Almistyor
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Something Wicked Ch. 6
🕑 Added 2023-09-29 12:00:06 +0000 UTCJohn was no stranger to a stiff drink. More often than not, his job would require it. Not for any recreational purposes, mind you. All it did was to numb the pain.
Both literal, and figurative pain that is.
He’d seen more than enough people drink themselves into a stupor, losing all form of motor abilities from just a couple of sips. He’d also seen someone hold their liquor, despite the amount most likely being enough to down a man through sheer volume.
In those times, he’d also see those people breathe.
John hadn’t seen Alvor breathe for at least two minutes now, too busy drinking from the largest bottle of mead that the former assassin had ever seen.
Nyssa was staring at the scene with an amused smirk. John sighed as he grabbed the other man by the shoulder. It wouldn’t do for him to get knocked out when they were in the middle of an important discussion.
Almost reluctantly, the blacksmith pulled the bottle pack, though not before giving it one last look of longing. A stern look from John stopped him from doing anything.
“So,” Alvor clapped as Delphine came around with some food. John gave the woman a nod as Alvor continued, “Dragonborn, huh? Can’t say I expected that, lass.”
“I don’t know,” The Redguard started with a lilt as she reached for some of the pie, “After the whole ‘dragons are back’ fiasco, I lost all sense of what to expect.” She lifted the piece of pie to her mouth, “This is some damn fine pie.”
John nodded in agreement. She may not look like it, but Delphine knew how to cook, better than just about anyone else in Riverwood.
“So, I got the gist of it from Jarl Balgruuf. I don’t know if I really believe in it, I’ll be honest.” Nyssa shrugged as she continued to chew. Alvor stared at her with a slack jaw. Around them, John could notice more than one other person, all of whom were very much trying to look like they weren’t listening in, do the same.
“Not reall-seriously lass?”
“What? All I know is we went out to kill a dragon, after which I took some weird light out of it. Next thing I know, I’m a Thane, and the Jarl’s telling me that only some old hermits up on that mountain can answer my questions.”
“What is this Dragonborn in the first place?” John interjected. He had a feeling that had he not, the conversation would go on for hours. Nyssa’s face lit up at his question, gesturing wildly towards him.
“See? I’m not the only one that doesn’t know jack shit!”
Alvor quietly took a sip from his flagon, this one only filled with water instead of mead, “Right, head injury. Well, the long and short of it is, the Dragonborn is a mortal with the soul of a dragon. Legends say that one is brought to the world should it ever be in danger.”
“But they’re just legends?” Nyssa looked at Alvor with an intense look, “There’s no real way to tell if those stories are real, right?”
“They say that a Dragonborn would have an inherent ability to master the Thu’um. In fact, it’s likely why a lot of people have been flocking to the Stormcloaks lately - Ulfric Stormcloak’s murder of the High King with a Shout basically cemented his popularity amongst those who believe in him.”
“Shout, you say? Like this?”
FUS!
The world tilted on its axis. Pressure flooded the room. John could barely breathe. Around him, people shouted in alarm. Cutlery, food and people were thrown around. A wave of blue energy came around him as he himself felt gravity lose all meaning.
Then it was gone.
Clattering all over the room could be heard, as a deafening silence echoed around all of them. John barely held himself back from rushing at Nyssa. Especially as he saw the looks strewn around. Despite the veritable assault, of some sort of magic being thrown at them with no heed for their safety, almost all of them had looks of awe.
“By the Nine…” Alvor, who had mead and food spread across his body, stared in shock, “You really are Dragonborn…Then the dragons coming back…Gods! ”
“Alvor?” Nyssa looked at the man in worry, John doing the same when he saw the man hold his head in his hands.
He didn’t really understand the significance of what Alvor and the other residents put into the so-called ‘Dragonborn’. From what he could tell, it was a weighty title, though only for the locals. For Nyssa, it seemed like an unexpected revelation, one that neither she nor John truly knew the extent of.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just, need to get my bearings straight.” With a heavy sigh, Alvor sat back down on the bench he was thrown from and gestured for John to do the same, “Right, well, as much as I appreciate having learned all the stories my nan told me were real, I’m guessing that you’ll be cutting through Helgen to get to Ivarstead?”
“What remains of Helgen, but yes.”
“That place is a deathtrap.” John spoke up, staring at the woman with a frown, “The fires are still burning, the smoke is thick enough that going through there will be deadly without protection.”
John had firsthand experience with Helgen, after he had needed to come close to it for some of his odd jobs. Towering pillars of acrid smoke, burning fires that never died even in the harshest of snowfall. Even from Riverwood, you could smell the scent that came from burning wood when the wind blew in the right direction.
John had seen enough, lesser situations where men would die from smoke inhalation. Helgen was several orders of magnitude beyond that.
Thankfully, he seemed to have convinced Nyssa of that, as she frowned at his words, “Damn. Guess dragonfire is just that strong.” WIth a sigh, she downed her flagon and finished the last of her pie.
“Guess I’ll head back to Whiterun, maybe circle around the north to Ivarstead.” She gave one last nod to Alvor, who had composed himself a bit more, and was now in the process of cleaning his now-stained shirt.
“Wise choice. On that note, Thane or not, you’re still going to need to resupply, and I’ll be happy to provide if you need anything.”
“I can’t ask you for that.” Nyssa was looking at Alvor in surprise, just as much as John was. The blacksmith shook his head in denial.
“Nyssa, you saved Hadvar’s life. If giving you something to eat is the least I can do, then I’ll happily cook an entire feast.” Alvor gave the greataxe that had been propped to the side a glance, “Though, I’m less of a chef than a blacksmith. Could tune up your weapon for you if nothing else.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, before Nyssa nodded, “I’ll bring it in tomorrow morning. Thank you, I appreciate it.”
The three of them settled into companionable silence after that. Though John didn’t know the Redguard all that much, there was just something about settling into a meal and drink that calmed him down.
Of course, this was all done with Delphine’s annoyed sweeping in the background, and Nyssa’s attempts to not attract the inn owner’s attention.
..
“John.”
The night had come to a close. Most of the residents of Riverwood were going to sleep in, an air of tiredness having overcome them after the events of the past two days. WIth the new guards in the small town, they didn’t have to fear as much as they did from any more bandit raids.
It was at that time, long after Alvor had gone to close up his smithy and had left Nyssa and John alone that the Redguard spoke up.
“Yes?”
“Earlier, about those bandits that you took down. Where were they holed up?” Her words were measured, thinking. As if she had come to a startling realization.
“Embershard Mine, near the path to Helgen.”
“Show me.”
She spoke the words firmly. There was no room for negotiation. No room for ‘later’. Nyssa wanted to go now, and even in the dim light of the moon. John knew the feeling. The feeling of needing to do something despite all logical sense saying to wait a moment.
“Alright.” It was why he didn’t protest, only giving one last glance at Delphine, who’d finally managed to clean the last of the mess that Nyssa had inadvertently made. The inn owner wasn’t looking at them, but he’d hazard a guess that she’d know to keep his room open for the night.
Soon enough, they were on the path out of Riverwood. The new guards had initially gone up to stop them, to warn them of danger, when they had spotted the figure of Nyssa. John had to admit, the woman was a sight to behold.
Full banded iron armor, a greataxe with a blade larger than two heads, all on a figure that was near John’s own height. Accompanied in the middle of the night, into the darkness outside of the town, by someone like John, and it would be something that most people would stay away from.
John knew of his presence, knew of how intimidating he could be. That was the point. As much as he hated the baggage that came along with it, stopping others from fighting when he could help it was as much a relief as it was an annoyance.
Still, they made their way along the familiar path, Nyssa barely giving him a glance as they did. The only light source they had at this point was the torch that John held. The twin moons hung above them, and John could feel a tension in the air.
They’d finally made it to Embershard in around five minutes.
The pair of them entered slowly. The bandits that he had left alive would likely not be here anymore. It would be a fool’s errand, when they knew that the residents of Riverwood would call in the guards, and said guards would likely check the mines for any sign of them.
It would be incredibly stupid to not leave.
That being said, they likely didn’t even have time to retrieve the bodies of their ‘comrades’. Indeed, when they entered the mine, John could spot the first bandit he had killed and whose body he had dragged around the corner. The blood looked somewhat fresh, and flies were already gathering in a swarm around it.
They silently made their way inside, spotting the bodies that John had left in his wake. As he had expected, the bandit leader and the two others were nowhere to be seen. Instead of relaxing at the lack of danger, however, Nyssa tensed even more.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
John turned to look at her, a questioning look on his face, “What do you mean?” She wasn’t talking about him killing all these people by himself, he was certain of that. He didn’t have as much experience in heavy weaponry and armor as she obviously did, but he could tell that she could’ve taken these bandits out with no issue.
No, it had to do with the circumstances, if he had to guess.
“When Hadvar and I came down from Helgen, we made a detour after a couple of the Embershard bandits tried to threaten us. Figured we’d do Riverwood a favor, and prevent any other refugees from being mugged. So, we went in, and cleared this place.”
She made a grand gesture around the mine, “Not a single one of these bastards were there.”
John's brows furrowed in thought. It was indeed an odd situation. If Nyssa and Hadvar had cleared this mine not long ago, then just who were these bandits?
He scanned the area, looking for any signs or clues that might shed light on the mystery. The bodies of the bandits lay still, their bloodstains dark against the stone floor. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the musty odor of the mine.
Nyssa turned towards him, an unreadable look on her face, “I have a few guesses as to what happened here. One, part of all of this. Stranger comes into Riverwood, helps around, then goes on to save hostages from bandits. Mighty strange, if you ask me.”
John didn’t tense up. Neither did Nyssa.
“That said, you did kill them, which wouldn’t have been okay in the slightest if you were working with them, so that rules you out. Second, these bandits were lucky enough to find Embershard empty soon after we cleared it. The most plausible option, I must admit.”
She narrowed her eyes as she continued, “Or three, something else that I’m not seeing. My gut tells me it’s that last one, but I can’t for the life of me say why.”
With how she laid all of those out, John had to agree. Nothing about the situation made sense, especially if he took into account the Orsimer he had seen leading the bandits. Even just by looking at that orc, he knew that they were strong, strong enough that moving into this mine with his cohort was a waste of effort.
With his strength, he could’ve gone just about anywhere he wanted.
And yet, he took a single, solitary, not even big enough mine in the middle of a trade route that was surely going to dry up with the destruction of Helgen.
John didn’t know what was going on there, but he had a feeling that fate was just fucking with him all over again.
…
Commissioned by: brutalcrab
