Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 375: Chapter XCVIII: The Fateful Moment



It took the 'honored dead' less than a minute to gather the food and drinks, a number of them stepping into the center that was not the center of the hall with instruments of all kinds and promptly breaking into an admittedly enjoyable composition, even if the style was likely antiquated beyond measure.

"Come" Jurgen Windcaller waves for us to follow after him "You will not shake them from their revel, and it will be some time before they are all satisfied."

"We are wasting time." Minthara grumbles but follows, as do I.

"Time passes... differently in the hall." The first Greybeard explains as he expertly dodged a thrown tankard from a rather rowdy table nearby without even looking "And you must understand, this feast is no attempt to delay aiding you but to say our goodbyes before the time comes."

"'Our'?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed young one." Jurgen smiles "While I have sworn myself to Kyne's peace, I am more than willing to aid you in keeping the skies clear and in healing my fellows."

"Much like Paarthurnax then." I chuckle "Always skirting the line yet remaining reticent even now."

"You have met the great teacher?" The Greybeard blinks in surprise and then gives Minthara a sidelong glance before letting out a short chuckle "Foolish of me indeed, of course you have." Suddenly a fair bit more animated, the old man asks "Does the old greyscale still ramble on for hours?"

"He'd go on for days if he could" Minthara groans in annoyance as we are led to a table somewhat removed from the rest of the feast "He can go on and on and on about the most mundane things, I swear if I didn't need him I'd have jumped off the mountain a dozen times already."

Jurgen's eyes glint with nostalgic amusement as he laughs merrily "Oh that does sound like the old greyscale" He shakes his head "When he first heard of my decision to follow the difficult path, he kept me atop the Throat of the World for three days straight, so that we could discuss the ways of Kyne." He gives the other old man in our group a look "What say you Felldir, was he the same when he taught the first tongues?"

The banisher of Alduin offers a faint smile but shakes his head "He was not." His expression turns slightly pained "His abandonment of his draconic ways was quite recent when he deemed us worthy of his tutelage, and many of his instincts yet remained with him. I have no doubts that it took him many a century to finally move on."

"Aye!" His one-eyed companion laughs loudly "The old beast was so eternally angry while teaching us, he took my eye when I made one too many a mistake in pronunciation."

Hearing Hakon's retelling, Gormlaith just shudders in fear.

Minthara and I both share a quick look at that, dragons being grammar nazis wound never not be funny to me.

A moment later, Ysgramor rejoins us and takes a seat, all the while hefting a small barrel of what smelled like some incredibly good mead and then promptly gulping it all down in slurps so loud I kind of felt like slapping the bloody barbarian.

That or I just didn't like him which was far more probable.

"How many do you think will join us?" Minthara asks in a no-nonsense manner "A lot of them seem eager but I can't know if that is because the feast or the fight."

Ysgramor finishes off his barrel, another appearing in his hand but a moment later, and looks to Minthara "Fear grips their hearts, Dragonborn. Many will chose to remain resting in safety but just as many will seek further glory to add to their name."

Before she can respond I hear Jurgen speak softly "To be a hero and earn one's place in this venerable hall is not to be without fear." He smiles "The most valorous are those who face their fears in those most pivotal of moments, their very lives defined by those instances of bravery or self-sacrifice."

"So what you are saying is they need a push?" Minthara asks.

"You have given them all the push they need." The old man shakes his head, his smile not leaving him "Now is the time to have patience, lest you push them from their current path."

"Fine. I will wait, but not forever." She nods and holds out a hand to me, perfectly catching the bottle of not-afterlife mead I summoned from my storage and raising it up in a silent salute.

"You do not seem troubled, elf." Ysgramor's voice draws me from my observation of the great all, a full minute having passed since Minthara got her drink and descended into warrior's small talk with the rest of them.

"The name is Reyvin." I give him a flat look to which he just grins "And while I am quite terrified of what is to come, I know we have a fair chance at victory. All the preparations I could make, I have made. There is no use in panicking now."

"I envy that." The Atmoran admits with a respectful nod "The time before battle is always the worst for most of us, the waiting draining us more than the fight itself."

"It would seem you have misunderstood me then" I smile ruefully "My time before the battle is measured in years. For me the battle has already begun, we just haven't started shouting

yet."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Ha!" The ancient man snorts "You clever-men always were odd in thought and in act."

"I shall take that as a compliment" I smirk "Though I will admit some confusion."

"Ask away my newest comrade!" Ysgramor waves for me to go on.

I will admit that almost threw me off "Exactly that" I point at him with narrowed eyes "From your histories and even your weapon I had gotten a rather clear impression you quite hated elves. Your behavior now is... odd."

All the levity leaves him then "My enmity with the Mer-folk is an unfortunate one." The Atmoran sigs, leaning back into his seat "I will admit that I did hate all those with pointed ears for a time... We did not start off as enemies you know? Us and the Falmer." He explains "The lands were vast and our numbers small, far too small for any true conflict back then."

He takes another large gulp of his drink and lets out a long exhale "And yet us humans grew in number at a speed that far surpassed our new neighbors and partners, and in their fear for the future of their kind they struck at us, slaying many and maiming many more."

"They wanted to starve you..." My eyes narrow. He had said not a single lie since he sat with

me.

"Quite right." He nods gravely "Our healers were not nearly as skilled as their own, and those that studied the healing ways from the elves they knew of, and had slain first." A tinge of ancient fury enters his voice "Our numbers were dwindled greatly, and all that we could do was strike back before they finished us off."

He lets out a sad chuckle "Not that I cared for that at the time. My wife and son were slain on that fateful day see, and my fury was so great I could think of nothing but slaying as many of those knife ear-" He clears his throat "As many of my foes as possible."

Snorting at the almost-Pelinal moment I wave him off "Worry not about giving offence old man. I know you do not mean it."

He looks like he wants to ask me exactly how I could know that when I had just met him minutes ago but thinks better of it and continues with his tale "By the time my rage had cooled, the Falmer were greatly reduced." He looks into the distance "But as I prepared myself to bury my fury and offer peace, the snow elves accepted the offer of their underground-dwelling brethren, and were turned to slaves."

"The Dwemer for all their insight were rather wretched." I nod.

"Great was my merriment when Jurgen told me of their passing" Ysgramor bares his teeth in a grin before schooling his expression "But to end my tale, old age had granted me wisdom and understanding, and to my regret it is only then that I understood that not all the snow elves attacked us, but only a Daedra worshipping sect among their number. I never saw another

snow elf in my lifetime."

"Do you know which Daedra?" My eyes narrow.

"I do not" He sighs "I had died not long after the revelation, and my mortal concerns were

removed from me." He shakes his head and pats his weapon "As for my axe, it was my burden to bear, and a reminder of what I had done. Forever I swore I would only wield it for a cause

truly righteous."

"This has been... enlightening" I mutter, genuinely surprised at how different the man was from my expectations "Oh" I perk up and give him a merry grin "You will be happy to hear that I have managed to... repair, some of the Falmer. Not in great number sadly but they are under my protection now."

The Atmoran's mouth falls open as he gapes at me "Truly?" He whispers before offering me a wide grin "Had I needed a reason to aid you, know that this would have earned my axe a

thousand times over!"

"You really regretted your actions back then?" I ask softly.

He just nods.

We descend into quiet contemplation, the noise of the feast paradoxically not loud enough to

distract us even as people right next to us roared out their cheers. So distracted had I become with my thoughts that I did not notice an unfamiliar figure approach, a tall man clad in full steel plate of Nordic make shook my shoulder and nearly earned a firebolt to the face had I not immediately felt the familiar feeling of kinship within him.

He merely signed for me to follow him and led me away from the feast, none of them noticing my sudden absence as I was slowly led toward what I soon recognized as the supposed throne

of Shor himself.

The armor-clad figure, whom I had just noticed was not armor-clad but an animated suit of armor in truth, stepped before the throne where a small crystal bottle awaited, a singular

drop of crimson liquid levitating at the exact center of it.

My blood roared at the sight of it.

The figure picked the bottle up reverently, and turned to me in an almost ritualistic fashion. They bowed, and proffered it, waiting patiently for me to take it.

By the time I had even noticed what I was doing, the thing was already uncorked and the drop

of blood had already gone down my throat.

(Minthara's POV)

"Brothers and sisters!" Ysgramor roars and steps onto the table "We have fed ourselves, and

watered ourselves." He speaks clearly and loudly "Great songs we have told, and listened to the sagas of old!" He stomps his foot "But we have delayed our rightful quest for long enough! Mortal heroes come to our doors, facing a threat that we could not on our own! Mortal heroes come here, to beseech the aid of the honored dead, and stand proudly before us with fire in their hearts!"

"My brothers and sisters!" He shouts over the ensuing stomps "After we have been shown such greatness, are we to let them face the end alone? Are we to let ourselves miss the truest of tests of one's mettle? ARE WE TO MISS THE CHANCE TO BE HOROES ONCE MORE!?"

A loud roar of "NO!" greets him.

"THEN COME WITH ME, FELLOWS VALOROUS!" He roars at them "LET US FULFIL THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THIS WARRIOR'S AFTERLIFE, AND FIGHT THE BATTLE AT THE END OF THE

WORLD!"

The ensuing cheer was deafening.

All one thousand heroes of old now marched behind us, not a single one had chosen to stay

behind, much to my surprise and no doubt Reyvin's 'Hold on' My eyes narrow as I search for him, only to blink as I realize he had been walking next to me for the entire time, completely and utterly silent.

I went to ask him what was wrong but the focused look in his eyes stopped me, where there

was once a vibrant glow of red, it was now accompanied by a depth that I could not quite

identify, even as my blood warned me to be cautious around him.

More than it usually did anyway.

I will admit that I let out a loud snort as Tsun's gaze fell upon us, and I was treated to a gaping

god for the second time in a day, the very whalebone bridge he guarded shaking under the stomping weight of a thousand armored boots.

The three dozen fallen heroes who had followed us here all widened their eyes, and offered a

loud salute to their ancestors.

"Greatly have I underestimated you, it would seem" Tsun spoke to me, a moment after he

directed a surprised look at Reyvin "My charges you have summoned, not a one remains in the halls" His solemn expression breaks into a proud smile "This deed is worthy of my axe's aid." Somehow the ensuing roar is even more deafening than the one inside the hall.

A few minutes later, the army was gathered and organized before the great bridge, Reyvin's

soft voice directing them into positions and organizing them into squads that would best serve to complement each other.

Finally he turned back to us, the greatest and strongest and those most invested in Alduin's

doom and spoke "The moment we have been preparing for for years is here." His eyes met mine "How about we show the world it wasn't all just a waste of time?"

I grin at him, an expression he returns only partly with a smile, and we all face the skies as planned, every tongue present shouting into the misty skies as one """LOKVAH KOOR!""" A few seconds passed and a part of me began to doubt the supposed ease of provoking Alduin,

but a second later a roar rose in defiance of our voices, the familiar harsh voice of Alduin cutting through the skies as he bellowed "VEN MUL RIIK!"

But the mists he summoned would not fully return to their previous strength, not in a while at

least. And we were all more than ready to battle them for days on end. "Keep pushing him back!" I yell out "He is bound to strike back!"

The tongues needed no further prompting and all roared into the skies once more, earning

another retort from the World Eater a they did.

Thrice more did we clear the skies and thrice more did our enemy pointlessly summon his fog,

until he finally realized that he would not beat us so easily. Great wings beat in the skies and soon the grand form of Alduin loomed over us, some of the honored dead taking an instinctual step back as they beheld him, only to be reassured by their companions. "Very well..." The one-eyed dragon with a still-bleeding wound in his neck growled, even as his form remained unrestricted by Akatosh's edict "Your defiance is the last insult I shall take

from you mortals." He landed on a distant hill and reared back "KNOW THE FURY OF AL DU

IN! KNOW THE FURY OF A GOD!"

He looked to the clear skies and shouted "STRUN MAH GOLZ YOL!"

The air twisted, and molten rock began falling atop us.

'As if that would even slow us down' I scoff and ready my hammer.

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