body turned around to face a great green eye amongst a nest of writhing tentacles. She was pinned to the spot as the tentacles reached out to her. They slid over her body as the eye watched her. She shivered with disgust as the slimy appendages slid over her skin.

"Well done, Mortal.” A slow, oily voice drawled “Your journey towards enlightenment has finally led you here, to my realm, as I knew it would. I have been watching you. You seek the forbidden knowledge that only one other has obtained.” It stopped as the tentacles passed over her face and she shuddered under their touch “You are Dragonborn, like my servant Miraak before you. A seeker of knowledge and power. You also seek to learn how to bend the world to your will." Wyldfyre suddenly found she had a voice again.

“I came here to learn Miraak’s secrets to defeat him” she said boldly “I did not come here to serve you”

"You will serve me, willing or not. Even if you are bound to another. Yes, I feel Hircine’s touch on you. But that is of little importance to me. All who seek after the secrets of the world are my servants."

“Then I will find Miraak’s secrets on my own” she struggled but the tentacles only tightened.

“Oh? Look around you. Not even a thousand lifetimes would allow you to find what it is you are looking for. My library is infinite, Dragonborn. No, I am afraid you WILL need my help”. Wyldfyre slumped, knowing it was impossible to argue with a Daedric Prince. She would gain the knowledge, but at what price? She felt like she was about to make another terrible deal.

“What is it you want then?” she asked the unblinking eye. Hermaeus Mora chuckled.

“You are very cleaver Dragonborn. There is room in my library for something I have been seeking for many years. Knowledge that the holders refuse to give up. Until now.”

“And who holds this knowledge?” she swallowed. This was it, what terrible bargain was she about to strike. The eye drew closer until she could see the black veins in its pupil. Hermaeus Mora glowered at her dangerously.


“Bring me the knowledge of...the Skaal”

*whispers* wants more ^_^

A.Auditore said:

*whispers* wants more ^_^

Click to expand...

*whispers* I've just finished two more chapters...

most excellent

CHAPTER NINETY – BETRAYAL

“The Skaal?” Wyldfyre blinked. “You want the secrets of the Skaal?”

“Yes” the eye moved slowly back, but the tentacles still moved over her body. “For too long have they kept their knowledge from Me. Bring me the Sharman, Storn Grag-Strider. Once I have learned the secrets of the Skaal, I will teach you the final word.”

“You won’t hurt the Skaal will you?” she narrowed her eyes “What assurance can I have from you that they will not be harmed?” The eye narrowed and moved towards her again. Wyldfyre leant back as far as she was able.

“My word is bound, Mortal. But for you I will teach you the second word you desire, out of good faith.” Before Wyldfyre could process this she was hit with a glowing orb and she felt the second word of the Bend Will shout mingling in with the first. Mind. She shook at its power but otherwise stood upright, the tentacles holding her in place. She breathed heavily as the power dissipated and she swallowed.

“Alright” she nodded “I will go to Storn and tell him your request” The tentacles slowly released her, depositing her back on to the floor. She didn’t know she had been hovering in the air.

“Bring me the Skaal and you will have your final word” the eye peered at her, then faded to nothing, leaving Wyldfyre alone with the book. She turned and let out an explosive breath. She felt dirty and abused after dealing with the Daedric prince of Knowledge. She scanned the book again and then her vision went blank and she heard a rushing noise and then found herself lying on a hard cold floor.

“Ah, so you’re back. And still in one piece I see”

“Master Neloth!” Azaril said reproachfully “Wyldfyre is hurt, can’t you see that?” Neloth stood over her while Azaril tended her wounds.

“Huh” he sniffed “Well I would be far more concerned if she was missing a limb or had grown a few more. She seems fine to me. Nothing a health potion couldn’t fix”

“He’s right Azaril” Wyldfyre breathed “I’m fine, just a little sore and...icky” Azaril frowned in confusion but handed her a health potion anyway. She drank it and stood, still holding onto the book. “I need.....” she looked around in confusion as she got her bearings. When she spied the door that lead to the outside area she dropped the book and strode towards it.

“My Lady!” Azaril hurried after her, picking up bits of armour that Wyldfyre stripped off as she went. “Wyldfyre, where are you going?”

“Yes!” Neloth called after her “You haven’t told me what happened. You there! Oh..! I say....” Neloth’s protests came to an abrupt end as Wyldfyre released herself from the last of her armour and underclothes and ran to the edge of the building and plunged headfirst into the sea. She dove down, down into the depths of the ocean, past the warmer currents and to the sandy bottom where the chilled sea water wrapped around her. When her eyes focused she was sitting on the bottom before a vast underwater city; the rest of the ruins of Nchardak. Although the city had long been abandoned by the ones who built it, it was still a bustling metropolis. All manner of sea life now resided amongst the pillars and towers. Schools of fish darted in and out of the buildings. Bright corals had embedded themselves on the carved rock. It was beautiful and Wyldfyre instantly felt at peace.

When her lungs started to burn she headed for the surface, bursting from the water with an explosive breath. She floated there and sought out her companions. Azaril was sitting with his feet dangling over the side, his eyes brightening when he saw her. Neloth was no-where to be seen.

“Where is the wizard?” she asked as she swam back to the ramp. Azaril blushed slightly when she rose out of the water, but handed her a towel anyway.

“I think you embarrassed him. Stripping off like that. He excused himself and went back to Tel Mithryn with the Black Book.”

“He’ll live” she sniffed, not caring Neloth had the book. He could keep it for all she cared “I needed a bath. Dealing with that Daedric Prince was...unpleasant” She wrapped the towel around her and sat next to her friend.

“Was it as horrible as they say?” he said, handing her an apple. Wyldfyre didn’t feel like eating but her stomach growled so she bit into the fruit, taking her time to chew as she thought it over. Those slimy tentacles and that great eye, ogling her. She shuddered.

“Depends on what you class as horrible. It was like being felt-up by a dozen different hands. Slimy hands. I don’t want to do it again, that’s for sure.” Azaril looked at her, wide-eyed.

“So what came of your reading the book My Lady?”

“Hermaeus Mora gave me the second word and he will give me the last. But I have to do something for him” she looked at Azaril who had a look of horror on his face.

“By The Maker Azaril! Not like that!” she shook her head “I mean he wants me to get the Skaal to give up their secrets. He is the Prince of Knowledge... not... debauchery!”

“Oh yes, sorry. Of course that’s what he wants”

“I just hope he keeps his word and that is all he wants from them.”

“He is Daedra My Lady” Azaril said “When are they known to keep their word?”

“That’s what I am afraid of Azaril” she looked out across the expanse towards the north were the peaceful Skaal village lay. “I just don’t know”
“Father no! I do not want you to do this!” Frea protested again, clinging to her father’s sleeve like a small child. Wyldfyre and Azaril had gone straight to the Skaal village and presented the Daedra’s offer to the Sharman. After some thought the Sharman had agreed; only because it would help Wyldfyre to free Solstheim from Miraak’s evil influence.

“Do not fret for me child. I will be fine. I have dealt with the likes of Hermaeus Mora before.” Storn walked to the front of the small hut he and Frea shared. Wyldfyre and Azaril followed while most of the villagers looked on at a distance.

“You don’t have to do this” Wyldfyre said to the Sharman. She was still unsure that the bargain she had struck with the Daedric Prince was the best move.

“But father! You do not know that. That book is evil. It goes against everything the All-Maker teaches us!”

“Which is why we have to rid this land of it Daughter!” Storn raised his voice. “We have freed our people but for how long? And what of the rest of the poor souls that are still slaves to the Ancient Stones? Are we to leave them to their fate? I can not do that.” Frea looked stricken but soon lowered her head in defeat.

“I understand Father. I will stand by your decision. Do what you must” She stood back as Wyldfyre handed him the book.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked him one final time. Storn slowly opened the book. At first nothing happened but then, suddenly a great mass of tentacles erupted from the pages. Wyldfyre and the others looked on horrified as the tentacles pierced the Sharman through, protruding out the other side. Storn groaned in pain as one of the tentacles bored into his forehead.

“NO!” Wyldfyre exclaimed stepping forward as Frea cried out for her father. Then, a great, green eye sitting in amongst a mass of tentacles appeared.

“Ah. Finally I have the knowledge of the Skaal” the eye moved as if in ecstasy. Frea pushed Wyldfyre towards the entity.

“Do something!” she shouted. But Wyldfyre was too surprised and rooted to the spot. Storn hovered in mid air, impaled by the Daedra’s tentacles, blood streaming down his arms and legs, staining the snow a dark red.

"Dragonborn, you have delivered to me what I requested. In return, I keep my promise, as befits a Prince of Oblivion; I give you the Word of Power that you need to challenge Miraak.” Wyldfyre shuddered as the final word for the Bend Will shout entered her body. She gasped and fell to her knees when she realised what the word meant. Dragon. She could now command the will of the Dragons themselves. It was all too much, her vision swam and she felt like retching as the Dragon souls inside her writhed in anger.

“You will be either a worthy opponent or his successor, as the tides of fate decree." Hermaeus Mora continued “Farewell Dragonborn. I will be watching you with great interest” The entity faded and Storn slumped to the ground as Frea ran to catch him. But it was already too late. The Sharman was dead.

“Father!” Frea sobbed as she cradled his lifeless body to her, rocking back and forth. Azaril placed a hand on Wyldfyre but she waved it off and stood, shaking with anger. She should have known better than to make a bargain with a Daedric Prince. The village crowded around their loved one and mourned his passing. Wyldfyre and Azaril stepped away from the crowd, feeling out of place. They turned to leave but then heard a shouting and someone rushing at them. Frea had drawn her sword and was swinging it at Wyldfyre. She drew her sword but did not wish to fight the Skaal, maddened with grief as she was.

“Frea! Stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” She parried a blow from the woman and hit her in the ribs with the flat of her blade. It wasn’t enough to truly hurt her but she fell to her knees.

“GO! Leave our village and never come back!” she spat up at Wyldfyre.

“Frea, I’m sorry...”

“Go! Before I change my mind and have the whole village hunt you down like the beast you are!” Wyldfyre stepped back, her heart breaking with the hurtful words. Frea was grieving, and Wyldfyre was the nearest person to blame, and she was right. This was all her fault. She turned and ran from the village, not caring if Azaril was behind her or not. Tears streamed down her face as she ran blindly on through the wilderness until she came down to the shore line. She fell to her knees and sobbed, her arms wrapped around her. Soon other arms were wrapped around her she was pulled into a warm embrace.

“You could not have changed the outcome of that” Azaril soothed her. Wyldfyre sniffed and nodded.

“I know. But it is still my fault Azaril. And what Frea said..”

“She was grieving, she didn’t mean it” he tried to console her.

“We both know she did” Wyldfyre sat there on the rocks, the sharp points biting into her thighs. It was painful but she welcomed the pain. “I am a beast. I have brought nothing but death and destruction since I came down from my village. I wish I had of just died that night in the Falmar attack”

“You can’t mean that Wyldfyre” Azaril said as he sat beside her taking her hand in his. “Look at all the good you have done.”

“Like what?” she snorted. She grabbed a rock and hurled it into the ocean where it made a small plop.

“Well you cured the twins of their beast blood, and Lydia and Vilkas; that would have never happened if she wasn’t your housecarl. Look at the beautiful babe their union produced. All because of you.”

“It’s all because of me many people have died. Marcurio, Lynly, Kodlak and all the people the Dragons have killed.” Azaril had no idea who Marcurio and Lynly were but he knew of Kodlak.

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for the Silverhand attack on Jorrvaskr. Or the deaths due to dragon attacks. Wyldfyre, do you hear me? None of that is your fault!” Wyldfyre sighed and looked out to sea.

“Sometimes I think I should just fade away and leave this place”

“What? Solstheim?” Azaril looked confused.

“No, I mean... Never mind” she shook her head. She was not in the mood for more conversation. She stood and brushed herself off and started trekking back along the coast until they found a path that led south back towards Raven Rock. She decided she needed to cleanse the Ancient stone there and free the citizens of the mining colony. She also wanted to find the rest of the Ancient stones and cleanse them of Miraaks’ hold as well. It was the least she could do right now. As they made their way back to Raven Rock she thought about the Bend Will shout. The second shout was called Mind. She could influence others against their will. It seemed a horribly evil thing to do. For that was what Miraak was doing with the Ancient stones. Wasn’t he?

She then thought about the three words combined to command a Dragon. It was almost beyond belief that she could bend a dragon to her will. She had been able to fly Odahviing to Skuldafn but that was only as a result of the Dragon agreeing. Not having been enslaved. She would need to find a dragon, a hostile one, to see just how this shout worked. She said this to Azaril who swallowed nervously.

“If you need to My Lady.”

“I know, it’s risky...”

“More like terrifying!” he snorted.

“Terrifying then” she continued “But I have to know how this shout works. I can’t just stumble in blindly when I face Miraak again. He is far too powerful for me to do that”

“Can you really defeat him My Lady?” Azaril asked. Wyldfyre had been asking herself that very same question.
“I hope so” she smiled slightly “If not, it will be all over for me and Gods help the rest of Tamriel.”

The mining settlement of Raven Rock glowed. The citizens had been freed from their enslavement and the mine was now back and running. Lanterns glowed in the evening as sounds of music and laughter filled the air. Wyldfyre was held in the highest of esteem for her part in the cleansing of the Ancient Stone. She had gathered a small force of Raven Rock’s guards to help deal with the monster that erupted from the waters after she had used her Bend Will shout on the stone. No-one had lost their lives as the enslaved ran for cover. Now that its people were free, Raven Rock could once again become a significant part of Morrowind.

“We owe it all to you” Lleril Morvayn said to her as he placed an object in her hand. Wyldfyre looked down to see a set of large keys.

“What is this?” she asked, curious.

“It’s the only way we can truly thank you. You are an honorary citizen of Raven Rock, so therefore you need an abode while you are here”

“I..I don’t know what to say” Wyldfyre stammered, touched at the gift. A whole house?

“Severin Manor is yours” the First Councillor smiled. Later that evening, after Azaril had retired to the spare bedroom of Wyldfyre’s new house, she lay in her large bedroom in the semi darkness, staring up at the odd, vaulted ceiling. Strange lanterns that glowed with a dull red hue sat on a table, along with earthenware jars that held health potions. Wyldfyre lay restless, thinking about the Bend Will shout. She needed to find a dragon. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled her satchel near. She frowned. It was lighter than it should be. Upon opening it she discovered it all but empty. She stormed into the second bedroom and shook Azaril awake.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

“Where is what? What are you on about?” he blinked sleepily and then rose off the pillows when he saw the fury on his friend’s face.

“You know damned well what I mean. Where is the Book Azaril?”

“Why do you need it? Sneaking off were you?” he stood. “I hid it so you couldn’t go off on your own”

“What?”

“I know you Wyldfyre. All this talk about everything being your fault. You would take the book and leave and try to deal with it all on your own. Well I’m not going to let you” he folded his arms, a determined look on his face. Wyldfyre narrowed her eyes at him.

“Give it back!” she yelled. She was more angry at Azaril knowing her more than what she knew herself. She had been planning to take the book and leaving, and it annoyed her that her plan had been foiled.

“I’m sorry. I can’t” he said, as she rummaged in his room, throwing items everywhere. “You won’t find it. It’s not here” Wyldfyre spun around.

“You..! “ she spluttered. “How could you do this to me?” she then tried to guilt him, but Azaril would not have it. He strode towards her and grabbed her arms.

“Because I am your friend Wyldfyre! I will not let you do this on your own. I care too much about you..”

“If you cared you would give back my book and let me leave” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me!” There it was, she had said it.

“I know Love” Azaril released her arms but then enfolded her into an embrace. His term of endearment had her slightly concerned. Did he have feelings for her that were more than just friendship? And if he did, did she really mind? She relaxed in his arms, breathing in his scent. He always smelt like soft wood and pine cones, and she realised that it was extremely soothing. He held on to her tight until her breathing slowed and her heart stopped racing.

“That’s not fair you know” she muttered into his chest. He pulled away and looked into her green eyes.

“I know” he said, smiling softly. “Now, are you going to go back to bed and let us talk about this in the morning, or am I going to have to take measures?” She sighed, then stood on her toes and kissed him quickly before leaving his room and returning to hers.



Azaril closed his eyes and stood for a moment, breathing in the lingering scent that Wyldfyre had left behind. He had fallen so desperately in love since the moment he had laid eyes on her and every minute he spent in her presence was like a slow agony. He longed to take her in his arms and do to her the things that a man should do to a woman such as her. But she was bound to another, and he was nothing if not honourable. So he made it his mission to protect her in any way he could. If it meant deceiving her and hiding the Black Book, making her angry at him, then that’s what he would do. He was glad he had the foresight to take it. He knew she would try to leave him behind, for fear of causing him harm or something far worse. Azaril did not care. He would lay down his life if it meant another day she lived. He would gladly die for her. He checked the Book was still secure in its hiding place and went back to a sleep filled with dreams of his red-headed beauty.

Scarlet will mend his broken heart

:O Azaril... you poor thing....

yeah yeah, the title.. I couldn't help it ok! heh





CHAPTER NINETY ONE: HOW TO TRAIN A DRAGON

“Did you see that? Did you see that Azaril! WOO!” Wyldfyre jumped up and down excitedly as she dismounted the large white-scaled Dragon. It sat blinking oddly as Wyldfyre ran to the Dunmer and almost bowled him over as she hugged him.

“Azaril, I flew the Dragon, not just flew on it, but I made it do what I wanted!” She shook with excitement. It had not taken them long to trek through the wilderness to find the dragon. A known Dragon burial mound was marked on their map of Solstheim and sure enough, when they arrived, a now living, breathing dragon was resting atop the ruined mound. Wyldfyre had used her shout on the beast and it had landed before her, a little confused but wiling for her to cross her leg over its back. She had flown the Dragon across the wilds of Solstheim and out over the sea before making it turn back and landing where it had taken off. The flight had been frightening and exhilarating at the same time as it plummeted towards the ground, beating at the air with its leathery wings. Azaril was a slight green colour as Wyldfyre danced around him. Not from envy though, but more from a sickening fear of heights.

“I saw it yes” he nodded, trying to keep his breakfast down “I’m happy for you My Lo..Lady”

“The shout works!” she said excitedly then startled both Azaril and the dragon when she let out a triumphant howl into the sky. The Dragon took flight and disappeared over a mountain, bellowing in protest.

“Didn’t you want to slay the dragon?” Azaril asked Wyldfyre who was looking out across the pine trees.

“Huh? Oh... no, not really. It served its purpose” she replied. They traversed back down the mountain and headed for Raven Rock. Now that Wyldfyre knew what to do with the Bend Will Shout, she was ready to read the Book she had retrieved from the Temple of Miraak and face the First Dragonborn once and for all.

“Are you nervous?” Azaril asked her as they ate an evening meal together in Severin Manor. Azaril had cooked up a feast for them and Wyldfyre had had a little too much spiced wine.

“Terrified” she giggled, popping a morsel of food into her mouth. “This may be my last meal” she grinned. Azaril frowned, not even wanting to think of losing her. She was happy and drunk, so he didn’t wish to spoil her mood by being morose.

“It may very well be” he said instead and gulped down some wine. “Better make it count” he smiled. Wyldfyre nodded happily and Azaril sighed as he watched her. He wished he could be in an inebriated bliss like she was. But someone had to be responsible. With only the two of them there it was left to him. After the meal they retired to Wyldfyre’s bedroom, the only room that had a decent fire and place for sitting. Wyldfyre lounged on the floor in a tunic and suede pants. She had stopped drinking and now had hiccoughs. She blinked sleepily as the warmth from the fire dulled her senses.

“I think I want to go to bed” she yawned. She held out her hands to Azaril. “Carry me?” she blinked at the dunmer. Azaril hesitated. He longed to touch her but in her intoxicated state he had no desire to take advantage of her. But he bent down and scooped her up anyway. She snuggled into his chest as he took her to bed. He lowered her onto the sheets but she refused to let go of his neck.

“Stay with me” she breathed and kissed him. It was a passionate kiss that two lovers would exchange and it took all of Azaril’s will to break away. He pushed her away gently but firmly.

“Wyldfyre” he said slowly “You are not yourself. I can’t do that. Not tonight” Wyldfyre pouted and slumped back on the pillows. Azaril sat next to her and stared into the fire for a while before speaking.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I took advantage of you in your state. It just wouldn’t be right, because.. because I am in love with you Wyldfyre. There I said it. I love you. I have loved you from the first day I met you, and I will love you forever more.... Wyldfyre?” he looked back to the object of his affection to find her asleep and softly snoring, her mouth slightly open. Azaril sighed and covered her with a blanket.

“Sleep well My Love” he whispered before closing the door.

The stony shoreline crunched under their boots as they trekked around the eastern side of the island. They had decided that Wyldfyre would read the book away from civilisation. Just in case something went horribly wrong. Azaril would watch over Wyldfyre’s body while her spirit confronted Miraak in Apocrypha. They searched for a cave that would keep them sheltered from the weather, which had taken a nasty turn and black ominous clouds rolled across the sea towards them. Wyldfyre seemed distracted but Azaril put that down to nerves. She stopped and looked around, spying a small cave in the cliffs.

“I think this will do nicely” she said. She dropped her satchel and suddenly embraced Azaril. He was surprised but circled his arms around her. Wyldfyre breathed in his scent, woods and pinecones, possibly the last she would ever smell. She was about to do something terrible and she almost lost her nerve. She lifted her head and stared into the Dunmer’s red eyes.

“I love you, you know that right?” she asked him, but before he could answer she kissed him softly on the lips. Azaril returned the kiss and for a fleeting moment Wyldfyre changed her mind. But then sense overtook all other emotions and she pushed Azaril away.

“I’m so sorry” she cried, then gathered up her energy. “FUS RO!” she shouted at Azaril, who was hit by a mighty force. He flew backwards a mile out to sea before landing harmlessly into the ocean. Azaril spluttered when he burst through the surface of the water. He could barely see Wyldfyre as she shouldered her satchel and ran off into the wilderness, taking the book with her.

“Dammit!” Azaril cursed. He should have seen that coming. Wyldfyre didn’t want him to he hurt so she was running off on her own. “Wyldfyre!” he called out to her, but she was a mile away and retreating quickly into the woods.

“Wyldfyre!” she heard Azaril calling for her and tears stung her eyes as she raced into the woods. She quickly shed her armour and stuffed it into her satchel. Then she shimmered and changed into her beast form, picked up the bulging satchel and charged off towards the most northern part of the island. Instinct drove her forward. She could smell delectable things while she ran. A rabbit, a deer. But the she-wolf ran on until she eventually found what she had been looking for. A cave, small but tucked away from the weather and hidden well. The She-wolf dropped the satchel and changed back into a woman. Wyldfyre moved into the cave and dressed in her armour carefully. She checked her sword and crossbow and filled her quiver with bolts. It was time.

Wyldfyre knelt on the bare earth and took out the book. It pulsed in her hands and she took a deep breath before opening it. Once again, a mass of slimy tentacles burst from the pages and drew her in. Her vision faded until all went black.

Wyldfyre knew she was going to face the Seekers as soon as she awoke in Apocrypha. She quickly armed her crossbow and fired at the creatures that were hovering near a word wall she had not seen on her first visit to this part of Hermaeus’s world. The wall chanted as she fought the Seekers, each one trying to end her with powerful magic attacks. Wyldfyre ducked and dodged as she fired off bolts. After she defeated the Seekers she approached the wall. The word glowed and left the ancient stone then entered her body. It was the final word for the Dragon Aspect Shout. Wyldfyre up until now had not used the shout so she decided to wait and use it when she really needed it.

The ground beneath her suddenly shook and she whirled around to see Miraak’s great Dragon before her. Wyldfyre gathered her energy and shouted.

“GOL HAH DOV!” The serpentine dragon shook its head and peered at her with interest. Wyldfyre delved into its mind and discovered its name.

“Sahrotaar” she greeted the dragon who looked at her with surprise.

“Dovahkiin” he inclined his head. "Hail, thuri. Your thu'um has the mastery. Cross your leg over My back and I will carry you to Miraak." Wyldfyre hesitated. She was afraid to face Miraak yet she could not turn back. She faltered but then strode purposefully towards the dragon and climbed up onto its neck. It was not scaled like the other dragons she had ridden. It had smooth skin that shone almost iridescent. She could see old and not so old scars slashed across its body and wondered if Miraak had inflicted those wounds. Sahrotaar took off into the sky and circled around the tower that Wyldfyre had appeared on.

"Beware” he warned her “Miraak is strong. He knew you would come here." Wyldfyre nodded even though the dragon could not see her. The dragon circled up and up until it was high above the writhing sea of tentacles. He flew her to a tall tower and circled around it so that Wyldfyre could see. A lone figure stood in the middle. Two Dragons perched on top of arch ways.

“Take us down” Wyldfyre said and the dragon dipped and alighted on the tower. Wyldfyre kept her eyes on Miraak as he stood there shaking his head.

“Sahrotaar” he said reproachfully “Are you so easily swayed by another?” The other two dragons snarled at Sahrotaar, who roared back. “No, wait. It is not time yet” Miraak ordered and the two dragons grew quiet. He approached Wyldfyre who backed up until she felt Sahrotaar behind her, his warmth comforting.

"And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha” he drawled. “No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended. He is a fickle master, you know. But now I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha is over.” Miraak seemed to be almost joyful as he paced back and forth. Wyldfyre did not understand what he meant. He stopped and pointed at her “You are here in your full power, and thus subject to my full power. You will die. And with the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate again!”

“My soul? That’s what you want?” she asked. No, it could not be. Her soul? She had delivered the one and only thing that could release him from this plain. Herself. Wyldfyre shook with anger. All this just for her soul? The enslaved, those who had died, Storn, all that just so Miraak could lure her here and devour her soul.

“I’m sorry” she said “But you can’t have it”

“We shall see” Miraak chuckled then suddenly dashed to the side “Kruziikrel! Relonikiv! Now!" The two dragons sprang into action and Wyldfyre was almost knocked over as Sahrotaar launched himself into the air. The battle between the three dragons was loud and frightening. Fire and ice was sprayed back and forth as Miraak’s two servants tried to kill Wyldfyre’s dragon. Then the serpentine dragon turned on Miraak himself, launching a great ice storm at the Dragonborn. But Miraak countered it with a fire shout and the Dragon launched back into the air.
Wyldfyre took out her crossbow and began firing at Miraak. Her first shot struck true and Miraak grunted in pain. He ran towards her with his sword raised and Wyldfyre loosed another bolt, hitting him in the leg. Miraak stopped and grabbed the bolt, pulling it out of his leg and throwing it angrily to the side. He charged at her in rage and swung his sword. Wyldfyre dodged being sliced in two but was hit by the flat of the blade and was knocked to the ground. She felt her ribs breaking. Miraak stood over her and shook his head.

“I expected more” he said before raising his sword, but he himself was knocked flying by Sahrotaar as he swooped in to defend his new mistress. Wyldfyre found the reprieve valuable as she quickly swallowed a healing potion. She felt her ribs knit together but they remained painful. She grabbed her crossbow, which had been torn out of her hands when she fell, and loosed a few more bolts at Miraak. He stumbled and made his way to the centre of the tower. He shouted and suddenly turned blue and see-through. Wyldfyre recognised it as the Ethereal shout. Miraak was invulnerable.

But then he did something that horrified her. One of his dragons landed before him and Miraak shouted at it, taking its very soul from it. The dragon roared as its life force was sucked from it. It struggled but then fell to the ground dead. Wyldfyre shook her head in horror. Miraak had just sacrificed his dragon to regain his health. Sahrotaar roared in anger and swooped again, but Miraak with still Ethereal and the ice attack fell harmlessly to the ground. Miraak turned to her and chuckled, his arms out wide, gloating in his restoration. He then grew solid and once again the battle continued. With only one dragon left Miraak did not attempt to get so close to Wyldfyre.

He activated his Dragon Aspect shout and used shouts on her as she dodged fireballs and ice attacks. He also tried to fling her off the tower with Unrelenting force. Wyldfyre almost went over the side but held onto the side of the tower and pulled herself up. Looking below she could see a mass of tentacles reaching out for her. There was no way around it. She had to defeat Miraak and so she continued pelting him with bolts. Soon Miraak looked to be struggling and Wyldfyre held out hope she had him almost defeated, but again, to her horror he sacrificed his last dragon to regain his health. Only Sahrotaar was left.

She gave everything she had and dashed at Miraak with her sword. They fought back and forth, each getting in blows on the other. Wyldfyre received a gash to her stomach which bled profusely. Miraak chuckled arrogantly and she lashed out with all her strength, giving him the same injury. Miraak stumbled back and turned, searching for the last remaining dragon.

“NO!” Wyldfyre yelled weakly but it was too late. Miraak drained Sahrotaar’s soul and the serpentine dragon plummeted into the black oily sea. Wyldfyre took her last health potion and struggled to her feet.

“That was your last Dragon Miraak” she said to him. Miraak turned, his breathing laboured. She had at least inflicted some wounds upon him.

“It’s all I need to defeat you, Dragonborn” he said mockingly. Wyldfyre raised her sword.

“To the end then” she said then activated her Dragon Aspect shout. She was immediately encased in glowing Dragon armour. She felt an energy rippling through her. Miraak raised his sword and nodded.

“To your end”

Swords clashed and sparks flew as the two powerful Dragonborn battled each other. It would have been a great battle, worthy of the grandest arena, selling thousands of tickets. But here in Apocrypha they were alone. A man and a woman battling for supremacy. Miraak’s shear strength was almost the demise of Wyldfyre. But his arrogance was finally his downfall. He grew cocky and complacent, thinking it was only a matter of time before the woman before him succumbed to his power. But he did not know the woman before him. He did not know the struggles she had endured, her determination to succeed, to bring peace back to the land and its people. She had everything to live for. Powered by a new energy, covered in glowing dragon amour she was relentless in her attacks. Miraak was surprised then at her strength and all too late realised his mistake.

She ran him through with her blade, thrusting the sword in deeper as he gazed down at it with surprise. Miraak slipped slowly off Wyldfyre’s skyforged steel and stumbled backwards, holding the great wound in his belly. He stumbled over to the centre of the tower, Wyldfyre following close behind in case he had another plan to restore his heath. Her sword dripped with his blood and she glowed in her dragon armour. As Miraak stepped onto the small podium suddenly Hermaeus Mora was there. A lone tentacle impaled Miraak through the same wound that Wyldfyre had made.

"Did you think to escape me, Miraak? You can hide nothing from me here. No matter. I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me." The great eye glared at the first Dragonborn.

"May she be rewarded for her service as I am!" Miraak spat out a great gush of blood at his former master. Then suddenly he was engulfed in flames, screaming as he burned until nothing was left but a pile of bones. A dozen glowing orbs rose from the pile and darted towards Wyldfyre. She gasped as they entered her body all at once. Dragon souls, many of them, she felt Sahrotaar inside her along with many others, but more significantly, she felt Miraak’s soul. Wyldfyre was brought to her knees at the new power that coursed through her body. It was immense and it hurt. She cried out in agony. Wyldfyre swallowed as she looked at the Daedric Prince.

"Miraak harboured fantasies of rebellion against me. Learn from his example. Serve me faithfully, and you will continue to be richly rewarded"

“I will not serve you!” she shouted in defiance. She breathed heavily. She was hurt and shaken to her very core. Her vision blurred as the pain threatened to make her black out. She needed to leave this place. She had to find the book. It would get her back to Solstheim.

“Oh but you will, you can not deny me” The Prince of Knowledge drawled slowly. He picked her up and deposited her in front of the Black Book.


“Until we meet again, Dragonborn” the entity faded away and Wyldfyre used the last of her strength to open the book and read it. Her vision faded and then she was back on Solstheim, kneeling in the cave. Wyldfyre sighed, dropped the book and fell to the ground.

CHAPTER NINETY TWO: REUNIONS

Wyldfyre blinked. She was lying on furs looking up into a cave roof, but not her cave. It was large and smoke pooled at the top from a fire that was beyond her vision. She felt warm and healed. She sat up gingerly, peering down at the wound on her stomach. Through the hole in her armour she could see it had been healed. Not completely, but enough that it no longer bled. She frowned at her ruined armour then looked around. She was lying under a large overhanging rock. A small camp had been set up around her; another fur roll lay vacant next to her. A fire cracked and over it hung a pot. Delectable smells wafted from the cooking pot and she felt her tummy growl. How long had it been since she had eaten? And where was she? She looked around but there was no-one else at the camp. Wyldfyre warily moved over to the pot and peered in. It looked to be some sort of meat and vegetable stew. She found a bowl and spooned in the mixture, sitting back on her bedroll and set about satisfying her hunger. She had the sensation of being watched and she slowly spooned the stew into her mouth.

“It’s good” she said out loud then “But needs more salt” There was a rustling of bushes and then a man stepped out. She recognised him as the one who she had encountered on the shore near Skaal village. The Werebear.

“Morning” he said simply. “How do you feel?” he asked her tentatively. He lowered himself to the ground to appear less threatening.

“Better, thanks to you?” she asked and the man nodded. He was dressed in a mismatch of fur armour and his feet were bare.

“You were in pretty bad shape when I found you. With that book laying next to you.” He nodded towards her satchel that lay beside her.

“You didn’t read it did you?” she said then, worried. But he shook his head.

“It was all I could do to put it into your satchel. No, I would not read a book such as that”

“Good” she nodded “how did I get here?” then man shifted uncomfortably.

“I er.. carried you” Wyldfyre looked at herself and then at the man, he was not small but she would have been a fair weight for one of his stature. He noticed her confusion and struggled to clarify. “In my..other form”

“Oh.. OH!” she got it. “Well, you have my thanks.”

“I know what you did, for my people, the Skaal. It is I who have your thanks.” He spooned some stew into a bowl of his own. They ate in silence for a time.

“Why do you live out here and not with your village?” she asked him then. The man smiled at her sadly.

“I can’t. I am a Werebeast. An affront to the All-Maker. I..I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt anyone. My brother, his family. I chose this life so here I live in the wilds, where it is safe for everyone.” Wyldfyre could not argue with his logic at all. It was exactly how she felt. The very reason why she betrayed her closest friend and ran off on her own.

“I understand” she nodded. The man smiled. “May I ask your name?”

“I am Torkid. Torkid Wild-Blood”

“Oh you are Wulf’s brother? That’s why you asked about him that other night?” He nodded.

“Even though I can’t return to my home, I still wanted to know everyone was well” They continued to eat in silence. Wyldfyre felt relaxed and safe with the Werebear, even though he seemed extremely nervous and fidgety. Over the course of the evening however he relaxed enough to tell her about his life up until his finding her on a hunting trip, passed out and bleeding in the small cave.

He was gentle and kind and seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. They retired to their bedrolls that night, Torkid making sure Wyldfyre’s was towards the back of the cave with the most protection. The next morning she was well enough to make her way back down to the shore line. She shouldered her satchel and scanned the shore; she was miles from where she had first left Azaril. She turned to Torkid who had insisted on escorting her down to the beach.

“I want to thank you again for helping me.”

“It is of no matter” he said as he looked around nervously. “But now I think you should go, find your friend, I am sure he is concerned for you”

“Thank you” she reached out to touch his arm but he shied away and stepped back. “Goodbye Torkid” she turned and started the long trek back along the shore line of Solstheim. She had no idea where she was but her instincts told her that Raven Rock was a good day and a half walk away. At midday she rested, eating some wild berries Torkid had given her. As she sat contemplating setting up camp for the day she heard the beating of wings and a familiar dragon landed on the rocky shore beside her. Wyldfyre’s hair blew about as the dragon folded its wings and then peered at her.

“Grahfonah” she inclined her head.

“Dovahkiin” the dragon greeted her. “I feel new souls inside you. Those of my fallen brothers who fell under the hand of one called Miraak” he sneered as he said the First Dragonborn’s name.

“Indeed, I have slain the one called Miraak, and also gained those souls which resided inside him. Don’t worry, I am a much nicer mistress. Your family is safe with me”

“Then you truly are Nonvul Monah of the Dov.” He breathed on her and little icicles formed into delicate snowflakes that shimmered in the sunlight as they fell, basking Wyldfyre in a glittery halo of light. She smiled at the gesture from the dragon then a thought came to her.

“Grahfonah, you may refuse if you wish, for I do not wish to Bend your will to me, but I ask if you could let me cross my leg over your back so that I can find my friend who even now is probably searching for me” The dragon hesitated for just a moment before her lowered to the ground.

“I will gladly carry you. We will fly together” Wyldfyre grinned and shouldered her satchel, making sure everything was secure and mounted the dragon, feeling the rush as he lifted off the ground and made a quick ascent into the sky. Solstheim quickly shrank under her feet and then the dragon turned and followed the coast. Wyldfyre scanned the shore for any signs of Azaril until she found him wandering aimlessly.

“There he is!” she pointed “But he can’t see us up here”

“Shall I alert him to our presence?” the dragon asked helpfully.

“By the Maker NO! You’ll scare him to death. Just put me down over there and I can run the rest of the way”

“Very well” the dragon dipped wildly and alighted on the ground. Wyldfyre slid off his back and surprised the dragon when she gave it a quick kiss on its snout. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling, it decided.

“Thank you!” she rushed off down the beach calling out for Azaril. The dunmer turned, his eye widening when he saw her, then a flash of anger crossed his face but then he was also running and calling out her name. They met in the middle and embraced tightly.

“Wyldfyre! I thought I’d lost you!” Azaril stammered. He held her head gently between his hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me?” Wyldfyre could tell he was angry at her but he was too relieved she had returned seemingly safe and sound to scold her. She could feel his heart beating frantically as she hugged him again. She breathed in pinecones and wood and sighed.

“Don’t be daft!” she smiled “I’m too stubborn to die; you should know that by now” They made it back to Raven Rock the next morning. No-one really knew of the colossal battle Wyldfyre had endured. News of the rest of the Ancient Stones suddenly releasing the enslaved had made their way across the island. Miraak’s name was now just a fading memory in their minds. Azaril was angry that no-one even knew who Miraak was, or of the very real danger they narrowly escaped, thanks to Wyldfyre.

“Azaril” Wyldfyre pulled him aside one day while they were fetching her armour she had paid Glover Mallory to repair “it’s fine. These people do not need to know. Let them be”

“But My Lady, they should know what you did for them” But Wyldfyre shook her head.

“I did not do it for accolades and praise Azaril. I did it because I had to, because I chose to free them. I don’t need their thanks”. He sighed then gave up.

“You are truly amazing” he shook his head in wonder.

“Well, a little bit of that won’t go astray” she giggled. Then she grew serious as Glover handed over her armour and she examined it. It was repaired to nearly perfection. Glover knew his trade. “Azaril. I want to go home” She paid Glover and they walked back to Severin Manor. Azaril had supplies for a fine dinner he was cooking that night; their own little celebration.

“I understand. When did you want to leave?”

“As soon as the tide allows” she said “I have already spoken to the Captain of the Northern Maiden, he leaves on tomorrow’s tide.”

“So soon?” he said in surprise as they entered the house.

“There is nothing left here for me to do. I want to go home. I miss my family” she said as Azaril placed his cooking supplies on the table. “Azaril. Now that Miraak is gone and his cultists have scattered to the winds, you are free to do what you want. I was wondering if you wanted to stay here, in my house and make a new life?” Azaril stopped unloading his supplies, holding on to a loaf of dark rye bread.

“I never even thought about it. I don’t know to be honest. I just assumed you would like me to return to Skyrim with you.”

“Azaril, please don’t take this the wrong way, I never intended to send you away. All I was thinking was that you would like to stay here. If you want to come back with me then that is your decision. I would love for you to return to Skyrim with me. Stay with us at Jorrvaskr, become a Companion.”

“I..” Azaril struggled to speak “I really don’t know. You have left me with a lot to think about” He continued unpacking supplies.

“Well I just wanted you to know that I am happy with whatever you decide.” Wyldfyre said then went down stairs to her room. She started to pack her things into her satchel. She had decided to leave the Black Book here on Solstheim and locked it away in a safe, depositing the key into her bag. She carefully laid out her armour for tomorrow morning then sat before the fire, drowsing until Azaril called for dinner. She had achieved all that she wanted here on Solstheim but she was anything but content. She had found her ancestors but they had rejected and shunned her. Miraak was dead but his soul and that of many other dragons resided inside her, making her restless and anxious.

The one shining light in the whole trip that gave her warm feelings was the Frostmoon camp. The support and acceptance they had shown her was the only thing that made her want to return to this Island. Yes they followed the old way but they were her ways now, and she had to accept that. Whenever she did eventually die she would face Hircine as she should have done when she had died while defeating Alduin. As a willing and faithful member of his hunting pack. She would be the best of them. Wyldfyre shifted in her seat, the wound in her belly still not fully healed and giving her pains. Even though her life was now lengthened due to the Black dragon’s blood, she could still be wounded, and it still hurt. Even now she had aches and pains from old injuries. She didn’t know how many years she could endure until she finally gave up and ended it all. She didn’t know how Azaril did it. To her it seemed like another form of slow torture.

The wind was crisp as they crossed the ocean towards the mainland. Wyldfyre smiled as she leant over the rail. Large smooth fish rode the bow waves of the Northern Maiden. She then felt a presence beside her. Pinecones and wood.

“How long do you make it?” she asked him. Azaril had surprised her when he had woken early in the morning and was already waiting for her when she left her room for the last time. She then simply nodded and they had made their way to the jetty to meet the ship.

“A good six hours My Lady” he answered her “Time enough for a sleep I think” Wyldfyre smiled at her friend.
“You know, I think I will” she found a sheltered spot on the deck and propped herself up against a crate, throwing her travellers cloak over her and pulling it down over her eyes. “Wake me when we near Windhelm”

A lone figure strolled up the path at midnight, humming to herself. She could see the lantern light shining from the windows of the large house by the lake. Wyldfyre pushed her hood back from her face and smiled. She was home. She entered the house that was still and quiet. Wyldfyre crept through the foyer and then silently slipped into the bedroom where her sleeping husband lay snoring. A single candle lit the room and she stood for a moment as she watched Farkas sleep. His chest rose and fell and Wyldfyre ran her finger softly over his jaw. She undressed and slipped in-between the sheets, sliding over to his warm body. As she slid her arms around his waist Farkas woke and reached for his wife.

“Wyldfyre” he whispered.

“Sshhh” Wyldfyre whispered back and was enfolded in his strong arms. “Sleep My Love, I am home”. Soon they were both fast asleep.

The next morning Wyldfyre woke to a brightened room and Farkas still beside her. She placed a hand on his face and he smiled, his eyes still closed.

“Last night I dreamt that a beautiful red-headed woman shared my bed” he grinned then opened his eyes, flipping onto his side and kissing Wyldfyre passionately. “Am I still dreaming?” he asked her. Wyldfyre giggled and pushed him back onto the bed. She scrambled on top of him and straddled his body. Her hair fell on his face as they kissed again, this time their kisses growing more and more fervent.

It was three days before they left the house. They barely left the bedroom but only to eat and bathe. Wilhelm shook his head as the lovers giggled and shared secret whispers while they sat, wrapped in sheets and ate their food, only to quickly return to the bedroom. Soon it was Farkas who suggested that they should probably make an appearance at the Mead Hall.

“You are the Harbinger, remember?” he reminded his wife. She stuck out her tongue at him “Though sometimes I can’t really see how that is possible” he teased her, earning him a pillow to the face. They rode to Whiterun, Wyldfyre delighting in the clear Skyrim air as she raced her horse down the path, through Riverwood and on to the city. Lydia was all tears and sniffles as she greeted her friend. She had a small baby bump showing now and Wyldfyre rubbed it affectionately.

“Hello there little one” she greeted the bump. As they entered the Mead Hall they saw Aela and Aiden talking with Azaril, who smiled when he saw the group. Farkas strode over to him and took his hand in both of his.

“I just wanted to thank you for keeping her safe, and bringing her back to us” he shook the Dunmer’s hands who in turn nodded politely. The Companions greeted their harbinger and later the circle members, along with Lydia and Azaril, gathered in the Underforge to hear Azaril and Wyldfyre’s tale. They drew a collective breath when Wyldfyre told them about her final battle with Miraak, and looked equally astounded when she mentioned she could now Bend a dragon to her will and fly it. Aiden frowned then.

“Wyldfyre, if you don’t mind a bit of advice, I would keep that ability just between us.” The others nodded.

“I agree” Vilkas said “The Civil war has taken a new turn and things are getting nasty on both sides. Either side, or the Thalmor find out the Dragonborn can now command Dragons, well you don’t need me to tell you what could happen”. Wyldfyre thought it over then nodded.

“You are right” It could be disastrous. The more Wyldfyre thought about it, the more horrified she felt. She could be coerced into using the shout. What lengths would either side go to, to make her submit to their cause? Kidnapping a loved one? Torture, as the Thalmar are so fond of doing? She couldn’t let that happen. “We must not let this leave the Underforge” They adjourned the meeting after that and broke off into their own groups. Azaril went to find Athis. The two had struck up a friendship before they had left for Solstheim. Farkas and Wyldfyre sat up at the Skyforge, enjoying the evening view of the valley down below. She leant back into him and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I hope I don’t need to go anywhere for a while” she said, rubbing a finger across the scar on Farkas’s leg that was left from the Silverhand attack. The injury still gave him some trouble. He kissed the top of her head.


“I do to” he agreed “You were gone far too long My Love”. As the pair enjoyed each others’ company, over in other parts of the Province, a war was waging.

CHAPTER NINETY THREE: THE SECRET WEAPON

Despite Wyldfyre’s determination to stay around Whiterun and the Lake house for a time, her plans were dashed when a Stormcloak soldier arrived one day with an official letter. Wyldfyre took it begrudgingly, already knowing who it was from. She broke the seal and scanned the letter.

“By the Maker!” she cursed, throwing the letter on the bed. Farkas was lounging naked between the sheets and picked up the crumpled parchment.

“It can’t be that bad can it?” he said, then read the letter himself, his face turning serious “Seems it can”

“I don’t want to go!” she flopped on the bed like a child, her bottom lip pouting. Farkas held the letter, scanning it again. “It appears you have no choice in the matter. He was quite, forceful” Farkas frowned. Ulfric Stormcloak, the thorn in his side.

“I can be just as forceful!” she said, flexing her fingers dramatically. She had a mind to go back upstairs and tell the Soldier just what she thought of Ulfric and his dammed summons. Farkas chuckled and threw the letter down, reached for his feisty wife and kissed her roughly until she was returning the kiss just as enthusiastically. She snaked her hand under the sheet until she found his member and stroked it, making the man groan. Farkas kicked off the sheet and lifted Wyldfyre onto his lap, lowering her until he was consumed by her. She peeled off her tunic top to reveal her pert breasts.

“I don’t want you to go either” he said slowly as she rocked on him, her hips swaying hypnotically. “Which is why I will be coming with you..oh gods that feels so good...” Wyldfyre quickened her pace then gasped as she was suddenly flipped over. Farkas grabbed her hips and hauled her up until she was on hands and knees, entering her from behind; the motion of their bodies making the bed hit the wall. Soon they were both sweaty and sated.

Wyldfyre sighed with annoyance as they crested the rise and looked down on to the city of Windhelm. She had made a point of slipping past it un-announced when she and Azaril had arrived back from Solstheim. She had no desire to start something with Ulfric then and she had no desire to see him now. But here she was, and with a small entourage of her own. Farkas had joined her and Azaril refused to stay at Jorrvaskr. Farkas had not helped Wyldfyre at all when even he suggested that two bodyguards were far better than one. She muttered darkly almost the entire journey.

“Well come on, we might as well get this over with” she nudged her horse into a trot and they came to the stables. As they walked over the mighty bridge that led to the city, Wyldfyre could see the main gates open and a detachment of Soldiers filed out. The one in the lead had a familiar head of blonde hair and Wyldfyre broke out into a grin. She quickened her pace as did the lead Stormcloak and they met in the middle alone before the rest caught up with them. They embraced warmly.

“Wyldfyre” Ralof smiled, kissing her forehead “It’s been too long girl”

“Indeed it has” she agreed. She studied his face, new lines had etched along his forehead and he looked far older than when she had last seen him. She frowned.

“War has not been good to you” But he waved it off as the others stopped nearby. Farkas shook Ralof’s hand and they greeted each other companionably. Ralof then nodded politely to Azaril then turned back to Wyldfyre.

“Well, let’s get out of this weather. I’m sure you and your companions would like to freshen up before you meet with the Jarl” They started back across the bridge now surrounded by their blue cloaked escort.

“To be honest Ralof I would rather just get straight to it. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can go home” Ralof hesitated, about to say something, but then he smiled instead.
“Of course. Well if you don’t mind sitting in on a bit of a practice session. Ulfric is out in the courtyard”

“Doing what?”

“You’ll see” Ralof said then led the way through the cobbled streets of Windhelm.

“I wouldn’t have believed you if I didn’t see for myself” Wyldfyre commented to Ralof. They had made their way through the Palace of Kings out to the courtyard where they could hear the clashing of swords. A crowd had gathered to watch the two combatants practicing in the ring. Wyldfyre was startled to see that one of them was Ulfric. He ducked and dodged his foe’s blows, delivering counter strikes with the skill of a hardened warrior. His missing leg, now replaced with a wooden version didn’t seem to impede him at all. Wyldfyre peered at the leg and thought she could see it glowing slightly red. There was definitely some sort of magic about it.

Ulfric and his opponent danced around each other. The crowd watching on, drew in a collective breath when Ulfric performed a particularly hard move and knocked his foe to the ground. He stood triumphant over the man as the crowd clapped and hooted wildly. Ulfric grinned and then offered his hand to the man, pulling him up and slapping him on the shoulder.

“A good fight!” he laughed. Wyldfyre was stunned. This was not the sullen, moody Ulfric she had left months ago. This man was the Ulfric she had first met. Virile, enthusiastic and full of a burning passion. He spoke to Galmar quickly then noticed his new guests. He bowed towards them, grinning, then walked over to the trio.

“Well met my friends!” he said cheerily. He hugged Wyldfyre roughly and then shook hands with Farkas and Azaril. Wyldfyre blinked. This was defiantly a new and improved Ulfric. He threw his sword to an awaiting squire and then took Wyldfyre’s arm. He escorted them back into the palace and to the war room where someone had laid out refreshments on a table.

“It’s good to see you Wyldfyre” Ulfric said as they all drank some cooled wine. As they made small talk a young attractive woman wandered in. She went directly to Ulfric and kissed his cheek. He circled his arm around her waist and looked at them all.

“Firstly, I would like to introduce you all to my wife, Freda”. Wyldfyre raised an eyebrow. His wife? She looked at the young woman, fresh faced and obviously totally in love with the Jarl. She had strawberry blonde hair and light green eyes. She blinked shyly and smiled at them all, her eyes lingering on Wyldfyre longer than the others.

“A pleasure to meet you Freda” Wyldfyre nodded. She suddenly felt a little huge and ungainly, standing there in full armour and armed to the teeth. Freda was tiny and delicate, not at all the sort of woman Wyldfyre imagined Ulfric ending up with.

“Likewise” Freda nodded, her voice was also small and delicate “Ulfric has told me a lot about you, I look forward to getting to know you better” she blushed then. Oh for the love of... she is delightful, Wyldfyre groaned inwardly, finding no fault in the girl and hating herself for trying. Freda kissed Ulfric on the cheek again “I will leave you all to it, until dinner” she nodded to the others and left the room. Wyldfyre watched Ulfric as he watched his lovely bride leave the room. His eyes sparkled. Yes he was in love. She was glad for him. He turned and then seemed to jump into action again.

“Well, let’s begin. I suppose you want to know why I asked you to come.”

“Ask? More like demanded” Wyldfyre snorted as they moved over to the large table that held the map of Skyrim. The blue and red flags that dotted the map were almost even in number. Ulfric frowned down at the map.

“I need you Wyldfyre. I need you by my side in this God’s damned war. This needs to end. Too many people are dying. We need to drive the Imperial forces out of Skyrim once and for all”

“Ulfric, what can I do? I am only one woman” Wyldfyre protested. She really had no idea why his opinion of her was so high, she was afraid his expectations of her would never be met.

“You are like a beacon in the night Wyldfyre. The Dragonborn. A glimmer of hope in an otherwise hopeless war. I need you, the people need you. With you by my side, it will give people the courage they need to see this to the end. One way or another”
“I think your expectations of me are far too high” she said. Azaril stepped forward.

“That isn’t so My Lady. You may not see it but people are drawn to you. You rally feelings in others that make them want to fight for you... for a cause such as this? I think Jarl Ulfric is right. You are what he needs to end this war.”

“His secret weapon” Farkas nodded. Wyldfyre frowned at both of them.

“You agree with him?” she asked incredulously. They both nodded and Farkas took her hand.

“I always have” he said.

“I am the Harbinger of the Companions” she tried a new argument “I can not get involved in the wars of others.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Ulfric laughed heartily. Wyldfyre sighed. It would never be over, the fighting, the pain, the death. Well, if Ulfric wanted her then he would have her, in all her terrible, Dragon-fuelled glory.

“Alright” she turned to the Jarl “What do you want me to do?”

Later that evening, after dinner was done and everyone had retired to their rooms, Wyldfyre grew restless and left her sleeping husband. She donned her tunic and pants and padded through the Palace looking for food. Sweets to be exact. Before she rounded the corner to the main dining hall she heard voices.

“.....I don’t think she likes me”

“Nonsense! Who would not fall in love with you, like I have” It was Ulfric and Freda. Wyldfyre was torn wether to stay hidden and listen, or turn and go back to her room. But then she heard her name. “Wyldfyre takes a little time in warming to people, you will see”

“She frightens me a little” Freda said.

“She is a warrior My Love, the Dragonborn. It would not do her any good if she didn’t incite a bit of fear into everyone she meets. She even scares me a little” he chuckled.

“No! It isn’t so! Nothing could scare my Ulfy” the woman purred. Then they were silent and Wyldfyre was sure they were kissing. She faked a cough and then walked around the corner to find Freda in Ulfric’s arms. When the couple noticed her approaching they parted, Freda blushing furiously.

“Oh don’t mind me” Wyldfyre said, taking a sweetroll from the table then turning to leave.

“Wait!” it was Freda. Wyldfyre turned back, the sweetroll halfway to her mouth. “Stay Wyldfyre. I’m sure you and Ulfric have a lot to catch up on”

“Err no, that’s...”

“It’s fine. I was heading off to bed myself” The woman insisted. She kissed Ulfric quickly and padded off, her delicate robes flowing, making her look like an angel.

“Delicate little thing” Wyldfyre snorted and sank into a chair. She bit into the pastry and her eyes rolled to the heavens at the delectable sweetness of it. “Oh my, I forgot how good these things were” Ulfric slipped into the chair next to her. She broke off a portion and handed it to him. They ate in silence for a while before Wyldfyre noticed the red glow from his wooden leg, now more noticeable in the darkness. She rapped her knuckles on it.

“What have you done here?” she asked. Ulfric swallowed and then parted his gown, to show her the leg. Indeed it glowed with a dull red hue, magic emanating from it. Wyldfyre for reasons she could not understand, detected a spell of animation on it. A powerful spell.

“An animation spell; powerful to. Huh. Good idea” she said, causing Ulfric to look at her in surprise.

“How did you know?” he asked her and she frowned.

“I’m not really sure, but I just know. I can see it woven within the wood grain.”

“That is remarkable”

“A lot has happened to me since we last met Ulfric. Terrible things, and good things. I’m not the same anymore.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Tell me” he asked gently and she filled him in on everything that had happened. The only thing she was careful to leave out was her learning the Bend Will Shout and her ability to now command Dragons. She did however mention that some dragons were now not her enemy, which Ulfric found to be very interesting.

“Although I have no idea if they are friend or foe until it’s too late. They either thank me or want to kill me”

“That does pose a problem” he agreed. Wyldfyre could tell though that his mind was churning, drinking up the information she had given him. She hoped that she hadn’t made a mistake. She needed to get his mind off it.

“So, how did that happen?” she said pointing to his wedding band. Ulfric smiled and chuckled.

“It’s a long story, but to make it short, Freda was my nurse, when I was... incapacitated. She cared for me even when I was terrible and shouted at her, and told her to go away a dozen times, she kept coming back. Soon we were in love and well, we married in a small ceremony. I didn’t think it right to make a big show out of it. Freda was fine with it though. She is a good girl.” Wyldfyre had a sudden vision of the lovely Freda flying across the room in a jumble of skirts, but that was not the kind of shouting Ulfric meant.

“She is very lovely” She said instead. “I’m really happy for you both”. They sat in comfortable silence for a while longer before Ulfric stood.

“I must retire” he said “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Goodnight Wyldfyre” he nodded then walked away. Wyldfyre finished off her sweetroll then returned to her room, sliding into the bed and snuggling up to her husband.

The next morning there was chaos inside the palace as soldiers readied themselves for their newest missions. The air was electric with the energy emanating through the halls. Wyldfyre and the others dressed carefully in their armour and met Ulfric and Galmar down in the war room. Ralof was there along with three other captains. After clarifying their missions Ulfric looked up.

“Right” Ulfric said “We all know what we need to do” They all nodded.

“Aye My Jarl”

Ulfric nodded looking serious. “For Skyrim” he said simply. The meeting adjourned and Wyldfyre and the others left the Palace. They were leading a large detachment of soldiers to the north to retake Fort Kastav that had been lost to the Imperial Legion. They were then to sweep north-west to take out the Imperial encampments directly and other Forts that the Legion held along the northern coast.

It was a long and difficult campaign, leading hundreds of troops through the snow. Wyldfyre’s temper grew paper thin as she constantly had to deal with issues. Most of them trivial things in ordinary circumstances: food was low, a horse had thrown a shoe, but with an entire legion of soldiers and the camp followers, small issues soon became bigger ones. Farkas and Azaril did what they could to ease her burdens and delegated many of the smaller responsibilities to lower ranked soldiers. She found her only time for solitude was when she was able to slip away from the camp and change into her Wolf form to spend an evening in the wilds. Even that though caused her hurt as Farkas was no longer able to go with her.

She was worried for her husband. Though he would not admit it, his leg troubled him greatly and she saw him wince in pain whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. His Were abilities to regenerate quickly no longer existed and she was all too aware now of how human and fragile he was, in her eyes at least.
Wyldfyre however, was like a one woman army. Many times the Stormcloaks simply had to stand back while she unleashed her fury upon the Imperial forces. She would use a combination of her skills in weaponry and magic, along with her Dragon shouts to defeat her foes. She was almost unstoppable. Almost.


News spread across the enemy encampments that there was a woman of great power leading the army that was laying waste to their numbers in the north. Over to the far west, near the city of Solitude, in an embassy hidden from the outside world, news of this woman was met with great interest indeed.

CHAPTER NINETY FOUR: QUESTIONS

After a long and arduous day of trekking through the snow, Wyldfyre called a halt and gave the order to set up camp. They had just crossed the border between The Pale and Hjaalmarch, having reinforced their stronghold in Dawnstar. Wyldfyre waited while her tent was being erected, taking the time to see how the rest of her troops were faring. They had lost a great number. Some died from the elements or injuries, others in battle, but the majority were left behind at the various Forts and encampments they had retaken, or won. The final mission for Wyldfyre’s now diminished army was to take Fort Snowhawk and secure their position in Morthal.

Wyldfyre shivered as she moved around the camp, looking out to the foggy swamp beyond. This was where she and Farkas had first encountered the Vampires and it made her slightly nervous. Not so much for herself, but for the humans she was responsible for. She had delivered a virtual buffet to any vampires that were still in the area. She made a point of alerting her more seasoned soldiers and Nights Watch to keep a close eye out for anything moving in the swamps; even if it was a Skeever she wanted to know about it. Wyldfyre finally retired to her tent. Farkas and Azaril were off helping to secure the horses for the night and she pulled the tent flaps closed. She took off her crossbow and bolts and unbuckled her sword, laying them on a table and then started to peel off her armour.

She pulled on a simple tunic and suede pants and fur boots. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten all day. Looking around she spied a platter of fruit and a jug someone had thoughtfully left on a small table. Wyldfyre uncorked the jug and smelled the contents. It was some sort of wine. She poured a tankard and took a generous gulp. As she was picking through the various pieces of fruit she suddenly felt unwell. She stumbled as the tankard left her hands, spilling its contents on the floor. Her vision swam and she could no longer walk straight. Wyldfyre pawed her way to her bed and sat down heavily. She blinked; her vision now just a blur as a robed figure entered the tent. Wyldfyre, in her dazed and drugged state could not tell who it was. The figure grabbed her painfully by the arm and she tried to lash out at them but suddenly her vision faded and she fell into darkness.


When Wyldfyre came to, she was in a lot of pain. Stripped of her clothing but for her undergarments, she was chained to a wall and hung there, her wrists and arms taking almost her full weight. She was gagged and had a wad of rags stuffed in her mouth. She panicked and strained against the chains to no avail. She even tried to use her spells but something blocked her hands. When she turned her head to look at them she saw nothing there, they just glowed red. She peered around the room. She was in a large chamber, full of various devices and cells. Someone groaned in the cell next to her. It was a man and his head hung low. He was bloody and looked like he was half dead. Wyldfyre tried to get his attention but no sound came out from her gagged mouth. All she could do was hang there until her captor showed himself.

The drugs they used to knock her out made her dose off again and she was shocked awake with a bucket of iced water. As it dripped down her body she shook the water from her eyes and glared at the man in front of her. He was dressed in shining gilded armour and upon further inspection Wyldfyre saw that he was an elf. Not a Wood elf or Dunmer like Azaril. This one was tall, arrogant and had a yellowish sheen to his skin. He sneered down at her, but did not speak. Someone else moved to her left and spoke with a feminine drawl that made Wyldfyre’s skin crawl.

“So this is the one that has the Imperial Legion crying into their pillows every night?” the Woman entered the cell. She was dressed impeccably in long, embroidered robes; her yellow hair brushed back into a severe bun. Her elven eyes shone with malice. This woman was not to be trifled with. She grabbed Wyldfyre’s chin painfully and peered into her eyes. Her nostrils flared as Wyldfyre stared into her eyes in turn. She pushed Wyldfyre’s head to the side and stepped back, slightly shaken but then recovered herself.

“I fail to see what all the fuss is about. No matter, she will be of great use to us. Once we break her” The woman left the cell and spoke to another person. “You may begin. Break her. If she doesn’t, kill her”.


Wyldfyre’s muffled screams caused the Elven torturer to smile with glee. It was now the third day of her capture and she had endured all manner of horrific torture. The rags and gag had remained firmly tied around her mouth and her hands bound in what she was later told to be a binding spell. All Wyldfyre could do was hang from her chains and endure the elf’s ministrations. He asked her questions, expecting her to answer with a nod or a shake of her head. Wyldfyre at first had refused to even acknowledge his questioning. But she quickly learned that to ignore the Torturers questions was to suffer great pain. Or sometimes they would inflict the pain on the poor soul hanging in the cell next to her. Soon Wyldfyre had no choice but to answer him.

Some of his questions were about her being the ‘so-called Dragonborn’. They wanted to know how it was that she was proficient in the ways of the voice. Where she learned it, how many shouts she knew, how many dragons had she slain. They never said a word about Alduin and Wyldfyre wondered if they believed the Black dragon ever even existed. If Wyldfyre refused to answer or if her answers did not please the torturer, she was inflicted with terrible punishments.

They placed her on a large table that stretched her limbs until her arms were pulled out of their sockets. She was strapped to an iron frame and hot burning bits of metal pressed to her skin. Sometimes they simply cut her with their daggers. Wyldfyre hovered on the brink of death so many times, but each time she was brought back and healed so that they could start the questions all over.

Wyldfyre endured the questions, answering them as carefully as she could while not revealing anything too detrimental to those she loved or Ulfric’s rebellion. Her only sustenance was the water they tipped onto her face; she had to suck the water through the wad of rags in her mouth. In those precious moments that they left her alone she would reach her mind out to search for anyone she could communicate with. Once, she touched the mind of a wild Were but it merely growled at her and ran off and soon she could not detect it any more. Wyldfyre was sure that if she changed into her Were form, she could break free from the chains that bound her to the wall. However she had no idea where she was, how many people she would have to fight to get out of the fortress she was in, or if she could even endure for that long before she passed out from exhaustion. She needed help. With every passing day she was becoming weaker, and she didn’t know how much longer they would keep her alive. She had no idea if the questions they had asked her had been answered to their expectations.

“That’s right dear” the torturer drawled “Get it out, don’t bottle that anger up” he drew his dagger over her skin, leaving a bright red line of blood. Wyldfyre glared at the man she now hated with all her soul. “Such a fiery little one you are” he shook his head at her. He stepped back and looked at the ribbons of blood that streamed from her body, the burns, cuts and bruises.

“My dear but you are a mess. I have never had a pet that could endure as much as you. Usually they die on me before I can bring them back from the brink. But you” he grabbed her chin, forcing her head upwards, “You are something special” he then leaned down to her and whispered in her ear.

“Do you want to know something? The lovely Elenwen has already forgotten about you. Most likely thinks that I killed you days ago. But I am going to keep you. Won’t that be nice?” he hissed and gave her a peck on the cheek. Wyldfyre struggled in her chains. But the torturer laughed and walked out of her cell.

“Don’t fight it” the man in the cell next to her said, but she couldn’t answer him.

Another two days passed and Wyldfyre was alone again. The torturer had been gone for an hour or so and she had slumped down on her chains and tried to get some sleep. But she was woken by a faint tingling at the back of her mind. She struggled to focus; her mind was fogged and incoherent. The tingling grew more prominent and Wyldfyre’s head jerked upwards towards the small window that was set into the wall, high above her head. The sensation in her mind faded slightly and she panicked. She threw out a thought to the other entity and waited with baited breath until finally an answer was returned. It was a Dragon.

The dragon answered her with a curiosity of a cat waiting at the entrance of a mouse hole. It was not a dragon she had encountered before and it was not friendly. Wyldfyre tried to reason with it, but it soon lost interest and started to fly out of her reach. She then goaded it, trying to lure it back to her. A dragon was nothing if not vain, and she relied on this to temp it into attacking the fortress she was being held in. Her plan seemed to work when she heard a roar, loud and clear. Warning bells rang and she heard shouts filtering through the small window. The first step of her hastily put together plan was being deployed right now.

“Make yourself know, Kriid to my Lord!” the dragon shouted angrily as Wyldfyre heard magic and blasts of fire. She breathed in slowly and concentrated. It took all her will to change into her beast form. The chains around her arms and wrists bit into her expanding arms until they buckled and burst apart, the gag and rags fell from her mouth as sharp canines bit down on them. Her transformation broke the binding spell on her hands and soon a very large and angry she-wolf stood in her place. She howled at the window and sent out a thought to the dragon.

“I am coming for you, but those people you see will try to stop me” She changed back into her human form and searched the room for her clothing. Once she was dressed and armed with a single dagger, she released the man in the cell next to her.

“Can you walk?” she asked him as she dragged him to his feet. In her weakened state he was heavy for her but she hauled him up none the less.

“I..think so” he said, his voice thick. “Why did you free me?”

“I couldn’t just leave you here” she said as she pressed a tankard of water to his lips, then took some for herself. “Come on, we need to leave” They left the room and made their way through the halls of the fortress. Wyldfyre was stunned to discover that she was being held in a rather opulent building. An official building of some sort. Apart from the servants Wyldfyre and her companion found cowering in one room, no other people were in the building to challenge them; assumedly out trying to fend off the Dragon. She found a room that contained various sets of armour and she donned a set of fur armour, the man who introduced himself as Etienne quickly put on some mismatched iron armour. He also just had a dagger for a weapon.

“It’s not much but it’s all we have. This way” Wyldfyre crept through the building until she could see the front door across a large hallway. It stood ajar and she could see flashes of fire and red scales as the dragon continued to attack. She looked back to Etienne.

“Get as far away from this place as quickly as you can. Don’t stop for me” she said to him and he nodded. They ran for the door only to be met with a chaotic scene before them. Elves in gilded armour were running everywhere, some lay dead or dying on the ground. Many were just burnt corpses. Some of the elves were dressed in robes and these were the ones who used magic. They hurled electricity and ice bolts at the dragon as it swooped overhead, blasting everything with fire. No-one even noticed the two escaped prisoners until Wyldfyre was knocked to the ground by a robed elf. It was the torturer.

“You!” he said in surprise. Wyldfyre gripped her dagger and sprang to her feet. She was still very weak but she would hack the torturer to pieces if she had to.

“The prisoners have escaped!” he cried but no-one paid any attention to him, all occupied by the dragon.

“Don’t you want to ask me more questions?” Wyldfyre hissed, finally able to speak to her tormenter of the last week. His face screwed up in a look of anger and he ran at her, his hands glowing with electricity. He fired his shock spells at her but she hit him with her Ice shout and he fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Wyldfyre strode over to him and straddled his prone body, a look of terror now on his face as she sat on his chest, her dagger to his neck. She leaned over to him and whispered in his ear.

“Do you want to know something? The lovely Elenwen has already forgotten about you. Most likely thinks the dragon boiled you alive. But I think, after I kill you, I will kill her. Wont THAT be nice?” she kissed his cheek and then ran her dagger through his neck, leaving him to die, drowning in his own blood. Wyldfyre looked around but could not see Etienne anywhere. She felt a change in the wind above her and the beating of leathery wings blew her hair about. She looked up to see the dragon hovering there.

“Kriid” it snarled at her.

“Dragon” she said, standing and wiping the bloodied dagger on her armour. She felt the dragon begin to build up its energy but she was ready for it. “GOL HAH DOV!” The dragon whipped its head back and she felt the confusion running through its mind. Then, like the ones on Solstheim had done, it landed before her and greeted her like kin. Wyldfyre wasted no time in jumping on its neck and ordering it to take off. They swooped around the building and the compound she could now see from her vantage point. She let the dragon have rein as it dove and fired at the Elves below. Then a movement in the courtyard caught her eye. She leaned over and pointed.

“There. I want that one” the dragon obeyed and alighted in the court yard. Wyldfyre jumped off and stalked over to the woman she now knew to be Elenwen. She was injured, a wound on her leg bleeding profusely. She struggled along, trying in vain to get to the building on the other side, but Wyldfyre menaced her with her dagger and the hulking dragon lurking over her head. Elenwen’s eyes grew wide as she looked at the terrifying woman before her.

“You...you command the dragons?” she asked with a mixture of fear and envy.

“I do indeed” Wyldfyre said. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Yes” the Elven woman stood to her full height, though it pained her to do so. “I had to....” Wyldfyre held up her hand and shushed her.

“Spare me the details, I have no time for this.” She stepped to the side and indicated to the Dragon in a deadly voice “Have at her, dear” The dragon lunged forward and snapped Elenwen in two. Wyldfyre turned away as the dragon chomped and crunched bones. When the dragon was finished she climbed back onto its neck and it launched into the sky. Wyldfyre directed it to fly towards Morthal but as they neared Solitude she saw smoke rising from the city.

“What’s going on down there?”

“As I flew over before I saw many of the blue ones running towards the city. They go to war” The Stormcloaks are attacking Solitude? Of course, that had been the plan. Wyldfyre had been captured and held for a week, they were right on schedule. She and the dragon flew closer to the city and saw siege engines throwing burning boulders into the city battlements. The Stormcloaks were milling around the front gates. It appeared they were having trouble getting into the city itself. Wyldfyre could see Ulfric and Galmar in the lead, as well as Farkas and Azaril and Ralof was there as well. She grinned to herself.

“Make yourself known dragon” she said and the dragon bellowed at the crowd below. The whole group dropped to their knees in fear as the shadow of the dragon passed over their heads. Then Wyldfyre and the dragon flew back and hovered in front of them.

“Stay your hand!” she heard Ulfric shout then he grinned up at her. “Nice of you to join us!” he shouted.

“I was delayed” she shouted back down, then she waved and blew a kiss to Farkas who shook his head and laughed, happy to see his wife in one piece. “Now if you would all stand back, my friend and I would like to knock on the door” The Stormcloaks scattered as the dragon landed and Wyldfyre stood up on its neck, balancing on its scales. She felt it build up its energy and she did the same. Together, as one they both shouted at the great doors of Solitude. The combination of the dragon’s fire and Wyldfyre’s shout buckled the door until it was blasted open, sending splinters and pieces of wood flying inwards into the city.

I just picture her saying this when she's riding the dragon

Someone has stolen my "like" button! But I still like it, not the button the story

Brewman said:

Someone has stolen my "like" button! But I still like it, not the button the story

Click to expand...

Hopefully the "like" button will return. I have made a note of it in the relevant post and thank you for popping in and reading my fanfic.. (hugs) xxxx

soon...sooon! cuddles Ash...

CHAPTER NINETY FIVE: STORMING SOLITUDE

Wyldfyre and the dragon circled above, watching on as the blue and red armies came together in bloody battle on the streets of Solitude. Thankfully all the citizens had closed themselves in their homes and basements, leaving only the Legion to defeat. Wyldfyre directed the dragon to blast its fire on the red soldiers whenever it was safe to do so, without harming any Stormcloaks. As her dragon perched on the rooftops, she could see Farkas and Azaril from her vantage point. Azaril was sticking close to Farkas and she wondered if he had now taken on the roll of protecting her Husband as well.

Ulfric and Galmar led the way as they tore through the city, stopping when they found themselves up against more enemies. The Imperial soldiers seemed to appear out of nowhere as they charged the Stormcloaks. Ulfric, proficient in some dragon shouts himself, sent foes flying, or disarmed them of their weapons. The Stormcloaks were decidedly outnumbered but they had a definite advantage.

The fight was brutal though and both sides lost a great number. Wyldfyre and her dragon were of the most help, clearing barricades and the blue army soon advanced towards the castle that housed the Legion’s top commanders and generals. The dragon alighted in the courtyard of Castle Dour and Wyldfyre jumped off its back, she still had no weapons except for the dagger she had taken from the compound so she had to rely on her shouts and magic. The Dragon blasted Imperials with his fire and many just simply fled, dragon-fear causing them to abandon their posts.

As she fought off a couple of red soldiers, Wyldfyre could feel the mind of the dragon slowly slipping away from hers. She was too occupied to use the Bend Will shout on it again and soon the connection was severed. The dragon launched itself into the air, bellowed angrily and flew off. It did not want to risk being held in thrall again and disappeared over the rooftops.

Wyldfyre was not alone for long though as Stormcloaks streamed into the courtyard and quickly finished off the last pocket of resistance. Ulfric, Galmar, Farkas and Azaril ran into the courtyard and all were pleased to see her. But there was only one man that Wyldfyre wanted right then and she ran to Farkas and they kissed and embraced quickly before turning to Ulfric.

“Into the castle! We will confront General Tullius once and for all!” he called to them and they followed behind him. They entered the castle and Farkas and Azaril secured the door as the others walked down the hall and came into the war room. An Imperial dressed in gold gilded armour stood with his sword drawn. Beside him, a woman in an Imperial uniform that was obviously of a higher rank than the normal foot soldiers. She also had her sword drawn and Ulfric approached her.

“Rikke, stay your hand kinswoman and I will spare your life” The woman glared at the Jarl and remained by the General’s side.

“I made my choice long ago Ulfric, I will live with the consequences” Wyldfyre was startled when she spoke with a Nordic accent. “As will you!” Rikke lunged for Ulfric but Galmar was ready for her, blocking her swing and making her stumble to the side with his brute strength. Galmar brought his axe down upon her neck, not completely severing her head but close to it. Wyldfyre winced as blood spurted everywhere and the woman slumped to the ground. The General looked on with horror.

“So now you cut down your own kinsmen to achieve this rebellion Ulfric?” he sneered at the Jarl. The General then lunged for Ulfric and the two clashed swords. The fight seemed to be equal between them until Ulfric stumbled on his wooden leg a little. Wyldfyre started forward but was held back by Galmar.

“Let him do this” he grunted to her. She gripped her dagger and kept a close eye on the pair. Ulfric recovered and delivered some colossal blows to the General, sending him kneeling on the floor.

“Wait!” he panted “Stop!” He held up one hand in defeat. Ulfric stepped back and the others approached. Wyldfyre kept her dagger at the ready. General Tullius glanced up from his prone position.

“Is this it Ulfric? Is this what you want? Defeating me will not end it. I can be easily replaced. The Empire will not rest until they put you down!”

“Then we will defeat him as well, and the next after that!” Ulfric growled. “If it means peace for Skyrim and her people then I will gladly do it again. But this is it for you Tullius. Any last words?”

"You realize this is exactly what they wanted." Tullius then said, causing Ulfric to pause. "The Thalmor, they stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources and throw away good soldiers quelling this rebellion."

"It's a little more than a rebellion” Ulfric said with a flash of anger.

"Just kill him and let's be done with it already." Galmar grunted.

"Come now Galmar. Where's your sense of the dramatic moment?"

“If it’s drama you want then get the girl to do it” Galmar rolled his eyes, keen for Tullius’s head to roll, no matter who did the deed.

“What...?” Wyldfyre stepped back. Ulfric turned to her and his eyes lit up.

“Yes! The Dragonborn should be the one. It will make for a better story”. But Wyldfyre shook her head. She was not about to take off someone’s head. Certainly not someone kneeling on the floor, surrendering. It wasn’t right.

“No” she said simply, causing Tullius to chuckle.

“Can’t keep your pet Dragonborn in line Ulfric?” he sneered. The man had guts, even in the face of death. A flash of annoyance crossed Ulfric’s face and Wyldfyre raised her chin defiantly. A silent battle of wills ensued; Wyldfyre finally winning after Ulfric peered into her eyes and was afraid of what he saw in them.

“But that would not be right. The Dragonborn belongs to no man. And to take the life of the General would not do her well.” Ulfric nodded to her and Wyldfyre relaxed the grip on her dagger. “I will do it” Ulfric said and Wyldfyre turned and walked out of the room and into Farkas’s waiting arms.

The battle for Solitude ended with the Jarl of the city, a slight woman named Elisif, surrendering peacefully. Ulfric gathered the majority of his men to him and gave them a rousing speech. He also made a point of thanking the Dragonborn for her part in the war. Ulfric warned his men though that the war was not over and they should expect heavy repercussions from the Empire. Wyldfyre swayed on her feet as Ulfric talked on and on. She didn’t want to hear speeches and applause. She had survived being captured and tortured and bending a dragon’s mind to hers. She was physically and mentally drained.

She almost nodded off until strong arms were wrapped around her and she was guided away. Farkas led her back into the castle where the Stormcloaks had taken up residence. He almost had to carry her to the room they had been allocated. Once a team of healers had finished their ministrations, Wyldfyre was put to bed. Farkas climbed in beside her and held her in his arms until she fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

A knock on their door the next morning saw Azaril entering the room. Wyldfyre and Farkas were having breakfast and invited the Dunmer to join them.

“So when do we head off?” Azaril, ever the perceptive one, asked.

“As soon as we finish eating” Wyldfyre said with determination. Ulfric had been very reluctant to let Wyldfyre go so soon. He had wanted her to stay and help him quash any small pockets of Imperial forces that stubbornly held on. But Wyldfyre had refused to be his puppet. They had had a nasty fight before Wyldfyre had finally lost her temper and engaged her Dragon Aspect shout, glowering dangerously in the centre of the room. Servants scattered as she gathered in a breath.

“Do not tell ME what I can and can’t do Ulfric Stormcloak!” she hissed angrily, her palms crackling with fire, ready to burn the whole room if she had to. “I helped this time from necessity but do not demand of me again, or you will not like the consequences!” Ulfric had to take a step back for fear of being burned. He frowned at the terrible form before him. What had happened to her to turn her into this?

“Well if you feel that strongly about it...”

“I do” she said firmly. Ulfric glared at her for a while before he turned away and pretended to examine a map on the table beside him.

“Fine. You may go, Dragonborn” Wyldfyre was about to say she didn’t need his permission to leave but she decided to let it go. She felt a little silly as she stalked back through the castle to her room, still glowing in her Dragon armour. She had entered her room and Farkas had taken one look at her and shook his head.

“Do we need to leave immediately?” he had chuckled, ducking as a small cushion was launched at his head.

“I figured as much” Azaril then said, taking a piece of fruit from the array of breakfast delicacies. “Which is why I have our horses at the ready”

“Thank you Azaril” Farkas nodded. “I think it’s time we get our Harbinger back to the Mead Hall”. They both looked at Wyldfyre who was still in a bad mood. She glared at them before stuffing a lemon tart into her mouth. Later, when Farkas had gone to check over his horse, Azaril pulled Wyldfyre aside.

“My Lady, I need to talk to you about Farkas”

“Oh?”

“It’s his leg. I fear it troubles him more than he is letting on.” He spoke quietly as they walked through the city towards the stables “I stuck close by him during the battle and I had to step in for him a few times. If I had not....”

“I understand” Wyldfyre said, worry crossing her face “What do I do Azaril? I can’t tell him to retire. As a wife or the Harbinger, Farkas wouldn’t hear of it.”

“I see your dilemma. Maybe you could delegate him to a roll more close to home..maybe training new recruits?”

“That’s actually a good suggestion. But he will see right through it. Unless we get him to think it was his idea?”

“Could we possibly bring Vilkas into this?” Azaril suggested but Wyldfyre shook her head.

“No, if Farkas gets wind of what we are doing it would only just anger him even more. Best keep this between the two of us” she quickened her step and smiled as she saw her husband, waiting with the horses. Wyldfyre felt a sense of relief that they were going home again. She was back in her armour, her weapons strapped to her back and even her horse gave her a friendly nudge with his nose. The trio mounted and started their long journey back to Whiterun.


It was raining and dismal when they finally reached Whiterun but Wyldfyre couldn’t have been happier. After catching up with members of the Circle and having a light meal, Wyldfyre and Farkas went down to the baths with strict orders they were not to be disturbed. As Farkas washed Wyldfyre’s back he frowned at her many scars. He traced one with his finger.

“I wish I had of found you” he said “When you were taken. I wanted to change into my beast form and search for you” She turned to him and his eyes were stricken.

“Farkas, no! It’s not your fault my Love.”

“But if I still had the beast blood..”

“It wouldn’t have mattered” she shook her head “I was high up in the mountains behind Solitude. I was too far away”

“But it should have been me rescuing you” he said stubbornly. Wyldfyre looked into his eyes. Something else was bothering him and she thought she knew what it was but did not want to come out and directly say it.

“What is troubling you my Love? It’s not just that is it?” Farkas drew the sea sponge over her shoulder, letting the water drip down her skin. She could see his inner struggle.

“I’m not the same as I was” he said then “I’m weaker, I don’t heal like I used to. I.. my leg..”

“I understand” she nodded, not wanting to make him feel worse by being overly sympathetic. “What do we do about it?”

“I don’t know” he said as he washed her arms. “It is hard to admit that I am not as good as I used to be. I am a warrior, a Companion, one of the mighty Circle. Yet I feel...useless and human.” Wyldfyre frowned.

“Do you wish to become a Were again? Is it even possible?”

“I don’t know, and I have no idea if it can be done again. I guess I’m just getting used to feeling like..this.”

“You could just stop” she suggested tentatively, trying to steer him in the right direction. “I need help being Harbinger. You know I am not the most patient of people to deal with. Plus I need someone to take over the new recruits. The Hall was full of them when we arrived today. They need someone to look up to. Who better than the greatest warrior of the Companions?” She circled her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his.

“I know what you are doing” he said to her. But then smiled down at her and kissed her “And I love you for it”

“So..?” she ran her fingers through his hair and his hands cupped her behind, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer to her.

“So, it’s not a bad idea.” He said simply but then all thought was gone as he sank into her.


Things had settled down into a nice routine. Wyldfyre dealt with her Harbinger duties, helped by the other members of the Circle. Farkas was thoroughly enjoying himself training the new Companion recruits and the standard of their fighting skills had never been higher. Lydia grew even fatter until she gave birth to a healthy boy, with no beast blood evident him at all. Gisli was fascinated with her new baby brother, and was also proving to be quite a challenge herself. The little toddler was developing quickly and soon could outrun her mother. Wyldfyre was not quite sure how it happened but Azaril was appointed Gisli’s baby sitter. It amused Wyldfyre to see the sprightly elf running through the streets of Whiterun after the little girl.

Still things did not stay peaceful for long. There was a growing concern throughout the Province. More and more reports began to filter in about Vampire attacks. They were growing bolder, attacking gated cities and ambushing travelling merchants. Soon supplies grew short as merchants refused to travel the roads until something was done about the Vampire menace.

The Circle discussed the matter in depth. Rumours of a new group of Vampire Hunters forming near Riften had reached Jorrvaskr and Wyldfyre was very interested to see if they were true. She had been reluctant to send any of her Companions out to deal with the Vampires, those without the beast blood being vulnerable to contracting the disease. Aela and Aiden, fresh back from a job to eradicate a small nest of Vampires, were giving their report.

“These attacks seemed to be random, but now we are not so sure” Aela said to the others gathered in the Underforge. Aiden nodded.

“It’s like they are more organised. And the ones we dealt with were different. There was an Old One amongst them, but more powerful. Before we attacked we managed to listen in on what they were saying. They are looking for something. Something powerful. The one they work for is not happy with their apparent lack of progress”

“There was no mistaking it” Aela then added “The Old One was terrified of its master, whoever that is”

“This is troubling news” Wyldfyre frowned. Her dealings with Vampires had left her with an unbridled hatred of the monsters. Previously she had assumed that Vampires stuck to their own nests and masters. But the report from Aela and Aiden had given them all much to worry about. Who was this Master of all Vampires and what were they looking for? They all decided it was time to act. It was time to seek out the Vampire Hunters, and Wyldfyre knew just the person who would know where they are.

cause there's no damn like button flips desk

CHAPTER NINETY SIX: FORT DAWNGUARD

Riften had not changed. It was still smelly and favoured that mistrustful, transient type of character. Wyldfyre walked along the boarded walkways towards the market square, hoping to find Brynjolf there. She was not accompanied by Azaril or Farkas. A mighty argument had started when she had refused both of their offers to escort her to the vampire hunters. Wyldfyre did not want to risk either of them catching the disease and had flatly denied their involvement. Farkas was a little less hard to convince but Azaril proved to be a challenge. In the end Wyldfyre resorted to throwing in her rank as Harbinger and ordered the Dunmer to stay. She sweetened their defeat when it was announced that Aiden would be her shield brother.

“This place...” he wrinkled up his nose in a gesture that mirrored Wyldfyre’s own. Having discovered the thief was not in the market peddling his wares; Wyldfyre then directed them towards the graveyards and its secret entrance into the guild.

“I know” she agreed “I guess if you lived here you would get used to it” They wove through the graves and entered the small shelter that stood in the middle. Wyldfyre pressed the button and the floor slid back to reveal a stairway and a trapdoor down the bottom.

“Clever little thieves” Aiden remarked. They were met by Delvin when they stepped off the ladder into the cistern, the hideout of the Thieves Guild.

“Well if I live and breathe!” the old thief chuckled “If it isn’t the bonny red lass back from the dead, so to speak. What brings you here eh?” he winked at her cheekily. Wyldfyre laughed.

“Good to see you again Delvin. This is my brother Aiden” Delvin and Aiden exchanged handshakes.

“Brother eh? Yeah I see the family resemblance. But I’m guessing you didn’t come here to meet and greet. What’s on your mind love?”

“I need to speak to Brynjolf. It’s pretty important” she answered. Delvin nodded and led them towards the training room. They could hear a clash of swords from within; a man and woman both letting out the occasional grunt or yelp. Wyldfyre recognised Brynjolf instantly but the woman, a Dunmer, she did not. The dark elf had impeccable fighting skills and soon had Brynjolf sprawling on the ground. He laughed as she held out her hand to help him up and then gave him a loving peck on the lips. Wyldfyre raised an eyebrow. They seemed to be more than just sparring partners.

“Sorry to interrupt” Delvin cleared his throat “But I have a visitor for you Boss” He grinned as Brynjolf turned and a surprised expression filled his face.

“Wyldfyre?” he exclaimed. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you down here again” He sheathed his sword and walked over to them, taking Wyldfyre’s hand in his for a brief moment.

“Neither did I. It’s been a while, things have happened. Not just to me it seems, did I hear Delvin correctly? Boss?” A flash of annoyance crossed Brynjolf’s face and Wyldfyre thought she had offended him. But she noticed that Delvin and the Dunmer woman also had a similar look.

“It’s a long story” Brynjolf said then. “Let’s just say that Mercer is no longer with us and Karliah and I are running the Guild.” Wyldfyre was surprised at the news. What had happened here? She looked at Karliah, a very pretty Dunmer and held out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you Karliah” she said.

“Likewise” Karliah nodded, her voice smooth and calming “Brynjolf has told me a lot about you” Brynjolf slid his arm around the Dunmer’s waist and her lavender eyes sparkled.

“Not all bad I hope” Wyldfyre smiled. “This is my brother Aiden” she introduced her sibling.

“Brother eh?” Brynjolf said “Now that you say it, I can see the family resemblance”

“That’s what I said” Delvin smirked. Brynjolf led them to a table and they all sat as Karliah poured them tankards of mead.

“So, Harbinger” Brynjolf smirked at her “Tell me what brings you down here into the pits of chaos?”

“Vampires” she said after taking a sip of mead. Brynjolf suddenly grew serious. He knew all too well of Wyldfyre’s previous dealing with Vampires, and that she was one for a brief time.

“Aye. More and more reports flooding in every day about the monsters. Even my thieves are afraid to venture too far from home. It’s making our living difficult”

“Which is why the Companions are very interested in finding this group of Vampire Hunters there are rumours about”

“The Dawnguard? They’re not just rumours lass.”

“Do you know where we can find them?” Aiden asked.

“I do indeed. They have taken up position in the old Dawnguard fort hidden deep in the Velothi Mountains. You can only get to it via Dayspring Canyon. But I can mark it on your map for you.”

Wyldfyre took out her beaten, travel-worn map. She really didn’t need it, her beast blood already knowing the terrain Brynjolf had described. Aiden nodded to her slightly and she smiled. “Just humour them” she said to him. The thief marked the map and she made a show of studying it before folding it up and putting it back in her satchel. The two Were’s both stood in unison.

“Thank you” Wyldfyre nodded, causing the three thieves to look slightly surprised.

“You won’t stay for dinner?” Karliah asked. She had been studying both Wyldfyre and Aiden with interest; in particular their eyes.

“Thanks’ for the offer but we’ll eat on the run.” Aiden said “We want to get going straight away.”

“In the dark?” Delvin asked in confusion. Wyldfyre and Aiden turned to leave, ending the questioning. They all walked back out to the cistern and bid farewell; Delvin escorted the siblings to the ladder. Wyldfyre’s Were hearing picked up Karliah’s quiet observation to Brynjolf.

“The brother is a wolf to”

“Really? Huh”


They left the horses behind in Riften, deciding they would make better time travelling across the wilderness and staying off the main roads. After making a small camp, the siblings changed into their Were forms and went out for a little hunting. It was exhilarating to just run with no real destination or goal in mind and soon they both ate their fill on rabbits. Given that they didn’t really need to sleep, they broke camp and continued travelling towards the mountains. The path they were on was little more than a game trail and soon they came to a cave in the side of the mountain. They picked up lingering traces of human scent and entered the cave, their senses on high alert. Just because these people were Vampire Hunters didn’t mean they weren’t hostile to others, or Were’s for that matter.

Wyldfyre and Aiden had chosen not to reveal their beast blood to the Dawnguard in case they included Were-beasts on their list of things to kill. The cave was shallow and soon opened out into a pretty valley. A great castle loomed ahead, towering over the tree tops. Someone had recently built new palisades in strategic positions and Wyldfyre could see a few Dawnguard members patrolling the tops. They were watched closely when they approached but were otherwise left unchallenged.

“Seems to be a little lacking in security if you ask me” Aiden commented as they continued to the front door. A man approached them, smiling.

“Ah looks like we have a couple of new recruits!” Aiden studied them man.

“Not so much” he said with authority in his voice. “You are looking upon the Harbinger of the Companions and members of the Circle.”

“Oh forgive me Harbinger” the man nodded respectfully. “May I ask what brings you here to Fort Dawnguard?”

“We would have word with your leader” Wyldfyre said and the man nodded.

“Speak to Isran. He’s just received another visitor, a member of the Vigilants. I suspect he is just inside the main hall” After being let in, they entered the Hall to see a man dressed in short robes, armed with a crossbow, speaking urgently to a Redguard in heavy plated armour.

“They laid the Hall to waste Isran” the man exclaimed “Every man and woman in there slain. I barely made it out of there alive”

“And yet here you are Tolan” the Redguard sneered. Clearly he did not like the Vigliant and found his intrusion annoying.

“Your dislike of our order blinds your judgement Isran” Tolan said heatedly. “The Vampires are looking for something and we know whatever it is, it’s in Dimhollow Cript. If I could just....”

“Gentlemen” Wyldfyre spoke up and strode towards them. Isran turned to the new interruption and sighed.

“New recruits then. Just wait over there and I’ll have a look at you once I’m done here” he turned back to Tolan but Wyldfyre interrupted again, now getting annoyed herself. She turned to the Vigilant.

“My Companions have been dealing with the Vampire crisis for some time now. We came across one nest in particular that had an Old One”

“An Old One you say?” the Vigilant said with interest “One of the Volkihar Vampires?”

“I have never heard that term” Wyldfyre shook her head “In any case they were apparently looking for something, something powerful, like a weapon, and their Master is not happy with them” Tolan turned to Isran.

“You see Isran? This is just the confirmation we needed. We need to investigate Dimhollow Crypt.”

“As you can see Tolan, I have no men to spare” Isran said “If you want to go on this wild crusade then you are welcome to it, but you will get no help from me”

“But what if the Vampires find something down there? It could be disastrous!” But Isran had already moved off to train some new recruits in the use of a crossbow. They fired shots into some old barrels and crates. Wyldfyre observed their aim was alarmingly off. Tolan sighed and turned to Wyldfyre and Aiden.

“Thank you for that information. I don’t know what I am going to do. I must go to Dimhollow Crypt but to go alone, is foolhardy” Wyldfyre looked at Aiden and he nodded.

“We’ll go with you”

“I thank you for the offer, but just three of us against Volkihar Vampires?”

“I’ll go talk to Isran. See if he can give us at least a couple of men” Wyldfyre offered. She was reluctant to talk with the Dawnguard leader. He seemed to be as stubborn and unwavering as she was.

“Yes yes, fine. But I can’t wait here. I will go on ahead and scout out the area.”

“But you just said you didn’t want to do it alone” Aiden said, frowning.

“Oh I won’t go in there, just look around outside. I’ll wait for you to be sure” He nodded and strode towards the door.

“Leave him go” Wyldfyre said “It’s his choice to make”. They walked over to Isran who was placing a recruit’s fingers in the correct position on the crossbow.

“...that way you won’t take your fingers off when you fire....” he glanced to Wyldfyre “I see you have a crossbow and presume you know how to use it?”

“Indeed” Wyldfyre answered; her eyebrow arching. “But we are not recruits. I am the Harbinger and this is my brother Aiden”

“Companions eh?” he looked up with interest. “What brings you to my Fort?”

“The exact reason Vigilant Tolan was here. I felt it necessary to bring you the information we had and to offer my help. Though from what I just witnessed I am guessing you don’t want it?” Isran walked over to a bucket of water which he took a ladle from and sipped the liquid.

“Don’t get me wrong, we can use all the help we can get to exterminate every last vampire. I have a...history, with the Vigliants. After what they did...” Wyldfyre did not wish to hear any details and Isran did not offer them so the pair stood in silence while trying to assess the other. Isran was cold and intelligent and Wyldfyre got the feeling he would stop at nothing to kill a vampire. Even if it meant sacrificing innocents. She didn’t like him.

“I guess I should have been a little more accommodating to Tolan” he then said, a small spark of regret showing on his face. “If I could offer more men, I would, but I wasn’t lying. I really can’t spare any. If you could escort Tolan to Dimhollow Crypt, let him poke around there for a while then report back to me, I would appreciate it”


Tolan was long gone by the time the pair left the Fortress. Wyldfyre had some more bolts for her quiver and Aiden was also sporting a new crossbow and quiver.

“Did he have a horse?” Aiden asked as they travelled along the path back towards the cave entrance. Wyldfyre could detect horse in the air.

“I think so” she swore. “Dammit! That fool is going to get himself killed, charging in on his own. I should have made him wait”

“There’s nothing you can do now” Her brother reassured her, quickening his pace to a jog. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t enter the Crypt”. The Cave was located south of Dawnstar up a small mountain. The Hall of the Vigilant was close by and Wyldfyre and Aiden decided to stop there on the way past in case Tolan was there. But they only found the bodies of the slain Vigilants, along with three dead vampires and two savage looking black dogs. Wyldfyre examined one. Its mouth was full of large sharp canines, its body hairless and almost skeletal. The beast blood in Wyldfyre made her wonder what these huge black dogs would be like to fight with. She had no doubt she would find out soon.

They made their way up the mountain and soon the cave loomed ahead, but Wyldfyre and Aiden smelt blood on the air. When they approached they found Tolan’s horse; its throat torn out and its lifeblood spilling onto the snow. They unsheathed their crossbows and loaded them and entered the cave. A short tunnel opened out into a large cavern. They stopped when they heard talking.

“..a shame, this one put up a good fight” A woman commented. Wyldfyre peeked over a rock to see two vampires standing over a body. It was Tolan.

“Yes but you should not have killed him so quickly. The Master would have wanted him questioned” the male shook his head and nudged the body with his foot. “He didn’t even taste good”

“Pfft!” the woman sneered “The Vigilants are tainted with their blessings from Stendar. The other one the Master keeps alive is the same”.

“We are on our own” she sent to Aiden, who nodded and gripped his crossbow ready.

“With you, Sister” he said, and then they both charged.