Interlude: The Archer
⊙
The pounding of the door woke Asgrim from his slumber. He rose slightly from his bed, feeling his wife's arm draped along his chest serve as mild resistance to the action, and had to smile as he felt her fingers squeeze his night-shirt.
"Don't." Carlotta mumbled drowsily, "Stay in bed with me."
"Might be work." He murmured, gently removing her hand from his chest. He gave her small fingers a kiss.
She sighed tiredly, "You're off today. Tell them to go find man who doesn't want to keep his wife company in bed."
"No guard is truly off-duty dear."
"They are when the wife wants demands it."
Asgrim chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
More pounding at the door, quick but strong hits.
"Definitely work," he grumbled. Still, he was already removing the covers, careful to not budge his wife too much as he awkwardly twisted to the side of the bed.
Easy does it.
He felt a pinch up his left side as he stood and took a moment to center himself. Back when he had first returned to Whiterun, he had tried to push through the pain and weakness with pure grit, having assumed that his long trek back to civilization with Jeram had proven he could tough out anything. It was a folly. His hard-headedness had only exacerbated the damage done to his knee, and by the time he had acquiesced to his now-wife's demands, Danica had declared the injury to be outside of her power.
He still paid the occasional visit once a month, but her studies had not proven fruitful over the years.
Carlotta had been distraught for quite some time and even now he would sometimes catch her watching his pace, a searching look on her face and a quick nervous smile when she saw she had been caught. He wondered often, late in the nights or when he got a bit too full of mead, if she felt as though he only came back to her because of the injury. Asgrim himself was unsure if it was the injury or the refractions of the damned that did it, but he never regretted it. He married a woman who was probably too good for him, he made a family that loved and respected him, and he found a natural sense of belonging with the Whiterun guards.
His life was good.
Another thud against wood that resonated through his home.
Mostly good. Could do without the knocking.
"Hold your fists to yourselves!" He called out, taking measured limps out of his room. "You'll wake the dead at this rate, and I got no time to deal with them at this hour."
It was a blessed silent few seconds as he crossed the space from bedroom to door, yawning as he went. He swung the door open and wasn't surprised to see the Whiterun helmet in front of him. "Birger? What brings you here at this hour of the morn? Has there been an accident?"
The guard shook his head, "All hands to the border wall Asgrim. We've gotten word of a Dragon attacking the Western Watchtower."
Asgrim felt his blood run cold, "The mage was right then? A dragon destroyed Helgen?"
"I don't know about Helgen nor that damned mage of what's true or not, but we had a guard from the outpost make an escape and regale the Jarl himself with what he saw. Scouts have confirmed seeing plumes of orange light in the distance. Irileth and her elite guard have gone to investigate, so it's every soldier armed and ready until she returns."
Asgrim nodded, feeling the weight of the words settle in his heart.
Dragons have returned.
"I'll be there soon then." He murmured, "Let me give my goodbyes to my family."
"We're having guard families move to Dragonsreach for the time being," the soldier said, his tone empathetic. "Just a precaution. If Irileth doesn't return by the hour, then we begin mass evacuations to the Cloud District."
Asgrim shuddered, "Gods preserve us."
"Preserve us indeed," the guard intoned and turned away, trotting off to what other house held a sleeping guard.
He closed the door and stood there for a moment, already going over what he had heard and wishing it had been a dream.
Mabye I'm still at that Tower, he thought.
Maddened.
This was not the first time he considered that reality.
"Father?" A tiny head peaked out behind a corner wall, eyes wide and voice hushed.
He forced himself to smile, "Come here Mila."
She did, rushing to hug her father's good leg and burying her face against it. Her hair was mussed from sleep, flattened on one side and curling wildly like tall grass on the other. The sight brought a
real smile to his face and he patted down the dramatic hair style with his palm.
"Sorry, my dear. Your papa didn't mean to wake you."
She looked up to him, young eyes with startling curiosity and innocence, "What did the man want, Father?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Carlotta standing in the hallway, arms crossed and face full of concern. Mila was her mother's daughter and they could both sniff out a lie no matter how harmless of intention. To placate them would only see them more frustrated and afraid, and he'd rather have them know the truth rather than distrust him in any way.
"That was my friend on the guard, Birger, dear. You've met him before a few times. He tells us of... of a dragon near our city."
Carlotta brought a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
"Wooow," Mila said, eyes wide with wonder. "A real dragon? Lars told me that he heard his dad talking about the flying mage, and he
said he heard his dad hear the mage mention a dragon all the way in Helgen! I didn't believe him because Lars is always reading books and you know how that makes a person's brain go loopy sometimes, but he was telling the truth! Is it the same dragon? Are you going to fight the dragon Father? Are dragons-"
"Mila." Carlotta interrupted, "Go to your room, get dressed and grab some sheets and whatever valuables you can hold with two hands."
"Wha- why, Mother?"
"Because we're leaving." She turned to Asgrim, slightly unsure. "We
are leaving, right?"
He nodded, "I would like that, yes. Birger says families can stay in Dragonsreach for the time being. I wouldn't fret so much, Irileth is on the hunt, and she's the most dangerous woman in all of Whiterun. It'll be a quick trip and quiet stay."
"Like a sleepover," Mila gasped. "Will Lars be there?"
"Possibly," he said. Asgrim wasn't sure, if he was being honest with himself. The issues with the Battle-Borns and Gray-Manes had left a divide in Whiterun, and as a result, both families had lost standing in the eyes of it's citizens. He
could imagine them fighting for the city in case of invasion, but to volunteer to work together? He had his doubts.
"Mila, go do what I said. Your father has to get ready too."
Mila gave his leg one last squeeze before running off to her room.
Asgrim went to his wife and she folded into his embrace. He cherished the feeling of her cheek on his chest, the pace of her breathing along his arms, the warmth the two of them shared.
"Don't be stupid out there," she whispered. She looked up at him, a beautiful face lined with worry, "Don't leave me again."
"Never," he said and meant it. He kissed her, deeply, and she returned it with enthusiasm. Too soon, far too soon for his liking, she broke it off and turned to go get ready, not willing to let him see her face right now. He didn't begrudge her for it. She had her own pride after all, and he loved her because of it.
He would keep her safe.
He followed her into the room, still minding her, and unlocked the chest at the foot of the bed. Whiterun armor, clean and polished, greeted him on sight.
I will keep you all safe, he thought as he reached for the armor.
No one is dying on my watch. Let alone me. I will never break that promise to you, my love.
Asgrim felt the ghost of the Archer he once was as he grasped his bow, before smothering it with scaled metal adorned with the city's colored cloth. He couldn't smother the fear of the potential threat, but fear was an old friend in many ways.
This is my life now. Time to earn it.
⊙
Time had passed and that fear he had known had grown into paranoia.
Where are you Irileth?
It had been an hour since Asgrim had joined the post-guard, donning his armor and saying one last goodbye to his loving wife and child. His knee twinged from when he bent down to hug Mila, but it was a worthy pain. Something that made his resolution stronger, not weaker. Carlotta couldn't kiss him with the helmet on, so she copied him that morning, kissing his knuckles and reminding him to stay alive.
When he had watched them head to the Cloud District, it was with a heavy heart.
When he found a roost along the border wall to patrol, it was with pride for his city and his family.
The time for a heavy heart had passed. The time for pride had gone. There was only his old friend, fear.
And fear had grown in strength.
"Irileth's never been gone from Whiterun for this long," the guard next to him spoke. "Not once since I've become a guard have I ever seen her leave the city this long. I'd bet my twenty years of pay on it."
The guard -
Elwin - paced back in forth, short scurried steps due to the size allocated to their patrol along the wall. They made Asgrim nervous, more nervous if he was being honest with himself, and he had to fight to keep himself from holding the old-timer in place. He couldn't allow the paranoia to get to him too.
Instead, he forced some disbelief in his voice, "I'm sure she's been gone on longer, Elwin. Missions that the Jarl would only trust to her to see to the end, way above the pay-grade of us poor sods."
Elwin shook his head. "
Twenty years!" he emphasized with a slap to his own armor. "Twenty years on the job and I have
never seen her leave this city for as long as she has now."
"Come now Elwin. It's barely been an hour past."
"Exactly my point, boy." Elwin give Asgrim a sharp look, "I don't quake in my boots for no reason. Irileth was a monster during the war from the stories I've heard, an blade on the battlefield that killed a dozen for every single swing, yet this Dragon has her take so long that we are going to have to evacuate residents soon enough? It's a bad omen boy. I feel it in my bones and these bones have kept me going for twenty good years. I expect to live twice that if I listen to them."
"You're bones need to have more faith in our city's defend-" Asgrim paused. Movement in the distance had caught his eye.
A bird? The morning sun was struggling to breach the clouds and residual smoke from where they drifted from Helgen, but his eyes had always been good. Something was soaring through the sky.
"What is it?" Elwin stood closer, turning to look to where Asgrim was peering. "What do you see? Is it Irileth?"
"No, not Irileth… it looks like a bird."
"At this distance? You have the eyes of a Khajit or something?"
No, but if he were here now, I could really have used his eyes.
The shadowy figure drew closer and in doing so, caught the mornings first bits of light. It was moving
fast, far faster than he'd ever seen a horse gallop. It was... It was...
Asgrim's eyes widened.
"Dragon." He said, unbelieving. He turned to the stunned guard at his side and said louder, "Dragon!"
Elwin fumbled for the horn at his side while Asgrim turned back to the clearing. He couldn't believe it. He would not believe it. A dragon wasn't going to attack Whiterun, his home, not now of all times in millennia. It was impossible. It had to be impossible.
As impossible as the Tower that robbed me of dreams.
Elwin blew the horn and Asgrim hide to bite back a shout of surprise. As the horn tapered off, more horns took up the call, with sentries all along Whiterun's walls pointed and shouted. The cries of 'Dragon' began to echo along the border, and Asgrim could see more than a few civilians pause in shock at the sudden clamor and at the word being thrown around.
"Get to Dragonsreach!" Asgrim shouted to those closest, "Warn others! A Dragon is making it's way to Whiterun! Run! To Dragonsreach!"
"No!"
Asgrim turned, shocked, "Why not-"
A firm hand pressed against his chest. Asgrim had a moment to realize it was Elwin shoving him, full force, before he found himself tumbling off the platform of the tower. The force of the landing knocked the wind out of his lungs and send knives of pain spearing through his left leg. He worried that he might have cracked his bow and sword.
He glared up at the older guard, only to see him stare down at him sadly, a golden glow of light reflecting off his helmet.
The realization hit him too late.
No.
If Elwin had a last parting message, it was washed away by torrent of fire that didn't so much as burn through the wall, but punched through the cracks like a dam shattering on impact with a flood of water. His body was engulfed in hues of orange and yellows, only a vague outline of black flung into the air being his best guess as to where the corpse would eventually land. Even from where Asgrim lay, the heat from the blast was almost impossible to endure, the flames seemingly burning away the air much as they did stone, armor, and flesh.
Don't let his sacrifice be in vain you fool! Persist!
Asgrim thrust the shield along his forearm in front of him, simultaneously using the momentum to push himself back against the wedge of wall and earth. The relief and protection they provided was negligible at best, but the action served to get his mind moving and spirit thrumming as he held out against the oppressive heat. It felt like hours. Hours of feeling the air and water sucked from his body, the clothing he wore all too suffocating in the face of this onslaught, but he knew it had only been seconds.
This dark surety reminded him of the Tower and it's ever growing space. Asgrim grit his teeth and focused on the heat, for the threat of death from exposure was far more appealing than thinking back to that place of madness.
As if hearing this thought, the onslaught stopped, and a great shadow engulfed the world. The creature was titanic, easily larger than a mammoth or giant, the scales of it's body reflecting what little of light from the morning like dull mirrors. The resulting effect created a form duality as it was nearly divided by it's shadowed underbelly, it's taloned feet merely thirty feet above Asgrim.
The Dragon was objectively beautiful, it's form lithe and full of power as it soared above and past him, a being Asgrim had never dreamed of seeing till this day, The force of it's flight was enough to lift Asgrim off the ground and rock back agains the wall, the leathery wings dipping low and high with sheer power to propel it's massive form through the air. A hearty roar shook Asgrim's bones as the Dragon unleashed another stream of fire, the attack scouring through several homes as it glided on by till it was out his view.
It was only when the Dragon had stopped it's roar that Asgrim realized he had been screaming. He forced himself to stop, feeling the air in his throat squeeze shut to silence himself, the act bringing spots to his eyes like refractions in a diamond. A shuddering breath left him, followed by intense breathing as he found the cool air returning to him. The dancing spots in his vision receded and he found the strength to stand.
Before him, pillars of smoke and fire rose to the sky from the city before him, a deep black trail of scorched earth and the burning homes of his neighbors marking the path of destruction the monster had taken.
Run away. Keep that promise to her. To them.
He would have. He
almost did. To run away from the horror in front of him, away from the charred corpse of Elwin, and to spend his final days with Carlotta in one arm and Mila in the other. He deserved that, didn't he? He trekked miles through snowy tundra with an arrow in knee, half of his companions dead, because he saw a life with a family who would love him unconditionally. He didn't deserve to fry under the uncaring gaze of a creature millennium old.
But for as much as he could silence his own screams, there was nothing to stop the screams of those further in the city. Men, women, children, his own fellow guards most likely, all of their voices reached out through the city with such volume that not even the Dragon's roars could drown them out. Cries for help, cries for battle, crying out simply for the sake of expressing terror beyond all comprehension.
If he did not answer those screams, those cries for help... who would? If he did not, would he even be able to look his own love in their eyes without any shame?
Fight or flight, but I can't stand still.
He took one step, feeling that pain in his knee, and then another. Then another. And another.
Step by step, until he was stumbling through a living hell of flames on either side, bodies still burning in the streets where they failed avoid the stream of heat or had tried to escape their burning homes, only to die from their wounds.
A child screamed along the side of the cobblestone road, tears streaming down a face that looked as though it had become pink and black dough down one side, the fabric of his shirt charred to his chest. A woman sprinted full speed out from behind a burning home and scooped up the child with a grace and ease that Asgrim envied, her dress doing little to slow her pace as she ducked through more houses. Her direction was most likely Dragonsreach or to the healer's temple.
The Dragon was circling the air now, bouts of flame jetting forth at targets Asgrim couldn't see. His heart stopped as he saw a flick of that flaming stream reach out to the Dragonsreach, only for glowing runes to come to life, blue script that repelled the flames back with a heavy wind.
He soldiered on, the deep fear beginning to mingle with a disbelieving rage. That had been where Carlotta and Mila sheltered, two among many other families, and this Dragon had dared bare a fang or flame in their direction?
Never, his horrified but furious mind decreed.
I would sooner gouge out it's eyes with my bare hands than let that happen.
He soldiered on, rage and fear pushing his powerful knees every step of the way, trampling the pain from his old wound like weeds under boot. The Dragon had circled the city ahead twice more, letting out brief bursts of flame before landing between homes further ahead. He strode forth, taking in the bodies, the fleeing city-folk who darted out of their hiding places when they felt the coast was clear, many of them still in sleep-wear and unprepared for an attack so early in the morning.
He passed a corner and found the site of the battle.
The Dragon prowled along the ground on all fours like a saber-cat, it's spine trailing spikes of bone and scales, it's tail ending a dagger-like shape of leather. The horns adorned it's skull like a crown, blending with it's scales naturally, and yellow eyes scanned it's opponents with a cruel intelligence. Ten guards, five of the Companions, and at least an equal number of civilian men and women with weapons surrounded that monster.
Was it a trick of the eye to think that the jaw of the reptile resembled a leering smile?
One of the guards sprinting forth with a mighty battle-cry, his body enveloped in the power of Oakflesh, a sure sign he was one of Irileth's elites. The Dragon matched the cry with a roar of bloodlust and what happened next was so quick, Asgrim could almost not believe his eyes. The Dragon's head and neck lurched out with a sudden speed that belied it's massive size, the enormous jaws of the creature clamping down on the guard in seconds. The serpent shook it's head with devastating force, the exposed lower half of his legs flailing back and forth like a rag swatting at flies, a ferocity that would have killed any normal man that somehow survive the first bite.
On a final shake, the Dragon released his catch and Asgrim only had seconds to dive down before the guards glowing body flew past him, the man colliding with a horse cart like a projectile from a catapult. His spell winked out of existence and he let loose a low moan.
The Dragon roared and was met with a volley of arrows from the guards around him, with several more Companions running to the creature with Skyforge weaponry. Asgrim struggled to his feet, the pain in his knee having found a new hold over him from the fall, and limped over to the elite guard. There were several more cries and Asgrim could see two of the Companions trying to hack away at the Dragon's wings, only for the long limbs to extend is a brief but powerful push, the force of which knocked the duo off their feet and rolling away.
Another guard snuck in from behind, firing arrows at it's exposed underbelly, uncaring that only one in three were getting past the scales, let along hurting the beast. Once more with that shocking speed, the Dragon spun in place, tail lashing out like a whip the size of a horse. Asgrim saw only a splash of red from the guard before the tail carried on through a nearby burning home, shattering wooden pillars and walls like straw.
The Dragon roared and
everyone trembled.
Asgrim reached the guard, carefully pulling out pieces of wood so as to get a better view of his brother in arms. He was still moaning, arms laying limply at his side, a hole in his gut that Asgrim could fit his fist entirely and likely not touch any side. He ripped out the sash of his armor, praying to every god he knew as he stuffed the cloth into the wound. Instantly the gold cloth became stained with red and the guard gasped in pain.
Gasping is good. Means you're still alive. Let's keep you that way.
One of the civilians, a man whom Asgrim likely met and talked with as an upstanding member of the community, dropped his sword and fled. Asgrim wanted to feel disgust at the man not even giving a glance to the dead and dying as he ran past, but there nothing he could hold against. Not when he had nearly done the same thing himself.
The remaining guards and fighters were scrambling now, working together as best they could to distract and disorient the beast, lest they lose another. A Companion woman with two swords sprinted up to the snout of the Dragon as it approached an archer, dual blades crisscrossing in beautiful movements as they were swung, the steel creating sparks as they raked it's scaled maw. The Dragon shrunk back, surprised by the move and blow, giving more of the guards time to pepper it with arrows and allow the woman to fall back behind burning cover.
"I hear my mother calling..." the guard murmured, eyes rolling in his sockets. His pupils were wider than they should have been.
"You hear nothing friend." Asgrim huffed out a breath, pulling off his bow. "Your ancestors want you to stick around just a bit longer."
"I feel.... losing my... feeling."
Asgrim pressed down on the wound with a free hand, earning another gasp from the man.
"You feel that?!" At the guard's nod, Asgrim shouted, "Then you aren't lost yet! Just focus on keeping your blood in you."
The tactics were working. The Dragon was getting harassed at range and when they felt confident, one or two warriors would close in to strike at the damned monstrosity's skull, leaving marks and damage by focusing on single location. It was tough, it was brutal, it was a grind on mind and soul, but they were making progress.
The Dragon roared as a man smashed their warhammer across the worn spot, sending scales flying and briefly stunning the lizard. By the time the Dragon retaliated with a bite, more arrows stabbed it's snout and another guard stabbed at it's neck, trying to wedge the tip of the blade under the natural armor. The guard abandoned the weapon as the Dragon swung it's powerful neck his way, rolling to reduce his profile from the snapping fangs.
We have you figured out, Asgrim thought, putting an arrow to the bow string.
You're just an animal like any other.
The Dragon glared at the half circle of makeshift defenders, a low rumble building in it's throat, the scales along it's spine and neck beginning to hackle. It took only a second for Asgrim to realize what was happening, but a second was too late to shout a warning. A deafening roar bellowed out from it's might throat and with it came a literal wave of frost that chilled the air itself. Even from nearly fifty feet away, Asgrim felt as though he had caught the harsh wind of the tundra, despite being surrounded by buildings engulfed in hellish fire.
For those defenders, the experience was terminal.
The sight of the battlefield as the frost receded made his blood run cold. Six of the guards were swallowed up by the frosted air, their cries buried under the crashing of ice, and now six statues stood in their place with weapons still held high. One of the bigger Companions had thrown himself atop the smaller woman warrior, his body taking the brunt of the blast. It hadn't worked entirely, the woman's hair covered in snow and one sword arm encased in ice. The rest of the Companions stood motionless, bodies rooted to the ground by crusts of ice. The remaining civilians took one look at the corpses and fled, scattering in all directions.
The Dragon huffed, steam puffing from it's snout, and brought it's tail down with a massive thud. The impact lifted Asgrim inches off the ground, jostled the wounded guard, and sent the ice statues tumbling down. Some of the ice was so thick that legs snapped off partway up their shins from the blow and all who fell shattered into pieces no bigger than Asgrim's own helmet. The female Companion tried to hold onto her dead brother-in-arms, but her frozen arm shattered as it faced his weight.
The body broke like the rest and the Companion screamed, pressing the pink and white stump to her gut as she dropped to her knees in agony.
The Dragon twerked it's head in curiousity, taking slow and languid steps towards the woman. She was insensate, unable to bring herself into focus as the predator approached with leisure.
There was no time to think, no time to consider the consequences, and no time to let fear have a hold on him any longer. It was the face of a father that came to mind as he strung the bow, the man his daughter would ask to scare away monsters, the man his wife would hold when she had nightmares of his duty. It was the Archer's ghost who aimed the bow in his heart.
It was Asgrim who let loose the arrow.
The Dragon cried out as iron penetrated the soft tissue surrounding it's hateful yellow eyes, shaking it's head violently in an attempt to remove the appendage. Asgrim knocked more arrows, launching three more in just as many seconds, the metal heads cutting through the wind with ease. No luck this time, the movements of the creature were too erratic, with only one arrow doing damage by cutting a bit of the softer snout. The Dragon brought a heavy claw to it's eye, scraping off scales and plucking the arrow from it's roost.
It shook it's head once more and turned it's attention to Asgrim, nostrils flaring.
Ah, he realized with clarity.
I'm going to die.
"I'm sorry," he said, knocking another arrow anyways. "I'm afraid we might both meet our ancestors this morn."
The guard let out a pained sigh, "It sounded.... sounded hurt."
The Dragon began to flap it's wings, the wind buffeting Asgrim with that overbearing force. Asgrim let loose the arrow, but the force of the winds simply sent it tumbling away.
"I shot it's eye!" He shouted madly, "Might have blinded it a bit!"
Silence. The Dragon took flight now, raising itself higher and higher, to the point that it would be above any houses that were still standing. It didn't fly away nor circle the area. The monster hovered in the air, kept aloft with its unbelievable power, staring down at the man who dared oppose it.
Asgrim feared he would die alone when he heard a whispered, "Good."
He smiled, but there was no joy there. Not when he had broken a promise.
The Dragon opened it's mouth and the blinding flames of Oblivion poured forth to wipe him from existence.
He closed his eyes.
⊙
Oblivion never came, though that excruciating heat surrounded him on every side once more and his ears were nearly deafened by the roar of fire that flowed around him.
Asgrim opened his eyes. A woman was facing the flames head on, her back to him, flying over a foot above him and the guard. She stood poised, chin held high and standing tall, seemingly uncaring of the searing flame and heat that she was battling. He could feel a strong vortex of wind surrounding her, buffeting the dry air and fire away from the pair like a shield, licks of fire trying to wrap around her only to slip off and away.
Her golden hair and fair skin made him think Nord, but the armor she wore was of Imperial style.
An Imperial Battlemage? In Whiterun?
It took him long seconds to connect the memory.
The Mage.
"Antares," he whispered in shock.
The flames died out and with it the vortex that she produced as a defense. He felt sweat and soot roll down his skin just from second hand exposure, yet she looked nearly pristine, only a bead of sweat for her troubles.
The Dragon remained hovering observing the new arrival, and despite it's animalistic appearance, it looked as though it was as confused as he was.
Antares glanced back at Asgrim, "How hurt is he?"
Asgrim blinked.
"The man!" She barked out, "How hurt?!"
The question and order brought his senses back into focus, "He's bleeding to death. A hole in his gut."
"Can you heal him?"
"No. And I'm not strong enough to carry him on my own like this."
She glanced back at the Dragon, frowning. "And the... the fucking
Dragon's not going to let me take you to safety I bet."
Asgrim watched as the Dragon began to rise even higher, putting more distance between it and Antares. "No. No, I... I can't say it would. It's more intelligent than it looks."
She simply nodded, reaching into a satchel at her side and pulling out a red vial. The mage never took her eyes off the of the still ascending Dragon as she lowered herself to his level.
Asgrim took the bottle as she spoke, "It's a health potion from Danica. I don't know if it would heal that serious an injury, but it couldn't hurt. Once he drinks it you two are going to have to make a run for safety. You've done a good job here, let me handle this."
"It uses Fire and Frost magic, stronger than I've ever seen in my life. You'll need help to fight that monster."
Antares put a hand on his shoulder, this time meeting his eyes briefly. When she spoke, she spoke with a confidence he couldn't ignore. "I know my monsters. Save your friend and fall back to the castle. I've sent a few people that way who needed help already-"
A roar pierced the air above them and Asgrim looked up in fright. The Dragon was hundreds of feet above them now, no longer hovering but now spearing up through the sky, rolling in a tight spin as it reoriented itself to face the earth below.
"It's diving!"
"
Go!" Antares shouted and flew forth at a speed that left him dumbfounded, a blond and red blur in his vision.
If the Dragon was shocked at being charged by another flyer, it didn't show it this time, keeping up a steady roar as it dove faster and faster towards Antares. It's massive wings added more power to the attack, a boost in speed that supported it's inertia and natural gravity. Asgrim watched as Antares flew straight for the beast, unflinching as she faced a jaw that could cover a mammoth's skull whole, it's fangs the size of her own forearm.
Asgrim didn't see her summon any defenses or spells. His heart sank.
The distance between them closed. Fifty feet. Fourty. Thirty. Twenty. Ten-
The Dragon let loose another triumphant roar.
Antares raised one arm and swiped out in a lazy backhand that wasn't anywhere near the Dragon. Which made it all the more surprising when the Dragon's head snapped violented to the right, dozens of scales launching off of it's maw like a rain of arrows, and blood to spill out from a deep cut to it's lip. The force of the unseen blow was powerful enough the alter the Dragon's entire trajectory, sending it into a tumble as it fell through the sky.
Antares had to bob and weave around a few limbs as she passed by the creature, but in the end she remained unharmed, watching from above as the bleeding monster crashed into a house opposite of Asgrim's street. Where the impact of it's tail strike had slightly lifted him off the ground, the crash as it's gigantic body plummeted through the house's remains felt like it would crack the open the Earth itself and swallow him whole.
Asgrim could only look on in shock at the display of power he had just witnessed.
A moan from behind shook him from his stupor and turn back to his fellow guardsman, removing the sash from his wound. The man was no longer lucid now, but he didn't need to be lucid to live. Asgrim's hands shook as he pried open the bottle and poured the contents into the guard's mouth. Instantly his figure was wrapped in light, the blood flaking off as skin and muscle reformed themselves with the power of magic. The guard opened his eyes as the wound turned the gaping hole into purple bruise.
"Can you hear me?" Asgrim shouted.
He groaned, "Too clearly. The ringing in my head is killing me."
The sound of shuffling wood made Asgrim's heart skip a beat. A glance showed a leather wing stretch out and shove aside a wooden pillar, a hint of a horned head shaking itself, likely dealing with it's own ringing.
"Better the ringing than the Dragon across the way," Asgrim said. He grabbed the guard by his uniform, "Stand with me brother, lest we both die togther on this road!"
It took some doing, but the guard managed to force himself to his feet, leaning heavily on Asgrim's shoulder. He could feel his knee cry out in agony, but he paid the damn thing no mind.
The guard looked up, "Oh Kyne have mercy."
The Dragon had risen, still shaking it's head slightly, but it's murderous gaze latched onto the pair. A low rumble began to grow in it's throat-
Terror. Pure, unadulterated and unhinged terror. It slammed into Asgrim like a mammoth's trunk and sent his mind into a daze, building on the exhaustion and fear that he had experienced throughout this morning. The elite guard beside him was breathing too fast and too shallow, his skin turning a pasty white.
And the Dragon roared in retaliation, turning to the sky as it bristled from an alien sensation, just in time for Antares to reintroduce her boots to the side of the lizard's head. The impact was as deafening as it was satisfying, the blow sending the Dragon rolling down the road. It was quicker to recover this time however, pushing itself back onto it's four claws and stabilizing it's momentum with it's powerful tail. It roared with a fury that only the most intelligent of creatures were capable of, blood dripping onto the ground beneath it.
The feeling of terror vanished and Asgrim felt himself release a breath he didn't know he had been holding back.
Antares yelled out, "Run! Castle! Safety!
Now!" And then she was gone, flying down the road toward a Dragon without a moment to spare.
Let's not make it a third time.
"Work with me, brother." Asgrim panted, "I've got a weak leg here."
"I've got a weak everything," the guard retorted. "But I'll try."
They shuffled past burning houses and filled alleys, taking care to make sure they could hide themselves under cover should the Dragon spot them. Asgrim could hear the roars of battle going on behind him, with pillars of fire and frost blasting through the air as the Dragon raged on, Antares somehow physically contending with the creature with ease. More than once the ground shook with impacts that nearly knocked them off their feet and they couldn't reliably say it was due to close proximity or sheer power.
Minutes passed as they finally reached the steps to the Garden plaza, the ancient Gildergreen burning from a previous onslaught, it's thin bark offering little protection. The statue of Talos was scorched by the heat, but seemed otherwise undamaged, fittingly enough in Asgrim's opinion.
The guard spoke quietly, "I've gone mad brother."
Asgrim turned to look.
Whole homes had been turned into frozen monuments or burned to the ground the battle, steam and smoke warring with each other in mixing temperatures. The Dragon was ascending, twin pillars of fire and frost blasting from it's jaws as it rose higher and higher into the sky. It chased a figure so small that Asgrim doubted the other guard could make out anything other than a general impression.
But Asgrim saw everything with the Archer's eyes.
Antares soared up into the sky with inhuman grace as she danced around the elemental pillars, glittering swords spinning around her like autumn leaves in the wind, flying faster than the Dragon could hope to keep up. He saw her twist out of the way as the pillars separated and converged on her location, deftly avoiding their collision and continuing her ascent. Her hand swung down and all half dozen blades were loosed onto the creature below her. Asgrim's eyes couldn't make out the damage done in great detail, but he saw every blade's glimmer vanish as they penetrated the Dragon's hide and a noticeable dip in its ascension.
The twin streams had stopped, but the Dragon roared on, continuing to climb up after Antares as she disappeared into the low cloud cover. The Dragon followed suit and soon the morning sky was lit up in waves of orange and yellow.
The two stood there for some time, watching the colors brighten and diminish, a roar echo through the sky.
Even as soldiers poured in from the border walls and from Dragonsreach, Asgrim couldn't tear his eyes away from the sky. He would not have been surprised to know that every other soldier was doing the same.
A stream of fire speared through the clouds like a blade through flesh, only to cut off as suddenly as it appeared. A screech echoed out of the clouds and with it came the Dragon, it's mass so great that it's body dragged bits of the cloud down along it's wings and tail. It was an unnatural fall, it's back to the ground and head moving slowly as if in shock.
Antares was soon to follow, still faster than the Dragon even in descent, and collided with it's bared chest. A fountain of blood spouted out from the impact and the Dragon let loose another piercing screech of pain, it's descent increasing from the extra push.
It tried in vain to slow itself, wings spreading out as best they could, but Asgrim could now see where damage had been done to the leather flaps, stripping whole sections of it from the bone. Even if it hadn't been damaged, Antares was continuing to push down, uncaring of how the blood engulfed her.
The pair fell as one until the very last moment, Antares splitting off from the dragon, surrounded in a ball of blood that seeped off of her like tears. The Dragon fell outside of the border walls, vanishing from sight once again, it's landing emphasized by a plume of dust and a dull thud that thrummed through the ground.
Antares stood over the dust, watching, the blood around her nearly gone.
All waited with bated breath, waiting for the monster of myth and legend to rise out from the plume of debris like a monster from their worst nightmares. When the light began to filter through the dust, Asgrim could feel a collective sob begin to make it's way from the mouths of many men and women, the fear that the fight had not been won just yet.
There were no flames. No frost. No roar of defiance.
It was angelic light that poured forth from the dust, reaching out to Antares like a greeting hand. The mage didn't appear worried until the light closed in on her completely, with the best Asgrim could make out seeming to be her flinching from the sudden obscuring light. Soon enough it became impossible to see Antares completely, her entire body enveloped in this mystical light, but Asgrim could see the light itself.
Refractions within refractions, all embedded into the light like diamonds in a mine, visions of faces he couldn't place and places with crystals structures that he could not comprehend. Asgrim did not know what the others were seeing, but he somehow knew it wasn't anything like this. This was the
Tower, and he knew that was as true as his love for his family. As true as the fear he felt in that land of madness and knowledge.
It felt like an eternity but the light eventually died down, shimmering into Antares form as she crouched in the air, knees to her chest and arms crossed against them. It reminded Asgrim of Mila, holding her in his arms during a particularly bad thunderstorm, hugging herself for comfort.
In seconds Antares broke the self-hug and soared into the clouds. They waited but there was no descent this time. She would not return, it seemed.
No one spoke, but they knew. They
all knew.
Dovahkiin.
Dragonborn.
