An Enchanting Tale

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"Tell me again, how is this supposed to work," S'maath asked.

The elves sat beside each other, backs resting against stone. S'maash looked at his brother then shook his head with subtle dismay. He heaved a sigh before reiterating.

"For the final time, S'maath. I will blast the dragon with spells. Once it lands, you must strike its wings to keep it from flying. Should everything turn out well then I will use Hermaeus Mora's spell upon it."

"But how will one soul fill two gems," S'maath probed. S'maash opened his mouth to answer, but his brother had more to ask. "And what if I kill it by mistake, or it flees, or it dies before the spell takes effect? I must tell you, I have little confidence in your so called plan."

Grinding his teeth, the young elf looked away. "Listen, nothing is certain, here. We will do what we can, and our survival is more important than my quest. Now, if my brother, the warrior, is finished complaining, we shall send this dragon to Oblivion."

S'maath chuckled as he nodded. They commenced their journey up the beaten mountain path. Sigrid's Plunge was not altogether easy to traverse, so it took some doing, and some resting, before reaching the peak. Over an hour had passed since night settled overhead. Skyrim's gorgeous lights swayed against the void. Atop the peak, S'maash spotted the strangest rock formation.

A dozen yards from the brothers was something akin to spiked stones. With head cocked to the side, S'maash stared at the formation. Both brothers moved slowly across the uneven, snow packed terrain. S'maath grabbed his brother's wrist with a deft maneuver. The stones moved to reveal massive, red eyes. KrifAhrkDir the dragon had smelled their ascent.

"Ah, the Dur forms of the chimer approach. You defeated the weak Jul, who call themselves a Brod of Dovah. Krosis, but you are here for Grah, battle, not worship," KrifAhrkDir spoke with a terrible voice.

S'maath drew his sword. Locking eyes with the dragon, he felt small, firghtened. It was more terrifying even than his first scuffle as a child. He glanced at his brother, whose eyes and jaw were firm, yet his hands shook.

"They called you KrifAhrkDir, no? Tell me, Dovah, where do dragons go when they perish," S'maash asked.

As he spoke, he overcharged ebony flesh. Before the Dragon answered, the dunmer summoned a flame atronach.

"You enter my Strunma, kill my worshipers, and question my immortality, my Unt Sos? You are a fool, Dur chimer. Dovah do not die!"

He then yelled and extended immense, scaly wings.

"Truly, brother, you must have lost your mind," S'maath exclaimed, looking over his shoulder.

One mighty beat of KrifAhrkDir's wings sent flurries of snow at the elves. The dragon started to rise from a stone perch. S'maash and the atronach unleashed magickal castigation. Icy spears and fireballs collided with immortal scales, doing little, if any, damage.

The great beast roared into the night as he flew in one giant circle. He moved so far, so swiftly, that for seconds at a time, he was beyond the brothers' sights.

"Come, fight with us, KrifAhrkDir!" S'maath called out.

A rush of adrenaline left the elves edgey. Another blood curdling growl from KrifAhrkDir signaled his approach. He glided over them with grace and ease, letting loose a mouthful of fiery breath. The snow below their feet melted immediately. Terrible heat stole their breath. Radiance blinded them.

"Where is he" S'maath yelled.

Beating wings approached from the rear. S'maash turned to look and spotted the enormous silhouette against the night sky. As the beast came once more, S'maash launched icy spears.