The Throat of the World

  Autumn, 24th Frostfall

  Year 202 of the Fourth Era (4E202)

  (Present day)

  In your tongue, the Word simply means 'Fire.' It is ‘change’ given form. Power, at its most primal. That is the true meaning of 'Yol.' Suleyk. Power. You have it, as do all dov. But power is inert without action and choice. Think of this as the fire builds in your su'um, in your breath. Su'um ahrk morah. What will you burn? What will you spare?

  Power. Fire. Change. Thoughts, words and meaning flowed through Kaius’s mind and filled his being as he sat in the snow. All other thoughts and worldly sensations were fading as he contemplated, closing his mind off to everything but the Thu'um. The coldness of the snow? Gone. The tightness of his chest from the thin, mountain air? Little more than an annoyance that faded quickly as his mind sunk ever deeper into itself.

  Yol. Such a simple word. Little more than a single syllable, but Kaius knew all too well just how much raw potential and power it truly contained. It was a word that was resonating through his bones, permeating deep into his flesh like he was immersing himself into a stream filled with the winter's snow melt. Gnawing and twisting, it threaded through muscles, bones and soul in an all too familiar way as he grasped it with his mind, feeling the coiling strength of simple meaning.

  This was the key to the Thu'um; the differences between a student, a master, a dov, and of course; a dovahkiin. The words-that-were-not-words were true power beyond any magicka, and for the past weeks Kaius had learned there was a massive difference between knowing and understanding. Ever since the watchtower he could speak dovahzul, bend it to his will, and use it like the sword at his hip or a tool, but there was a significant difference between using it and mastering it.

  Only through true understanding of the meaning of each word of power within the draconic language could he unlock its true potential, and the past year had proven that he needed the power of the thu’um to face all the threats in his not-so-distant future. He needed a power unlike anything he had ever seen before, something beyond his daedric-corrupted vampirism, and so he found himself meditating, listening, feeling, and seeking that power. Yol, was a power that could make stone run like water. Yol, was change that could unmake fortress walls and fuse soil into glass. Yol was...

  Pain...

  Unbidden, a new meaning pushed into his consciousness. An association, from the depths of his mind latching onto Yol like a parasite and refusing to be shaken free. Pain was certainly something that he was all too familiar with, but he concentrated, pushing aside the sensation of blades slicing through his flesh, of bones breaking, arrows and bolts punching through muscle and meat to return to the meaning of Yol, seeking understanding instead.

  Through all the swirling thoughts, the depths of his soul, and the presences of the… beings he had consumed and joined with over his life, he could sense the understanding. It was close, like a word caught on the tip of the tongue, but he could also taste the power of dragonfire. All the words of power were like that, and every time he used the Thu'um he literally tasted the words on his tongue, felt them in his soul, and when he had finally returned to High Hrothgar with Jurgen Windcaller’s horn, he had felt it physically. Of course even then, there had been pain, having the mortal practitioners and students of the Thu’um assemble and recognise him as Dovahsebrom; ‘the Dragon of the North,’ through a combined chorus of Dovahzul that would have killed anyone else, but when the Greybeards spoke the world stopped to listen.

  He thought he knew the power of the dragon’s tongue when he had fought and killed three of the creatures during his life, but to feel the dozens of mortal, human practitioners speaking rather than shouting the words? That was true power. A power beyond the strength of his body, the skill of his sword arm, and his ability with magicka. Power enough to meet the increasing numbers of his adversaries on equal, if not greater terms.

  But the pain… Again unbidden, the sensation returned and this time it was with far greater force. He couldn't resist it this time and Kaius felt the agony of his wounds once more, compounded more by the fact that the first of the draconic presences within him was also reacting to the parasitic meaning. The pain writhed and coiled around and through him, bridging the gap between his meditating mind and his memories until he could almost feel the magicka flowing through his arm as it once had, spreading out from his fingertips and wrapping protectively around him. Locking into place like a physical shield, the magicka had been quivering, rippling and shuddering as the Yol pushed down so hard onto it that blood began to drip from his nose from the effort of sustaining the ward.

  It was too powerful. Too overwhelming. A power that could melt castles, destroy armies, and crack open mountains, pressing down hard onto a magical ward sustained by a mere mortal. The dragon's breath was swirling and rippling as a physical force, and despite the sheer willpower that he pushed into the ward, and almost in spite of the might of the vampire lending its aid, it still cracked. No bigger than the shaft of an arrow, the tiny chink in the magical ward was enough to allow the passage of Yol through the protective barrier, allowing the fire a means of a entry. Allowing entry to the pain...

  Through the miniscule gap in the magicka, the dragonfire splattered about in tiny droplets as though it was a liquid... thing instead of fire. Like a geyser pressurised from the depths, or the terrible majesty of Red Mountain opening its throat and roaring, the effects were immediate. The fire splattered over his chest and leg, taking to the armour and clothing like a ravenous swarm of slaughterfish and leaving nothing behind. Armour that he had worn through the worst of the Oblivion Crisis and the years afterwards, was undone in an instant. Daedroth scales were seared away, the enchantments binding them in Nirn evaporating into nothingness. Moonstone chainlinks turned to liquid and soaked through clothes, even as it burned the fabric, boiling skin and muscle, and stripping the flesh away until the whiteness of bones were revealed. From his knee to his chest, the dragonfire rippled and sprayed, forcing him to smell his burnt flesh and roasted marrow, and feel the way the metal melted into his body even as it burned into steam from the heat.

  If it wasn't for the rock he was sitting against, Kaius would have fallen backward and pitched himself into the snow from the intensity of the memory to tear his mind free from the parasitic meaning of Yol. Writhing and twisting for a moment he struggled to breathe, sucking in the thin air in a vain attempt to regain control over his rebellious body once more. Both hands were clutching at his side, and even though he could feel nothing under the layers of furs and armour he wore, there was still the residual sensation of burning flesh crawling up his side.

  "Talos's balls." He swore, twisting and resting his head against the rock at his spine and trying hard not to shake. The memory of the pain would be with him for the rest of his existence, but it had been close to two hundred years since he had experienced that particular agony. It was certainly not something he wanted to ever experience again.

  "Your understanding is... different Dovahkiin." Nearby, the enormous being watching his reaction shifted slightly, with all the strength and power of a tectonic plate grinding into a mountain range.

  "You could say that."

  "What did you feel?"

  "Pain." Kaius said simply, one hand still unconsciously pressed into his side. "Agony."

  Rumbling both with amusement and with his sheer size, the enormous dragon Paarthurnax shifted over the ground with all the strength and might of a storm. His clawtips, their lengths similar to the broadsword in its scabbard on Kaius's hip, sunk into the ground as the dragon came to rest a few meters in front of the mortal man.

  "Faaz is not something I would expect from Yol."

  "Trust me, it wasn't something I was expecting either."

  "Was it emotion? Or Vahrukt... Memory?"

  Kaius fell silent for a moment and closed his eyes. There was a flash of light, the slight shimmering of a ward in his mind's eye, before it was drowned in fire.

  "A memory. One from a long time ago."

  Gracefully moving his enormous bulk around, Paarthurnax adjusted his position, folding his wings back and placing both clawed wingtips under his serpentine neck. Somehow, another understanding allowed Kaius to know that this was the dragon's equivalent way of sitting cross legged like he was.

  It had been a full year since his battle with the Dragon Mirmulnir at the watchtower and the revelation of being Dovahkiin, and once again he was high upon the Throat of the World. This time however he was no longer restricted to the cold granite halls of High Hrothgar and learning the Thu’um from the Greybeards. Instead, after finally retrieving the horn of Jurgen Windcaller from the person who had stolen it, he had been provided a truly rare opportunity.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The Greybeards were an ancient order, founded four thousand years before in the early centuries of the First Era but the truth, as Kaius had learned, was far, far stranger than the myths and stories. All but a handful of the most learned of the monastic order believed that Jurgen Windcaller, said to be the greatest and most powerful Tongue in Skyrim’s history, was the founder and first Greybeard. This was true, but he hadn’t founded the Greybeards and the Way of the Voice alone. The ancient nord had help, from a surprising source.

  Paarthurnax. Second born son of Akatosh, and younger brother to Alduin; The World Eater. It had been Paarthurnax who helped the ancient nordic peoples in breaking free from the slavery of the Dragons and the dragoncult, by teaching the slaves the thu’um. It had also been Paarthurnax who had not only founded the Greybeards alongside Jurgen Windcaller, but also had been their ‘leader’ for thousands of years, teaching and mentoring mortals the true power of Dovahzul and the thu’um. Now, as he had for all those who had climbed to the very utmost peak of The Throat of the World, he was now teaching Kaius. At least, after Kaius’s initial shock of his true identity and nature wore off.

  "A lingrah time for you, is not the same as a lingrah time for me, Dovahkiin. You are old for a joor, a mortal... but then, you aren't really joor... are you?"

  The chuckle from the great wyrm was so deep that it was ultrasonic, causing the snow under its enormous chest to shudder slightly. For most men and mer it would have been inaudible, impossible to hear, but all too easy to feel instead. In normal beings it would have invoked involuntary feelings of dread and terror, but Kaius with his vampiric senses could hear it and the dragon’s amusement.

  "There are some days I don't really know what I am."

  "You are a being who has experienced what it is to be mortal, and yet, more than mortal. You have experienced power in many forms, but what was the first time you felt true power? True suleyk?"

  "A long time ago.” Kaius replied simply, feeling the memory roiling within his mind. “When I first fed upon one of your siblings."

  "Our sibling. You are dovah now, whether you were born as one or not." Literally as old as the mountain they sat upon, Paarthurnax was craggled, with his scales, horns and claws rough and weathered from centuries of exposure to the sky and winds. His eyes however, each individually larger than Kaius’s fist, were alight with keen intelligence. “Whose Zul… voice, was the first you devoured?”

  “His name was Hahdiinrii and it was almost two centuries ago. Hahdiinrii was a dragon of the deep, living in the underdark... what you would know as the Mingolt..." Receiving a rumble of acknowledgement in return, Kaius continued, trying to keep the pain away from the memory of the burns. "Viconia and I had travelled back to the Underdark with the intention of defeating Lloth; the Spider Goddess, but we couldn't simply attack her head on and hope to win. We had to gain power of our own to contend with hers, and almost as importantly; remove her allies as well."

  "And Hahdiinrii was one of them?"

  "Yes. Her key ally in fact. Hahdiinrii wasn't the only deep dragon affiliated or known to the Velmer and the Drow City-States, but to Lloth he was the most important. Long, long ago, before the Velmer became who they are now, and before Lloth gained dominion over them, she encountered Hahdiinrii. Somehow she learned from him how to empower herself with souls, sacrifices and blood. Hahdiinrii taught her everything she needed to know to ascend to demi-godhood, and gain power over her people. By the time that we came to fight her, Lloth might have been beyond anything Hahdiinrii could teach, but we couldn’t take the chance that he would come to her aid."

  "And so, you slew him?"

  "Not before he nearly killed me." Kaius didn’t need to meditate to remember or experience these particular memories from almost two hundred years before. Even after so long he could taste and smell and feel it all. It was almost as though the memories had been engraved into his mind and soul as much as the scars had been in his flesh.

  Rich, roasted pork, bitter burnt marrow, and the metallic tang of molten metal caught in the back of the throat, a sensation that would, and had, been triggered consistently in the decades since by the smallest of sensations or even the likes of a colour, or wayward smell. It would immediately drag his mind back to the moments after the ward had been breached by dragonfire and all the pain and sensations that came with it.

  From armpit to knee he had been laid bare, his armour, clothing and equipment melted, burned or vapourised from the dragonfire and he struggled to walk, let alone stand with a portion of his body ruined by the fire. It was a close run thing indeed, the closest he had ever come to truly dying, which even with his experiences to this point in his life were considerable. His skills with magicka had never been the greatest and while the ward he had cast at the time had successfully held off the last breath of dragonfire, it had still cracked under the raw Suleyk. If it had cracked any more than it had, if it had failed in any other way, then Kaius knew without any doubt that he would have been erased from existence, rendered down into powder and dust, and perhaps nothing more than a shadow burned into the rocky floor.

  As it was his body had been ruined, his chest and abdomen roasted and significant portions of his flesh blackened and raw. Several ribs were open to the air, the fire burning through his side so deeply that a kidney had been boiled in his own melted fat and a lung had a hole between two ribs that he could suck air through. His right leg was useless and dragging and despite the agony he had somehow remained standing, groaning wordlessly and struggling against the encroaching unconsciousness and the fingers of death approaching.

  Less than a metre away the gigantic beast he had come to slay, lay in the broken masonry and dirt of the ancient ruins. They were incalculably deep in the earth, and within the bounds of one of the uncounted, abandoned and lost cities that had been dug into the hollow earthbones of Nirn. This ruin had been the dragon's home, and now it was going to be its tomb.

  After everything that had happened, it had almost been Kaius's as well. The burns had left him almost entirely crippled, and it was only through a combination of will and a significant amount of vampiric instinct that kept him going. Lesser men and mer would have already fallen comatose, or even died from the shock, but the same vampiric corruption that had kept him going through the Oblivion Crisis drove him further on.

  Blood, ankle deep in places flowed sluggishly around the creature as it lay and panted its last breaths away, and Kaius stood in a pool of it as he staggered and propped himself up against a giant winged shoulder. Pain would flow through him as he was jostled by the ragged breaths Hahdrinrii was sucking in, but neither of them was in any condition to do much else. They were both dying, both mortally wounded, and all that was left was to see who would be the first of them to die.

  Dragonfire had seared Kaius’s flesh, but Hahdiinrii had been brought low with mortal crafts. As it had throughout the Oblivion Crisis, the Light of Dawn had proven its immaculate, Ayleid forged craftsmanship was enough to contend against dragonscale and a creature that outweighed Kaius hundreds of times over. It had fallen out of his pain weakened grip, the peerless edge that had allowed Kaius to slice entire hunks of flesh from the dragon, had also ensured that when he dropped it, it sank to the hilt in the floor as though it was butter rather than stone. The wounds it had caused though were immense. One entire winged forearm was almost entirely severed, a wound in its throat was pumping pressurised spurts of gore that were responsible for the growing pools of blood soaking them both. The way Kaius had staggered over to the dying dragon had resulted in him practically leaning into a massive rent in Hahdiinrii’s chest, where ribs and pulsing muscle and meat were visible under a flap of loose hide and scale.

  Through instinct alone and like it had done several times over the previous decades, the vampire took over. Shifting and cracking its way to the surface, Kaius’s jawbone split and elongated, teeth sliding out of gums while tapering to points, and his non-dragonfire ruined muscles swelled with unnatural power. If Hahdiinrii felt the way that the vampire sunk his claws into its flank to haul itself along it didn't respond, having lost too much blood and suffered too much damage to react. The ancient dragon didn’t react even as vampire slumped from exhaustion and weakness, pressing his face into an open wound and biting down hard into a leathery vein as thick as his wrist.

  Kaius had never been certain how much time had passed while he fed on the dragon. With no sun or moon and perpetual darkness, time in the Underdark had no meaning or measurement, and unlike the blood of mortals or animals, Hahdiinrii’s blood did not seem to fill his belly. He had drunk and drunk and drunk, until he thought that he would burst… Should have burst, and yet, he didn't. Somehow there had always been more space for the blood to flow and like a human sized leech or parasite, he had locked his jaw in place, and sucked the creature's life-force down.

  By the time that he had finished, whether it had been hours or days, there was nothing left. He had never been able to understand how he had managed to drink the blood from a creature dozens of times his own size, or the fact that by the time he had pulled away from its desiccated husk that even the blood on the floor had disappeared as though it had never existed. All that was left of his success was the skeletal bones of the creature propping up the leathery scales and skin like a crude tent, the flesh withering and turning to dust right before his eyes.

  To a vampire, all blood was power, but the dragon's blood was something else entirely. It had filled him, sustained him and had even healed him to some degree. While not entirely whole and playing host to a new collection of scars that ran from armpit to knee he felt stronger, faster and more powerful than ever before.

  “Blood is the essence of the soul.” Kaius said as he finished telling Paarthurnax of Hahdiinrii’s defeat. “I learned that shortly after I became a vampire. I knew, even back then, that drinking his blood meant I absorbed Hahdiinrii’s soul, but I never thought that it would mean that I would become Dragonborn. Hells, I had never even heard of Dragonborn, outside the context of describing the Septim Emperors. At least, until I fought Mirmulnir.”

  “In a way you were always dovah, or at least, understood what it is to be one." While listening intently, Paarthurnax again lowered his head to the ground to Kaius’s height. "You have tasted yol; tasted true suleyk. It has also tasted you. This weight lays upon you, and it troubles you. Nid drem fen bo. No peace will come until you accept it, and mindoraan… understand it.”

  "It troubles me?” Kaius couldn't help but laugh, smiling bitterly to the giant creature before him. “I'm always troubled."

  "Geh, but the faaz… The pain you feel is not of your physical injuries, but from the injuries to your zii... Your spirit. These wounds do not heal as others do. To contemplate the meaning of the Rotmulaag; the ‘Words of Power,’ is to become closer to those Words. But an ahraan zii… wounded spirit… will block their contemplation. It is also possible that it could taint, or corrupt their meaning.”

  “So you’re saying I need to heal my spirit somehow, to understand and master the thu’um? I don’t think that I’m that proficient in restoration magicka.” Laughing bitterly to himself, Kaius thought for several moments, staring out across the seemingly endless horizons on the very top of the world. It was peaceful, serene and truly beautiful, and sitting in the snow on the ancient, wind swept stones he could see all of Skyrim, and even the border mountain ranges to the east and west separating the province from High Rock and Morrowind. “Where would I even begin anyway?”

  “Begin with the most recent of the faaz… The pain that your mind travels to first.”

  Grimly, Kaius nodded, but the thoughts were already rolling in his mind. There was a source of a deep, dark pain in his soul, one that recently had been stoked, like a hot knife into his chest from recent events.

  Forgotten Hero' storyline from 'The Elder Scrolls: Legends' questline, so anyone interested in seeing how it is in 'canon' as opposed to the Bloodtide universe the link is in the first chapter of The Dead don't Weep. Will love to know what everyone thinks of this interpretation...

  Blood of Dragons to receive some ratings, not to mention the likes of a review or something. The nature of Fanfiction and RoyalRoad's ToS means I can't pay for ads (I can't even pay people to read my stuff! lol) and I'm entirely reliant on the site algorithms and shoutouts to have any visibility. Reviews, ratings, favorites and follows all assist immensely towards this, and you have no idea how much that sort of thing means to me.