Dovah Queen, Dragonborn Rising (Game of Thrones x Skyrim)

[Harper Potts]

Chapter 26
Morndas, the 23th of First Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era
​

Before they left in the morning, they divided up the spoils. Daenerys applied the same rule as Jarl Balgruuf. She got half of all the loot, both gold and treasure. The rest was divided equally among her followers. Sophia received the armor she'd claimed. It wasn't enchanted, but it was a good set of matching steel. Uul selected a helmet with an archery enchantment. Faralda and Val both wanted the draugr lord's axe. Val simply wanted it because it was an exceptionally well-made axe. Faralda wanted it to study, because it had a unique enchantment that she had never seen before, a Fiery Soul Trap. However, Val won the draw and picked first.

Daenerys was more concerned with the fact that the axe that killed Grandfather had any kind of soul trapping enchantment on it. Whether it was fiery or normal soul trap didn't matter to her. However, no one else seemed to have realized the possibility, so she held her tongue. It wasn't until later when they were on the road that she was able to ask Faralada about it without being overheard.

"His soul should be in Sovngarde. The draugr lord would have had to been carrying a black soul gem. Most believe that without a soul gem the soul trap spell fails. The soul will fly free. Even if a soul is trapped by a soul gem, an enchantment doesn't capture all the soul's energy. The weakened soul is believed to still arrive at the appropriate afterlife."

Daenerys frowned at the impersonal tone that Faralda using. Her mentor frequently spoke as if she was lecturing to a class, but this wasn't an academic discussion. They were talking about Grandfather's soul. "That is very vague language. Nobody really knows, do they?"

"You are correct. We know a little bit about Oblivion, but almost nothing about the afterlife. Mostly just the words of priests based on their faith. Still, most enchanters refuse to use black souls for that very reason. Regardless, Grandfather should be fine. Without a soul gem, how would the soul be trapped?"

"Faralda? Weren't there soul gems in the loot?"

"Yes, but…" Faralda turned pale which was an odd look with her coloration. "The loot got mixed up. Except for a few notable items, I have no idea where anything was found. There were two black soul gems. One filled and one unfilled. They were in your half of the loot."

"So, the filled black soul gem might contain Grandfathers soul?" Daenerys had to restrain herself from yelling. The fewer who knew anything about this the better. "What would happen if we smashed the soul gem? Would his soul be freed?"

"Maybe… I don't know. Maybe shattering the gem would shatter the soul." Faralda shook her head. "I just don't know. I'm a Mistress of Destruction, not Enchanting. As far as I know, there are spells or ritual magic required to free a soul. We should really discuss it with Sergius Turrianus back at the College. He is the Master Enchanter, not me."

"I don't like this Faralda. This is his soul we're talking about, but I don't see any other choice. When we stop for the night, locate both of those black soul gems and move them to your personal belongings. I'm making you responsible for keeping them safe until we find an expert."

Faralda nodded. "I will keep them safe."

"Good," said Daenerys, but this was far from good. She also wondered if Sergius Turrianus was truly the best person to consult. She could think of someone who might know more than him. Aranea Ienith was both an Enchantress and the High Priestess of Azura, and Azura's star was a soul gem that never broke. If anyone would know, she would. Ilinalta's Deep wasn't anywhere close to her planned route, but she hadn't forgotten about it either. It had just become a much higher priority.

.oOo.​

Even at the slow pace of an ox-drawn cart, they reached the Nightgate Inn by late afternoon. They were greeted by several dogs barking. Fishbreath, well hidden under the driver's seat of the wagon hissed and spit in return.

"Faralda, would you get the stupid cat?"

"We could just let it run away," replied Faralda. She had never been fond of Fishbreath.

Daenerys shrugged. "He's become something of a mascot. I'll just shut him in our room while we're here." As she recalled they let the dogs roam everywhere, even inside the inn. Daenerys went inside to arrange lodging. While being the patron meant she claimed half of the loot, it also meant that she was expected to pay her followers a salary and cover reasonable expenses – such as food and lodging. Daenerys was doing the math in her head in preparation for haggling with the innkeep as she walked into the Nightgate inn.

It hadn't changed at all from when she had stopped here on the road to Winterhold. The Nightgate Inn was surprisingly large and well-built considering that this place was more a trading post than a village. After working as a tavern wench, she had developed an eye for inns. This one was clean and homey. The innkeeper was a bit surly, but all in all she remembered this inn fondly for its well-heated rooms and the luxury of a hot bath after a week on the cold road. The common room was mostly empty. A tavern drunk was already busily drinking alone, and three people sat around a table. From their intense looks they were haggling or working out some kind of trade over a few ales. She was vaguely aware of Faralda entering as she walked up to the innkeeper.

"Thalmor!" came a loud cry from behind her.

Daenerys whirled around to see the tavern drunk charging at Faralda with a large sword in his hands. With little time to think she Shouted, "Iiz!" The Shout caught the drunken Nord in mid-stride and turned him into an icy statue. She had no idea why the drunkard had suddenly attacked, or if she had just killed him.

Faralda dropped Fishbreath to summon up some kind of spell. Faralda usually favored fire, but an icy white nimbus of frost magic surrounded her hand. Faralda stared past Daenerys. "Drop. The. Axe!"

Daenerys turned to see that the innkeeper standing behind her had pulled a huge axe out from somewhere, but he was holding it loosely in his hands instead of at the ready.

"That, that was Shouting," he said in an awed voice.

"Yes, it was," agreed Daenerys. "And you'll drop the axe if you don't want me to Shout you through the wall."

The innkeeper promptly let the axe go. It fell to the wooden floors with a thump. "So, you're not Thalmor then?"

"No," said Faralda scornfully. "Not every Altmer is part of the Thalmor. What idiocy. Many of us hate them as much as you do. I was born in Skyrim. My parents moved here to get away from the Thalmor. You can't attack every Altmer who walks through your door."

"It's not that. I mean, we don't. We've had Altmer come in before. Fultheim never attacked them until now. I'm sure he had a reason."

Daenerys noticed that the drunk, who must be Fultheim, was starting to move a little bit. He was a man in his late middle years and remarkably well-muscled for his age. He wore cheap leathers over cheap clothes, and he reeked of mead. Daenerys pried the sword from his hands. The sword was unusual. It was slightly curved, not as much as a Redguard blade, but not straight either. The only other person she'd ever seen with a blade like that was Delphine. In fact, this blade even had the same kind of guard as Delphine's sword – a coiled serpent. She fished the amulet of Talos that Grandfather had bequeathed to her out from under her clothes and shook it at the drunk. "See, Talos. Not Thalmor, you drunkard."

"N-not y-you," the drunken Nord stuttered from the cold. "The c-cat. Kh-khjiit. Sp-spy"

A flash of sudden movement on the floor caught her attention. Fishbreath ran for the door and paused as he reached it. The cat raised a paw shimmering with an orange nimbus of magic. The door swung open.

Daenerys stared in confusion. Fishbreath cast a spell!

Faralda didn't hesitate. She blasted frost at the retreating cat, but the cat was gone, and her spell hit the door. "Kill it!" yelled Faralda as she charged outside. "Kill the cat! Release the hounds!"

Daenerys had no clue what was going on, but she ran outside after Faralda anyway. Fishbreath was a Khajiit? She thought that Khajiit were roughly human-shaped. Did they look like house cats when they were young? When she exited, she saw the hounds already chasing after Fishbreath. Not surprising. Dogs needed no prompting to chase after a fleeing cat. Ull had his bow out, but despite his remarkable aim he still missed. However, he came close.

The cat started zig-zagging instead of running in a straight line. That saved it from a second arrow but slowed it down enough that the hounds caught up. One of the hounds snapped at Fishbreath and caught him by the leg. The dog shook its head and tossed a caterwauling Fishbreath around roughly. Another hound bit down on Fishbreath and between the two of them they tore him apart before the innkeeper made it outside to call them off.

Daenerys turned to Faralda. The gory sight bothered her a lot less than the mere fact that Fishbreath could cast spells, was highly intelligent, and had apparently been spying on them. "What just happened?" While she had a good handle on the history and culture of Tamriel, every so often something she had never heard of before bit her in the ass. This appeared to be one of those times. "So, was that a Khajiit child? Kitten? Whatever?"

"No," replied Faralda. "That was a full-grown Khajiit. There are more than twenty different breeds of Khajiit. What form any Khajiit grows up to be depends on the phases of Masser and Secunda. The breed you usually see in Skyrim are Cathay, like J'zargo, but the Khajiit breeds vary wildly in size and appearance. The Senche-raht are quadrupedal battlecats the size of a mammoth. The Alfiq can pass as housecats. Fishbreath must have been an Alfiq."

"Altmer, you know a lot about the Khajiit," accused Fultheim. He still looked a little blue around the face.

Faralda shook her head disdainfully. "I have been alive a long while, and I don't spend my time in a bottle. You learn things when you study instead of drinking all day."
"I wasn't always a drunk, and you were still traveling with the Khajiit spy, elf."

Daenerys turned to face Fultheim. While he was apparently more than a drunk, she still wasn't that impressed. He could have bided his time and chosen a moment to strike. They might have caught Fishbreath and gotten some answers. However, there was no use crying over might have beens. For all that this man looked like a drunk, he'd been fast with a sword. He also spotted Fishbreath when they had been clueless. On the other side of the coin, he lacked manners and had tried to kill them. "My friend has a name, Faralda, and she is Mistress of Destruction. You might want to mind your manners."

"Oh, excuse me." Fultheim belched loudly.

"Mind your tongue, or I will cut it out," interrupted Sofija. "You speak to the Lady Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of her name and Thane of Winterhold."
The man rolled his eyes. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't realize I was talking to a Lady. May I puh-lease have my sword back."

"No," replied Daenerys keeping a grip on his sword. "At the minimum you owe my friend an apology. I also want to know how you knew the cat was an Alfiq. We all thought Fishbreath was just a cat."

"Fine. There are signs. Particularly in how they look about. Alfiq only look like housecats on the outside. They're as clever as a man or mer. That means they react differently. We keep dogs around for a reason. I've never seen a cat that calm around barking dogs. A real housecat would have either been hiding in the elf's arms or trying to escape. The Alfiq just looked about all calm and curious."

"I see." Now that she thought about it, there had been other signs. Stray cats were skittish. It wasn't normal for one to grow attached after just a few scraps. A normal cat would also have wandered off somewhere in the wilderness and never returned. She hadn't ever questioned the possibility that Fishbreath was anything but a cat. "And you picked up on that moments after Faralda entered the Nightgate Inn?"

He shrugged. "Well, the Alfiq was being held by an Altmer. That got my attention and then it was just obvious. Besides, we were trained to spot them. We learned our lesson after the Ambassador's Gift."

"The Ambassador's Gift?" asked Daenerys.

"That's what started the Great War. The Aldmeri Dominion sent an ambassador to the Emperor. He demanded a lot of things: tribute, disbanding the Blades, outlawing Talos worship, and half of Hammerfell. When the Emperor told him to shove his offer up his ass, he turned over the covered cart he'd brought with him and revealed his gift – the head of every Blades agent in the Aldmeri Dominion. It took us a few years, but we found out their secret. The Thalmor had aggressively recruited Alfiq to act as their spies. That's how they infiltrated the Blades so badly."

Hmm, Fultheim said 'we learned our lesson'. He didn't look it, but that meant… "So, you're a Blade."

"You said it, not me." He sighed. "Fine. I was a Blade once, but the Blades are no more. Now, give me back my sword."

"Not until you apologize to Faralda." Daenerys wasn't sure what to make of the man. He looked like a drunk. He acted like a drunk, but the Blades were legend. Perhaps like Jorah Mormont there was more to this man than met the eye.

Faralda cleared her throat. "An apology is not necessary. You saw an Altmer holding an Alfiq in Skyrim. It was an understandable mistake. I just wish we could have caught the damn spy. There is no way of telling what secrets he spilled."

Daenerys looked over at her friend. She had an amazing tolerance for Nord prejudices. Daenerys wouldn't have forgiven so easily. "Very well, since Faralda accepts it was a mistake, you can have your sword back." She handed it over to him.

He took it from her and slid it back into his scabbard, then he nodded to Faralda. "For what it's worth, I apologize. The Thalmor have been hunting me for a long time. I saw an Altmer holding an Alfiq and I reacted."

Faralda bowed her head. "The Thalmor killed my grandparents. I have no love for them."

Daenerys looked about. They had drawn a bit of crowd. She was surprised there were this many people living in the trading post. She was not surprised that most of them had a weapon in hand. Between her Shouting, Faralda throwing around Frost magic, and the dogs barking they made quite a racket. People living on the edge of the wilderness like this without the protection of a wall had to be ready to defend themselves on short notice. "Let's go inside where we can sit down and talk about this."

"What's to talk about? This was a good place to hide. Not anymore. You made a big scene and too many people saw. They'll talk. The Thalmor will hear about it and come calling. Time for me to find a new place to hide."

"They aren't going to come calling today. Come inside, sit down. I'll buy you a drink. I can offer you a job and protection."

"I won't say no to a pretty lady offering to buy me a drink, but I think you'll be disappointed." He turned and went inside. "Hey, Hadring. Bring a bottle of the good stuff. The lady is buying." He went on through the main room to one of the guest rooms. "Well come on, I thought you wanted privacy."

At first glance the room showed the usual Nord predilection for decorating with dead animals, but there was more than that. Bottles of wine and mead cluttered ever available surface, some full and some empty, but beneath those bottles were a surprisingly large number of books and weapons. Daenerys felt certain that this room belonged to Fultheim and wasn't just a random inn room. Perhaps he was a partner at the inn? Or even the owner?

The possibility that Fultheim was actually the owner or at least a partner was reinforced when the innkeeper showed up promptly with a dusty old bottle. He plopped it on the table. "The good stuff. Not that this lunk can tell the difference." He glanced at Faralda. "I would appreciate it if you didn't burn down the inn."

"That's why I used Frost instead of Fire," said Faralda as she sat down at the room's small table. "Smart mages don't cast fire spells while standing inside wooden buildings."

"Good. Then I'll leave you to it." The innkeeper, or perhaps the manager, left and closed the door behind him.

Daenerys took the remaining seat. "Just so we're all introduced, Sofija here is my housecarl, and I heard your name is Fultheim?"

"Yeah." He grabbed the bottle, popped the cork and took a deep swig from the bottle. "Ahhh, now what do you want to talk about?"

"Well, Fultheim. I'd like to hire you. I'm recruiting. I have a small band of followers. We clear Nord barrows. It's dangerous work, but profitable. The Thalmor don't like me either, so we can watch each other's back."

He took another swig and swallowed before he replied. "Is this supposed to be where I scoff at danger and sign up? Feh, I've seen plenty of young adventurers like you. What are you? Fifteen? You know what I've never seen? An old adventurer. You know why? Because adventures get you killed. That's why. I've done my share and more. I fought in the Great War. I survived the purge of the Blades. I just want a place to drink and forget."

"You're going to slink off and hide? I thought you were a Nord. What matters more? How you live or how you die?"

"So, you're a gods-damned Talos priestess now? Honor, glory, death, and Sovngarde? Honor and glory get you killed. Sovngarde… easy to talk about it. You want me to risk my life for what? Gold? I put my life on the line for honor, and the Empire I fought to defend pissed on us. That didn't make me brave. That made me a fool. If the heroes of Sovngarde want me, they can come and get me."

Sofija suddenly spoke up. "I thought the Blades didn't swear to the Medes. They only swore to defend the dragon-blooded emperors. After the Oblivion Crisis, they only lent their aid to the Empire."

"Technicalities. The Blades still agreed to work with the Empire, especially as the Thalmor threat grew. Not that the Empire listened."

"But the Blades swore to the Dragonborn," said Sofija.

Daenerys kept silent. Sofija had the same intensity about her that she brought to training, like this exchange of words was a battle she intended to win.

"Yes, but there are no more Blades and no more dragonborn." Then he looked at Daenerys. "Oh, fuck me! Her?! You're telling me that Little Miss Fancybraids is the Dragonborn? We're all doomed."

"I haven't claimed that title."

"Yet," added Faralda.

Daenerys glared at her mentor. "Was that supposed to be helpful?"

"Fultheim?" asked Sofija. "Your oath was to the Dragonborn. If you forswear that oath, that makes you no different from those who turned their backs on the Blades. She is the Dragonborn. I have sworn to protect her. My life for hers, but I know that I'm no Blade. Come with us. Protect her. Teach me."

"You don't know what you're asking." He held up a hand cutting off Sofija. "Oh, I know your kind. You're a young honorable fool. You can't take a piss in Skyrim without running into one." Fultheim slugged down three long gulps from the bottle. "Damn it all to Oblivion. Damn me, too." He pointed to Daenerys. "I'll give you one barrow. Just one. If I decide that you're full of shit, then I'm gone after that." He pointed to Sofija. "You. Outside. I want to see what you've got. Wipe that smirk off your face. This is not open auditions at the Bard's College. I'm going to work your ass off. You quit before I say you can, then it's over. This is your one and only chance."

.oOo.
​

Fultheim spent the rest of the day putting everyone but Faralda through their paces making them demonstrate their combat skills first alone, then against each other, and lastly against him. He kept his promise to work Sofija's ass off. While everyone else got to rest from time to time, he kept Sofija constantly busy. He had her doing exercises, weapon drills, dismissing and summoning her conjured blades, then doing it all over again. He had her squat, lift, carry, drag, jump, balance, and crawl. She took it all without complaint. Daenerys supported her housecarl by healing her from time to time. Fultheim looked at her the first time, then nodded his approval. That night after Daenerys had cleaned up, they met again in Fultheim's room.

"So, what do you think of them?" Daenerys had been impressed by the depth of Fultheim's knowledge. He had obviously trained men to fight before. Even more than his personal skill as a fighter, she needed his experience in training men. However, he still seemed more interested in drinking.

"I've seen worse. Val is a dumbass who relies on brute strength, but he's got the strength to back it up. The battleaxe is the perfect weapon for him. Put him up front and let him swing that axe. Ull is a natural talent. I don't know where you found him, but he's damned deadly. He's better than I am at bow. However, he has a plain yew bow. That's fine for hunting animals, but he needs a real bow, and a little bit of sword practice in case someone gets in his face, but that's it. Mikko… he's trying to fight with twin axes and he sucks at it. I'm going to train him in axe and shield. Your housecarl," he pointed at Sofija. "She has talent. Raw, but I can work with it. Can't say that I ever trained a Spellblade before, but those conjured swords aren't a joke. As for you… stick to Shouting and spellcasting. Combat isn't all about strength, but brute force matters. Warrior maids have to work twice as hard as men, that's the cold truth of it. She can make it, because she wants it. You… you're juggling too many balls. You don't have time to exercise and train for hours a day."

"I know it," agreed Daenerys. "I don't expect to be a warrior. I just want to be able to defend myself if I run out of magicka. I'll give you a couple of hours every morning, that's it."

Fultheim nodded. "I agreed to do one barrow with you, but I want two days here first. Mikko needs that much to train him up on axe and shield. I'll work with the others as well."

Daenerys nodded her agreement. It would certainly be time well spent. "You have your two days – except for Grandfather's funeral."

Fultheim slugged down more mead. "Not a problem." He pointed to Sofija. "Two more days. No bitching, no quitting. After that… we'll see.

Faralda cleared her throat. "We're not done yet. Daenerys, I want some of your time as well. I want to start some new spell training."

"Yeah, well keep the explosions down. It spooks the animals. If we're done jawing, leave me to drink in peace."

Daenerys held up a hand. "Just one more thing. You might not be the only Blade who survived. I know a woman who bears a sword like yours."

"Yeah?" He shrugged. "It takes more than an Akaviri sword to be a Blade. What's her name?"

"She goes by Delphine."

"Never heard of her. Of course, it could be an alias, could be she was a secret Blade, or maybe she found the sword on a corpse. There were plenty of Blades corpses left to rot. It really doesn't matter if there are any survivors. The Blades are dead and gone." His eyes briefly flicked over to Sofija, but then he shook his head and grabbed the bottle. "Now leave me in peace."

"As you wish." Daenerys stood and left him to his drinking.

.oOo.​

The last thing Daenerys did before climbing into bed was to take off the amulet of Talos that Grandfather had bequeathed to her. She placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. The bed was as soft and warm as she remembered, but she couldn't sleep. The old man had claimed that Talos had sent him to protect her at Ironbind Barrow. He meant that literally, and Daenerys believed him. The gods were much more involved in mortal affairs in this world than on Planetos. She had seen the power of Grandfather's faith. Colette, the Mistress of Restoration at the College, had often talked about how faith was the best Seeming for Restoration magic. However, Daenerys had a hard time finding faith in Talos or any diety. She was much more comfortable with the transactional relationship that Brelyna described the Dunmer having with the 'three good Daedra'. That aligned with her encounter with Aranea Ienith. Azura wanted her to recover her missing relic with the implied promise of help in return. While Daenerys rallied her followers with appeals to Talos and Sovngarde, she was just using the words to motivate them. She had always believed in the righteousness of her causes – even as she burned down King's Landing. She had placed her faith in herself, but that faith had been misplaced. Now she didn't know what to believe in. Even with the evidence that Talos had intervened to help her, she found it difficult to have faith in Talos or any other god for that matter.

Lying there in bed with Faralda and Sofija sleeping close by, she tried. She didn't really know how to pray. Silently, she thanked Talos for sending Grandfather to save her. She also asked him for his aid, but not for herself. It didn't feel right. She had obstacles, but she could overcome them. Instead, she asked for Talos to help her save Grandfather's soul. Talos owed him that much. If Talos wouldn't save the soul of a follower as loyal as Grandfather, then he wasn't worthy of the belief the Nords and others placed in him. As she drifted off to sleep she realized that she was still trying to bargain with Talos for Grandfather, like he was a Daedra and not an Aedra. She simply didn't get faith. Grandfather had beseeched her to 'Be worthy'. She was just going to do what was right. The gods could do whatever they damn well pleased.

 

[Harper Potts]

Chapter 27
Turdas, the 26th of First Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era​

The two days they spent at the Nightgate Inn went by in a blur of training. While Fultheim spent most of his time working with Sofija and Mikko, he still trained the rest of them for several hours each day. Daenerys spent most of the rest of the time training with Faralda.

Faralda had decided that they needed to focus upon ward spells. While Faralda was a Mistress of Destruction, she did know a few useful spells from other schools: Clairvoyance, Magelight, Healing, and Wards. Faralda was upset at herself for allowing her skill with wards to lapse. She felt that she should have been able to ward off the Ice Spike that had struck her down at Ironbind.

"So, this has nothing to do with me learning the Shout for Frost when the druagr lord Shouted at me?" asked Daenerys.

"That is a part of it," admitted Faralda. "However, we already knew you learned to Shout when the dragon of Helgen Shouted at you. I had just hoped for a safer way to learn. Still, we know from testing that wards do block Shouts."

"Faralda," said Daenerys softly. "We did that testing at the edge of my range, and you couldn't hear the word. Going to visit the Greybeards is still part of the plan. You could wait to hear what they have to say."

"I know," agreed Faralda. "I'm not suggesting that I stand there while you Shout at me repeatedly – at least not yet. I could stand to improve my warding skills, and you could stand to learn wards in the first place. This is more likely to be of use to you than learning to swing a sword. We already know you have a talent for Restoration magic."

"That's true." While she had made good progress with her sword work, she knew that she was still a beginner and couldn't afford to spend the years required to master the skill. "Although it is less that I have a talent for Restoration, than the fact that it has the simplest Seemings."

Faralda chuckled. "Simplest to you, perhaps. Others find the Seemings for other schools easier, but that is not the only reason. You are preparing us to fight dragons. If wards can protect against Shouts, they can most likely shield against dragonfire. For that reason alone, we should practice wards."

Daenerys couldn't argue with that. "Very well, you win. We'll study wards."

Studying wards turned out to be a painful process. They took turns shooting Sparks at each other while summoning wards to shield themselves. Faralda already knew how to ward herself, she was just trying to improve her wards. Daenerys struggled merely summoning up a ward at all. The Seeming was simple – the wish not to hurt. The pain from being shocked by electricity was good motivation to block the spell with a ward. Despite that motivation Daenerys managed nothing but a weak flicker of a shield in two days of intense effort. Even that much progress was good for the time she spent on it. Learning spells was not a fast or easy process, and Faralda was right. Wards could indeed be useful against dragons. They would also be quite handy when they confronted the coven of mages at Ilinalta's Deep.

In the evenings she talked strategy with Fultheim. He claimed to know little, but they went over the battle with the draugr lord of Ironbind and how Grandfather had died. She told it as best she could recount, explaining that learning a Word by having it Shouted at you made it difficult to focus on everything else. Fultheim blew that off. He pointed out that the draugr lord had only been half the problem.

"That pincher attack," said Fultheim. "It's a good attack pattern for your group. You have two heavy spellcasters: Faralda and yourself with your Shouts. Open up a line of fire for your casters, have protection close by, then let the troops mop up. However, you charged into an ambush." He shook his head and took a swig of mead. "You have to be aware of your surroundings if you're going to lead men into battle. Watch out for treelines, ridges, and other places where men can be hidden in wait. You were smart, but the dragur lord was smarter. He suckered you in with the skeleton mage as bait, let his archers rain down death all around you, then he engaged himself – that made it impossible for you to retreat without showing your back to him. You're all lucky to be alive. Not many priests can pull off a Guardian Circle like that. You need more attack patterns, and you need to adapt to the environment."

"It's not my only pattern," replied Daenerys defensively. Although, she had to admit that he was right about walking into an ambush at Ironbind.

"No, but your other pattern is for fighting dragons." He shrugged. "I can't judge that one. If what you say about dragons is right, it could work. If you're wrong, it could easily get all of you killed. For that matter if you're right, it could still get all of you killed. Dragons are smart, flying, armored, and breathe fire. If half of you live through a fight, call it a victory." He muttered something under his breath. "Still, you need more patterns to handle things like bandits, draugr, trolls, and such."

"So, teach us then. You obviously know some other attack patterns."

He shook his head and took a swig of his mead. "Look, I'm not a leader. Teach a man how to stand, how to swing an axe, when to block and when to commit – that I know, but calling the shots in battle? Anyone can spot mistakes sitting by the fire and drinking mead after the fight is done. It's different being able to call orders when someone is trying to kill you and your men are dying. I'll describe a few attack and response patterns to you, but you're going to have to make them work for your people. I'm giving you a chance girlie, but I'm testing you as much as I'm testing your crew."

Daenerys nodded. "Fine. Tell me about these attack and response patterns."

"Alright, but you'll have to modify them. You have light infantry and some casters. That's perfect for your needs since you're walking more than you're fighting. I trained and fought with heavy armor units: Blades, knights, and battlemages. Heavy armor is good for the battlefield, for frontal assaults, and for standing guard. It would be great for exploring barrows, but it sucks to march in. I've seen heavy armor get mauled by having to fight after being exhausted after a day of marching."

"I understand. I thought of buying horses, but they're too expensive for now. Although, we are traveling with a cart." Daenerys absolutely planned to keep the cart. There was a huge profit to be made in clearing out every last weapon and piece of armor in a barrow. She did plan to replace the oxen with horses eventually. While horses couldn't pull as much, they were faster. "What if we carried heavy armor in the cart? My troops can march in light armor, and change into heavy armor just before we hit the barrows."

"Huh, two sets of armor for all your men?" Fultheim scratched his beard. "I've never heard of anyone doing that before. Most grunts are doing good to take care of one set of armor. It wouldn't work for a larger group, but for your handful, yeah, that might work. Of course, they would still need training time, a lot of it. You can't just slap on a suit of heavy armor and fight in it." He wagged a finger at Sofija who was quietly standing behind Daenerys. "I already explained that to your housecarl. You have to train to walk, run and fight in it."

"Seems to me you already started training Sofija. I've seen her running around in that armor all day. Start training Val and Sofija for heavy armor. They can at least armor up when we hit barrows. Mikko if he wants it. We certainly got enough armor for everyone."

"Hey! Slow down. We have a deal. You get one barrow. You talk a good, but I want to see you and your men in action. If I stick with you after Silverdrift Barrow, I'll start training them, but it will take time. A few weeks minimum. Months before they get really good at it. Might take longer if they're not wearing full armor all the time. You also might want to think about puttin' yourself and Faralda on that list. Neither one of you will ever be a good melee fighter, but you don't need mobility to bring the thunder. That's why battlemages wear armor."

Daenerys sighed. He made good sense, but she was not looking forward to the training. "I'll start exercising in heavy armor, and I will suggest it to Faralda. When I can walk around without falling down, I'll consider wearing heavy armor into a barrow."

Fultheim smiled. "That's the spirit. Now we drifted off-topic. We were going to discuss attack and response plans. Let's go over some basic scenarios. I'll start with an easy one."

Daenerys listened closely. While Fultheim's advice was more focused on pitched battles, he had decades of experience. As he described different scenarios, she turned them over, trying to adapt them to similar situations involving fewer men. She didn't pretend to be a military expert, but she had been in enough fights that this was familiar ground.

.oOo.​

The Nord barrow of Silverdrift was located a little more than a day west of the Nightgate Inn. This barrow was easy to find as it was clearly visible from the road. It was also reportedly taken over by bandits. However, when they arrived the bandits were all dead. Apparently, the bandits hadn't completely cleared the barrow. The draugr had risen up and slaughtered them. From the state of the corpses, Ull estimated that the draugr attack had happened at least a week ago.

As they made their way through the barrow, they found draugr and dead bandits. They killed the draugr and looted everything. They still used the pincher attack plan. It worked well, but she was now very much aware of its flaws. They had practiced having her and Faralda fall back to allow their second line fighters to engage. It put more pressure on her to make a snap decision on whether to blast or fall back, but she hoped it would keep them for falling into another ambush.

The fights with the few scattered draugr went well, but Silverdrift itself was an obstacle. The place was full of traps. Doors lined with spikes swung out and slammed into them. Spears shot out of holes in the floors and ceiling. A log tied to chains swung out like a pendulum and rammed into them. The flame traps were the worst. Hidden mechanisms shot out jets of flames and sometimes set the floor on fire. They learned to beware of pools of oil and floors covered in sticky tar. Val and Mikko, who were leading the way, took the worst of the traps.

"I'm sick of the damn traps," said Val as Daenerys healed him yet again. "Whatever sick mind built this place must have been half Dwemer."

"I thought it was Nords who built the barrows," said Faralda.

"Yeah," said Val. "Well, we were slaves to the dragons back then. That would drive anyone crazy."

"I see," said Faralda. "And Nords area all sane and rational now."

"Of course!" said Mikko joining the conversation. "It's mages who are crazy. Everyone knows that."

"Fultheim, swap out with Val," ordered Daenerys. "Let's see if you have a better eye for spotting traps.

The swap did help some. Fultheim spotted some murder holes and a pressure plate. However, he still triggered quite a few traps. Daenerys was reminded of a comment Lydia had made about bringing a thief along the next time she had to explore a barrow. It wasn't a bad idea. However, the problem was finding a trustworthy thief, if such a contradiction existed. Also, her priority remained in recruiting capable fighters. She would need them to fight a dragon. Still, it was an idea worth thinking about.

When they opened the final chamber, Daenerys quickly scanned the entire room for threats instead of focusing on what was directly in front of her. "Flanks and forward!" she called out, commanding a slightly different response. Fultheim and Mikko charged the draugr lord in a pincher attack. Val moved to the right flank while Sofija covered their left. Faralda and Ull supported them. Daenerys remained steady and lobbed a firebolt at the draugr lord.

It seemed to work more or less. There were draugr on their flanks, but they were under control. The firebolt didn't do much, but Fultheim and Mikko were managing the draugr lord. Mikko used his shield more than attacking, but that just created openings for Fultheim.

Daenerys noticed the way the draugr lord arched himself up. "Scatter!" she shouted in warning.

Fultheim and Mikko both backpedaled.

The draugr lord focused on er as he shouted. "Fus! Ro! D..!"

Daenerys was far enough away that the impact of the Shout merely knocked her back off her feet. However, she still heard two of the words loud and clear: Fus, Force; Ro, Balance, and another word that slipped past because Fus and Ro overwhelmed her. Fus was Force and Ro was Balance. Ironic. Physically she was sprawled awkwardly on the ground, completely lacking in balance, yet her soul was in perfect balance. Fus and Ro. Force and Balance. The two Words blended beautifully like an arrow in fight, a wheel in motion, or a perfectly executed sword strike. She pushed herself up finding a strange elegance in the motion. Force pushing against stone floor to restore Balance as she stood. She was very aware of her body and stance as she took a deep breath. A small part of her noticed her followers standing over the defeated draugr lord. She quickly aimed her Shout upward and set it free. "Fus! Ro!"

While her heart soared with victory at mastering another Word, her body faltered as magicka drained from her leaving her weak and almost tapped out. She drew in a breath pulling in magicka with it. It hurt, a sign that she had pushed her magic too far. If that was two words, could she even manage three?

She noticed everyone staring at her. "What? You've all seen me learn a Word before. That is why we came down here."

Flutheim snorted. "I haven't. You've got quite a pair of lungs for a little thing."

"Yeah? Well, you swing a mean sword for an old drunkard."

He threw back his head and laughed.

.oOo.​

The back wall of the main chamber was also a Word Wall, something that Daenerys hadn't noticed in the middle of the fight. She allowed everyone else to examine the wall while she recovered. Just as before Sofija could feel a vibration, and Ull could make out a whispered muttering with his ear to the wall. Fultheim felt nothing. Once everyone else was done, Daenerys walked up to the Word Wall and acquired a new Shout, Zun, or Weapon.

Zun was a command. While Fus and Yol slammed out, Zun claimed ownership over any weapon. Every Shout was a concept, but Zun more than the others. Zun was about domination. It was about taking an opponent's weapon.

All in all, Daenerys was very pleased with Silverdrift. She had mastered a two-word Shout, learned another Word, and it had been very profitable. While there wasn't anything really noteworthy in the way of enchanted items, between the bandits and the draugr the loot had been plentiful: weapons, armor, food, and gold. They even found trade goods and basic supplies that the bandits must have looted from passing travelers.

However, Daenerys thought the best treasure was Fultheim. Although he still drank heavily and didn't pledge to her, his attitude became a lot more respectful after seeing her master two Shouts. He was still his usual abrasive self to everyone else, but when she gave commands, he started acting like a second. He would shout at everyone to hop to it and add specific details to her general commands. He also became an even harsher taskmaster to Sophia. While Daenerys was prepared to tell Fultheim to ease up, Sofija never complained, so she let them be. His new attitude even extended to the morning exercise and sword practice drills that Fultheim led. Daenerys knew she was the worst student, but he merely gave her suggestions instead of yelling at her every mistake.

While the Nightgate Inn was a convenient central point for exploring barrows, it was merely a trading post. The merchants and traders had eagerly bought much of her loot from Ironbind, but they were much less interested in the haul she had from Silverdrift. They had too much stock on hand already and not enough time to sell it. She was able to sell some of the goods that she suspected the bandits had pilfered from other traders, but she decided to wait and sell the weapons and armor when they arrived in a city.

Daenerys considered making the nearly four-day trek back to Windhelm to sell. However, after talking with Lief about how much the oxen could pull, she chose to instead purchase two more oxen and keep moving forward. After resting one day at the Nightgate Inn, they continued onward to Korvanjund. The month of Rain's Hand decided to start a few days early. Heavy spring rains made for a cold, wet, and muddy journey. The first day wasn't so bad as it was on an Imperial road. While Daenerys had many issues with the way the Imperials managed their Empire, she had nothing but respect for their roads. Despite the heavy rain, they didn't get stuck once. That changed once they turned off the main road and took the path to Korvanjund. They spent two days slogging through a muddy road stopping frequently to get the wagon unstuck.

While they were working to get the wagon out of the mud Ull blew his horn in warning. Everyone dropped what they were doing and drew weapons. As they did a wave of men dressed in a motley assortment of armor charged over the hill and down toward their position. Faralda disrupted their charge by dual-casting fireballs. Many of them panicked, but the huge brute leading the charge with an enormous maul hadn't been caught in the explosion. He kept on charging. Daenerys moved up to Shout, but Val and Fultheim both intercepted him. In a brief but intense exchange of strikes the attacker smashed them both, but Fultheim struck him in the knee. He went down and then Val cleaved his neck halfway in two.

"Orcs." Fultheim spit out blood from a split lip. "They never know when a fight is lost, and because of that they sometimes win. Don't like them; don't trust them, but damn they can fight."

"The others are human. More bandits?" asked Daenerys.

"Most likely," agreed Fultheim. "The rest of you. I don't want any more muttering about why Faralda gets to sleep late while we practice and exercise in the morning. She's a Mistress of Destruction. She's deadlier than all the rest of you put together. When you can cut through a charge like a knife through cheese, you can sleep in too."

"Let's follow them back to wherever they're camped before they can regroup," suggested Val.

Daenerys thought about that. "It's a good idea, but we don't know what we're getting into and I don't like the idea of leaving Lief alone in the cart when we know there are bandits in the area."

"Always a bad idea to leave your supplies unprotected," agreed Fultheim.

"Ull and Mikko, see if you can track them back. It's a scouting mission. I'd like to know where they're based and how many we're dealing with. Priority is on not getting spotted and getting back safely."

By the time they got the cart unstuck and moving again, Ull and Mikko were back. "Found them. They're holed up inside Korvanjund. Looks like a nasty place for a frontal attack. It's a crevice. Good part is they can't see out very well. They have sentries posted where I can pick them off."

"A crevice," said Fultheim. "Hmm, anything that would stop Faralda from lobbing fireballs into that crevice after you pick off the sentries?"

"Not a damn thing," said Ull with a predatory grin.

Fultheim looked over to Daenerys expectantly.

Daenerys got it immediately. He wanted her to give the order. "Mikko, I want you to stay behind with Leif and the cart. Just in case some of them are wandering around outside. Let's do it."

.oOo.​

Ull only managed to pick off one of the sentries before the rest retreated to the crevice. He took a position from where he could snipe at anyone who poked their head out. Then Faralda lobbed fireballs into the crevice one after another. There were screams at first and then everything got silent.

"They probably retreated inside," said Fultheim. "I'll go check it out."

"No," said Daenerys with a smile. "I'll check it out. Feim!" As the world went ghostly around her, she charged into the crevice. She found burned and charred corpses, but no one was alive. The Shout ended. "All clear!" she called out.

At the top of a set of stairs in the crevice, they found a door. After a bit of rest Daenerys shouted it open with "Fus! Ro!", and her followers charged inside. The fight from there on was one-sided. The bandits steadily retreated deeper into the barrow. Faralda lobbed fireballs into rooms before they charged. The bandits were demoralized and kept retreating. Korvanjund was huge inside and would have been a horrific place to fight a more competent force. Large chambers held multiple levels that would accommodate archers. At several places they had to pass through narrow choke points to progress. However, the bandits were disorganized and fought as individuals. Daenerys stayed alert for an ambush, but they rolled over the remaining bandits.

They found some barriers erected to seal doors shut, and there were no bandits beyond them. Only draugr. The draugr died as fast as the bandits. Unlike Silverdrift they only encountered one trap, a swinging axe trap like in Bleak Falls Barrow. Daenerys used Feim to pass through it unharmed and shut it down. Eventually, they came to an antechamber carved with ancient bas-relief ending in a circular puzzle door.

Daenerys tapped at it. "Three symbols: Fox, Moth, and Dragon but we don't have the claw key. Faralda, any chance we can batter this down?"

Faralda shook her head. "Can you feel the magic coming off it? It is the same as the door in Ygnol Barrow. It is sealed both physically and magically and the enchantments are tied into this tunnel. I'm a mistress of Destruction, not Enchanting. It is most likely rigged to collapse this tunnel if forced."

Daenerys nodded. They had discussed the possibility of forcing the Nord puzzle door before, but every Nord barrow had been different so far. It had been worth checking. "Very well. Then we're done here." She turned and faced her followers. "We wiped out a bandit camp, we gained a lot of loot, and now we know the symbols on this lock. We will return once we acquire the key." Or perhaps recruit a thief. "You all did well. Gather the loot and we will call it a day.

 

[Harper Potts]

Chapter 28
Fredas, the 3th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era​

The weather improved on their journey back to the Imperial road. The cold spring rains let up and the sun came out. Unfortunately, the soaked ground didn't suddenly dry up, so their journey back to the Imperial road was almost as muddy as the trip to Korvanjund. Lief did his best, but they still had to stop repeatedly to free the cart from the mud. When Mikko grumbled a bit, Fultheim told him that if he wanted his share of the loot, he should shut his mouth.

Daenerys felt like applauding. She was much weaker than any of the men yet she was helping. She had noticed the respect given to Jarl Kraldar for taking his turn in the oars. The people of Winterhold also respected him for seizing the throne by challenge. She had learned the lesson. Nords expected more from their leaders. They did not respect leaders who sat on their asses. They respected leaders who were involved. Not that they expected their leaders to share every burden, but a willingness to pitch in and help with the hard work went a long way with Nords. That meant when the wagon got stuck – she helped, even if her contribution probably made little difference.

Fultheim was proving to be a great asset. She had been interested in him because of the reputation of the Blades. She had acquired something she hadn't realized she needed – a drillmaster. He wasn't just teaching them to fight better. Fultheim was gradually turning her band of followers into a military force. While she was developing a sense of tactics, she didn't have the experience to break down the big picture needs. Fultheim took vague commands like, 'Go scout ahead,' and turned them into specifics, 'Go scout beyond that hill, be back within an hour.' When he disagreed, he quietly suggested alternatives where only she could hear, and he explained the reasoning behind them. While she didn't enjoy his morning and evening practice sessions, she needed the skills. The travel time lost to practice was well worth it.

Not that Daenerys wasn't practicing even while they were travelling. She couldn't practice wards while she walked, but she could meditate on Iiz, Ice. That shout had proved to be very useful when she stopped the fight with Fultheim without killing him. However, Iiz was lethal to smaller animals. Fultheim was a large man and the cold hardly seemed to bother him at all, a trait that was common to Nords, but varied in degree. She couldn't be sure without testing it, but Iiz would likely be lethal to many men or mer. The spells based upon Shouts were weaker, so she had good reason to believe that the Chill spell she was trying to develop would give her a way to halt someone in their tracks without killing them. That sounded like a very useful spell to master.

Once they reached the Imperial road, they made better progress. Despite having walked up this same road only a few months ago, Daenerys wasn't able to recognize any landmarks. The land was starting to turn green and the forest was alive with wildlife. Despite the change of seasons, she certainly remembered this stretch of the road. This was the area where the caravan she had taken north had encountered the dragon. According to the traders at Nightgate, the dragon still lurked around, but it mostly hunted the plains surrounding Whiterun.

The end of the forest marked the transition from the Pale to Whiterun Hold. She sent Ull to search south and west for the giant encampment of Blizzard's Rest. She warned him to be cautious, but to discover if it was still inhabited. Ull was gone for most of a day and tired when he returned.

"Burned to the ground, nothing left of it. I found mammoth bones. Judging by the way they were scattered about, the dragon tore them apart the same way a wolf pack would tear into a deer. However, there weren't any tusks. Someone must have come through already and looted them, but their tracks were washed away by the rains. I'm pretty sure the dragon raided the camp several times, rather than killing everything all at once, but it's just a feeling. It's hard to get a read on something that happened that long ago."

As they continued south along the road, they encountered scattered villages. The plains around Whiterun held some of the most fertile land in Skyrim, yet it was only lightly settled this far out from the city. When they passed settlements, they were bustling with activity. Farmers greeted spring by busily plowing and planting their fields. As they continued south, they passed a few burned out farmsteads. Daenerys sent Ull to check out the damage. He reported that the attacks ranged from months to weeks ago. That matched well with what the villagers had to say when she could find one willing to talk.

One old farmer was particularly talkative. "The dragon? Yeah, we've seen him flying around. He doesn't seem much interested in crops. He likes meat. He went after the mammoths first and got the giants all stirred up. Haven't heard much roaring from up north lately. I reckon he's eaten all the mammoths. Good riddance. Didn't like havin' giants for neighbors anyway."

"And you aren't worried about him coming for you next?"

The old man laughed. "Nah, he's big one. I don't have much meat on my bones any longer. You lot are in more danger than me. The dragon likes cattle when he can't get mammoth. He burned up a good many caravans and some farmsteads, but he has a pattern. He hasn't struck anywhere that didn't keep cows. This is our land. We aren't going to let some flying lizard run us off. If he shows up, we'll just all take cover until he moves on. That's why I'm out here. I'm too old to help much in the fields, but I can still keep my eyes on the sky."

Daenerys had heard similar sentiments in short conversations, but this old man was more willing to talk than the others. "Your village keeps sheep," she observed and pointed out to where she could see them grazing on the nearby hills. "When he can't find cows, he might start on sheep."

"Yup, we've talked about that." He took off his hat, scratched his head, and shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. We'll probably just slaughter the sheep and eat them. We've already sheared them. What else can we do? All the good land around Whiterun is being farmed already. Even what isn't being worked is claimed by someone. We would be thralls to someone else if we left. We may be poor out here, but we're free. We answer to no one but the jarl."

"I understand," agreed Daenerys. She couldn't blame the villagers for wanting to remain free. She had seen slavery firsthand and the condition of peasants of Westeros. From her perspective there wasn't much difference. "So, has Jarl Balgruuf done anything about the dragon?"

The old man snorted. "Not a damned thing. Only troops we see around here are Imperial footsoldiers, marching up and down, making sure no Stormcloaks have come sneaking in. I heard he tried sending his soldiers at first and the dragon sent them straight to Sovngarde – brave but dead. The Companions tried as well and ended up just as dead. Still, the dragon mostly leaves Whiterun and the towers alone, so they must have hurt it. Doesn't do us any good. If the dragon comes, we'll hide. Not much else we can do. Course, it doesn't help that half the able-bodied men have run off to join one side or the other of this rebellion."

"No, I'm sure that doesn't help." While Daenerys respected the stubborn determination of these simple farmers, the dragon would come for them sooner or later. So, she offered what little advice she had that might keep him and his village alive. "You know dragons have eyes like an eagle or a hawk."

He nodded his head. "I reckon that's so, but what of it?"

"You ever seen a rabbit freeze when a hawk flies by? More often than not, the hawk will soar on by. When you're that high up, it's hard to spot things that are standing still on the ground. What you see is movement. It's the bunny that runs that gets snatched by the hawk."

"Huh." The farmer bobbed his head three times. "Huh, never thought of it that way before, but that makes sense. So, you're saying if we can't get to shelter, lay down and stay put?"

"That's better than running around. You might as well wave your hands and yell, 'Come and eat me' up to the sky."

"I'll be sure to pass that along."

.oOo.​

Late in the afternoon of the next day, Mikko hurried up to report from checking their backtrail. A group of travelers was approaching from behind. This wasn't the first time that had happened. Oxen could haul a considerable load, but they didn't exactly move quickly. They plodded along at a comfortable walking pace. Other travelers less burdened had passed them before: some peddlars just walking with their packs, two imperial scouting patrols, and once a messenger mounted on a horse. However, this time Mikko had a tension about him that warned Daenerys that something was different about this group.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there is a problem," said Mikko. "But I am not sure what you are going to do about it."

Daenerys frowned at the doubt in Mikko's voice. "Speak plainly, what do you mean?" It couldn't be bandits. Mikko would have raised the alarm, not reported like this.

"It's three Imperial soldiers escorting a prisoner dressed in sackcloth."

Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut briefly as she remembered being treated the same for crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. "How long until they catch up with us?"

"An hour, give or take. Looks like they whipped the shit out their prisoner. The poor lad is stumbling along, so they aren't making as good time as they could."

Daenerys nodded in acknowledgment. She projected a façade of calm, but inside she was shaking. She would never forget the feel of the whip, or the pain of walking on raw and bloody feet. She remembered forcing herself to keep walking, because the three strange soldiers would whip her every time she faltered. She still had scars on her back and feet. The wounds had festered and left marks. Healing didn't cure scars, but the marks on her body bothered her less than the memories. "Run up ahead. Find Ull. He's been scouting ahead. Pick out a good place for an ambush."

"Yes ma'am!" Mikko took off running.

"I thought we were staying out of the war," said Fultheim. He spoke in his usual gruff and abrasive manner.

"As long as there are no witnesses, then we're still out of the war." Although she knew that whether anyone saw would be a matter of luck. They could easily take out three Imperial soldiers, but they were no longer in the wilderness. They could easily be seen. Saving the prisoner ran counter to all her efforts to stay neutral in the conflict. However, she would not let this go. "I know it could bring us into the war. I still believe the Stormcloaks should sue for peace, but I will not stand by while they march a man off to be executed."

Fultheim scratched his beard and shrugged. "We can try. We'll have to do it without the Shouting and explosions. Even then there are going to be screaming and yelling. We're Nords, not the Dark Brotherhood. We can't sneak up and silence someone without a sound."

Ull and Mikko came back shortly and suggested a place. It wasn't a valley, more a dip between two hills, but bushes and scrubs grew on both sides that would provide some cover. It was close enough that they could send the cart on ahead and not have it caught in the middle. Daenerys was surprised by how little reaction there was from her followers. They seemed to be perfectly willing to follow her off this cliff. When she caught Faralda's eye even her mentor shrugged.

"You have no objection to this?"

"I am resigned to it," replied her mentor. "I am not eager to fight the Empire, but we have been travelling with a party of Stormcloaks for some time. I liked your suggestion for a peaceful resolution. It might work, but even you have to admit that it would take more than four holds in rebellion to force a settlement."

"That's true." It was the weakness in her plan. One that might have a political solution by swaying the jarls on the Imperial side. Not that her peaceful alternative had a chance as long as Ulfric led the Stormcloaks. Was fate or the gods forcing her to get involved in the war? Or was this just luck?

A league down the road and a short time later, they lay in ambush. Mikko and Ull hid in the bushes to the side of the road. At the sound of Ull's birdcall, Daenerys, Faralda and Val started walking north. They came over a slight rise and saw three legionnaires in imperial armor leading a stumbling man by a rope. No, he wasn't even a man. Daenerys revised his age downward seeing his thin scraggly beard and lean body. He was just a boy. She wanted to lash out with Destruction magic, but she kept a lid on her magic and her anger. No Firebolts and no Shouting. The fight would be loud enough. They had to get closer. They also had to time it to meet them at the bottom of the little gully. She slowed her pace just a bit so they met right at the middle of the ambush.

"Step aside!" commanded the legionnaire in front. It was only when she spoke that Daenerys realized that the legionnaire was a woman.

Daenerys stepped off the road, watching and waiting. As the legionnaire patrol passed, she loudly asked them. "Is the road clear ahead?"

That was the signal. An arrow struck from seemingly nowhere. It lodged in the throat of the woman standing in front of her. Her hands flew to her throat. She made a gurgling noise and fell to her knees. The Imperial wouldn't live long with a wound like that.

"Ambush!" screamed one of the Imperials.

Daenerys was already in motion. She stepped forward, raised both hands toward the Imperial closest to her, and channeled Flames. The man her fires hit started screaming, but she kept Flames focused on him. She backed up as he charged her. He got one swing off, but she easily avoided it. Then he collapsed and burned under her Flames. She glanced up to see that Faralda had killed the other.

"Get the bodies off the road quickly," she commanded. "Hide them in the bushes. No looting. We don't have time." She softened her tone and turned to the prisoner. "Boy, hold still. I can heal you." She turned to the dazed blond-haired boy and channeled Restoration. "Steady. Don't try to walk. Fultheim?"

"I'm here." The Blade scooped the boy up and tossed him over his shoulder. "Let's get back to the cart before some farmers muster up a posse to find the source of the screaming."

If any nearby farmers did rush out to investigate, they didn't search the road. After a few tense hours, they camped for the night. Only then did Daenerys relax. They had gotten away with it. She'd managed to save the boy without being caught favoring the Stormcloaks. In some ways it was an empty gesture. She'd saved the life of one boy at the cost of three Imperials lives. However, it mattered to her.

.oOo.

​

The boy's name was Juhani. He was lean and scruffy with dark brown hair and eyes, and a thin bit of scruff on his chin. Once they let him out from hiding in the cart, he couldn't stop telling everyone how grateful he was.

"Why did the Imperials arrest you, kid?" asked Fultheim.

Juhani scratched his head behind his ears. "They said because I'm a Stormcloak, but I'm not. At least not really. I did tell Lilja that I was planning to join once the spring planting was done. I know it was stupid, but she looked at me with those blue eyes of hers, and sometimes I say things without thinking, but I hadn't really decided to do it yet." He paused for a breath and continued. "Well, then Joni heard of it. He said I didn't have the guts, and he said it right in front of Lilja! Well, I couldn't let that stand… You know, I think it was Lilja's father that turned me in though. He wants to marry Lilja off to Antero even though he's twice her age!"

By the time he wound down, Val and Ull were laughing.

Daenerys didn't find it funny. "So, the Imperials arrested you because you merely said that you intended to join the Stormcloaks?

"Well, yeah," agreed Juhani. "And because of Lilja. It had to be her father who turned me in. But it looks like I'm really in the Stormcloaks now! Do I get a sword and armor and everything? You've got plenty in the cart!"

Almost everyone laughed, but Daenerys didn't find it funny. She killed for this foolish boy whose only crime was bragging to impress a girl. She didn't regret saving him. The Imperials would have likely executed him. Leaving him to die would have been wrong, but this entire war was wrong. The only ones who really benefitted from it were the Thalmor. Despite not getting caught, she had just made a step toward joining the Stormcloaks that couldn't be taken back.

She also didn't have any choice but to let Juhani join them. While he would no doubt promise not to tell, Daenerys was certain that within a week he would be telling everything he knew to anyone who asked. Half a day if a girl asked him. She could either kill him or keep him. So, Juhani joined her band of followers. He was a peasant with no martial skills at all. She didn't know what to do with him, but she was responsible for him now, so she tasked Fultheim with trying to turn him into a soldier.

Fultheim was not amused.

.oOo.​

Two days later they were approaching one of Whiterun's outlying guard towers when they heard a loud cry disrupt what had been a peaceful morning. While the roar was far away, Daenerys knew the cry as soon as she heard it. "Dragon!"

"Where is the beast?" asked Fultheim.

Daenerys pointed to a speck in the sky that she knew wasn't an eagle. "There. Male. Young. Oh… It's the same one I hid from on my way from Whiterun to Winterhold." Everyone was looking at her, but she ignored them. What to do? She had made plans for a dragon attack, but all her plans had been based on a more sudden attack. She hadn't expected to receive this much warning. She eyed the guard tower and a plan came together. "Lief! Pull the cart off the road. Now!"

Lief did as he was told. The oxen were clearly nervous. Their ears were up, and they pawed the ground nervously, but Lief got them off the road.

"Now, we abandon the cart." Maybe they could retrieve it later, but their loot wouldn't help them fight a dragon. "Lief. We need to get the oxen to the tower on the hill up ahead." Daenerys pointed to a guard tower that was close, but still several minutes away at a hard run. "Lead them, drive them with a whip. Whatever you need to do."

"I.. I.. can keep them in the harness, but unhook them from the wagon. They'll have to run together. We can drive them. We'll all have to get behind them and run to head them off."

"Do it! Do it now!" They had never planned for this, but it could work. Four oxen harnessed together would be visible from the air. That would draw the dragon to the tower. They would have the Whiterun guard to back them up. "Everyone, surround them. We drive them toward the tower."

Lief quickly unhitched them and then hit one on the rump. "Yah! Yah! Move cow!"

The next few moments were tense as the roar of the dragon got louder. The tower was getting closer, but it still seemed so far away. The dragon roared again, and she heard its eagerness for the hunt, but this hunting cry hadn't been quite as loud. She paused and looked back. They were only part of the way up the hill, but she was still high enough to see across a good deal of the surrounding plain. The dragon wasn't chasing them. He was heading for a nearby village.

She was safe, as were all her followers. He would raid the village instead, burn their homes, make off with their livestock. Some would escape with their lives, but many would burn. They were too far away to get there in time. If they tried, they would just arrive too late and too tired to put up a fight. All they could do was watch a village burn. She knew this wasn't the same as King's Landing. She wasn't the cause this time. There was nothing she could do… No, there was something.

Daenerys looked at the tower. So close, and yet so far. Sofija and Faralda had stopped when she did. "Don't stop! Keep driving the cattle. If you make it to the tower, tell the guards to aim for the wings!" She turned back and faced the dragon. She wasn't ready, but she wasn't going to watch a village burn today. It was time to live up to the words of House Targaryen, Fire and Blood.

She grabbed a blue potion from her beltpouch. She inhaled deeply and Shouted to the skies. "Fus! Ro!"

The dragon immediately turned from the village and turned toward her. "Yol! Toor! Shul!" it roared breathing fire in return.

Challenge Offered. Challenge Accepted.

Spoiler: Dragon Attack Theme Music

Daenerys gulped down the magicka potion and ran for her life. The tower was close, but dragons fly fast. She had to be fast, too. She sprinted full out, arms and legs pumping, breath heaving in and out, as she raced for the tower. She saw everyone else well in front of her now. They were almost there, but the dragon was bearing down upon them. She could feel its presence even without turning around. They wouldn't make it. She yelled out a command they had rehearsed many times. "Dragon Scatter! Now!"

She dived to the ground herself and flattened out. Her chest heaved and her side hurt, but she saw with relief that everyone had done the same. That had been her plan for a dragon attack. Spread out and lie flat. Take advantage of the fact that dragons have good eyesight, but a narrow focus. She had meant the cows to be bait. Now that she had Shouted her defiance, she doubted the dragon would be distracted by four dumbass cows harnessed together. He would be searching for her…

Juhani hadn't dropped to the ground. The foolish boy was still sprinting for the tower.

Daenerys looked on in dismay. She couldn't Shout yet. She couldn't even catch her breath. She couldn't call for anyone else to attack either. The dragon was coming in on a strafing run. If they broke cover now, she'd lose half her forces. However, as she watched she realized the boy might just make it. His gift for running apparently extended to more than his mouth. Despite her own lack of faith, she found herself praying to Talos, no to Kyne, the Nord goddess of the Wind to help him make it.

If the gods were listening, they didn't answer. The dragon swooped by Shouting, "Yol! Toor! Shul!" A long stream of flame swept across the hilltop. The blast caught the cows in their harness and enveloped Juhani in Flames. The young Nord screamed in pain. He had been far enough away not to be instantly killed, the worse for him. His high-pitched shrieks competed with the bellows of the one surviving cow.

The dragon came about and slowed as it returned to the hilltop. Daenerys could guess that he wanted to eat the cows he had just cooked, but he was still looking for the dragon that had challenged him first. Arrows were coming from the tower, but they mostly bounced off his scales. He slowed further and hovered.

"Now!" she screamed.

Arrows flew up from her followers lying upon the ground. Mikko was just supposed to aim for the wings. Arrows in the wing wouldn't do much damage to a dragon, but it would hurt. Ull was supposed to aim for the wing joints – a difficult target but one of the few places on a dragon vulnerable to arrows. They fired first as planned. Faralda popped up just a second later and two beautiful Ice Spears flew out from her hands and smashed into the dragon from below. The rest of her followers stayed down – presuming they were still alive.

Now it was her turn. This was where she was supposed to Shout at the dragon according to her plan. However, she couldn't Shout. Not yet. It was too soon. She had Shouted to get him to turn away from the village. The magicka potion had helped but not enough. Instead, she merely stood up, faced the dragon, and yelled loudly in bad Dovahzul. "Daar. Staad. Dii!" This. Place. Mine!

Bad pronunciation or not, the dragon's head snapped to her. "Dovahkiin! Yol! Toor! S…!"

Flames enveloped her and she was slammed backward bouncing along the ground. The flames bothered her not at all. The force of the dragon's Shout and hitting the ground hurt, but scrapes and bruises weren't as important as the Word.

Toor, Inferno, burned inside her. Toor was fire all-consuming burning out of control, but it was not out of control. It did not consume her. Toor answered to her control. While other newly learned words had fought to be released, Toor merely grew hotter and hotter inside her. Toor wanted to be set free, but she held it in place. She was Targaryen. Her soul was the match for Toor. Deliberately she stood back up. Absently she noticed that her leathers were on fire.

"Daar. Staad. Dii!" she repeated. This. Place. Mine!

Two more ice spears slammed into the dragon from Faralda and the dragon bellowed in pain. It flew up and circled.

"Scatter!" commanded Daenerys, but she stayed standing. Her armor was still burning around her she faced the dragon with hands held high daring it to come from her and ignore her followers.

He came in fast and low, she recognized it as a strafing run. Too high for him to rake her with his claws, but he might try for a swipe with his tail as he passed. Toor still burned within her, but she held it. Now was not the time. She knew his Shout was coming and braced herself as much as she could.

Yol! Toor! Shul!​

The shout smashed into her with heat of a furnace and the force of a hurricane. She was again knocked off her feet. She tumbled and rolled down the hillside before sliding to a stop. However, the pain and the disorientation mattered less to her than the final word. Shul, Sun, burned into her soul.

Yol – Toor – Shul. Fire – Inferno – Sun. Three words that burned within her, and they were glorious. These were Words she had always known! They were just a part of her that she had lost, and now they were rejoined. Yol – Toor – Shul. Three pieces of truth. Yol, the consuming hunger of the flame. Toor, the rage of a firestorm. Shul, the purifying cleansing heat of the sun. Each was fundamental and primal, but together they made a weapon of devasting power. The heat of the sun. The heart of an inferno. Released in fire.

Daenerys stood up. She vaguely noticed that one leg wasn't fully supporting her weight, but it didn't matter. She faced her foe. Daar Staad Dii. This was her place. Hers. He would not drive her from it. The world felt distant and out of focus as her enemy spun about breathing fire at the ants on the ground. It was daylight, but the stars were singing to her, singing their songs of hot fiery creation. Yol – Toor – Shul. Her enemy, the dragon that had come to take her place, almost seemed irrelevant. One of the ants fighting her enemy bit back with spears of ice. Her foe turned breathed fire on the ant…

No! Not an ant! That was Faralda! Mentor, advisor, companion, friend. Fear brought Danerys back to herself as the dragon breathed flame upon Faralda. Surprisingly, her mentor stood against the dragonflame, a golden shield held off the flame for a few brief moments. Then Faralda's ward flickered in front of her, and the shield collapsed. When the flames died down Faralda was nowhere to be seen. Whether she was dead or merely lying somewhere burned and injured Daenerys didn't know. Rage filled her and the words slipped free, ripping outward as she breathed fire upward at her foe. "Yol! Toor! Shul!"

Only once the Words left her did she remember that she was facing a fire dragon. Attacking with fire had been foolish. The dragon was buffeted by flames, but the only harm they did was to his pride. The dragon pulled up sharply into the sky before diving back down. This time he didn't strafe or hover and breathe, he came all the way down and landed in front of her so he could rend her with fang and claw.

As he came toward her she tried to back up, but walking backward on an injured leg wasn't wise. She slipped and fell to the ground. Once again, she found herself falling down the hillside. She didn't slide that far before she recovered. She hurt all over. She had no fight left in her, no magicka left to call upon for healing, just her against a dragon. She expected to see a dragon in her face and feel the bite of its teeth, but if Grandfather could stand and face his death, she could as well. Instead, she saw a miracle.

Everyone was attacking the dragon. Val swung his battle axe and brought it down upon a wing joint, and she saw the joint give way – that was a crippling blow. Ull was rapid firing arrows. Fultheim had out his huge sword. Even the guards that had been hiding in the tower had sortied and joined the fray, all of them hacking at it with their swords.

As Daenerys watched in disbelief Sofija charged forward screaming, "Fire and Blood!" She ran up the wing that Val had injured, leaped, and plunged her twin conjured blades into its back.

The dragon roared and shook like a wet dog. For a few moments Sofija clung on holding onto the hilts of her conjured blades. Then she went flying. The men kept attacking, and the dragon's roar became cries of pain, and his cries were getting weaker. He raised his neck up and tried to breathe again, but instead he collapsed. The dragon's soul flared, and his body burst into flames.

When Daenerys Shouted, she breathed primal magic out into the world bringing it into being. Instinctively, she did the opposite. She inhaled and breathed in the dragon's soul; she Devoured it. She claimed his soul and made it hers. It was deep magic, pure and primal, like Shouting. Two sides of a coin. Breathing out, Shouting into being. Breathing in, Devouring, making it part of her being. As she inhaled, she consumed the very essence of her foe – Mir-Mul-Nir, Allegiance-Strong-Hunt. She remembered flying in the skys over Skyrim, a monarch of the skies, but not unchallenged. She remembered dueling with dragons and fighting alongside other dragons. She remembered the Allegiance, Mir, burning the enemy…

She…

Daenerys blinked. What had happened? She felt like she had just awoken from a dream. Half-remembered images were already slipping away. She looked around at a familiar scene. She was standing in a pile of ashes, the remains of Mir-Mul-Nir. The only thing left of him was ashes and few bones. Outside of the ashes everyone was kneeling to her. Yet, these weren't the Dothraki of her khalasar. These were her friends, her followers, and also some soldiers of Whiterun. She felt the wind and sun on her body and realized that she was naked except for an amulet around her neck. Hadn't her leg been hurt? It was fine now. This wasn't the first time she had walked through fire, but never before had she lost herself. She had Devoured and consumed Mir-Mul-Nir. There was almost nothing left of him. Just a pile of ash and a few bones and the warmth inside her.

"Why are you kneeling?" she asked them.

Fultheim looked up from where he knelt. "Because, the Dragonborn has come."

.oOo.

Spoiler: The Dragonborn Comes

Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes

For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows

You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin Naal ok zin los vahriin

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal

Ahrk fin norok paal graan

Fod nust hon zindro zaan

Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal

Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin Naal ok zin los vahriin

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal

Ahrk fin norok paal graan

Fod nust hon zindro zaan

Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

.oOo.

End Book 1

Dovah Queen: Dragonborn Rising

The saga of Daenerys Targaryen in Tamriel will continue​

 

[Harper Potts]

Link to Book 2: Dovah Queen, Dragonborn Champion

Don't get too excited. Just a placeholder for now. Well, and a picture with interesting implications.