"Let me see it again. Show me your Yol, your fire." Paarthurnax ordered.
Every attempt at spewing a plume of flame had proven useless against the powerful winds and endless snowfall.
No sooner than she could get even a spark to leap from her mouth it was doused.
"Fod nii los fin ven daar krif hi, if it is the wind that stops you, kreh nii wah hin fen, bend it to your will."
Bend it to my will. Maxine repeated in her head.
She reached out to the energies surrounding her, the ones that Paarthurnax had told her floated all through Skyrim, and breathed them in, allowing them to gather inside her.
Then she pushed them all out. "Lok Vah Koor!"
At her bark, the wind ceased and settled upon the ground, bowing at her feet. The flurries of snow spun themselves out and the clouds from hence they came parted to allow the sun to shine upon the mountain and upon her.
"Yes." He hissed, "very good. Now... your fire."
This time was different.
She parted her lips and shouted, "Yol!"
A ring of fire burst from her lips and sailed across the mountaintop, crashing into the word wall and melting the snow which lay all around its base.
Paarthurnax raised his head to the sky and blew his own pillar of fire.
"Sossedov los mul!" He cried, rocking the whole mountain with his voice. "The dragon blood is strong in you."
His head swung back down to her and he beamed with pride. "You are Dovahkiin."
The feeling quickly left him, however.
His lips drew tight against his teeth as his jaw tightened. The light in his eyes faded as they narrowed.
He dismounted the word wall and traipsed through the snow, each footfall creating loud booms and leaving large divots in their wake.
"But you do not come all this way to be taught fire from an old dovah, an old dragon." He muttered to himself.
"Paarthurnax?"
His horns flashed in the sunlight as he turned back around to address her.
"No. You come to learn how to defeat Alduin."
"Alduin?"
Her confusion was troubling to him.
"So, you do not yet know your Dez, your fate. As Dragonborn you must protect Skyrim from the dovah. That includes their leader Alduin. It is at his Uth, his command that the dilon dovahs, the dead dragons, rise."
"Wait Alduin is resurrecting dragons?"
"Indeed. He searches for the burial sights of our fallen kin and bel niin fah praan and summons them from their rest. He is the reason the dragons have returned."
So, what Maxine read was true.
The dragons had been slain in a war many years ago and now returned to Skyrim.
What kind of mess had she just walked into.
"Fod hi hind wah viik Alduin, if you wish to defeat Alduin, hi fen siiv fin kel, you need to find the Elder Scroll."
"Elder Scroll?"
"Yes. It is an artifact of great power. One that archives both what has happened and what is to happen. You will need the knowledge of an Elder Scroll to defeat Alduin."
"I don't understand. Why can't I slay him like any other dragon?"
"Because, rok los ni naan dovah, he is not just any other dragon. He is the first born of Akatosh, the father of time and the most acclaimed of his creations. It is under his name that the dragons ruled in the Merethic Era and enslaved the races of men. Now he seeks to restore his kingdom."
Maxine figured Crystal wouldn't be too happy if she returned to this world and found it destroyed and ruled by dragons.
Besides, if this was what the Dragonborn was meant to do, and what Crystal was meant to do, then she couldn't abandon the people of Skyrim.
"So where can I find this Elder Scroll?"
"Zu'u dreh ni mindok. I am uncertain. I know little of what has passed below in the long years I have lived up here. You should consult the wisdom of the Blades. Their order lives to serve the Dragonborn and one among them, an elderly scholar, can help you. You must travel to Sky Haven Temple which rests on a mountainside near the city of Markarth."
Markarth.
She would have to ask Brynjolf where that town was.
"There is nothing more I can give you." He said, exhaling a big puff of smoke.
"Thank you Paarthurnax." Maxine said and bowed.
As she was walking away from him however, he called after her.
"Traveler."
She stopped, shaken by the word, and looked back at him.
"Do not give up hope on returning to your Hofkiin, your home. Nii fen bo voth tiid. It will come with time."
***
The tantalizing smell of mead and meat drifted through the woods, flowing between every one of the thick, large pine trees.
The general heard the quiet clinking of armor behind him over the faint hoots of owls and chirping of crickets. His troops were almost in place.
A light skinned elf with long, pointed ears approached him on his left side, his long blonde hair sparking in the dull moonlight. "My mages are in place. As are my warriors. Yours?"
The general was glad he was wearing a helmet that not only covered his short black hair and brown eyes but also some of his face as well. It hid the look of distaste which accompanied the elf's arrival.
He hated working with the high elves of the Thalmor.
They were slippery, cruel, and ambitious and the one who stood beside him was no different.
"Yes, we are ready." He said, through gritted teeth.
The elf grimaced at his clearly shown bitterness but chose not to lash out. He'd get what he deserved soon. They all would.
Raising his hand, the general signaled for his men to slowly begin approaching.
His 'friend' did likewise, and they began to move in, swords flashing in the moonlight and faces bearing bloodthirsty expressions.
***
Galmar Stone-Fist swung his war hammer down into another Imperial's helmet.
He was a bear of a man, standing tall at 6'6 while muscles so big they threated to rip through the bearskin armor he wore over them.
If that wasn't intimidating enough he had a face which seemed to be carved from stone and was accented by a pair of penetrating, grey eyes and a short blonde beard which was just starting to grey at the edges.
The sound of crushing bones brought a smile to his face.
"Hehehe! Still as breakable as before!" He jeered and a few soldiers around him gave a loud cheer in agreement.
Though most should've been overwhelmed by the sudden ambush, Galmar found it rather enjoyable.
The Imperials were easy to manage and just as weak as he remembered them... the elves not so much.
Thalmor mages were taught to be ruthless and to think nothing of those they attacked. They learned how to drown out cries of pain and turn mercy into cruelty.
Such was what they did now as they lashed out against his soldiers with every spell imaginable.
Fireballs whizzed across the battlefield and scorched anything in their path, tents, trees, men. It wasn't long before the stale smell of burnt flesh was ripe in the air.
In other cases, mini blizzards spun from their palms and froze those who they fell upon solid.
From their ranks came a single high elf wearing black and gold robes of high distinction and a grin of wicked intentions.
He had a particular stink about him as he strode onto the battlefield.
The sights and smell of battle filled him with a disgusting glee that even Galmar found unnerving.
He looked at Galmar, whom he knew was the general of the camp, and raised his hand into the air, his other hand reaching to an amulet around his neck.
A red glow shed off of him and swirled around him and his allies.
Galmar felt a tingling in his feet.
he looked down to see them begin to leave the ground, first slowly but with increasing speed.
In fact, anything not surrounded by the glow also began to fly up into the air. From loose rocks, to the burning tents, swords, soldiers, everything.
They continued to climb into the sky, uselessly flailing about.
The elf watched them struggle and laughed. "You think you've won Stormcloaks? You may have won Solitude with steel and sword, but I will win all of Tamriel with this!"
Under his grip, the amulet hummed.
"What goes up," he hissed as he thrust his hand up even higher and Galmar and his men soared above the treetops, "must come down!"
With nothing more than a snap of his finger they all plummeted back down with nothing to do but watch in terror at the approaching ground.
They fell before the foot of the elf and had any of them still been conscious they'd have heard the sound of his sickening laughter pound against their skulls and echo into the night.
***
If Paarthurnax told us we should head to Markarth what on earth are we doing on the road to Windhelm?" Brynjolf yelled from behind Maxine.
"Visiting an old friend!" She called back to him and removed a small piece of paper from her satchel.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means Ralof sent us this letter insisting we visit Windhelm to see the coronation of Ulfric Stormcloak."
He flicked his reigns and Shadowmere trotted alongside Preston.
"Yeah but don't we have other things to do?"
"Well yes but... come on this is a once and a lifetime thing... well for me anyway."
Brynjolf was smart enough to know that once her mind was made up, she wasn't changing it. Regardless he rolled his eyes and moaned. "Fine. But we make this quick and once it's over we say our goodbyes and hightail it to Markarth."
There was silence and then.
"Windhelm might not be such a bad idea after all. We can pick up some more supplies and maybe find a cart to take us to Markarth."
Now it was a good idea, Maxine thought and chuckled to herself.
A wooden post rested by the road ahead and the sign nailed to it had Windhelm etched onto it.
"Hey Brynjolf! I think we're-"
The sight of the town took the words right from her mouth.
Massive, tall stonewall surrounded the city and large, wooden doors stood between the outsideworld and Windhelm.
Large blue and yellow banners had been pegged into the walls and bore a symbolresembling the head of a bear as they fluttered in the breeze.
A great chasm lay between the road and the city and below the stone bridge thatstretched over it, a large river gurgled and splashed over ice and rock.
The river let out into the sea which sat to the right of the town.
On that same side, boats and all manner of sea bound vessels crashed againstthe waves and drifted to and away from the docks.
At their approach, the guards opened the gates and allowed Maxine and Brynjolfto enter.
Once inside her jaw dropped.
The entire town was a mass of dark cedar wood and polished stone.
A single, stone, A frame building occupied the main street of the town and justbeyond it, a towering stone palace with a multi-layered roof that ended in apoint which scraped the sky.
From the main street, two roads diverged and ran along the inside of the wall.
Snow lazily sprawled across the roofs of houses and in the cracks between thestones on the floor.
Every window twinkled with firelight which glowed from behind their frostedsurface.
Smoke gracefully rose from chimneys and swirled upwards.
From each building and store, blue and yellow banners and decorations werestrung.
A small wooden stage had been constructed in front of the tavern for musiciansbut currently lay dormant.
In fact, the whole town seemed dormant for a place that was about to celebratea coronation.
Piles of wood stacked inside massive stone basins sustained fires which providedlight and warmth to those working and mulling about outside.
Up ahead was such a fire, with a dirt covered woman in tattered clothingwarming her hands by the flames.
Brynjolf and Maxine stepped up to the fire and tried to shake some of the coldfrom their bones.
The woman addressed Maxine. "Hello wanderer. What brings you toWindhelm?"
She looked at her across the fire.
She had short, tangled black hair and large, dark circles under her green eyes.Malnourishment was written all over her thin, bony appendages which were coveredby tanned skin.
It was obvious to Maxine that she was a beggar and had no place to go to getout of the cold.
"I came for the coronation though I'm beginning to fear I'm in the wrongtown."
She snorted. "You're not the only one. Seems people have no interest inthe crowing of Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim."
The way she recited "true High King of Skyrim" told Maxine that she was merelyrepeating another's thoughts. She must've been given that spiel quite a fewtimes.
"Aren't you happy about him taking the throne?"
"Me? I could care less. Way I see it I'm poor no matter who's in charge."
That was not how Ralof had spoken of Ulfric Stormcloak. From the way he hadspoken about him he was a just and heroic ruler who cared deeply for the peopleover whom he ruled.
Maxine took pity on this stranger and removed her backpack from her shoulders. Aftera bit of digging around she removed fifty gold coins and a soft wolf pelt andheld it toward the beggar. "Here."
The woman was taken aback. "No, no, no I couldn't take that." Shestammered but Maxine wouldn't hear it.
She threw the pelt over the women's shoulders and pushed the small coin pouchinto her hand. "Take it."
The woman grasped her hand and violently shook it. "Thank you, thank you!Divines bless your kind heart!"
After enjoying a few more minutes in the warmth of the fire, Maxine started towalk toward the palace but stopped when she heard the woman calling forher.
"Stranger! What is your name?"
"Maxine!"
"Well, Talos guide you Maxine!"
"Yeah Talos guide you... after you gave her my wolfpelt." Brynjolf mumbled.
"Hey if it's any consolation, Weylyn can sleep on top of you."
He scoffed and pulled open the palace doors, beckoning for Maxine and Weylyn togo inside.
She did and was met with a wave of heat coming from a massive fireplace on thelarge wall to her right.
The entire palace was built like a long, wide hallway with different wingssprouting off from one central room. It was very similar to Dragonsreach.
The central room held a large banquet table laden with silver chalices andplatters. Candelabras sat atop the handwoven table runner and gave the darkroom a bit of light. The rest of the light was provided by torches mounted onthe walls.
At the furthest end of the palace lie the kings throne. It was a massivestructure, taking up the entire back wall. Made entirely of stone, the seat wasdraped with the same blue and yellow banners that appeared everywhere in thetown. Above the throne hung a large shield bearing the same mark as the bannerson the walls, a bear.
Speaking of the throne, on it sat the Jarl, a burly Nord with a short beard, amustache and long blonde hair. His grey-blue eyes spoke of his stern demeanorand ironclad will.
He was dressed in robes of bear pelts but wore light chainmail underneath.
At the sounds of the doors slamming, he raised his eyes to meet the travelersas they approached the throne.
Maxine gave a sloppy bow and the Jarl gestured for her to rise.
She did so.
Opening his mouth, he spoke in the thickest, strongest voice Maxine had heard,the unmistakable voice of a leader. "Greetings traveler. My, have I heardmuch about you."
She had just opened her mouth to ask how when he answered her question.
"Your friend Ralof returned to me from Riverwood. He told me of your fightwith the beast there and how you warned Whiterun of the imposing dragon threat,then proceeded to kill one yourself. He regards you highly... and I now seewhy."
It took all she had to keep herself from blushing.
Ulfric was, in many ways, more regal and better mannered than any of the Nordsshe had met while in Skyrim. He held himself well, kept his chest out and hischin up but also sat on the throne as someone who had once lost it and fought hardto win it back.
"So, what brings such an honorable fighter here?"
She removed the letter from her pocket and handed it to him.
He read it carefully.
"We came to see our friend and to see the crowning."
Ulfric handed back the letter then laid his face in his hands. "Oh, how Iwish being King was easy," He sighed.
"Is there anything I could do to help?"
"Not unless you can change the hearts and minds of the people ofSkyrim."
Brynjolf laughed, "Oh you'll find she can be prettypersuasive."
"My King what do you mean by change their minds? What is it they arefailing to comprehend?"
Ulfric rose from his throne and paced the floor in front of it. "Somestill will not accept me as High King. I don't want to become king by force orby imposing myself upon these troubled people. Yes, the throne is my birthright,but I want them to see me as a leader whom respects the ways of old and of whomis a Nord in his heart but a king in his actions."
A troubling problem indeed.
To Maxine, actions were what spoke loudest, but she guessed that wasn't anoption as the coronation was so soon.
"You need something that all people of Skyrim cannot question. A sort ofsymbol or omen. Something from old. Something that appeals to their ethos.
Maxine raked her brain. She swore she'd read about something back at the Greybeardsthat could work.
"Wait! That's it! You are a king,but you have no crown. That's what you need!"
Ulfric stopped pacing and stood in front of her, frowning. "I don'tfollow."
"The Jagged Crown! You need the Jagged Crown!"
Ulfric's features lit up and his eyes sparkled with pure ambition. "KingHerald's mighty crown of dragon teeth and bones. Said to carry the power andspirit of every king who wore it since its creation. Not a badidea."
Brynjolf stepped forward and recited something Maxine had read. "Mawunleashing razor snow, of dragons from the blue brought down, births thewalking winter's woe, the High King in his Jagged Crown."
Ulfric turned his attention to the redhead, who he noticed for the first time."Oh, it's you."
Brynjolf shot him a lopsided smirk.
"You two know each other?" Maxine almost laughed out loud.
"Yes. Not long after Crystal joined the Stormcloaks she met me, and webegan traveling together. I joined her on a few great battles and me and Ulfricgrew... aquatinted."
He scoffed. "If by aquatinted you mean I caught you trying to steal goldfrom my vault..."
Brynjolf shrugged. "Once a thief always a thief. Besides a lot has changedsince then." His voice took a sour turn at the end of the statement andMaxine knew he was referring to Crystal.
"Well any friend of Crystals is welcome-"
"Sister."
"Pardon?"
"I'm her sister."
Ulfric was surprised. "Well any sister of the honorableStorm Blade is welcome in my palace as an honored guest."
A sudden crash echoed throughout the room as the doors flew open and in limpeda large muscular man, using his massive battle hammer as a crutch and holding aclump of half melted snow to his swollen eye.
"Galmar!" Ulfric rushed to the man's side and put an arm around hisshoulder.
He helped him to a side room that contained a large wooden table with a maplying on it and, in the furthest corner, a small cot.
After laying Galmar on the cot he called for his attendants to summon ahealer.
Maxine followed him into the side room, admittingly curious about the man, andstood behind Ulfric, looking over his shoulder at the injured man.
Ulfric rushed back to the door and thrust his head out into the hallway. "Where is that healer!" He cried andshe heard his voice booming throughout the throne room.
Maxine took her opportunity and, stepping up to the bedside, opened her glowingpalms. First, she brought her hands up to Galmar's face but didn't expect hiseyes to abruptly flutter open.
For a moment he stared at her, then he seized her wrists and squeezed with agrip of steel. "Who are you and what do you think you're doing!"
Maxine winced, he was going to break her wrists.
"Please, I'm a healer." She begged through gritted teeth.
He grumbled and seemed unconvinced but let go of her hands.
Her moves were slow and gentle as she placed her fingers on the blotchy, discoloredbruise on his face.
At her touch the skin healed and becamea normal color again. Even the scars that had marked the side of his facepatched themselves up.
Then she moved to his leg which was in worse shape.
It was bad, blood covered his armor and in order to get her hands on the wound shewould have to get the boot off.
Galmor wasn't exactly cooperative through the process but eventually sheslipped it off his swollen ankle and began to carefully prod the sensitive skinwith her light, soft fingers.
Once she was finished Galmar relaxed a bit. His breathing steadied and he laycompletely still on the bed.
"Thank you." He said quietly though didn't apologize for almostshattering her carpals.
"You're welcome. I think you're okay to get up, but I would rest abit."
"You don't have to tell me."
Sure, enough after only a few minutes he was sound asleep and Maxine andBrynjolf slipped out of the room and met Ulfric in the main room.
"Wuunferth! Where has he got to!" He roared; his rage geared towardhis steward who tried to reason with the enraged man but only babbleduselessly.
"Please my king we are sending for them right away-"
Maxine raised a hand. "Don't worry, your friend will be fine." Sheallowed the soft glow to emit once more from her palms.
Ulfric's anger died down and the heat left his cheeks. He quickly recovered hiscomposure. "You-You're a healer?"
"More or less. It's the only magic that I'm good at."
He grasped her hand almost as hard as Galmar had her wrists and shook it."Thank you uh-" it occurred to him that he had no idea what her namewas.
"Maxine."
"Thank you, Maxine. After he has had some food and rest then we will haveto ask what caused this."
She nodded and sensed that she should probably make herself scarce.
Ulfric probably had a lot to do and she'd hate to linger.
They began to head for the exit.
Night would be falling soon and all she wanted to do right now was sit in awarm blanket and drink some hot drink.
Ulfric called to her. "Where are you going?"
"To get a room at an Inn. I'll be back as soon as-"
"Oh heavens no! You think that I am going to allow Crystal's sister whomjust saved a man's life to sleep in an inn?" He scoffed, "you arestaying in the palace, in the best suite we have!" He gestured to hissteward and whispered something in his ear.
The steward scurried off into another room mumbling something about freshsheets and dinner.
"Please, that's really not-"
"Nonsense. You stay here tonight and tomorrow we will discuss this JaggedCrown matter and address Galmar's situation."
With that he took his place back on his throne, with a plethora of new thoughtsswirling around his mind like the whistling winds outside.