Late Merethic Era.
More than 4500 years before the birth of the Last Dragonborn.
Falmeret / Skyrim.
Two months later.
Feator Kaslana.
Two single words pounded like a bell in my head.
Everything is bad.
Everything is very bad!
Kha-kha!
The capital is burning.
The capital is crumbling.
Fiery stone meteors are falling everywhere.
The sword is broken again.
My right arm hangs limp.
Magic is at zero.
My right eye is filling with blood from a gash above my brow.
To the left hangs the archmage, impaled on a fragment of some building.
To the right, against the wall, lies the archer like a broken doll, her bow glowing faintly as it fades from reality.
To the northwest, under a pile of rubble, lies the body of the ranger — only his legs are visible.
Vaysi is definitely unconscious, with a serious concussion.
And ahead…
Ahead, a giant dragon closes its jaws, tearing the greatest warrior of my current kin in half.
Him.
The Devourer of Worlds.
Two grim wings soared into the cold.
Alduin, the Bane of Monarchs, shadow of ancient ages, whose greed would devour the whole world!
Eyes blazing with scarlet malice fixed on me.
His crimson blood flowed down his pitch-black scales, mingling with elven blood.
And in my head, again, two single words.
Though slightly different ones.
Total shit!
And how did it come to this?
* * * And again, several months ago.
And again, Feator.
It wasn’t that everyone immediately and enthusiastically embraced the idea of combat coordination in conditions close to real battle.
That is, with live weapons and full-power magic, without any of the stationary defensive artifacts mages use for training.
But they were set up properly.
With spectators in the form of the Royal Guard.
If losing to each other wasn’t particularly shameful, then losing in front of the common folk…
That’s where everyone’s elven pride kicked in.
The commander of that very Royal Guard only smiled condescendingly at the sight, when no one was watching.
Even I only caught it thanks to Auri-El’s blessing.
So for several days straight, we used stamina-restoring potions and the help of healing mages, who we kept up all night.
We took almost no breaks, constantly switching partners, preparing to repel attacks from the opposing team with a new member.
And even though Vaysi didn’t quite reach our level, under Fingolfin’s guidance — who had unofficially taken my precious one under his wing as a student — she worked hard, improving her skills at a furious pace.
The ranger had to start straining herself; she couldn’t win as easily as at the very beginning.
Speed is speed, and acrobatic tricks are acrobatic tricks, but area-of-effect magic neutralizes that advantage.
Especially if it’s freezing ice magic, whose radius of effect is unclear due to the cooling fog covering the icicles and ice arrows.
Besides Vaysi, I worked best with our squad commander, Fingolfin himself.
It was fairly…
Expected.
We’re both close-combat fighters, and we both wield swords.
The ranger may have the same speed-oriented style, but…
Dagger attacks are very different from sword attacks, and I don’t use all sorts of alchemical nastiness, while she produces it on an industrial scale.
The healers got tired over those days of extracting a whole bunch of poison from all of us — poison that got into our bodies either from the smoke of broken vials smashed against us, or through tiny throwing needles enchanted in such a way that even using the River of Time, I didn’t always notice them.
Not to mention the archmage, who didn’t like moving much and was forced to spend a ton of magic on a single continuous magical shield.
The first time I was on the ranger’s team, he lost that way.
He got distracted by me and let the darting woman slip past.
After that, the wounded master of the elements held nothing back and chased all his opponents with a whole cloud of magic.
If not for the stationary shield of the training ground, half the palace would have been in ruins afterward.
Not that it always helped him against Fingolfin, especially if he was on my team…
But still.
…Finally, the running-in period was over.
Each of us understood the others well enough not to waste any more time.
And we couldn’t afford to waste time, because the dragons hadn’t let up the pressure of their attacks, even if they no longer raided the most fortified places.
And the people, while we trained, were forced to repel those attacks without their strongest warriors.
But even this was part of a unified plan, because seeing the absence of strong resistance and their killers, the dragons grew bolder and more insolent, allowing our intelligence to pinpoint the places they gathered after raids.
And to one such place we set out.
“Found them,” the ranger Zilvana appeared on a branch, a satisfied grin on her face.
“Four dragons.
Three green and one gray.” “Three fire and one ice,” I commented, naming the creatures by the classification that had quickly caught on among the squad.
After all, so far these beasts differed only in their breath; their other skills were on the same level, and their Shouts were the same.
Unrelenting Force, i.e., Fus-Ro-Dah, and breath.
We probably hadn’t run into veterans yet.
And that was good.
Hopefully, there were none among the dragons at all, and all the experience they’d gain by their next return would be earned right here in our war.
“An unpleasant lineup…” I continued, stroking the hilt of a new sword made over these days by the Crown’s best smiths.
It was even better than the one I’d broken on a dragon.
Hmm, what else was the royal family hiding, if even in this they surpassed the Chantry of Auri-El?..
“Depends on who you ask,” the archmage muttered, for whom this was the best possible lineup.
For once, the initiative was on our side, meaning he could prepare a powerful spell.
And on top of that, like all proper Snow Elves, he specialized in ice.
So fire dragons, vulnerable to cold, were the best possible opponents for him.
“Let’s discuss tactical coordination and our steps,” Fingolfin said, cutting off any further talk that any of us were prone to, wielding his unquestionable authority.
It even affected me, and that’s saying something!
Even as a child, I wasn’t intimidated by the angry, giant chemistry lady who threatened to call my parents to school for every little sneeze.
Hmm, strange comparisons popping up.
Guess I’m really getting the jitters about the dragons.
But oh well, better this than trembling like a leaf.
After spending a few minutes discussing the plan, I, Fingolfin, and Vaysi rushed forward.
The world slowed down.
I sped up.
And the ranger went around, fully utilizing the camouflage of her enchanted clothing.
In her hands should now be the harshest alchemical poison that could be bought from the southern elves and modified against dragons, using the blood of killed scaly ones as a sample.
Naturally, the winged ones noticed us.
They were stunned by such audacity, starting to chatter among themselves right there in their stone-like nest at the foot of the Eastern Mountains, beyond which lay the lands of Morrowind.
And they paid for their arrogance, which surpassed even elven arrogance.
Quite justified in the absence of Dragonborn, but still allowing pathetic mortals to defeat and surprise them.
That’s exactly what our archmage did, not holding back and sequentially directing first a powerful Frost Storm at the quartet of dragons, and then its Lightning counterpart.
The dragons didn’t take direct damage, as that might have alerted them too early — after the deaths of their kin, they had tempered their Ego — but otherwise…
Not only were they slowed down, but the magic-draining lightning also weakened beings so connected to magic.
“Fus-R-r…
Kh…” the first of the scaly ones to come to tried to utter a Shout, but our archer was on it.
A burst of light erupted right on the dragon’s face, making it choke on its own words and turn its head away.
The same happened to the other dragons, because our Earwen had learned from the best archers to be found in the north of Tamriel.
So she shot at an insane speed, fully utilizing her stock of blessed arrows.
These deal incredible damage to undead, but they also handle dragon scales quite well.
In fact, she had literally stuffed her killed reptiles with such arrows when they flew into the capital.
And now she was interrupting, ahem, the chatter in the enemy camp — quite literally, considering that for dragons, battle is also a dialogue.
Or vice versa.
Both are true.
So we reached the ice dragon without unnecessary strain — it was the most combat-capable and could have given us trouble while we tried to finish off the fire ones.
“Yorre!” it exclaimed in displeasure as we quickly spread out, and using our numerical advantage, split the attention of the dragon’s two eyes.
We needed to act fast, while the remaining three were distracted by our other comrades.
I fully utilized my maneuverability, maximized by the complete absence of armor, and slid to the creature’s hind legs, starting to slash with all my might at the thin flesh lacking thick scales.
Naturally, the dragon decided to fly away from such a trick, but…
Who would let it?
Certainly not our commander, who, no worse than an acrobat or myself, ran up its stiff wing-foreleg and, in a leap, drove his sword…
Right into the eye of the dragon, which roared in pain.
It didn’t die immediately, but having lost any control over its actions, it became completely vulnerable to a powerful burst of frost and ice from Vaysi, who froze its wing solid.
And then it took fire magic right in the legs from me, nearly tearing its right hind limb apart.
“First one’s ready,” Fingolfin said curtly, somehow jerking his blade like a lever in an unusual way.
The dragon immediately collapsed without movement or even a twitch.
“Yorre!” wailed the smaller green dragons, though they weren’t whelps or anything like that.
Because dragons simply “were and are.” Eternal, immortal, unchanging, and unyielding.
In this respect, dragons are much closer to the Et’Ada than to animals and mortal races.
They don’t age and don’t die permanently; their souls live on after physical death, and they don’t mate or reproduce like animals…
Or mortal races, yes.
Nevertheless, for such advantages, like the elves, they paid with small numbers.
So, forced to split their attention between us and the long-range attacks of the archmage and archer, the dragons were simply overwhelmed by numbers.
And when our ranger emerged from stealth, throwing vials of poison and acid with precise throws right at the reptiles’ faces and wings…
…The dragons got really sad.
Not punching bags, but close.
Growing bold, we even started climbing up the bony framework of their wings right to their necks.
They tried to attack, and we even gave them false opportunities to do so…
Then simply disrupted their Shouts one way or another, striking the disoriented opponents.
The combination of skills, tactics, and sheer audacity on our part was such an overwhelming advantage that our enemies didn’t stand a chance.
They simply weren’t used to fighting mortals, not at all.
If I was right, and they currently dwelled in Atmora and Akavir, where the snake-people Tsaesci had probably not yet appeared, they truly hadn’t encountered strong mortals.
No offense to those two races, but their development in the Merethic Era was indeed low, otherwise it wouldn’t be called that era.
“Fus!” with a slight Shout that pushed us back, the last dragon tried to simply flee, but who would let it?
A five-meter icicle into one wing and several shots from the Bow of Auri-El into the second brought it down to the ground, and its desperate headbutt at Fingolfin was blocked by Auriel’s Shield.
Need I mention how stunned the winged one was when it was thrown back by its own strike, nearly flipping onto its back?..
“Wonderful,” I exhaled, swinging my blade to shake off dragon blood.
“The tactic is more than effective.” “Costly, but effective,” Fingolfin agreed, just to be safe, driving his blade into the dragon’s chin once more.
And…
The entire carcass shuddered.
Oh-ho, so someone was playing dead.
“I noticed that when they die, their eyes go dim,” the guard commander explained his actions, shaking off his weapon with a similar swing.
“This one’s eyes, though they didn’t move, also didn’t go out.” “Lucky that I killed mine with certainty…” I shook my head.
It would have been a surprise if one suddenly woke up after the victory.
And caught us with our pants down, yeah.
“Eh…
So much spent on these creatures…” the ranger kicked the carcass of one of the dragons as she arrived, having had almost nothing to do in this open-territory fight.
“That amount could have poisoned all the Daedra of Summerset!
And these just sneezed and coughed!” “Believe me, when your magic, which you’ve honed for centuries, doesn’t even work at half strength…
It’s no less shocking,” the archmage said, emerging from the forest, looking at the corpses with irritation.
“We’ll need to thoroughly research and analyze the workings of their scales.
And this strange magic of theirs with words…
It’s all strange.” “No stranger than my control over time,” I noted a significant fact.
“Both are gifts from Auri-El.
And we’re unlikely to unravel them.” No, someday it might happen…
But I doubt it can be done without the Goddess Kin herself.
After all, Dragonborn translates to Dragon of Kin.
So my words are quite true — without the help of the Aedra or, at worst, the Daedra, even our civilization can hardly put the Voice to its service.
“I don’t like the word ‘impossible,’ but when you encounter the divine…
You just want to use it in your speech,” Eregion shook his head.
We stood in silence for a while near the defeated enemies, and without further ado, headed back to the capital.
Later, mages would arrive and, with horses, haul these carcasses to the capital.
That was, naturally, beyond us.
* * * Upon returning to the city, they…
Threw us a feast, displaying dragon skulls as trophies.
As the heir to the throne mentioned, the people were demoralized after such a vivid demonstration of dragon superiority over elves, and it was necessary to boost morale with a feast and a nationwide celebration with festivities and all that.
…And this repeated every time we defeated dragons.
Raidings their lairs, we exterminated opponents who weren’t all that united.
Even if they learned of their kin’s deaths by our hands, these creatures called us brave but foolish mortal creations.
And they gloated over the insignificance of their own kin who had lost to mortals.
We killed such smart ones — who had actually bothered to learn our language — first.
Because none of them had even bothered to learn what tactical schemes we used for our attacks.
As a result, problems only arose when we had to repel the scaly ones’ attacks rather than attack ourselves.
Then, yes, there was no time to discuss a detailed plan, and we had to improvise at our own risk.
However, since we still acted as a team, even groups of three or two dragons weren’t a problem.
Especially since, besides us, the cities and near-villages had their own defenders and ordinary mage residents.
So, to my relief, in our situation, the dragons turned out to be not too imposing opponents.
Dangerous, difficult, but killable without significant losses.
Alone, we would have fared worse, but now, despite some missed dragon attacks and the resulting heavy destruction of cities, we were reducing the dragon population quickly.
So much so that I even succumbed to the general spirit of victory, forgetting…
That death isn’t a problem for the winged reptiles.
We were taught that lesson very harshly.
Another feast, another pile of dragon skulls, whose bodies were already stacked in an impressive heap on the main city square.
Thanks to magic, the smell of decay didn’t spread through the city, but every citizen or elf who had come to the capital could witness the victory over the winged creatures.
“These dragons turned out to be a serious, but not invincible threat!” exclaimed one of the feasting elves, raising a glass of wine.
Soon, the others joined in.
Already tipsy, they heaped all sorts of praise on us, ha-ha, the heroes.
And they did it so much and so skillfully that even I was stroking the belly of my own Ego, not to mention the others.
Vaysi was practically glowing like a polished gold Septim, even though they didn’t exist yet.
Among the other teammates, the only one who remained more or less composed was Fingolfin, accustomed to such palace festivities.
And before that, he had killed many strong enemies, for which he became more famous than other warriors.
There were all sorts, including even old Dremora from the Daedric Planes.
And it would have continued like this, lifting the spirits of the Snow Elf people, until…
…Until the thunder struck.
Literally.
In the midst of leisure and merriment, three weighty syllables-words rang out.
“Jiid!
So!
Daan!” And ignoring all magical defenses, a huge flaming meteorite smashed through the walls of the hall, making us jump to our feet and grab our weapons.
Fortunately, for propaganda purposes, we were feasting in full battle gear.
But the shittiest part was that, unlike in the game, the stone didn’t just deal damage — it fucking crushed several very powerful mages.
Exchanging glances, we rushed to one of the emergency exits, simultaneously realizing that dragon aviation might be waiting for us at the main entrance.
…However, even running outside, we didn’t get hit in the face with some Shout.
But we saw him.
Black as pitch, larger than the rest, even the biggest dragons we had killed, by about five times.
Alone, he eclipsed a dozen children of Akatosh at once.
But it wasn’t his size, radically surpassing the game version, that was most intimidating.
His mere presence was the most oppressive thing of all, making the world seem darker and gloomier, further highlighting his dark form and two red eyes blazing with hatred for all living things.
The Devourer of Worlds.
The Firstborn of Akatosh.
The Bane of Monarchs.
The Shadow of Ancient Ages.
It was looking at us.
And it wanted to burn us in its divine flame, which blazed with incredible heat right in its maw.