Chapter 25

Chapter 25

     Around midnight Odahviing landed in the center of the Stormcloak camp with a thump that rocked the ground and caused a myriad of shouts and screams.  I dashed out of the command tent and was almost bowled over by two panicking soldiers.  “He’s a friend!” I shouted over the din.  “Hold your fire!”  Odahviing merely swished his tail.

     “Hold your fire!” I shouted again, just to make sure everyone had heard me.  The soldiers finally quieted down, although many had bows already drawn and the rest had hands on their sword hilts. 

     I don’t know what I had expected, but I had somehow thought that Odahviing would be a little more discreet than this.  Maybe circled overhead and roared until he had my attention, not just landed in the center of a hostile camp.  It was too late for anything else now, though, so I cut to the point and asked, “What did you find?”

     The torchlight glinted off the dragon’s scales as he shifted his weight.  “The Dragon Killer is indeed in Helgen, Dovahkiin.  Many souls in one body emit a beacon like the burning sun.”

     The ranks of soldiers exchanged glances, muttering quietly to each other, confused looks on most faces.

     “Quiet,” I ordered in annoyance, half toward them and half toward Odahviing.  Dragons apparently didn’t know the meaning of private conversations or confidential information.

     “There is more, Dovahkiin.  I have flown far and wide, high and low, and yet never have I smelled as many different dragons in one place as I scented over Helgen.  I saw none of my brethren, yet they are there, out of sight.  I estimate their numbers to be greater than ten.”  Contrary to the dragon’s last statement, this one merely brought stunned silence.

     “Ten dragons?” I voiced in disbelief.  “Where by all the gods did he find ten dragons?”

     “I do not know, Dovahkiin, but you are sorely outmatched,” Odahviing pointed out unhelpfully.

     I bit back a sarcastic reply.  “Thank you,” I said instead.

     “You are going to lose this fight, Dovahkiin,” the dragon pointed out. 

     There were ominous mutters in the ranks.  “Quiet,” I ordered again, but with no real authority behind the order.  It was true.  Why not go ahead and admit defeat?  Unless we received reinforcements soon we were going to lose Whiterun, and if the Imperials took the city and destroyed a good part of our army in the battle we had no chance.  “Do you have any suggestions?” I asked Odahviing rather tartly.

     “Allow my brethren and me to fight with you.”

     Odahviing was just full of surprises tonight.  “And why would you want to do that?” I asked, my voice full of suspicion. 

     “Those of us who lived in the First Era remember Miraak and his thirst for power.  If the Dragon Killer defeats your Stormcloaks, he will seek to enslave the dragon race.  I and others will not allow this to happen.”

     I hesitated.  My list of allies had grown exceptionally thin, and how could we fight dragons except with dragons?  I looked around me and saw varying degrees of fear, confusion, and realization.  Well, if I had wanted to keep a low profile as the Dragonborn that hope was just shot to Oblivion with a Daedric arrow.

     “Very well Odahviing.”  I raised my voice so that all surrounding us could hear.  “Welcome to the Stormcloak army.”

     He raised his head high into the air.  “I shall go in search of other dragons who will understand the need for them to fight.  We will defeat our enslaved brethren and rid this world of the Dragon Killer.”  He raised his wings and took off with an earthshattering roar.

     The camp was utterly silent, so quiet that the slight humming of a nirnroot in the distance could be heard as clearly as a trumpet blowing.  “Well?” I demanded loudly.  “Don’t you all have jobs to do?”

     The soldiers dispersed, most giving me black looks.  I swallowed my trepidation at the whole business and headed back into the command tent.  Gods, but the captains and Jarl Vignar were not going to be pleased.  And Cerawyn didn’t even realize that I was Dragonborn yet.  When news reached her I had no doubt that she would come storming back out of Jorrvaskr and demand more explanations.

     When Brunwulf had given me the authority to make any commands I deemed necessary for the defense of the city, I somehow doubted that inviting dragons into the camp had been included. 

     This was why I was more suited to working alone than being in command.  When the important decisions such as this came along, I had a tendency to go on instinct and choose a path alone rather than seek counsel.  But in this situation what else was there to do?  We needed allies, not enemies, and what better allies to have than dragons?  As long as Odahviing’s interests ran parallel to ours, we could trust him.

     Well, I wanted to think Odahviing’s decision stemmed from parallel interests.  More than likely the dragon was just raring for a good fight.

     I heard the flap of the tent rustle open behind me and held back a sigh, preparing myself to meet the onslaught of questions and complaints.

     After nearly two hours of talking I managed to convince the captains and the Jarl that allying ourselves with the dragons was necessary and that they would not pose a threat to us.

     Well, sort of convinced.  When they left they looked nearly as unhappy and wary as they had when they entered, but at least now I wouldn’t have to worry about them ordering an attack on the dragons.

     And it really was dragons now.  Odahviing had left for two days and returned with not one, not two, but three more dragons.  What was worse was that they seemed to think that since I had formally welcomed them into the army, they could stay with the army.  All four dragons were curled up in various places about the camp, and one that was apparently much younger than the rest kept walking around and watching the soldiers as they went about their duties.

     Needless to say, this did not go over well.  Not that I blamed them.  Having an enormous beast crouch behind you and peer over your shoulder as you made stew in a pot was not a thing many people could say they were accustomed to.

     Not only that, but rumors were flying from soldier to soldier like wildfire.  Apparently a soldier who had spent much of his early life studying history had told the story of the Dragonborn Miraak to a few more soldiers, then they had repeated the tale to others, then the captains had heard it as well.  I had experienced the misfortune of hearing one of these renditions in passing, and if I was to believe the woman telling it then I had best throw down my swords now because Miraak could transform into a gigantic dragon made purely of ice and fire that could Shout without using its voice.

     If nothing else, at least I could be grateful that this wasn’t the case.

     I leaned tiredly against the tent pole, noting the bulk of one of the dragons rising above the tents.  He was sleeping, but everyone gave him as wide a berth as possible. 

     Silsivhir minced past, following the blacksmith who kept looking back nervously.  He got distracted partway past the command tent and sat down on his haunches to watch two soldiers spar, narrowly missing a tent with his tail.

     The two men stopped mid-blow when they saw him as though afraid a sudden move would set him off.  “Oh, don’t stop on account of me,” Silsivhir insisted.  Very uncomfortably they continued the match, going between trying to watch the dragon and fending off each other’s blows. 

     I let out a quiet snort of laughter, then just as quickly the grin slid off my face.  Braith and her small group of cohorts were sneaking around the far side of the clearing around the command tent, giggling and laughing amongst themselves.  The children had been running errands between the camp and the city, but that was before the dragons had joined us. 

     Before I could do anything Braith stepped forward and spoke to Silsivhir.  “Hello,” she said boldly.

     The dragon turned around, knocking the dueling pair over.  He loomed over the children and cocked his head to the side to see them better.  “You are very small humans.” 

     “Can we touch your scales?” she asked a little shyly.  “They look like beautiful gemstones.”

     At that Silsivhir puffed up like a bloated slaughterfish.  “They are rather grand, aren’t they?  Yes, you may,” he said imperiously.

     I scribbled down a mental note that dragons were extremely susceptible to flattery and tucked it into the corner of my brain reserved for things I would most likely never need to know.

     In no time at all the children were clambering over the dragon like he was a family horse, giggling as they ran underneath his belly and tugged on the spines of his tail.

     I was torn between being terrified he would get tired of this and simply eat them and being afraid that one of the children would impale themselves on one of his spikes.  Shuffling my feet, I glanced around, wondering whether I ought to put a stop to this.

     Then I noticed that the passing soldiers’ eyes were widening in disbelief at this spectacle, and I realized that if the grown men saw children playing with complete safety around the dragons then it would help to set their minds at rest as well.  Glancing at Silsivhir I noted that his eyes were half shut and he looked more likely to fall asleep like a cat in front of a fireplace than make trouble. 

     Unbelievable.  Yawning and pushing myself away from the tent pole, I made my way through the camp to the clearing Odahviing had chosen as his own resting place.  His head rested on his paws, but his dark eyes followed the progress of the soldiers moving about.

     I sat on the ground next to his head, partly because I didn’t feel like having a standing conversation and partly as a gesture of trust.  “I know I didn’t ask for a complete evaluation of Helgen, but if you could provide me with a few more details I’d be grateful.”  Odahviing had found out that Miraak was in Helgen.  Now, what to actually do with that information depended on several things.

     “What kind of details?” the dragon asked, turning one golden eye toward me. 

     “Let’s start with what condition the city was in.  Were the walls and guard towers rebuilt?”

     Odahviing thought for a moment.  “The walls and gates are solid and built of newly felled trees.  Of the three guard towers, two still stand.”

     I didn’t even remember three guard towers, but then, the one and only time I had visited Helgen I had been rather busy escaping an execution and a dragon.  “Which tower?”

     “The guard tower on the easternmost side of the city.”

     From what I remembered, that side of Helgen was snugged up against the mountains.  An approach from that direction would be difficult, if not impossible, so from a tactical standpoint it made sense to rebuild that one last.  I briefly considered asking about the patrols, but I doubted the dragon would have noticed something like that.  At any rate, he hadn’t been around the city long enough to note patterns and shifts, which would likely only take place once an hour at the shortest.  “Can you give me an estimate of the number of soldiers?”

     “From those I saw walking in the city and the number of tents, I would set the number at around two hundred, but there was no way to tell how many of your kind resided in the keep.”  Odahviing stretched one leg out.

     I thanked the dragon and walked away, suddenly unable to keep still.  Up until now I hadn’t had time to think between convincing people the dragons weren’t a threat and also watching them out of the corner of my eye to be sure that they truly weren’t a threat.  Silsivhir’s actions had helped convince me that at least two of the dragons were (for the moment) really on our side, so I felt slightly less concerned about walking out of the busy camp for a while. 

     Moving slowly, I headed up the road that led toward the Western Watchtower.  I had traversed this same road a hundred times in my travels, but this time I found my gaze lingering on elusive aspects of the scenery that I had never noticed before.  That pile of large rocks was a well-known landmark, but what about that bush a few feet from it?  I wondered how many times I had walked or ridden past that bush and no more noticed it than a pebble in the road. 

     I was in command of the defense of an entire city and here I was thinking about the scenery.  Quietly I sat down on one of the rocks, forcing my mind to less pleasant matters. 

     First, the scouts.  Upon hearing Odahviing’s account of Helgen’s defenses, I had realized that Miraak had no need to torture the captured Stormcloak scouts to learn the same information about Whiterun.  He could simply send a dragon or two to make a quick flyover.  Therefore, much as I loathed to admit this even to myself, a rescue mission had become completely pointless to even consider.  

     Also, now that I had time to cool down and think, going in with my sword half-drawn in yet another attempt to kill Miraak was also pointless.  Well, not pointless, but dangerous and stupid.  I had attempted the same thing once before when he was less powerful and almost been killed, and the circumstances had not changed much since then.  Sure, I knew the Death Shout now, but I was still missing one word of it and I would have to get close to use it at all.

     Maybe I was being overly dramatic….  I mean, Miraak would have to conquer the entirety of Skyrim to win.  There were a lot of guards and soldiers who could and would fight that he would have to go through first.  The only problem was that with dragons he didn’t even need to go through those people, the dragons could either burn them to death en masse or eat them.  Or both….

     It all boiled down to dragons and the man controlling them.  If I could stop him, I could stop the army.  Maybe with Odahviing and the other dragons it would be possible, but I didn’t even entirely trust them yet. 

     I went through a couple more scenarios before I decided that one, thinking was making my head ache and I had had enough of those for a lifetime, and two, I ought to get back to the camp.  Accordingly I stood up, said goodbye to my friend the bush, and headed back into the cluster of tents, people, and lights. 

     I pushed aside the flap of the command tent and was about to set foot inside when a voice hailed me from behind.  I turned around and gave the owner of the voice a glare that no dragon would ever be capable of matching.

     The messenger either couldn’t see my intimidating glare on account of the darkness or didn’t care.  “Got something I’m supposed to deliver.  Your hands only.”  She held out a folded paper.

     I snatched it instantly, swung around, and practically dashed into the tent, afraid if I looked at the woman for one second longer I would slice her head off.  I leaned against the table momentarily and concentrated on calming myself down, and only then allowed myself to look at the seal on the letter.

     Maven Black-Briar’s seal. 

     I stared at the image carefully pressed into the wax, wondering what reason Maven Black-Briar could possibly have for wanting to contact me.  Maven was one of the few people who knew that I was Dragonborn and Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild.  Little escaped that woman’s knowledge, and I made no effort to hide how much I disliked her and the fact that she had a very sharp and heavy axe to hold over my head if she needed to.  She also knew that revealing me to be the Guildmaster would lose her the influence and friendship of the Guild, so the axe was double edged, but I doubted that would stop her in a time of extreme need.

     Well, extreme need to her.  The extreme needs of other people didn’t even make passing concerns for her.

     I broke the seal and narrowed my eyes at its contents.  The note was clearly written in Maven’s elegant script, but it contained exactly ten words.

     The Bee and Barb, noon, 8th of Last Seed, Fredas.

 

     There wasn’t even a signature.  But then, the most influential family in Skyrim hardly needed to pen a signature if the letter had the Black-Briar seal.

     Clearly this was a summons to a meeting with Maven, but I wish she hadn’t been so cryptic and also given me a bit more warning.  Fredas was tomorrow, and I had a defense to command.  I couldn’t justify traveling to Riften on a whim from someone who most likely wanted to ask me for a favor.  Somehow, actually, I doubted that a simple favor was all Maven wanted.  She could go to Brynjolf if she wanted something from the Guild and almost anybody other than me if she wanted anything for some other reason.  Besides, she had to know that Whiterun was in danger of being attacked, and even if she didn’t know I had been given command of its defenses, she would realize that the Dragonborn would be with the army. 

     Despite myself, I was quite curious to know what she wanted and if Odahviing would consent to give me a ride and we left early I could reach Riften by noon tomorrow and be back sometime that night.  Sending someone else was out of the question because I had no idea what she wanted to discuss, but being away from Whiterun for more than a day at most was also out of the question, so this trip hinged on Odahviing’s willingness to help. 

     Maven must know about the dragons too, I realized abruptly.  By horse the journey from Whiterun to Riften would take at least two and a half days, and I wouldn’t have been able to meet Maven even if I wanted to.  Therefore she must have known about Odahviing, if not by name then at least by rumor, before she sent the letter.

     It didn’t surprise me, but it did annoy me that she knew so much.  It made her dangerous, not only to me but also the Stormcloaks if she decided to sell information to the Imperials. 

     I didn’t want to deal with Maven right now, I really didn’t.  Unfortunately, since there was no other way to find out what she wanted than to go myself, I would have to deal with her.

     I just hoped that this time, as with the dragons, our desires ran parallel, otherwise… well, I guess I would find out.