Chapter 5: Worthy of the Dragons

It was a great honor. It should have been a great honor. Any clan member chosen to be among the Dragon Priests was to obtain the highest prestige. To serve the dragons themselves. It was a reason to rejoice. So why did she feel so…empty? Perhaps, and maybe this was selfish, it left her future in doubt.

It was two days after the attack and Asha still hadn’t been allowed to see him. When she heard from Oran that they were to leave on the morning of the third day, she grew desperate. “Will they not allow me to see him?” she asked Oran.

He shook his head. ‘You are considered a poor influence on him. You are also his Intended. They consider it best you stay away so you don’t cloud his judgment.”

“So…we are no longer Intended?”

He shrugged, “It seems that way.”

“I have to see him,” she said. “Tell me how I can see him. I must see him before they leave.”

Oran shook his head. “It is not possible. I cannot get you anywhere near him. Only…”

“What? What Oran?”

“Perhaps he could go to you. Is there a place where you can meet him?”

“The overlook,” she said without hesitation. “At the rising of Secunda.”

He nodded. “As you wish. Be careful, Asha.”

She left Shreikwind Bastion at the rising of Masser, the larger of Skyrim’s two moons. Its giant red mass filled the sky, shedding its light upon the earth. Under its light, she followed the path up the north face of the mountain and to the outlook tower on its north side. Late into the night, she sat, hoping her message would get through and that Wulfin would show.

In the early morning, Secunda rose into the sky below Masser, its cold blue glow joined to the red and causing the world to shine brightly. The treetops glowed and she heard the crunch of rock as a foot stepped on it. She turned quickly, hand on a knife in her belt. Wulfin put his hands up. “Just me.”

She let go of her knife and clutched her arms again, shivering in the cold. Wulfin rushed to her side and sat beside her, putting his strong, lean arms around her. She leaned against him and tried to control the sadness that hit her. She huddled against him. “You are leaving?”

She knew the answer but she had to hear it from him. “Yes.”

“When will you return?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Will you ever return?” asked Asha.

“I don’t know that either,” said Wulfin. “But if I can, I promise you I will. I will go through the training, become a powerful priest, and return to take over from Rukil. Imagine that. I will make things better here.”

Another question rose in her mind but it felt too selfish to ask. He guessed her thoughts. “I will come back to you, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” she said. “You might be training for years. Rukil might give me over to another.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” said Wulfin, but the waver in his tone gave voice to his doubt.

She lifted her head and looked into his face. “Will you be alright?”

He looked down at her and smiled. “Of course I will. He said I had great potential, worthy to be one of the dragons’ chosen.”

“How did he test you?”

He shook his head. “He told me I was not allowed to speak of it to anyone. He also hinted it was only the first part of my training. My larger test will come when we reach Bromjunarr.”

“The capital,” said Asha. “That will be exciting.”

“Indeed it will,” he said, holding her closer. “I…I don’t know when we will get to see each other again.”

She shook her head, laying her head back onto his chest. “No more words on that. If this is our last night together in a while, let's spend the time forgetting the world around us.”

He pulled her close, kissing her deeply. This time, she didn’t hesitate to hold back in the slightest.

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***

Asha’s world grew darker than it ever had before. She hadn’t even been allowed to see Wulfin off to the capital. Instead, she sat on the outlook, replaying the night she had spent with him over and over, reveling in the joy she had felt. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more miserable she became.

Now that she was no longer Wulfin’s Intended, her place in society seemed to have been dislodged irreparably. Her clan treated her cautiously like she was a fragile urn about to break. Her old friends moved on with their duties and prepared themselves for their Intended’s while she remained alone. As much as she tried to ignore it, she eventually had to admit it to herself. Her people were avoiding her. She continued her duties as a gatherer but this alone was not enough of a role to fill. She found much of her time was now empty since she no longer had lessons to be a wife or mother.

Rukil didn’t even bother to look at her anymore. Determined to believe that she embarrassed him somehow with the arrival of Morokei, he only spoke to her in cold commands. He had also told her, in no uncertain terms, that he would not find her another Intended since all the men had their roles to play and could not be spared.

Oran was the only one willing to speak with her. His stories continued, as fascinating as ever: Ysgramor’s return, the war of the snow elves, the origins of the giants, the tragedy of Yngol and the dragon priest Ahzidal, and the betrayal of the unnamed dragon priest, first of all dovakin. None of these stories, once filled with such wonder and hope, had any meaning to her. They were only old men in ancient times never learning their lessons or those who faced tragedy that could not be avoided. At least those stories of tragedy felt familiar.

After a month of this, she felt desperation setting in. If she could not be a part of her clan anymore, what could she do? She began to spend more time out in nature, almost tempted to leave her home save for the fact that she was certain she wouldn’t survive. The world outside was dangerous, filled with spriggan, Reachmen, and wild beasts, not to mention the dangers of the environment. Skyrim could be a harsh home for her people, hence the importance of community and clan.

On a summer night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She felt isolated in her bed, even surrounded by her clan members in the public sleeping quarters. She felt her heart beginning to harden and tears spring to her eyes. She lifted herself from her bed quietly and crept from the chamber. Even in the dark, by the light of only a few torches along the hallways, she could find her way easily to the north exit. The guards noticed her but didn’t say anything. They also ignored her, like the rest of the clan, and she made her way up the mountain path.

Asha stood on the outlook, staring at Lake Ilinalta and the Brittle Mountains which both glowed in the light of the two moons. She sat down and let her thoughts drift again, to her final night with Wulfin. She struggled to remember what he felt like against her, what his words had been, his piercing gaze. Her eyes snapped open. She was forgetting things; details of his face, his words, and his touch. Bitter tears welled up and she began to sob without control. Soon she would forget what he was like completely, left with an empty feeling of loss, alone within her clan.

“My dear, do not weep so.”

She turned quickly to see Oran standing, hunched over a walking stick, staring sadly down at her. She hid her face. “I’m sorry, Oran. I don’t mean to disturb your walk.”

“I am here to see you, Asha. I had a feeling you would be here.”

“Why are you not sleeping?”

He sat down slowly next to her, groaning as his joints let out muffled cracks. “I’m not as young as I once was, but I have lost none of my wits of youth. I know you have not been enjoying my stories. Anyone can see how miserable you are. So, I thought I would tell a special tale to you.”

She shifted her position to give him more room to sit. “I don’t feel like hearing a story.”

“Asha, stories are that which teach us lessons. But they are there to give us hope too. Now, listen close and respect your elder.”

She sighed but kept her mouth closed. Oran coughed, took a deep breath, and began. “You see that mountain, far in the distance, its peak shining even in the moonlight. What peak is that?”

“It is the Throat of the World,” said Asha.

“You know that mountain holds ancient magic?” said Oran. “It is the spot where sky and earth meet, where the gods placed their creation, the Atmorans before we were named such. The land of Atmora was not our home, but this land, Skyrim itself, was ”

“But we came from Atmora to these shores,” said Asha. “Ysgramor came with settlers and returned with his five hundred when the Snow Elves betrayed us.”

“Indeed, he did,” said Oran. “But that was the return journey. Our people were born on the Throat of the World, placed there by the loving breath of Kyne, our mother, and wife of Shor, slayer of elven kind. It was she who believed this land would best suit our people to be born to. But we thought we knew better…or perhaps the elves forced us out. Why we left is unknown. But tales tell of the many ships that sailed to the shores of Atmora and allowed us to grow strong. Only when we were grown from infancy and learned to be strong could we return to our home. Do you know why I tell you this?”

Asha shook her head. “No. Why?”

Oran nudged her so she looked into his serious expression. “The children of Kyne had to leave home to grow strong before they could return. It was perhaps even necessary. But for whatever reason, they left before returning home to Skyrim. It is the same for us. Sometimes we must leave our homes to learn what we must. Only then can we return home. Wulfin will do what he must before he can return. And, perhaps, it will be the same with you.”

She looked at him. “You think I should leave?”

Oran shrugged. “Leave or stay is your choice. But I only wish you to act with hope. We must all go through trying times and learn hard lessons. Only then can we be ready for what the gods have prepared for us.”

She pondered his words, considering them as she stared at the distant, moonlit peak of the Throat. This land was the home of their true ancestors. They were meant to be here. She would find her place in this world as well. “What is that?” asked Oran.

She broke from her thoughts and stared down into the trees where he pointed. Near the foot of the mountain, dark figures were moving quickly from shadow to shadow. The more she stared, the more she thought she could see. They held no torches and gave no signal to the guards just up the path. She wouldn’t have even seen them had Oran pointed them out. “Who is it?”

Oran tried to stand quickly and stumbled, nearly toppling off the tower. Asha caught him before he did and he leaned heavily on her. “I do not know, but I can guess. Reachmen. The rumors of invasion are true.”