Categories
Fiction Song of Deirdre

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 54

 

The Temple of Mara

 

“Falmer Ear!” exclaimed Elgrim, the old alchemist.

“Falmer Ear?”

“Yes, you heard me right, if only I had it in my shop. I don’t suppose you’d like to go exploring into any Dwemer ruins, would you?”

“I’ve quite had my fill of the Dwarven constructs, thank you,” I said, thinking of all the dead Falmer I had left with ears intact, “but I’ll do whatever it takes to cure Lydia of this poison.” I stroked her hand, which was still icy cold. I had been sitting with her all night, ever since we arrived at Riften’s Temple of Mara. The main hall had been turned into a makeshift hospital, with pews that folded ingeniously to become cots.

Elgrim twirled one end of his mustache, which hung down below his jaw. “Hmm, we probably don’t have the time. Charred skeever hide will do nearly as well. Plenty of those in the Ratway. I’ve always said they should rename it the Skeeverway. Hah! Now, where is that Ingun?”

Categories
Fiction Song of Deirdre

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 53

 

The White River Bridge

 

I turned away from my friends without a word. What was there to say? They would only stop me from carrying out the plan that was already forming in my mind. I would call Odahviing, and the red dragon would take me to Whiterun. Together we would rain down such catastrophe as the elves had never imagined. When Odahviing grew tired of carrying me, I would have him set me down in the middle of the ruined city, where I would finish any Altmer that yet survived, or they would finish me, I cared not. Surely Lydia had died a good death – we would be together forever in the afterlife.

I laughed then, a mad, hysterical laugh. If only I had remained in the land of the dead for another day, Lydia and I would be together even now!

A voice called after me. “Deirdre! Thank the gods you’re alive! But where are you going? Lydia needs you!”

Choking back a sob, I turned to see Brelyna staring after me. “She still lives?”

“Just barely. It’s poison. I’ve tried everything, but the only cure I had was too weak, and now her breath grows more faint. Hurry, you must do something!”

Categories
Fiction Song of Deirdre

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 52

 

Fort Amol

 

A blizzard raged as I stepped out onto High Hrothgar’s front porch. It had been snowing since my return from Sovngarde the day before. It promised to be a rough trip down to Ivarstead, but this didn’t much concern me. I was on my way to Lydia, and that’s all that mattered. The storm made it impossible to glissade down the mountain’s west face – even my strongest Become Ethereal shout couldn’t save me from plunging to my death down those rime-iced cliffs hidden in the whiteout. Yet not even the addition of two days to my journey could dampen my spirits. I didn’t care how long my road was, as long as Lydia was at the end of it.

A short distance down the path, I smelled smoke. That was strange, I thought. I looked around for its source, but could see nothing in the whiteout. Even nearby crags were lost in the swirl of snow. Still the smell of smoke persisted, borne on the wind from the west. Probably just pilgrims caught out by the storm, I told myself, though where they had found wood this far above tree line, I couldn’t explain. Nor could I explain why they were so far off the path to the west, where there was nothing but couloirs and cliffs. I resolved to keep my eye out for travelers in need of help, then thought no more of it. Instead, I pondered Paarthurnax’s words to me on my return to the Throat of the World.

Categories
Fiction Song of Deirdre

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 51

 

Sovngarde

 

I felt myself lifted up as I entered the swirling light. I could see nothing but ever-changing colors and flashes of what looked like stars. This went on for some time, whether long or short, I could not tell. Then my feet touched solid ground once more, and the swirling light gradually cleared. I stood at the top of a set of steps leading down into a mist-filled valley ringed with jagged peaks. Across this valley the rooflines of a great hall loomed above the fog – the destination of the souls of the Nord dead, I guessed. A path began at the foot of the steps, lined with gargantuan statues of hooded figures – the grim-faced kings and heroes of old.

It had been day when I stepped into the portal but here in Sovngarde the stars shone bright. Directly above was some sort of light, bright like the sun, but shimmering white like the light of the moons, ringed with swirling clouds. Perhaps this was the other end of that column of light on which I had traveled.

And now I heard a roaring coming from within the mist, the familiar call of a dragon. Out across the valley a winged shape appeared above the mists for just a moment then plunged back in. It was Alduin, and he was hunting the souls of the dead. I dashed down the steps, eager to challenge him to our final confrontation. Many months I had waited for this moment, and now I would tarry no longer.

Categories
Fiction Song of Deirdre

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 50

 

Skuldafn

 

Someone was pounding on my door. It seemed as if people had been pounding on it all night long. Arcadia had been the first. “Deirdre, are you all right?” she called through the door. “I saw Lydia, and she looked in an awful way. Come child, open the door and tell me what happened.”

At last she went away, and I returned to my crying and my drinking. I was already into my second bottle of Alto wine. I had never done such a thing before. Later, I awoke to find myself sprawled across the table, with Thorald Gray-Mane shouting at my door. “Lass, open up. It’s no good shutting yourself up like this. Come and have a drink with the lads and you’ll feel better. Hulda’s got a right sympathetic ear if you want to tell her what happened ‘tween you and Lydia.”

Why wouldn’t they leave me alone? Nothing they could say would make this pain go away. Two bottles of wine hadn’t made it go away. Only in sleep could I find respite. Finally Thorald went away too.

Now it was morning, with bright rays of sunshine slanting in the window and sparkling off the snow outside. The pounding kept on going, both in my head and at the door. “Deirdre, open up,” a voice called out. “We have come all the way from Winterhold to see you off to Sovngarde.” It was Brelyna, of course.

Categories
Song of Deirdre Fiction

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 49

 

The Great Porch

 

That same afternoon, Lydia and I stood on the Great Porch of Dragonsreach with Balgruuf and Irileth.

“Are you sure you know how to trap a dragon?” Balgruuf asked again.

I wanted to tell him that I hadn’t been sure of anything I had done since that day at Helgen, that instinct and blind luck had carried me through. But I didn’t think that would comfort a jarl who was about to give his palace over to dragon-trapping.

“Lydia and I will have no trouble managing one dragon. You and your soldiers should stay well back. We don’t need to send additional souls to Alduin.”

Categories
Song of Deirdre Fiction

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 48

 

Peace Council

 

“Ha!” Jarl Balgruuf laughed. “You must be as mad as King Olaf!”

“You believe One-Eye was mad?” It was a strange statement for the jarl to make, considering his throne sat under the skull of Numinex, the dragon Olaf had defeated and imprisoned in Dragonsreach. The palace’s Great Porch had been built just to hold him.

“Trapping a dragon in a palace built of timber? What else could he be? He had the Great Porch built mostly of stone, but still. Too, there was that time he imprisoned a bard just for writing a verse critical of his reign.”

“Yet trapping a dragon here is the only hope I have of learning where Alduin has gone.”

He looked at my companion. “And what say you, Master Arngeir?” He tipped his head slightly as he said it.

Categories
Song of Deirdre Fiction

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 47

 

Tiid-Ahraan

 

I whooped with elation as we stepped onto the familiar path above the Seven Thousand Steps, with High Hrothgar not far away. The sun was just setting far to the west, turning the rocks and snow about us a deep red. I turned to look back at what we had just climbed. “See, Lydia,” I said. “We made it, and shortened the trip by two days.”

“Shortened my life by two days, don’t you mean?” she said, pausing to catch her breath.

We had just accomplished what none had done before: climbing straight up the western face of the Throat of the World to High Hrothgar. Lydia had called it a mad idea, but after an extra day in Whiterun, I had insisted on making for Paarthurnax’s retreat by the straightest route possible.

It had been two days since we emerged from Blackreach. We had awoken that next morning to find ourselves on a high ridge, not far north of Whiterun, amazed at how far we had come in such a short time.

“Blackreach must create some sort of warp in the fabric of existence,” Brelyna said. “I think we all felt it in there, the way we would seem to walk forever toward a landmark, and then suddenly it was right on top of us.”

I proposed that we split up then, my three friends returning to the college, where J’zargo could have his eyes looked after. Brelyna looked disappointed. “You are right, I suppose. Someone will need to help this invalid back to Winterhold.” She was bathing J’zargo’s eyes with a damp cloth in the light of the sun that had just risen over the Velothi Mountains.

“But what about your horses?” Onmund asked hopefully. “I could fetch them for you from the Winterhold stable, then meet you somewhere along your road.”

“My friend, there’s no need,” I said. “We will purchase new mounts out of our share of the treasure. Or perhaps Jarl Balgruuf will want to aid us when he knows that we have a weapon with which to defeat Alduin.”

His face fell, but he did not disagree.

“Are we friends again?” I asked.

He looked at me and nodded. “Last night, seeing you near death, I realized I would rather have you in this world and my friend than … not.”

Then Lydia and I watched as our three friends disappeared down a path heading north, J’zargo leaning on Brelyna’s shoulder.

Categories
Song of Deirdre Fiction

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 46

 

Blackreach

 

The Falmer ambush was a close thing. But for a lucky hit on our part or a poorly aimed arrow on the Falmer’s, there might have been none to remember our expedition, and none to save the world from Alduin. But as it was, I rushed into the room at the foot of the stairs, an arrow narrowly missing my head, and shouted “Faas-Ru-Maar!” at half a dozen approaching Falmer. Four ran off, cowering, around a bend in the hallway, while two resisted the shout: a hardy warrior and a powerful crone with her silver hair bound up in knots like horns. But that was enough – I cast my atronach and left it for Lydia and the fire demon to deal with these two.

Back up the stairs, I found that a group of five Falmer had divided my college friends, yet one Falmer warrior lay dead at the top of the steps. I cast a spell of rout into the remaining four, sending three of them running past Brelyna and J’zargo. One of them fell to the Khajiit’s claws as he ran past, then we quickly dealt with the powerful gloomlurker who had resisted my spell.

In the end, we managed to capture four of the weaker Falmer, while we were forced to slay six. The last, the crone, turned and ran when she saw the four of us coming to Lydia’s aid, retreating into a circular room and pulling a lever in its center. The floor rose beneath her feet, a great shaft of Dwemer metal lifting the platform up to levels of the ruin somewhere above.

Categories
Song of Deirdre Fiction

The Song of Deirdre – Chap. 45

 

Alftand

 

Alftand was a wonder, an amazement, a miracle. Impossibly vast, filled with a beauty and craftsmanship we in this Fourth Era can only dream about, still alive with the mechanical creatures the Dwarves left behind. And everywhere, the clanking, spinning, and hissing of their machines, whose purposes remain a mystery. The Dwemer, known as a hard-headed, scientific people, would have scoffed at such descriptions, yet we cannot help but look upon them as gods, or next-to-gods, for they created new life – or something like life.

We had no trouble getting into the ruin, thanks to those who had come before. We found the Alftand Expedition camp abandoned at the edge of a yawning glacial crevasse. A small Dwemer tower stood nearby, inaccessible, like many similar structures that had tantalized and frustrated adventurers in Skyrim for centuries. Other turrets and towers poked out of the crevasse at odd angles, having been swallowed by the glacier long ago, revealed more recently by the splitting of the ice. A wooden catwalk, built by the recent explorers, led precipitously down the ice face into a vertical fissure within the crevasse. It was an easy thing for us to walk down it, and then into the ice itself, following the fissure that the expedition had widened, thus gaining access to the halls and chambers of Alftand.

It was in the first of these, a stone corridor into which the ice had partly intruded, that we found Septimus Signus.

Follow on Feedly