Gaeolin felt a strange wind on his face as the emptiness around him started to take form. A green light swam around him. His body began to take on the weight he felt it had lacked for a moment. He was standing on a flat surface, shapes starting to form. He heard a voice. It was harsh, all too familiar. He grasped to the sword at his waist as the sounds began to clear, along with the landscape he was now standing in.
“The time is soon when-“ The speaker turned, an ornate mask covering his face. He saw Gaeolin and threw up his hand. “WHAT?!”
Two creatures, wretched and writhing sent waves of magicka at him. He was calm, something in him waking from slumber. “Qahnaar.”
The word made the magic melt, the power fading to little more than a breeze when it reached him. The robed man stepped forward. His voice was not muffled by the mask he wore. It was a strong, assured voice. “Who are you who dares to set foot here?” He paused, his shoulders slacking a bit. “Ahhh… You are Dragonborn. I can feel it. And yet… You have done little, save slay a few dragons.”
“Miraak…” Gaeolin’s voice was laced with rage. “You will tell me how to free Faendal of Riverwood from your curse.”
The helmet cocked to the side as if amused. “Who? I do not have time to trouble with the insignificant mortals that-“
“Lok ros ni!” [1] Gaeolin shouted. “Do not test me. I will fight you if I must.”
Miraak gave a cruel scoff. “You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield.” He took in a deep breath. “Mul Qah Div!” From his mouth ran tendrils of fiery light. They wound along his shoulders, clinging loosely to his robes, forming crests and scales. Horns of a dragon grew above his mask, his words taking on a new metallic tone. “This realm is beyond you. You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon, they will finish my temple.” He stood taller. “And I will return home.”
Gaeolin Snarled, drawing his sword. “Krii-“
“QUIILAAN US SULEYK!” Miraak’s thu’um caused waves in the murky water. The force of it hit Gaeolin like a hoard of Orc berserkers. He felt his muscles fighting the will of his enemy, which then surged stronger to bring him to the ground. The priest considered him, turning to walk past the monsters that stood with him. “Send him back where he came from.” A rushing of air alerted Gaeolin to the dragon as it landed. It was lithe, emaciated, and smooth. It reminded him more of a snake than what he had expected dragons be. It wore a saddle, Miraak climbing into it before adding. “He can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel.” With that he flew off, his mount letting loose a roar that could shatter glass. The beasts cascaded wave after wave of magic from their chests. Gaeolin clawed, trying to stand and fight. He felt himself slipping backwards. He saw over his shoulder a dark portal. It tugged at his cloak, the magic feeding its pull. He lost his grip, shouting in fury as he was thrown back to Nirn.
He gasped, his head spinning. The book fell to the floor, tentacle withdrawing before the tome shut itself. He collapsed. Frea rushed to him, catching his head before it hit the floor. “What happened to you?” She pressed a potion to his lips. Gaeolin pushed it away, struggling to his feet. “You read the book and then… it seemed as though you were not really here. I could see you, but also through you.”
“I saw him.” Gaeolin looked to her. “I saw Miraak. He was riding on a dragon,” he shivered, “in a world of nightmares.”
“Where is he? Can we reach him?” She drew a dagger from her boot, a glint of hatred in her eyes. “Can we kill him?”
“This book… Somehow it took me to him.”
She looked at the manuscript. She seemed afraid of it. “This is a dangerous thing then. We should return to my village and show this to my father. Perhaps Storn can make sense of what is going on. Come, there looks to be a way out through here.”
The passage turned from cut stone, to natural cave, opening out onto a bright snow covered mountainside. Gaeolin let the light warm him, easing the worry he had gained in the book. He picked up his pace, following Frea to the east. She looked through the trees, pointing out a pillar of magical energy. “You see that green light?” She turned to him. “It comes from the Wind Stone, where my people work against their will. They must be freed soon.”
Gaeolin followed, looking down the slope toward the monument. “How long have they been victim to this?”
“Too long. There are few of us left. My village is up ahead. Storn has used his magic to construct a barrier to protect those of us still free.” Gaeolin could see it. As they crossed the bridge over the river, he could hear the wind howling, bending the trees around the village nearly over. The air hummed with a power he had never felt before. It was truly a testament to the Shaman’s power. “That the barrier is still there is a good sign.”
The village was small. Gaeolin thought to himself that even Riverwood seemed large by comparison. He ducked through the wall, expecting it to push him like a gale. It was perfectly calm inside, though the sound of the wind was inescapable. A child appeared between the houses, crashing into Gaeolin in her haste. The girl looked up, looking terrified. Gaeolin stooped down, a smile brightening his face. “Careful, lass. You might get hurt if you don’t look where you’re going.”
She shuffled close to Frea. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Nothing to worry about. I’ve been hit by much worse.” He gave a chuckle, seeming to ease the girl. “What is your name?”
“Aeta,” she seemed braver near the older warrior, “is he a friend of yours, Frea?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. He helped me find some of the villagers near the old temple. They are very sick, Aeta. We need to speak with Storn. Do you know where he is?”
The child nodded. “Near the center of the village. He’s still casting the spell with some of the others.”
The shaman and two others sat around a stone circle. In its center, a column of swirling air flew up and spread into the barrier around the village. “Father!” Frea called against the wind. “I have returned! There is yet hope!”
The old man looked up. His lips turned into a tired smile. “Frea! What news do you bring? Is there a way to free our people?”
“No, but I have brought someone who has seen things.” She gestured to Gaeolin. “He found me at the temple. He came from the elf city. The people there labor just as ours do. Gaeolin here has confirmed that Miraak is behind this.”
Storn’s expression was grave. “It is as I feared then…”
“But how is this possible? After all of this time…”
“There is much we still do not know.” The elder looked to Gaeolin. “Tell me young man, what is it that you have learned?”
Gaeolin bowed. “I don’t know very much.”
“You have seen things, yes? I am growing weak, as is the barrier around our village. We have not the time for humility.”
“I have seen Miraak.” Gaeolin followed the man as he trudged away from the ritual.
“Really?” Storn did not look at him. “How did you do this?”
“I read a book in Miraak’s temple. Somehow, it took me to him.” They ducked into the nearby house, the door closing out the harsh cold. “I don’t really understand how this could happen.”
“The legends speak of that place.” His face was like stone as he spoke. “Terrible battles fought at the temples. The dragons burning it to the ground in rage.” He looked Gaeolin in the eyes. “They speak also of something worse than dragons buried within. Hard to imagine, but if true…” He turned to the fire. “It means what I feared has come to pass. Miraak was never truly gone, and is returning.” Storn stood firm, his shoulders rigid. “If you could go to this place where he is… Are you like Miraak? Are you Dragonborn?”
Gaeolin hesitated. How would this man react to him? Would admitting to being another Dragonborn ease the tension between them, or simply make it worse? “I am Dragonborn, yes.” He sent the man as kind a look as he could manage. “But I am nothing like him. Miraak sought me out, attempted to kill me,” he fell silent for a moment, “ took someone from me. I will do whatever I can to help your people, as long as it can help my friend.”
Storn nodded. “Then you must go to the northwest. It is there that Miraak first began his quest for the power that made him the enemy of the Dragons, and their cult.” He put a hand on Gaeolin’s shoulder. “I do not know what fate has in store for us, for you. The fact that you are Dragonborn could mean that you are to defeat Miraak utterly. You could be our salvation. On the other hand, you could be following his steps, and destroy us as he failed to do. But you have my daughter’s faith, which is enough to give me cause to trust you. Go, learn the word that Miraak found so long ago. Use it on the Wind Stone. It may be enough to break the hold he has on it, and free our people and village.”
“I will do all I can.”
“All-maker guide you.” Storn bowed, dismissing the elf to his task.
Frea waited outside. “Well? What did Storn have to say?”
Gaeolin looked at the mountains to the west. “There is a place in the mountains that Miraak once drew power from. Your father said I should go and see if I can use that power to free your people.” He sent her a hopeful look. “Maybe it will even help me free Faendal as well.”
She tested her axe, making sure it was secure. “Then that is where we shall go.”
Gaeolin held up his hand. “No, I would like to make this journey alone. These places can be dangerous, and I need to be able to focus if the lesson is not as clear as I would like.” He smiled. “Thank you for your help, Frea.”
She nodded. “I shall be here if you need me. And Gaeolin,” he turned to hear her. She gave a weak smile. “I hope he is well when you find him again.”
Translated Lines:
1 ) He is not!
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