Lorkhan's Eclipse [A Skyrim Fanfiction]

4. Before The Storm

"Looks like he's gone for good this time," Ralof says, as we watch the dragon circle over a large mountain before dipping out of sight.

"I don't think we should stick around to find out," Hadvar replies. Killian is nodding in agreement.

"Where to from here?" He asks, "You two got a love shack nestled up in these hills somewhere?"

Both of our guides give him a disgusted look, and I chuckle, finding a stone to sit on. The adrenaline that's kept me going for the last hour has finally petered out, and though I can feel my heart still racing, my legs feel weak and shaky. My body was on high alert for the last... What, hour? Now it's realising that we're no longer in danger, so there's a big crash incoming.

Killian notices, moving over to my side and putting an arm around my shoulders. I force myself to take deep breaths, clutching the rock I'm sitting on.

"Okay, now that's done," I take another gasping breath, "Anybody care to tell me what the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 is going on?"

I'm crying now, voice breaking as I begin sobbing. I've held it back for the last however long, but now that we seem to be safe, it's harder to keep doing that.

Ralof looks over at me as Hadvar hesitates, before pulling out a square of cloth and holding it out. Hjeralt, for his part, joins us on the stone. I notice Ralof pull out the second potion bottle and hand it to him.

"An interesting start to the day," he says, swaying unsteadily and sounding dazed. "That dragon sure made things different."

"It's more than that," Killian tells him, "We're not from here. They picked us up separate to the rest of the group."

"Knew it. But... You look like Nords." Hadvar points out, "Where are you from?"

"Not Skyrim," Killian replies, "Not even Tamriel."

I shake my head, trying to wipe the tears away. "I don't even know where we 𝘢𝘳𝘦, or how we got here. And how the fuck did that, those potions, do..." I wave a hand at Hjeralt as he downs the one Ralof just gave him. "He was bleeding out, now he's okay?"

"Healing potions," Hjeralt replies, shrugging and wincing. He's still got the Stormcloak mantle tied in place, but aside from the blood on that, he looks like he's going to be fine. "You don't have those where you're from?"

"Our magic takes a... Different form," Killian explains, pulling out his phone, "We mastered some smithing arts, so a lot of our magic relies on runes carved into tiny metal tablets, which make something like this work."

He tosses the phone to Hjeralt, who catches it and stares at it as he turns it over. Killian looks at me.

"They have the old type of magic here," he tells me, "Chemistry is Alchemy, but they've also got actual spellcasting."

"How the hell do 𝘺𝘰𝘶 know all this?"

"When you're only ever decent at one video game in your entire life, you tend to remember a lot about it."

"So, where are you two actually from, with your... Magic tablets and kems-tree?" Ralof asks, "The name of the place."

"We call it Australia," Killian replies, "You guys might have another name for it, though."

"Maybe it'll be easier if you tell us where we are, and we can tell you where we're from in relation to that," I tell them. They exchange a glance again, as Hadvar pulls out a rolled-up piece of canvas.

"This is Skyrim," he says, unfurling the map on the rock next to me, "We're here, near Riverwood. My uncle is the blacksmith there; Ralof's sister owns the mill. Hjeralt's uncle works at the inn. That's how we know each other - Ralof's family founded the town and mine were the second to move into the area. Orgnar and Delphine basically raised Hjeralt," he adds, gesturing to the teenager who is studying Killian's phone intently.