Chapter 3

Chapter 3

     The true Dragonborn.  The words echoed in my head as I recalled what the two masked men had said.  No one but a Dragonborn could truly destroy a dragon by absorbing its soul, and these dragons had definitely been absorbed. 

     I was starting to put a little more stock into what they had said now.  Dragons weren't easy to kill, and there were several corpses scattered across the mountain.  Someone who could kill that many dragons wasn't really someone to be trifled with, and I wasn't ashamed to admit I valued my own skin more than revenge. 

     Never in my life had I run away from a fight, but I was seriously reconsidering my decision to come to Solstheim.  Something strange was going on here, and while I had plenty of experience with strange, this was rocketing up even my threshold.  I fidgeted with the hilt of my Daedric sword, weighing the risks.  I could at least check out the temple since I was already here.  If things went sour I could always back out.

     Decided, I continued up the stairs, eyeing the dragon bones doubtfully.

     As I climbed I carefully took stock of my surroundings.  The stone pillars and rises of the temple were surrounded by wooden scaffolding, and more hypnotized people were standing around them with hammers.  Ruins?  This temple wouldn't be ruined for much longer, that was for sure. 

     I wonder how long they've been working on it.  I stopped to look more closely at a few of the workers, noting that they completely ignored me just like the others I had seen.  The incessant banging of hammers on stone was really starting to get on my nerves; the sound seemed to echo in my helmet, bouncing around until it drove into my ears as a dagger point.  Briefly I wondered what would happen if I attacked them, but I realized that they could do nothing about their situation.  Upon resuming the climb, I soon stopped being annoyed at the sounds and began hating the stairs.  Have you ever tried to climb stairs wearing 60 pounds of armor?  It's no pleasure hike.  My calves were burning sharply by the time I finally reached the top and paused for breath, leaning against a stone pillar.

     I found myself looking down some more stairs into a round depressed area of stone in the top of the temple.  Ribs of stone curved up and inward toward the center, meeting above a column of stone that was uncomfortably similar to the Earth stone.  Stone veins were carved around stone arches, causing the jaded sunlight to fall in dappled specks upon the stone floor.  Stone, stone, stone.... I was beginning to be royally sick of stones.  Stones were one reason I hated Markarth so much.  How anyone could live in that pit was beyond me.  Or was it because I had been thrown unjustly into Cidnha Mine and forced to work, then escaped with the leader of the Forsworn?  Hm.

     A voice broke in upon my ponderings, and I shook the thoughts away in a flash.  A woman came into sight from behind the stone in the middle.  "You must fight against what is controlling you!  We must leave this place!  Ysra, can you hear me?  You must leave this place!"  She caught sight of me and abruptly ceased her attempts to break one of the people out of their trance.  "You there.  What brings you to this place?  Why are you here?"

     I sized her up, wondering how to respond.  She was wearing what appeared to be some kind of Nordic armor that I had seen before but never used or even looted.  Straight blonde hair fell to her shoulders, and her voice had a stern tone to it that implied she was used to being obeyed.  I, being my recalcitrant self, usually automatically disliked people who had that voice, because generally they expected me to obey them as well. 

     "Why don't we start with who you are?" I asked pointedly.

     She pursed her lips together but answered me.  "I am Frea of the Skaal.  I am here either to free my people, or avenge them."

     "Free them from what?"

     "I am unsure. Something has taken control of most of the people of Solstheim. It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the Stones, the very land itself. My father Storn, the shaman, says Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible." 

Well, she was a chatty one.  "This Miraak tried to have me killed," I stated, hoping she knew more.

     "Then you and I both have reason to see what lies beneath us. Let us go. There is nothing more I can do here. The Tree Stone and my friends are beyond my help for now. We need to find a way into the temple below."

     Earth Stone, Tree Stone, Pastry Stone.....  "You're here by yourself?"

     "There are a few of us left unaffected by this curse. My father, Storn, the shaman, protects them in the village. I fashioned an amulet to guard me against whatever has taken hold of the Skaal, but it is the only one of its kind. If I cannot find a way to save them, then there is no hope for my people."

     Yes Frea, I'm pretty sure I know your father's name now that you've told me twice.  I had no desire to go anywhere with this Skaal-

     What was a Skaal, anyway?

     -since I worked best alone.  But then, if there were more of those masked priests down there I could probably use a little help.  She seemed determined to enter the temple no matter what I said or did, so we may as well go together.  I hated when I somehow managed to talk myself into something logical that went against my gut feelings....

     "Fine," I said shortly.  "Let's-"

     A firebolt struck the stones uncomfortably near my right foot.  I jumped with a startled curse, spinning around.  Two of the priests had come up from the stairwell while we were talking and, if they hadn't had abysmal aim, I would be a roasted slaughterfish right now.  With a war cry that was more a slightly garbled shout, I drew my sword and attacked them, sensing Frea do the same at my left shoulder.  At least she had enough sense not to get on my right in the way of my sword.  A couple seconds later the fight was over with me (okay, Frea too) having come out victorious and unscathed.  She might have been obnoxiously imperious, but I could no longer deny that the Skaal could swing her double war axes. 

     "-go," I finished, leading the way.  She followed me without comment, sheathing her weapons.  I slid my Daedric sword back into its sheath as well.  If I needed it again I could draw it quickly enough.

     The stairwell curved to the left along with the circumference of the temple as we walked downward, though not sharply enough to cause dizziness.  At the bottom was a large iron door, the creepiness of which I had only seen the match in the most ancient locations in Skyrim.  With some trepidation I pushed it open, noting with some surprise that it swung smoothly open on obviously recently oiled hinges.  Frea shut the door behind us as we passed through.  The hallway was dimly lit with torches, the flickering lights casting dancing shadows upon the walls.  At least it wasn't dark.  I had actually only rarely found unlit tunnels in Skyrim, for much of the ancient ruins I was wont to explore were full of draugr, the ancient corpses of dead Nords.  The draugr seemed to think it was their responsibility to make sure adventurers didn't have to carry torches, which was fine with me.  It was a bit hard to loot chests and urns, carry a sword, and manage a torch at the same time.

     "I will wait here while you check these rooms for anything of use," she said, indicating the doorways to either side of the corridor. 

     What, she didn't need 'anything of use'?  Ill-temperedly I took a few healing potions that some fool had left just sitting there, found one chest with a few gold pieces and a Nordic bow in it, and returned to the passage.  I didn't really need anything since I always kept my pockets fully stocked, but extra healing potions always came in handy. 

     We continued on through the corridor and the door at the end, where we both halted abruptly and at the same time.  A stone pressure plate, carved to look like just another piece of the floor, blocked the entrance.  For someone who had been exploring tunnels for a living for years, pressure plates were painfully obvious, but I was a bit surprised that Frea had seen it as well.  My esteem of her rose just the tiniest amount.  Before either of us could step over the plate, two masked men ran at us from somewhere in the room, shouting some more nonsense about Miraak being the true Dragonborn and whatnot.  I was quite tired of people trying to deny who I was, so I jumped over the plate and killed the one I engaged with just a few strokes.  Frea dispatched her opponent speedily as well and we continued down the stairs.

     "Traps could be anywhere," Frea warned me.  "Miraak was trying to take power here, and protect himself in the process."

     Why did I feel like she knew more about Miraak then she was letting on?  Of course, I hadn't really asked her about him, but neither did she seem overly willing to offer up the information.  What was it about this person that was so terrifying and mysterious? 

     There was a gate just before what appeared to be a main room, but there was typically a pull chain just hanging there in the most obvious place imaginable.  What was the point of having a gate at all if anyone could just pull a chain and open it?  With this sarcastic thought in mind I pulled it and opened the gate.  Frea immediately brushed past me and walked over to what appeared to be a guardrail around a square pit in the ground.  I followed her and realized that it was more like an abyss.  Anyone who fell down there wasn't going to survive.  Conveniently there were stairs to the left that went around the obstacle in a downward slope, so it shouldn't be much of an issue unless we were attacked on the stairs.  Frea leaned against the guardrail and looked up at a group of cages hanging from the ceiling.  Some still contained the crumbling skeletons of the tortured people who had once been hung there, and I turned away in disgust.

     "I do not wish to imagine the kinds of things that happened in this chamber," she muttered, though still looking up at them in morbid fascination.  "Who were these poor souls trapped in these cages?  What torture did they suffer at Miraak's hands?  Was it in service to the dragons, or for his own purposes?"

     In service to the dragons.  There was more proof that Miraak had been and apparently still was Dragonborn.  Not everyone who had served the dragons were Dragonborn, but still....

     The growling of draugr sounded in my ears, and I looked down the long stairway.  Two draugr looked up at us, somehow making their grunting-growling sounds even though their vocal cords had long been rotted away.  I started shooting at them with fireballs while Frea brilliantly sprinted down the stairs to fight them hand to hand, and between both of us they were soon properly dead.

     Frea came back up the stairs and pointed to the right and at higher balcony area.  "There may be something of value up there.  The stairs appear to be destroyed, but I have no doubt you could find another way up."

     I supposed it was nice not to be doubted, but I didn't appreciate being sent all over the place.  "I don't really need anything.  If you want something, I also have no doubt that you could find a way up as well."

     She wasn't even listening to me.  Instead, she was already walking back down the stairs, one hand on one of her war axes. 

     This was going to be a long and vexing exploration.