Role Playing Fan Fiction ❯ Conjure It At Your Own Risk ❯ Dragon Fighter Miki ( Chapter 6 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

 

SIX: The Reward For Digging the Deepest Hole Is A Bigger Shovel

 

 

The descent from Riverwood to Whiterun the following morning found us at Dragon’s Reach palace by noon. I slowly carried the heavy stone to Farengar and uncovered it on his desk.

 

“Ah, the Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow. I see you are a cut above those the Jarl usually finds for me,” he sneered. If he wasn’t useful for buying spells, I am fairly sure I would incinerate this arrogant man. I prayed to God for patience.

 

“What about my reward?” I reminded the fool, fiddling with the stone.

 

“You went into Bleak Falls Barrow? Good job,” commented an older woman in leather armor. Then she left and the bodyguard, Irileth, showed up demanding Farengar and I follow her because the dragon is attacking the western watch tower.

 

Balgruuf thanked me and gave me a light hide helmet with some magic enchanted on it. I stared at the helmet, thought of all I’d been through to get it here, then handed it to Sofia without a word. She put it on. I’m seeing a pattern in the Skyrim character, and gratitude is something they are unfamiliar with.

 

Then he ordered us to go slay a dragon.

 

“Why me?” I asked.

 

“You were at Helgen, so you have more experience than the others. Go with them and your efforts will be rewarded,” he insisted. I raised my small eyebrow.

 

“Like how you rewarded us for delving into an ancient tomb filled with mummies and traps with a small hide helmet?” I asked. He blinked, not expecting that.

 

“What is a mummy?” he asked, confused.

 

“Nevermind. Whatever!” I cursed and stormed away. Nords!

 

Irileth eagerly rushed out of the Dragonsreach palace and down to the front gate guardhouse, where she proceeded to give a speech about death and glory missions to the six men she’d ordered to come with us. Some of the guards looked like they were making their final prayers and one whispered: “we are sooo dead!”.

 

Then it was out of the gate and down through the stables and into the wide plains, where smoke rose in the distance to the West. The tower grew taller as we rounded the bend and so did the fires and damage in front of it. I could see at least two familiar burnt lumps of what used to be people, one of them still sizzling from dragon flame.

 

“This looks bad, but there’s no sign of the dragon about,” Irileth started, looking really excited about the prospect of fighting a real live dragon instead of bodyguarding her Jarl.

 

We moved towards the tower.

 

“Here it comes again!” shouted a guard from the tower base. I looked around, spotting a giant bat-shape in the sun near the top of the mountain nearby, several miles away. Big, grey colored, and not the same one I’d seen before.

 

I cast my flame atronach summons in front of me and considered my own options. Cover would be useful. I moved into the tower and climbed the stairs to a landing next to a hole. There was a fire burning there, and a hole in the side with a good view but good footing, at least. I cast frost onto the fire, briefly putting it out and making the stones crack with the temperature change. Then I readied an ice spike. The dragon flew over and one of the guards blew a horn at it. The dragon howled and then there was flame and one less guard. It did so again after a pause. It was maneuverable, very agile for its size. When it went past my window I nailed it in the wing with an ice spike but it just kept going. My atronach was lighting it on fire, though it did less damage than I’d hoped. I readied another ice spike and fired it as it hovered outside the window and inhaled. I expanded my defensive barrier to cover myself and steadied it before it took the brunt of its flame breath. It held, barely, then the dragon moved away. There was a huge thump outside the tower and cries to various gods for aid. The sound of teeth and I descended the stairs, only to see a guard in the tower’s base firing arrows outside get incinerated. My shield saved me, again. There was a huge gust of air and the dragon was flying once more, and two more guards on the ground. I put an ice spike in the dragon’s belly before it disappeared around the tower.

 

It was avoiding me. Interesting. There were more lances of flame and another thump on the other side of the tower. I climbed the stairs and spotted it flaming a guard with a steel war hammer while Irileth struggled to heal her injuries with magic. I nailed it in the head with an ice spike, then a lightning bolt for good measure. That did it, and the dragon reared back from the pain.

 

“Dovahkiin? Nooo!” the dragon cried out. It could speak. And then it collapsed, seemingly dead. I descended the tower.

 

“Something’s happening! Stay back,” Irileth warned her surviving guard. I approached, sensing a massive soul magic buildup. It erupted and surged into me, along with magic, memories, strength and vitality. Its history of thousands of years as an apex predator with cult worshippers and human sacrifices and then the long silence of a burial mound, a bright demand by the black dragon I’d seen at Helgen, and some fun torching a tower. The scales and guts of the monster evaporated, leaving the bones of its skeleton, and various objects foreign to it, some of them enchanted. I picked up an enchanted elven shield and a dagger I could use, passing the shield to Sofia.

 

“I can’t believe it! You’re… Dragonborn!” said a guard who’d run all the way from Whiterun. Several others joined him, in awe at what they’d just witnessed.

 

“Star-born, actually, but they’re kinda similar,” I corrected.

 

“It’s true what they say in the oldest tales. Try to shout!” he urged. I considered, but gave it a try.

 

“FUS!” I shouted, and the skeleton rocked back from the magic in my voice. Sofia started babbling about how impressed she was, and how many free drinks she was going to get telling people she helped the Dragonborn kill a dragon. That was probably true. I would need to remind her about the baby and give her stamina and healing potion again. Chilled, of course. Maybe a pitcher and an enchanted tankard.

 

“So you really are Dragonborn!” repeated the guard. Irileth got prodded into commenting by the guards.

 

“I’ve been all across Tamriel, and seen many things. Here is a dead dragon. That is good enough for me,” Irileth concluded. I collected some dragon scales and a few of the lighter bones as crafting supplies, a few enchanted armor pieces, and ignored the junk.

 

“Well, that was something,” I agreed.

 

“You will be wanted by the Jarl for your reward, Dragonborn,” Irileth urged. Knowing Balgruuf, it would be something either worthless or burdensome. I sighed, then began hiking back up the hill to Whiterun. It was around twenty minutes later, near the stables that a giant wash of sound boomed over me.

 

“DOO VAAHH KIIIN!” it thundered. Everything shook. The horses whinnied.

 

“Frau Blucher!” I yelled back. The horses whinnied uncomfortably. I nodded, satisfied. Some things are constant.

 

I entered the city, stopping to sell some armor and weapons to the blacksmith with the daddy issues, then slowly climbed up to the palace and entered. Jarl Balgruuf was looking smug, gave a speech about how proud he was, how much he wished he was in my place to climb the tallest mountain on the entire planet, and visit the Greybeards with a truly reverent look on his face. Then he told me I was his thane and gave me a two-handed great axe made of some weird metal, and said I could buy a house if I wanted. I had gold, but not nearly enough.

 

I sighed, leaving the palace and descended the stairs. The sun was going down. I managed to get to the local general store and offload the dragon scales and bones for some serious coin, but again, still not enough to buy a house, and went next door to the apothecary, where I put together several potions, which were the critical amount. Lighter of unnecessary junk, I returned to the palace with a big sack of gold and bought the house, returning with a new housecarl in tow. Sofia eyed the girl with obvious jealousy and spiteful commentary, something the teenage girl gave back with interest. Ah, yes. This reminds me of how my older sisters in the Carpenter household behaved during certain times of the month and their mother wasn’t present to stop the escalation.

 

The interior of Breezehome was underwhelming. It was a shack inside. No decorations. No furniture. There was a bed and a chest to store stuff in on the second floor. There was a firepit, but no fire or place to cook food. And it had cost 5000 septims, for this? Was I scammed? Did I just get scammed?

 

I stored lots of junk in the one chest and joined Sofia at the inn for a meal and drinks. Sofia enjoyed my enchanted tankard and her stamina-healing potion diluted with apple juice for extra mana regeneration.

 

“This stuff is great. I feel strong, like a bull. Like I could fly!” Sophia says. “But why is it red?”

 

I sipped Nord mead in a chilled tankard. Mead is made of honey, but it’s only a bit sweet. Most of the sugar goes to the alcohol, which keeps it from spoiling. For a while, anyway. Much like ale, it doesn’t keep for long so a town probably turns up when a new batch is served. Considering there’s an actual meadery across the river I’d walked past getting here, twice, there was considerable demand for it. It was okay. As mead goes, it was okay. I’ve had the good stuff, the kind armies of Asgard preferred. I’d seen Dad’s old girlfriend drinking it on a visit.

 

Dad’s new girlfriend, Molly Carpenter, explained that situation to me, and her status as a Lady of Winter Fae gave her a peculiar magical aura. While she’d been out of the house most of my time with the Carpenter family, and training into a competent battle mage as a candidate for Winter Lady under the Leah Nan Sidhe, a position she eventually took, willing or not, she was kind enough for her remaining humanity to speak plainly to me during my teen years. With my body reverted back half a dozen apparent years, she might have some hilarious commentary. Probably something like reliving my childhood, or becoming a legal loli. The first time I heard that I had to look it up. I can read manga, but I can’t watch anime, after all. The heroine of Zero no Tsukaima would be a fine example of that word. Louise de la Blanc de la Valliere. Valiant White, with explosion magic. And a terrible temper.

 

I was ruminating, I realized. It appears this mead is stronger than I’d thought. I opted not to finish the tankard and ordered a bit of venison, bread, and cheese. Oddly, the venison left me feeling stronger and more able to wield a bow, the cheese improved my magical capacity and recovery rate. I shouldn’t be surprised that food is a potion here. Skyrim is so saturated with magic in the first place, I’m ridiculously strong compared to many of the so-called mages here. I wonder if those at the College of Winterhold would prove to impress me?

 

Sofia was having a good time, but Lydia opted to follow me back to my house, Breezehome. I noticed her room was fully furnished with bed, wall hangings, dresser, stuffed animals, war trophies for archery and a sword and board competition, plus several pairs of shoes. It smelled of armor polish. I sighed.

 

I may be ripped off but I still need to decorate this place. With my skill in alchemy, I should be able to find enough good materials to brew enough value to pay for it. Just imagine how ridiculous the pay would be for the thieves’ guild or the guild of assassins. Approximately the same as the cost of a couple sets of armor, assuming I could improve my bartering skills. That is… likely. But those guys? Killing people for money? And it isn’t even much money? That’s stupid.

 

“Good night, Lydia,” I offered. She nodded, closing her door. I undressed and went to bed, wishing I had a tooth cleaning spell. Maybe that’s in the same book as the one to repel fleas and lice?

 

 

6A: Sixteen Candles

 

 

After a night at the inn, which I paid for, the following morning found some breakfast with bread and sausages, salmon steak, and a hot cup of tea. We explored the city, finding the apothecary, who paid for potions I made from the herbs and flowers I’d gathered during our walk yesterday, and filled my pockets with coin. We crossed through the imperial headquarters and prayed at the shrine of the 8 divines, with Talos carefully removed. I prayed to Arkay and gained her boons for the day. We descended the gentle street into the residential district towards the Blue Palace and I noted the sign for the Bards College. Turning I entered with Erik following, curious.

 

“Ah, a new applicant,” insisted an elf just inside the door. “I am Viarmo, the head of the college.”

 

“Ah yeah, I want to apply,” I agreed.

 

“Due to the nature of your particular skills, we have a special task for you. We want you to retrieve King Olaf’s Verse from Dead Man’s Respite. The tomb is dangerous and infested with draugr and traps. Find the verse and return and we can make you a bard.”

 

“So no classes on playing the flute, drum, and lute? No musical theory? No history courses about Skyrim and Tamriel?” I confirmed, a bit disappointed.

 

“No, just a brief but dangerous quest to ignite some draugr and follow some ghost around in hopes of gaining a few levels that have nothing to do with singing, speech, charm, or wit. Just ordinary battle any thief can achieve,” Viarmo confirmed. I have to admit, the honesty was refreshing, even if the training was disappointing.

 

“Can I learn those things when I get back?” I asked him.

 

“Oh, sure. Once you’re a bard, you can do that. If you want to. Or you can spend two skill points and just perform before a crowd once a day until you’re high enough level to do it over and over again and thus earn more money and skill points. Sooner or later, you’ll be strong enough to be the best Bard in Skyrim. Isn’t that grand?” Viarmo laughed.

 

“Yeah. Grand. So this poetic Edda, can anyone explain more to me about that?” I asked him. Viarmo gestured to the smug man with the mustache waiting for his cue.

 

“I’m Giraud Gemane, Dean of History. I can explain about the edda,” he introduced himself. I listened, nodded my head at the appropriate moments, and noticed he offered training in Speech, for a substantial fee per level. Whatever a level is. I need basic spells from the vampire pretending to be the court wizard. The stink of rotting blood on her and lack of capillaries made it really obvious what she was. I paid the creature for Ocato’s Recital, Muffle, Soul Cloak, Stoneskin, and Firebolt, which used up nearly all my money. But the upside was I was now able to earn experience in combat and warn myself when a surprise attack was about to land. The intent wards which activate the spell created by the high archmage during the Oblivion Crisis, Ocato, was a genius invention of spell crafting and relatively cheap for what it was. My map noted that the tomb we wanted to visit was either past that bandit hideout I’d killed half of its members using Fury, or I could go around the mountain past a keep filled with necromancers and animated skeletons, bears, and probably more wolves. I opted to see if I could sneak past the necromancers. Tomorrow. We were going there tomorrow, though we’d stay the night in Dragonsbridge Inn.

 

The following day the innkeeper mentioned hearing that a dragon had been slain in Whiterun, something not seen in Skyrim in a thousand years. Some girl had been responsible for killing it, and they said she was Dragon Born, whatever that means.

 

We headed across the bridge after breakfast, then left, over a fallen tree, past some dark wizard trying to raise some woman’s corpse from the dead, past a shrine to an elven god of feasting, past a barking dog, then into view of the necromancer’s keep. We crouched into Stealth and kept our distance. No arrows, no attention. We descended the road and then climbed up a grassy slope, picking wild flowers as I went, and found a huge bear. I use my firebolt on it, several times, before it died at my feet. I believe it wanted to eat my face. This is not an ordinary experience for me. I’m only sixteen after all. For a few more weeks. My high school experience had mostly been about coping with annoyance and unwanted attention by the women in my life, and then I was here thanks to the whims of a fox-diety which enjoys its pranks. I haven’t had coffee Boss in two weeks. I often feel sleepy, and I miss video games. At least the things I learned playing Final Fantasy are applicable here, though you do have to hurry. There’s no pause between attacks while you work up a strategy. Here you act fast or die, and I do not know if Arkay would resurrect me.

 

I would, came a voice of the god.

 

Okay, but best not abuse that. Carrying the rolled up bearskin and scratching at the fresh flea bites, we continued on around the mountain, igniting some wolves, and eventually climbed a narrow trail to the tomb entrance. There was a ritual table out front, some ancient rolls of linen fabric, and the door. It was carved and ominous, like all dragon tombs, but it was a door, just the same.

 

“You ready?” I asked Erik.

 

“Excited to be here,” Erik replied with a grin.

 

We entered in a crouch, looking around. I spotted draugr, so lit them on fire one after a another. My fire spells got more effective with each shot and by the time I’d finished clearing the first chamber and picked up the ruby dragon claw to follow the blue ghostly bard, I felt reasonably sure I was advancing my magical abilities well. The passageway beyond the gate found several obvious floor trap triggers, which I leapt over and then Erik stepped on them, cursing at spears from the wall or fire erupting from ports. He’d learn, if he lived. He caught up, healing himself with a spell, not completely useless after all, and arrived at a wall with a chain ring hanging beside it. I pulled on it and the wall spun away into an open doorway. The noise alerted several draugr, which growled in response. They were trapped behind a wall, so I crept forward, senses alert. To my left I spotted movement and fired a blast of firebolts into some dog-sized giant frostbite spiders. The first died, its soul drifting into one of the petty soul gems I carried but the second required another shot of firebolt and a burst of Flame to finish it off. I checked they were dead and extracted venom into an empty wine bottle. This will be valuable to the apothecary back in Solitude, no doubt. I also found a locked chest and inserted a pick to attempt to clear it. Careful… careful… and it snapped. I sighed, tried again before it opened for me. Found a healing potion and five septims. Hardly worth it.

Searching around I found another pullchain and opened the door, which exposed two draugr. I ignited one, at the end of the passage, causing it to cry in shock as it died, leading to the standing one with the bow to put a foot onto a trap trigger, giving it a log into the chest, killing it. Two soul stones hissed as they filled. I carefully crept forward, noting another draugr hiding in an alcove so set it on fire. It hissed as it died, twice. I jumped over the trap trigger and found a skill book to read on trading, which I suspect has boosted my Speech skill, somehow. I grabbed a stamina potion, some septims, and ignored a heavy sword I can’t use.

We continued through the tomb and descended through some traps and arrived at some spider webs. I shot fire into the chamber and then Fury on one of the spiders, causing it to attack the other spider. This left one wounded spider to finish off a moment later. I picked up another pinkish soul stone and found the floor trap release. It was a twenty foot drop into a pool of water that was probably six to ten feet deep. Hopefully without spikes in the bottom. I prayed to Arkay before jumping down. Erik followed a moment later as I climbed the staircase and continued in stealth to burn a large rat, called a Skeever. Then an undead with a spell I’d learned from Runil, called Sunfire. The undead burned nicely. A second one appeared from an upright tomb, so I hit him as well. Then another rose out of a sarcophagus, and that one also got nailed. I feel stronger at Restoration magic now. I climbed a spiral wooden ramp to a locked gate and disarmed the tripwire, before crossing the trapped path and climbing another spiral to the exit door. There I found the ghost again, and he gestured down a staircase, then vanished. I followed, Erik along with me.

Turning left there was a noise and I noted I have been spotted by a draugr on guard. He charged me, so I lit him on fire and pelted him with Sunfire. Eventually he dropped. I approached the corpse and noted there was a draugr to the right. And another to the left. Both were active and moving. I rolled backwards and let Erik hit one while I used Sunfire on the other. A frantic moment of combat and we were both breathing hard but victorius. I healed the wound on my head and Erik applied healing to himself. I casually jumped a pressure trigger and snagged a soul stone before it could fire whatever spell was in the stand. I also snagged a stamina potion and handed it to Erik, along with a healing potion I’d found earlier. He will probably need them before I do.

 

We descended another staircase and when I crept into a chamber with a grate on the floor, the gate I’d passed under crashed shut. I scuttled away, firebolting two draugr in quick succession, then two more a moment later. Satisfied, I found the pull-chain and let Erik enter, then the chain on the wall to open the floor. This gave us access to a spiral staircase, a locked door with a pull-release, and the skeleton of Svaknir the bard and his forbidden book. I read the King Olaf’s Verse and found many lines were crossed out. It appeared to be a work in progress. The ghost nodded to me and vanished. Back up the stairs and past the downed draugr before arriving at a no-longer locked door. The ghost fired a spell at it and it swung open for us. We entered at a crouch, then stood as I realized it was a hallway with one of those famous spinning doors at the end. Runil had told me about those, and I looked at the code engraved on the Ruby Claw. Turn the lock to show the right symbols, press and turn the key and the door began to spin, then dropped into the floor. I stepped back, stowing the claw in my knapsack, and crouched. We move forward and then up the stairs. Beyond was a grand chamber with a lot of seated draugr, around half of them still active and waiting. I couldn’t tell which half so I firebolted each one, with a pause to refill mana. It was slow, but effective, leaving me enough to burn the ones that stood up. Repeat twenty times and eventually the chamber was clear. Then I spotted some on the back wall, and on a raised staircase. Those too. Finally I stepped into the shallow water.

 

“Olaf. Your time is at hand!” the ghost managed to hiss, pulling a ghostly sword and charging the prime sarcophagus. I watched from below, firebolting the draugr that emerged as the coffin lid blew off. It had a black sword of some kind of dark metal, a pointy helmet with horns on it, and hissed spells that emerged like some kind of shout. I kept hitting it. After a while enough hits by me and the ghostly Svaknir brought the undead to its knees and I finished it off. We rose to full height and climbed up to the dais. Svaknir’s ghost played a ghostly lute, then faded away. I checked the seared corpse, finding a key, the sword, which I handed to Erik, and some coin. But the wall beyond kept calling to me. I walked over to it like a man possessed and saw blue lettering sear into my mind and a shout of men’s chorus cheer me on, somehow.

 

That was weird.

 

We opened the door with a key, found few treasures in the chest, though a better mage robe was welcome so I replaced it. Magic had kept it clean and maintained for centuries. I felt like my mana was refilling faster. We found the lever to exit the treasury and then left the tomb behind minutes later. Breathing clean air without bone dust and whatever diseases we’d stirred up, we head back to Solitude.

 

A day later Viarmo sang the Edda we’d “fixed” to the Jarl Elisif, a very pretty woman, and her courtiers. That night we held the festival outside the college building and burned Olaf in effigy. Considering we’d looted his undead corpse the day before, it was fitting to burn him again.

 

“So I’m a bard now?” I confirmed.

 

“Yes. Yes. They really like you. And here’s your bequest,” Viarmo said, passing me most of the coins Elisif had given him for my efforts. I gave Erik a share and we drank spiced wine, talked to the single women, and didn’t go to bed alone. Turns out that one palace maid was a wildcat in bed.