Chapter Seventeen

The last rays of sunlight shone down on the porch of the Sleeping Giant. Gaeolin readjusted his sword. He pondered which route to take to Kynesgrove, thinking of heading toward Riften to get there. Delphine passed him, turning northward towards Whiterun.

“We can split up, or travel together, your call.” She didn’t wait for him to decide. “Come on. We can’t waste any time.”

Gaeolin hung back, keeping his pace so that Inigo wouldn’t fall too far behind them. The Khajiit caught up in short order. As they crossed the river to head east, he jogged with Gaeolin, voicing a certain distrust.

“I hope she’s trustworthy.” He twitched his tail in irritation. “I don’t like the smell of this.”

“I know she’s a bit…” He considered the woman ahead of them. “Let’s go with paranoid for now. But if she’s right about this, we need to be there when the dragon returns.”

“She’s been nothing but cryptic since we arrived. What more has she told you that you didn’t already know, aside from a theory that the dragons are being brought back to life?” He looked her way with narrow eyes. “I can’t trust her. She stinks of unashamed resentment.”

Gaeolin trudged on beside him, turning the words over. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s see what happens for now.”

“Mark my words, my friend.” He scratched at his neck. “She’ll ask you to do something terrible someday. Mind you don’t lose yourself to help her.”

Clouds rolled across the stars as the night deepened. Masser was full, shining against the river like a current of diamonds. Delphine slowed for a while, mainly as a result of the boys leaning on each other in a last ditch effort against their tiring limbs. She allowed them a moment to recover. 

“I’m sorry for pushing you so hard… I just worry for the village. But it won’t pay for us to be half dead before we even get there.”

Gaeolin coughed on the air. It stung his throat from his panting. His feet ached, and his arms burned with fatigue. “I can understand that.” He drank deeply from his waterskin, shamelessly dribbling water down his chin. “We could have borrowed horses if speed were so important.”

“I didn’t really want to make any more of a scene than we already did. It would have attracted more attention.”

“From whom?” 

Inigo stayed back, listening to the conversation while watching the road behind them. ‘Knowing her, probably not even the rabbit we saw outside Riverwood. Amature…’ He shook his head at his own thoughts. Nobody ever took him seriously about rabbits…

“The Thalmor. They’ve been looking for me for years.” She hesitated, giving in somewhat. “My… associates and I caused them a lot of grief during the war, and immediately afterward. They killed most of us off.” He listened, noticing her wrinkles. She suddenly looked so much older to him. Her face looked tired. “I doubt they’re aware of you yet. You would have been a high priority target to them.”

“For a few reasons.” Gaeolin replied. “Wouldn’t be the first time they tried to kill me.”

“What did they want you dead for?” She asked. Inigo turned an ear forward. She had nerve, asking him something like that! To his surprise, Gaeolin responded.

“It… was more of a preventative act, I guess. I’m not really sure. I was so young when it happened.” He looked at his gloved hand. “Before the purge, my father always told me to stay away from them when they appeared. He told me our family had bad blood with the Dominion. I never really knew what he meant. But I suppose none of us were safe in Woodhearth.”

Delphine eyed him. “Valenwood… I was a much younger woman in those days. I’m sorry we couldn’t have helped any more than we did.”

“You fought in the great war?”

“And afterward. As I said, we weren’t as restricted as the Legion.”

“A rogue faction?” She seemed put off by the term.

“Not the way I would put it, but for now that will work.” She gestured with her torch. “This way, We’ll cross the White River and follow it to Windhelm. Then we can swing south to Kynesgrove.”

As she did this, a large shard of ice flew between them. The bridge they were heading towards had three figures upon it, each one casting a shimmering ward in front of themselves. Delphine dove to the side.  Her torch landed in the grass, the long blades igniting with little hesitation. Inigo hissed, sending arrows to their attackers. Gaeolin drew his bow, aiming at the lead figure. 

The robes left him with no question to whom he owed the assault. The dusty garb of Miraak’s cultists seemed to protect them quite well from their arrows. Inigo abandoned ranged attack, running along the bridge with Delphine by his side. They burst into the group of mages, the wards flickering out. Gaeolin pierced the lead magician in the throat. Inigo sliced up, splitting the rear guard’s mask. He crumpled with a gasp as he bled out.

Delphine parried a strike from the remaining cultist’s dagger while Inigo cut at his knee. Gaeolin shot him in the shoulder, Delphine cleaving his head from his shoulders with her sword. “Who are these people?”

Inigo sheathed his blade, inspecting their attacker’s pockets. “We aren’t sure. They too, seem overly obsessed with the Dragonborn.” He tucked a gem into his purse. “I think it’s safe to say they don’t like him wearing the title.”

“I’m glad we traveled together then.” She took a torch from Gaeolin. “We’d better keep moving.”

They passed a lumber mill, trekking along until a fortress loomed to their left on top of a cliff. Delphine looked to the stars. “Gaeolin…” He turned to her. “I’m glad you were willing to trust me. I know, it probably wasn’t the best way to introduce myself. But old habits… you know?” She smiled at nothing in particular. “We may both end up dead, but at least it gets me out of Riverwood. I don’t really think I’m cut out for the quiet life.”

He grinned back to her. “I can understand how you would get that way. Me, I’ve never wanted much else than a quiet life. Things just keep getting in the way of that for me. I’ve always been on the run. Since I’ve been in Skyrim though, things have gotten a little easier. At least… A little bit, anyway. I don’t run now, I just fight everything that comes our way.” Delphine nodded approvingly at this, once again urging him and Inigo to speed up. 

They passed the stables of Windhelm, following the road south. A storm began dropping heavy snow on them. Gaeolin pulled his cloak tight about his neck, thinking to himself that the weather didn’t seem natural to him. As they came up the hill, the local Inn coming into view he heard an ear splitting roar. Delphine picked up speed. “Wait. Something’s wrong.” A woman was tearing down the hill, headed away from the town as if Mehrunes Dagon himself were on her heels. 

“No, you don’t want to go up there!” She cried, “A dragon… it’s attacking!” 

“A dragon is attacking Kynesgrove?”

“Well I don’t know, It just flew over the Inn and landed on the old burial mound. I don’t know what it’s doing up there, but I’m not waiting to find out!” She broke free of him, speeding toward Windhelm as before. Delphine ushered him onward.

“Come on. Hurry! We may already be too late.”