“Thanks for the ride! Appreciate it!”
Qaralana hopped down from the wagon and scampered around the side of the stables. She heaved a great sigh of satisfaction entering her house. She was tired – tired enough to have a very long nap. But first, she needed to check in with her parents.
I can’t wait to tell Daddy about… well, everything!
She stowed most of what she had carried from Falskaar, then darted out the door, back up the hill, and past the stables and her father’s hired guards at Riften’s north gate. The sun was angling down toward the horizon when she burst into the family home. Qara had expected to see her mother cooking, or hear both parents laughing with each other – but it was silent inside, and there were no scents of warm food.
Huh. That’s odd.
“Mama? Daddy?” She raised her voice to call to them, careful to keep as much of her power out of it as possible. Her voice was going to carry no matter what she did with it, the same way Dar’s voice had. It didn’t surprise her, then, when she stepped out the back door a familiar voice called from across the lawn.
“Out here, lass.”
Her father was by himself in the gazebo, seated in the last rays of the sun. Qara couldn’t help but break into a smile at the sight of him, and dash to close the remaining distance between them.
“You were wrong about old Jalamar, Daddy! There were bandits in that cave, and an old Dwemer ruin below them. And right down at the very bottom was one of those big steam Centurions that had ripped a few of the bandits to shreds – that must have been what Jalamar heard – and beyond that was a…”
She trailed off as she realized that Brynjolf hadn’t really looked up at her. In fact, he was hunched over in an odd posture. He cleared his throat, though, as she went silent, and chuckled.
“So you went in there anyway, lass? Even though I told you not to? I should have known better.”
He spoke slowly and carefully, to her ear. Almost too carefully. She tried to suppress a frown. Something wasn’t quite right with him, but she couldn’t tell what it was.
“Well of course I did. And then I went to… Daddy, are you listening to me?”
He shrugged. “Aye, I am listening. Don’t mind me, lass. I’m a little, um, foggy, at the moment. It’s nothing to worry about. So where did you go, after the cave?”
Foggy? What does that mean?
“I’ll tell you all about it in a bit, but…” She trailed off and swiveled around to check the corners of the property. “Where’s Mama?”
He frowned. “She’s away on business. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”
“Oh.” Qara hesitated for a moment, but then thought about meeting Brunulvr and Gulmist and how much their squabbling reminded her of her parents, and decided she would speak up. “So let me guess – did you two have another fight?”
He looked up at her with an expression that wasn’t quite anger and yet wasn’t a complete smile, his eyes a bit reddened as if he’d been weeping and hadn’t quite recovered yet. That was, at the very least, odd.
“Aye, lass, I’m afraid so.” He shrugged. “I hired someone awhile back. Turns out he gave me a false name. He and your mother…” He paused, and then grimaced. “They grew up together. Neither one of them knew the other one was here, so finding out was… uncomfortable. We had a bit of a disagreement over it. She had business to take care of anyway, and I suppose it seemed like the perfect moment to go do it.”
There’s more to this than he’s saying, but I know he’s not lying about it. I wish these two would just get over their insecurities and be a couple, the way they are sometimes when they don’t think anyone’s watching.
“Well, I’m pretty sure sitting out here by yourself isn’t going to help anything. Besides, I need to talk to you. There was this… portal thing, down at the bottom of that ruin. Turns out it was a one-way trip through, but I ended up in Falskaar.”
It seemed as though it took a longer-than-usual moment for the words she’d uttered to fully register to Brynjolf. When they did, though, his expression turned to shock.
“Wait. Did you say Falskaar?”
Qara smiled and nodded vigorously, once again feeling the excitement of sharing this particular news with her father. “I did! It’s beautiful, Daddy. I even saw the little town where you were born.”
Again it seemed as though it took a moment longer than usual for him to react. He blinked a couple of times and then stared at her. “Pinevale? Truly?”
She grinned, her excitement overruling her concern. “Yes! It’s all burned, but Chip and I cleared out all the bandits that had moved in and he’s going to…”
Brynjolf held up a hand, interrupting her. “Chip went to Falskaar too?”
Qara chuckled. “Oh! Yes, and he said you know how to get in touch with Vilkas, in Whiterun. He wants you to tell him that he’s in charge while the Harbinger is away.” One of Brynjolf’s eyebrows rose. He crossed his arms, and nodded. Qara barely stopped for a breath before continuing.
“There’s so much that happened, Daddy. Come on inside and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
She led her father into the house and ignored his protestations that he wasn’t hungry. She didn’t know what was wrong with him, but hunger wasn’t ever conducive to getting better. While they made and consumed a modest meal she chattered away excitedly, telling him about their parts in Falskaar’s civil war.
Brynjolf hadn’t said much. He’d just sat at the table with her and then on the bench beside her as she finally got to share the story that she’d been nearly bursting with. It was even better sharing it with someone who might have had a stake in all of it if he’d been there.
“That’s quite the tale, lass. Seems to me that the two of you have something to be proud of. Especially you, Qara. I don’t really recognize most of the names, of course. I was just a boy when I left, and a young one at that. I stowed away on a ship and put it all behind me.”
Qara smiled. Now it’s my chance.
“Well it doesn’t have to be all behind you, Daddy. What if I told you that there was someone else fighting with us that we never would have expected?”
“I don’t know. It depends on who you’re speaking of.”
“I met him, and his wife, before I came back to get Chip. We learned what his name was before the big showdown, and Chip put two and two together.”
Brynjolf looked at her with an odd expression, but said nothing.
“It’s Brunulvr, Daddy. Our grandfather! He’s there, and well! And Gulmist, too. When she found out you were still alive, well…” She paused, trying to interpret her father’s expression. It was far too late to pretend there was nothing else to tell, though, so she decided to just press on. She took a deep breath and smiled before speaking again.
“They really want to see you again, Daddy. And I…”
“Absolutely not,” Brynjolf growled, rising to his feet. “I have nothing to say to that bastard. I’m glad that Ma is still alive but I’m still – let’s say disappointed – that she wouldn’t stand up to him for the sake of her own child.”
“But Daddy…”
“No,” he said in a tone that was nearly a snarl. “It’s out of the question.”
Qara stared at him for a moment as the fires of her anger rose up inside. It wouldn’t do to let them out. It just wouldn’t do. Dardeh had warned her against it. Instead, she stomped her foot on the floor.
“You’re just as bad as he is!” she blurted out. “Both of you, stubborn old men who don’t know enough to swallow their own pride for just a moment! No wonder Mama felt it was a good time to go take care of business!”
For a moment she truly regretted having spoken to her father like that. But he needed to hear it. He needs to stop being so…
“So many people have thought they knew better how I should conduct my existence,” he said quietly.
It was that kind of quiet Qara had heard from King Ulfric before, the quiet that Harald had always told her meant ‘the old man is about to blow up.’ She fought to keep still even while the power inside her raged against being contradicted.
“I had a life of my own before your mother strolled into Riften, and I would be a very different man if not for the fact that she…” He stopped, the muscles in his jaws working as he clenched his teeth together. “As to Brunulvr…” He paused, and for a moment Qara feared he was going to spit on the floor in disgust. He didn’t, though; instead, he took several deep breaths before continuing.
“I’m not just like him, Qara. Even if we disagreed I’ve at least tried to treat you with respect.” He reached up to touch his own face. She wasn’t sure he was even aware of doing it. “I never broke Chip’s nose,” he finished quietly.
Qara felt the shock of that revelation as physically as if someone had just broken her nose. If that had happened, a whole lot of things suddenly made a lot more sense.
“Daddy,” she said very quietly. “I’m so sorry. From what I have seen of Granddaddy I can only imagine that maybe it wasn’t meant to happen that way. He’s so very strong, and you were just little…” And he clearly regrets everything that happened to send you away.
“And yet it did, lass,” Brynjolf said quietly. “That’s why I’ve always tried so hard to be good with you two. I wanted to be a better Da than he was.”
“You are the best Da ever,” she said quietly. “Even if you are stubborn.”
“And insufferable,” he murmured, with a catch in his voice that she didn’t quite understand.
“That, too. But Daddy, you really need to see them. Especially Grandmama. She took one look at Chip and knew he was your son. I was afraid she was going to fall apart. She misses you so much. Please reconsider. Come back to Falskaar with me, even if it’s just for a quick visit.”
There was a long silence, and then Brynjolf heaved a sigh.
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “For you. But you have to understand me when I say I’ve spent most of my life hating that man for everything he did to me. Just because I was a natural-born thief.”
Qara nodded. “But he said you couldn’t help your own nature, Daddy. He regrets what happened more than anything. I think he understands more than you know.”
“He said that, did he?”
“Yes, he did.”
Brynjolf closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them, nodding. “Give me a few days, lass,” he said at last. “I have a lot of things to sort out in my mind.”
Qara grinned. “OK! I’ll come back and pester you in a few days. In the meantime, I have to go make sure my house is still standing! And I need some sleep. I’m really tired.” She broke away and waved, turning to dash out the door.
I knew he’d give in. I just knew it.
Qaralana was approaching the north gates the following morning when she heard someone calling from down the road.
“Qara! Wait up!”
She broke into a huge smile even before turning to wave down the road. A blonde man in heavy armor was trudging up the hill toward Riften. Even if she hadn’t recognized his voice she’d have known who it was the instant she saw him.
“Harald! I’ve been trying to find you for weeks! Where have you been?”
“It’s a long story,” he said as he approached her. “I was in Markarth for a while, and then somehow managed to get myself involved in helping out the folks at Little Vivec. I ended up at one of the Dwemer ruins just north of here, up in the mountains.”
“Really? I’ll bet you enjoyed that!” Qara was intrigued. Mostly, though, she was just delighted to see Harald. “So why are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, you understand.” She couldn’t help but smile in delight once more. She suddenly heard Chip, in her mind, teasing her about Harald, and felt her cheeks beginning to flush. With any luck the bright sunshine would help masquerade that.
He sighed. “I’m beat, that’s why,” he said. “And a bit concerned. I also need to get back to Little Vivec soon and let Bal-Ran know…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It was just closer to come here than to walk all the way back home. Seeing you for the first time in ages is a bonus.” He finally gave her the smile she’d been hoping to see.
“Well, give me a hug, too,” she said. And before she could think better of it she’d wrapped herself around him as she’d done so many times before. He hugged her, in return. It was only for a moment, though; once again the echoes of Chip’s teasing had her feeling uncomfortable. She broke the contact and pulled back, smiling at him in spite of her embarrassment.
“Tell you what, come over to my house. I’ll fix you something to eat and you can tell me about it. Besides,” she added, nearly bursting with excitement, “I have to tell you about the Dwemer ruin Chip and I went into. It’s just so exciting! I thought about you all the way through there.”
One of Harald’s eyebrows rose, along with one corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”
Qara laughed. “Yes, that’s so. Come on!”
She led him inside and watched him as he dropped his heavy pack just inside the door. It was as if it had been the weight of the world, not just a pack that he dropped. Harald obviously had been through something important, but she didn’t want to badger him into telling her what it might have been. Instead, she gathered up some snacks for them, brewed some tea, and started in on her own saga. For the second time in as many days she found herself recounting the trip through the portal to Falskaar, the civil war there, and her own journey back, hoping to find Harald at home.
“You came to get me?” he said, his face in its usual neutral expression, revealing little about what might be going on inside him.
Qara sighed. “Yes, but the carriage driver said you’d been away for some time.”
Harald nodded. “He was right. I would have been, let me think… yes that would have been while I was in Markarth.” He gave her an embarrassed grin. “I almost made it into the Dwemer ruin there, but events conspired against me. I got into some trouble for that little excursion, let me tell you.”
Qara couldn’t contain a giggle. “Let me guess – you stopped in to see Uncle Roggi and Uncle Dar.”
Harald’s grin faded. “Yes. And they told me something major had happened to you. Tell me about this. I want to hear your perspective on things.”
She heaved a heavy sigh. “You must have been surprised to hear Uncle Dar speak.”
Harald nodded. “That’s an understatement. And that happened immediately after Roggi gave me one of those stern talkings-to about remembering who I am.”
“That sounds right. And my perspective is that I had no idea all those stories about Uncle Dar were real, and in any way related to me.” She shook her head. “It’s true though, Harald. I can… uh…”
“Absorb dragons?” he said, with a broad and obvious grin this time. “A girl from the days of yore, are you?”
Qara stomped her foot on the floor. “Yes. I can. That’s what the problem is, Harald. Uncle Dardeh lost his ability to Shout and I got it, instead. He took me up to meet the Greybeards, even, and they acknowledged that I’m Dragonborn and Uncle Dar isn’t. So here am I, with this thing I can do that nobody else can, and I’m supposed to live up to some old legend, and…” She stopped when she realized that some of the dishes in her kitchen were beginning to vibrate from the power in her voice.
One of Harald’s bushy eyebrows rose. “I… see. And hear. You have to forgive me, Qara. I’ve never seen such a thing in person. I can’t do it, and Father can’t do it.”
“You’re not Dragonborn. Neither one of you is.”
His eyebrow remained raised, giving him a skeptical look. “And I’ve never seen Dardeh do it either. Besides,” he said, leaning forward and staring at her intently, “why would you suddenly have this happen now?”
She fought down her irritation again. “I don’t know, Harald,” she said briskly. “That’s exactly the problem. I didn’t even have time to find out why when I suddenly ended up in Falskaar!” She shuddered, remembering Vizemundsted. “I only saw one dragon there, the whole time I was away, and it wasn’t exactly the kind of creature I could kill, much less absorb. It was a dragon, sort of, but everyone told me that it was actually an avatar of Shor.”
She watched Harald’s expression go from one of amused tolerance to one of shock, followed by an almost awestruck longing. Qara winced. I hadn’t wanted to club him over the head with that but he does make me so annoyed sometimes.
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” she said quietly. “That’s part of the reason I came back to get you. I needed to get to Vizemundsted – an old Dwemer ruin – so that I could get to the barrow where the dragon was. I knew you’d have loved the whole adventure, but when I learned what the dragon was, well – let’s just say even Chip was impressed.”
Harald frowned. “So I was off being tossed into Cidhna Mine and Chip came to Falskaar with you?”
Qara’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what? You were in prison? But why?”
“For asking questions,” Harald said with a grimace. “The whole reason I went there in the first place was to ask questions. I can’t believe Father is as bad as people say, Qara, and I wanted to hear the story from people who were there when he was. But the timing was, well…”
And it was then Harald’s turn to share a tale. Qara kept shaking her head as he described the entire grisly affair with the Forsworn, and then stared in awe as he told her of tracking down a person who had turned out to be the Nerevarine himself. When he got to the end of that particular tale, Qara found herself chuckling.
“And what’s so funny about that, hmm?”
She grinned at him. “Here you were giving me a hard time about being Dragonborn, and you were off meeting another hero from days of yore.”
Harald’s usually-solemn face softened into a grin. “I guess you’re right about that. So I found out that what kind of man my father is depends on who you ask. And you found out that you’re Dragonborn because…”
Qara snorted. “I don’t know, Harald. That’s why it’s so annoying. Why? What possible reason am I needed?”
Harald stroked his beard a few times. “To kill dragons? I’m not being flippant, here. There are dragons about.”
Qara nodded, remembering some of the chatter she’d shared with Chip during their time together on Falskaar. “Hmm. Maybe there’s something to that. Chip said he must have killed half a dozen of them during the past few months. And I saw at least two that flew off before I could get to them.”
“And there’s one out on the tundra, in Eastmarch,” Harald added. “That’s part of the reason I headed here instead of trying to walk back north while I was so tired. I wanted nothing to do with fighting a dragon while I could barely lift my sword.”
Qara’s mind had been working hard on the question while Harald was speaking, and what he’d said took a moment or two to fully register with her. When it did, she looked at him in shock and, if she was honest about it, a little excitement.
“Well, let’s go then!”
Harald’s eyes opened wide for a moment. Then he chuckled. “You are jesting with me, aren’t you?”
Qara snorted. “No, I’m not jesting with you. Didn’t we just get done talking about how I’m Dragonborn?”
Harald looked flustered. “Well, yes, we did – but…”
“That’s right. We did.” Qara tried hard to keep the note of triumph out of her voice. It was hard enough to be listened to if you were a girl, harder still to skewer a man with his own arguments. And yet she had just done that very thing. “Harald, if you saw a dragon that means we have to kill it. I have to kill it. I’m the only one who can absorb its soul and truly destroy it. Unless Uncle Dar still can, but he thinks he can’t anymore.”
She stared at him, taking his measure. Harald was her best and closest friend. He had looked tired when he’d arrived, but between the long rest and food he looked much fresher now. She hated to goad him when he’d done nothing to deserve it aside from only believing what he could see with his own eyes – but it had to be done.
“Unless you’re not up to the fight, that is.”
As she had known would be the case, Harald’s deep-seated Nord pride flared into a moment of anger. His eyes flashed, and if he’d been able to produce steam from his nostrils she was certain he would have. At that moment she was glad that her Voice was far more powerful than his.
“How dare you? Do you remember who I am?”
Qara grinned and crossed her arms. “Of course I do, Prince Harald. Son of High King Ulfric Stormcloak, one of the greatest warriors of this Era.”
As quickly as it had flared, Harald’s anger died. He flushed, and had the good grace to look embarrassed at his outburst. She couldn’t help it: she giggled.
Harald harrumphed. “So you got me again. Well done. I can’t help being my father’s son any more than you can help being your father’s daughter.” He stroked his chin, looking in her direction but seeming to stare off into space, pondering something she couldn’t see.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I have this book. I think it’s in Dwemeris and the only person I know who might be able to tell us what it says is the person I met in Kagrenar. The Nerevarine. He told me if I ever needed advice I could find him at the Shrine of Azura. We’ll go kill the dragon on the way to see him. Then we’ll go report in to Little Vivec and go visit Dar and Roggi. I want to ask them some more questions. Does that sound reasonable?”
Qara nodded happily. I knew he’d come around. I’ve been on a roll. First Daddy and now Harald.
“Let me throw some food in a pack and we’ll be off.”
“There it is,” Harald whispered.
“Yeah, I’ve been hearing it for awhile. It’s challenging anyone near.” Qara knew her eyes must be shining with excitement, for her dragon blood was responding to the challenge of the creature flying around the top of Bonestrewn Crest in the same way it had wanted to respond to Ahkrinviing in the Heart Chamber. But that hadn’t been possible; Ahkrinviing was an avatar of Shor. This was a regular dragon – imposing and dangerous, to be sure, but not one of the Divine.
Harald shot her a quick glance, nodded, and headed across the road at a brisk trot. Qara tsk’d. He probably had winked, or raised an eyebrow, or done something that would have given her a hint as to what he intended, but under the heavy helmet his features didn’t show.
“Harald, wait!” she called out. I don’t know why I bother. He can’t possibly hear me with that dragon screaming. He’s at least as stubborn as Chip is. She heaved a resigned sigh and chased after the prince.
She was close to the top of the nearest hill when the dragon – a great red and black creature whose colors mimicked those in her own armor – suddenly banked and made a beeline for the much more visible Harald. She wanted to cry out a warning, but there was no time, and Harald clearly saw the beast heading for him. She readied her bow and drew.
“FO!”
Harald’s Voice startled her so badly that she lost her grip on the bowstring, and the arrow flopped to ground far short of contact with anything, much less the dragon. She snarled, drew another arrow and took a deep breath, readying a Shout as well as an attack.
Then there was an explosion of magic, directly between Qara and Harald. She jumped, once again dropping her arrow. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Out of the rough sphere of magic stepped a spectral form in heavy armor, draped with a fur cloak and wielding a wicked-looking, jagged sword – all ethereal, transparent, and glowing with power. The figure inhaled, leaned forward, and Shouted.
“FUS – RO DAH!”
The dragon was caught by the force of the Shout even as it flew overhead; it was force enough to shake the beast off-course and prevent it from attacking. Qara stood in stunned silence for just a moment before coming back to herself and firing off a shot. She missed, but Harald didn’t. In almost the same moment that the ethereal man Shouted, Harald had pulled out a bow glimmering with power that was visible to her all the way across the hillside. His shot landed an instant after the eerie Unrelenting Force had.
Qaralana felt her blood beginning to boil. If I don’t do something, this fight will be over before I get a chance to even engage!
She readied herself, and as the dragon made another pass at Harald she Shouted at it.
“JOOR – ZAH FRUL!”
The dragon screamed in outrage as the force of her Voice wrapped it in glowing energies. It thundered to the ground; she dashed toward it, drawing her blades, and saw that both Harald and the spirit were engaging it with theirs, as well. The next few moments were a blur of sound and color as the great beast snapped at the blades and spiked shield assailing it. With that much power against it, though, it didn’t last long; it gave one last cry and threw its head back before toppling to the ground.
Then Qara stood beside it and closed her eyes against the light of the fire, drawing in the dragon’s heat and power and adding it to her own in a wash of sensations she’d begun to almost enjoy. No wonder Uncle Dar said to be careful with this. It’s amazing. And he was so much stronger than I am.
When she opened her eyes, she found Harald standing with her beside the huge skeleton, staring at her. He shook his head and blew out a long breath.
“So that’s what it is to be Dragonborn,” he said almost reverently.
“Yes,” she responded simply. “That’s why I insisted we fight it. I can make them truly dead.” Then it was her turn to be awe-struck. “But who was that, Harald, the spirit that fought with us? What was it?”
He removed his helmet and smiled down at her. “As near as I can tell, Qara, it’s the spirit of Shor. I used to feel it as a part of myself, a sort of second skin like the armor spells the mages cast. You remember – I’ve told you about it before.”
Qara nodded. “Yes, and I saw someone on Falskaar – Ulgar Hjorgunnar – do the same thing, almost glowing. I always thought it was just a Nord thing, and because I’m only half-Nord I couldn’t do it myself. But this was…”
Harald smiled. “This was Shor’s spirit. I am certain of it. I’ve felt him more strongly of late – out in Markarth, when I found myself doing things I couldn’t have imagined – and again when I was in Kagrenar with the Nerevarine. I wasn’t expecting it to take on its own form like that.”
An avatar of Shor. Just like the dragon on Falskaar. I don’t know what to think about that.
“Well then,” Harald said, “If we don’t move along we’ll never get to Windhelm, much less the Shrine of Azura. Let’s go.”
Qara didn’t know what to say, either; she simply nodded.