Three more days on the road, traveling around the base of the huge mountain. They spotted a fortress on the first day full of mages, the bodies of Stormcloaks hanging from the battlements.

 

“Necromancers,” had whispered Eldawyn. “Best we steer clear.”

 

Nora had wanted to get rid of the evil bastards, but she had to admit that this might be more than they could handle, and she wanted to arrive at High Hrothgar alive. So they had taken a high road up along the slope of the mountain. The main roads were pretty good, stone in most places, but the side roads were as bad as they got. There were times when Nora wasn't sure she was even on a road at all.

 

Too bad there are all these occupied fortresses, she thought. The Imperials and Stormcloaks both would allow neutral factions to pass. The bandits and rogue mages, not so much, and it had to put a real damper on the economy and transport of the kingdom. Another problem to tackle on another day.

 

Ivarstead turned out to be a scenic village at the base of the mountain. Forty or fifty houses, a mill and an inn. A number of farms in the surrounding land, probably many more out of sight. Nora estimated a couple of hundred people, three hundred at most. The town was actually overflowing with people, pilgrims who had flocked to the area when they had heard the shout from the monastery. That created a problem since the party had been looking forward to getting a bath and a bed at the inn. Nora felt filthy and the rest of the party smelled bad.

 

“No, we don't have any rooms,” said the inn keeper. “The people have been coming in droves, hoping to get word of the Dragonborn.”

 

And here I am, thought Nora, not willing to reveal who she was so that she wouldn't have to deal with the questions of the curious. And no accommodations.

 

“Do you have a bath, by chance?” she asked. “I have six people that need to get clean. And maybe some laundered clothes.”

 

“We might be able to do that for you, but the demand is high right now.”

 

Which means the price had gone up. “How much?”

 

“Thirty gold for the bath, ten for one set of clothing cleaned.”

 

The bath was three times what she had seen advertised in the inns of Whiterun. A village like this probably didn't get too many visitors on a regular basis, and would take what they could get when it was available.

 

“I'll give you fifty for each of us, and fifteen for the clothing.”

 

Really all they had that needed cleaning was their small clothes and stockings. The armor they could clean themselves, though if she could get a deal from a blacksmith she would take it.

 

“If you have tents you can pitch them right outside of the town,” said the innkeep, looking over the strange party. “Just don't pitch in a farmer's field. Here to see High Hrothgar?”

 

“Yes. We're planning to head up there in the morning.”

 

“Great view, from what I've heard. But don't expect to see the Greybeards. They're hermits, and they aren't taking visitors. Oh, and by the way, stay clear of the barrow outside of town. It's haunted.”

 

That might be worth looking into, thought Nora, glancing back at her people. They had the whole afternoon ahead of them and she didn't want to try and go up the mountain in the dark. But the barrow might be a chance at more loot. But first to procure some clean clothing.

 

The tailor in town had small clothes in all their sizes, the blacksmith was willing to clean their armor if they left it with him overnight. Those settled, and the arrangements made for drop off and pick up, they headed to the barrow, supposedly haunted. On Earth that would have been a laugh, though sometimes ghost stories grew up around some irradiated monster. Here, haunted could mean any of a number of things. Draugr, spirits, even Falmer.

 

Nora had yet to see any of the dreaded snow elves, or at least what remained of that race. Eldawyn had told her the story, about how the elves had made a deal with the Dwemer and had ended up on the bad side of the bargain. And that they had white souls that could be trapped in greater or grand soul gems. Still, they were sentient beings, and Nora had no intention of letting them get soul trapped on her watch.

 

The barrow was easy to find. Walk out of the north side of town and there it was. Another ancient Nord ruin, like so many scattered around. She thought it might contain a word wall, since they were dated back to the dragon wars, when the cults of the dragon had controlled the land. They didn't always have word walls, but there was always a hope.

 

“I don't like going into these things,” said Recorder in a slightly quavering voice.

 

“No one likes going into these things,” said Toccata, turning to look at the smaller woman.

 

Nora didn't like confronting the undead, but she was determined to clear this one out so the people of Ivarsteaad could rest easy. She looked over at the usually suicidally fearless observer in surprise.

 

“You can sit this one out if you want,” she told Recorder, knowing that she couldn't continue to refuse missions. But a break now and then, sure.

 

“I'll get thrown out of the Academy if I refuse to follow my subject,” said Recorder, shaking her head. “So no, I have to go if you do.”

 

“Then get yourself together, because we are going in.”

 

The tomb smelled of the musky odor of old dead things. And the feeling that something wasn't right. There were puzzles, and dead Draugr, and a voice telling them to turn back. There was something strange about the voice. It sounded creepy, but not in the way of the truly dead. Eventually they found the man who produced the voice, after they had killed him, thinking him a ghost. He had been alive, and reading his journal gave the tale. He was a treasure hunter that had wanted to keep others away from the tomb, and had paid the ultimate price. Another person that probably hadn't needed to die to add to the list that weighed on Nora's conscience.

 

The inn keeper was amazed to read the journal and gave them a claw he had been holding onto that was said the open the final door of the barrow. And then they were back at it, going through several more puzzles, avoiding fire traps, finally opening the last door. There were undead Draugrs in the final portion of the tomb, more practice for Nora and her friends, and then they reached the main chamber. That Draugr was tougher, but not tough enough to face six warriors, four of them mages, who took them down.

 

Nora could hear the wall singing to her, and learned the Kyne's Peace shout. She wasn't sure what use it would be, but still she unlocked it, not willing to pass up a gift that might be useful in ways she couldn't suspect.

 

“You did us a favor clearing out the barrow,” said the innkeep as Nora reported back to him.

 

“I'm just sorry that I had to kill the poor madman,” said Nora, guilt eating at her.

 

“He chose to play a role, and you thought he was the ghost,” said Eldawyn. “So stop beating up on yourself.”

 

Easier said than done. The grateful inn keeper gave up his own room to them, sleeping on furs in the common room. Nora wasn't sure how they were all going to fit in, but she would figure something else out. After their series of baths in the large tub of hot water Nora was surprised to find that the others had left the inn to set up a camp. Leaving her and Eldawyn to use the room.

 

“Think we're safe enough here?” asked the elf, kissing Nora's hand before they went down to the room.

 

“What did you have in mind?” asked Nora, knowing the answer.

 

And so they made love for an hour, all their tired bodies could take, but enough to satisfy them both. Elda had been drinking, heavily, but stayed awake long enough to lay there looking at Nora's face after they had enjoyed their pleasure.

 

“Still feeling guilty about killing the human?” she asked.

 

“Very much so. If I had realized it was just some crazy person I would have tried to catch him,” said Nora, blinking back the tears.

 

“You couldn't know. And you can't go around approaching threats with the intent of giving them a chance. That's a very good way of getting killed.”

 

“I know,” said Nora in a choked voice. “But it doesn't make it any easier.”

 

“No, I guess for someone like you it doesn't. So let me tell you a tale to take you mind off bloodshed and death. Though it has both.”

 

“Does this involve you?” asked Nora, sitting up and looking intently into the face of the Altmer.

 

“It does,” said the elf after taking a large swig of wine. “I will tell you a tale of woe, and in the end you will understand why I drink so much.”

 

“I thought you just liked to drink.”

 

“I do. I do indeed. But I have a better reason. So get comfortable and I will tell you what kind of evil you have wedded yourself to.”

 

Nora leaned back against the wall, looking over at Eldawyn, curious as to what the woman was about to tell her.

 

“We were dungeon raiders,” said Eldawyn, her voice quiet and distant. “A party of four mages. You know that four mages can make a powerful party if they have complimentary talents. We had a healer, an alteration mage, and myself, the fire mage.”

 

“And the fourth?”

 

“Oh, he wasn't much of a mage at all. A scroll caster, a man that wanted so badly to cast, but hadn't a shred of talent. But he had the scrolls, so we welcomed him into our party. And he was the first to die. Fumbling with a scroll while a spider took him and ran off.”

 

“Shit,” hissed Nora. The large spiders sent chills up her spine. It was only because she had faced worse in the Commonwealth that she could face them at all.

 

“The rest of us continued into the tomb. Greed is a wonderful motivator. And found ourselves trapped in a chamber with a mad spirit. Maybe a demon. It threatened to kill us all, and we made a bargain. And you know how those bargains go.”

 

Nora didn't, but she had heard enough stories of deals with the devil to know what it was about.

 

“The spirit was consigned to the tomb, it couldn't leave, not without a person to ride. But it didn't have the power to force a possession. What it had the power to do was keep us trapped. So we struck the deal. The last of us to survive would come back to the tomb and accept possession.”

 

Nora felt herself staring, mouth open. It was a horrible deal. Accept an entity within your body and brain, or die of starvation and thirst in an unknown chamber.

 

“I won the, lottery, is that what you called them?”

 

“Yes,” said Nora, nodding, unable to say anything else.

 

“So I went back to the tomb. I had no choice. Making the bargain subjected me to a compulsion. And the spirit slid into me, ready to see the world. It wasn't able to take control, but it was always there. Looking out, leering, laughing. It didn't have control, but it had appetites for murder and bloodshed. Wine held it back, allowed me to go on without its constant badgering. And so I went from a casual wine drinker to a drunk. It was the only way I could go on and not go mad.”

 

“That day on the road back from Silver Moon Camp? When you hadn't had anything to drink for a couple of days.”

 

“Yeah. Part of that was me. I do hate the Thalmor, but I probably wouldn't have attacked without your order. But the spirit, I still don't even know its damned name, pushed me into it.”

 

Eldawyn was the one crying now, shaking her head. “I wouldn't hold it against you if you decided I was a liability and cut me loose.”

 

Nora moved and took the sobbing elf into her arms. “Oh, honey. It wasn't your fault. You had a terrible choice and made what you thought was the best one. Hell, you were likely to be killed before the others anyway. So no, I don't hold it against you. And doing what was necessary to hold the demon at bay showed that your heart was in the right place.”

 

Eldawyn leaned back, out of Nora's embrace, and the Sole Survivor was confused for a moment, until the elf smiled. “You are always so understanding. I would think you weak, except I have seen you fight and heard your story. And don't go believing I was all sweetness and light before the possession. I had done many evil things. Most mages do. It's something to remember while you journey to master mage.”

 

Nora leaned over and kissed the beautiful elf. One thing led to another and they found the energy for another bout of love making. They woke in the morning, both of their demons at rest, for the moment.

 

“Thank you,” whispered Eldawyn after she kissed Nora. “I will try to not disappoint you.”

 

“And thank you,” said Nora in the same soft tone. “For stopping the nightmares. At least for now.”

 

As they dressed in their new, clean small clothes and stockings, then got into some rough spun clothing to cover themselves, Nora thought about both their stories. They were very different, going through very different lives. And they were both broken. But there for each other.

 

*     *     *

 

The next morning found them clean and refreshed and walking the seven thousand steps. The horses had been left with the stable in Ivarstead. Sofia, Toccata and Lydia had all been up the mountain with the last Dragonborn, and had insisted that the horses wouldn't do well at those temperatures. Nora didn't like the sound of that. If the horses didn't do well she didn't think she would either. All were dressed in heavy parkas, hoods and gloves, along with their fur cloaks. Even Recorder was bundled.

 

“If you could take these supplies up to the monastery I would appreciate it,” said Klimmek, an older Nord they had met at the bridge over the stream, beside the mill. “I'm getting old, and those seven thousand steps are hard on my legs.”

 

“Be glad to,” said Nora, accepting the heavy pack full of dried fish and vegetables. She handed her own lighter pack over to Lydia, who would carry double up the mountain. After all, the Housecarl was sworn to carry her burdens. “What can you tell me about the Greybeards.”

 

“Not much,” answered the Nord. “I’ve never actually met them. Not sure if I would want to. They're said to be able to kill with their voices. Not that I think they would. They're said to be peaceful.”

 

Nora didn't bother to count the steps, said to be seven thousand. All she knew was there were a fuck ton of them, and not all of them were in the best of shape. There were areas were the steps were gone, covered by snow or worn away. There were wolves to kill. The first third of the trip was cold, but not terribly so. She looked at the flame of Kynareth burning at the base of the path, then stopped at the first couple of way points and read the plaques. There was a hunter to talk to, who cautioned them that there were wolves, and maybe a couple of bears. There was a woman sitting at one of the way points meditating on the plaque.

 

“Not really much to worry about,” she said from her seated position. “There might be some wolves. And I've heard of a snow troll, but never seen it. I would just run if it made an appearance.”

 

A third of the way up the path and sides were covered with snow. The temperature dropped considerably and the wind cut through their clothing. A bear stood in the path, but a trio of arrows took it down. They didn't have time to butcher and dress it, and Nora felt guilty at leaving the furs and meat, but it couldn't be helped. Maybe on the way down.

 

At two thirds of the way up the cold was brutal. The Nord women, Toccata, Sofia and Lydia, seemed to take it in stride. She, Eldawyn and Recorder were suffering, and Nora started to think they might need to find shelter. But the only shelter was ahead, and it was closer than what was behind, so on they trudged.

 

The troll appeared around the next corner, the first that Nora had encountered. An ugly white furred beast with a strange head, four eyes glaring out. It might have normally been a formidable creature, but it had a weakness to fire, and the four mages took in down in an instant.

 

Nora was chilled to the bone when the monastery appeared ahead. It was snowing, the wind was whipping it up, and Nora thought she might collapse. She knew that Skyrim was a cold land, and she needed to build up her cold resistance, but this was too much. The supplies went into the crate at the bottom of the twin stairs and she stumbled up the right set of steps, about at the end of her energy. She wondered if the door might be locked, and if anyone would come if she banged on it. In a near panic she tried the door, afraid that they would all die if it didn't open. But it opened easily and they stumbled in.