Kay(jiit) Sarah Sara: Part 8 - Dragonstone
Author’s note: What? You want me to write an intro every time?
- Atsie Newt
Tirdas, 19th of Last Seed
This one is in over her head.
The cavern opened into a vast chamber with a sacred burial site at its far end. Moving closer, Khajiit scouted the chamber, with its vaulted ceiling echoing the sound of running water, keeping as much cover between herself and the strange edifice ahead. Deciding there was no obvious threat or undead guardian in the chamber, this one moved closer.
Staring up at the strange carvings, Kay could hear the faint murmur of voices, a distant chanting that sounded ominously familiar. Waves of magical energy radiated from the rock, washing over this one’s body but doing no harm. Closer still, the air seemed to darken, the cavern’s phosphorescence dimming. Curiosity lured Kay in until her vision clouded, the world turning black as the voices stopped.
This one turned around. The cavern was the same, its strange luminescence once more illuminating the room. Unsure what had just happened, but guessing it was unwise to linger, Kay made for the chest that must be home to the Dragonstone. With the relic in Khajiit’s possession, this one could return to Whiterun, claim the reward and continue her journey to Winterhold.
No sooner had Kay took two steps forwards, the crack of stone shifting against stone made this one pause. As the lid of the ancient sarcophagus opened, Kay summoned a blast of fire. There was no way anything emerging from that tomb would be friendly.
Wreathed in magical fire, the ancient zombie raised its weapon and charged at Khajiit. Ducking the blow, this one retreated to the steps while launching another blast of fire. Still the zombie advanced, slashing at Kay’s arm and drawing blood. Back, further down the steps, this one retreated, the undead warrior’s relentless assault forcing Khajiit back over the narrow stone bridge.
Kay could feel her energy draining as she dodged another strike, channelling a sliver of magicka into healing her wounded arm as she skipped back. Gritting her teeth, this one concentrated on the flames, summoning a desperate splutter of fire as Kay’s grip on the magical energies faltered. The warrior stumbled, the flames flickering over its stretched, leathery hide bringing it to one knee. Seizing the opportunity, this one channelled every ounce of Khajiit’s being into another gout of flame.
With the ancient warrior finished, reduced to a charred skeleton by Khajiit’s magic, this one ran back to the chest to retrieve the Dragonstone. Frantically searching among the trinkets, Kay’s heart, already racing from the rush of combat, skipped a beat to find the Dragonstone was not there. If not in the chest, perhaps it was in the possession of the warrior, yes?
Blasting the skeletal remains with flame once more, to be sure the zombie was dead, this one searched the cindered cadaver, finding the Dragonstone beneath its scorched armour. Stuffing the relic into her pack, Kay wasted no time fleeing from the tomb, following a draught from beside the tomb to a cave in the mountainside.
Emerging into the open Skyrim air, this one breathed deeply, sucking in a lungful of frosty, afternoon air. The snow had almost abated, the grey clouds moving south with the wind.
By the time Khajiit had scaled the near vertical mountainside to the gentle slopes below, the snow had ceased completely, the late afternoon sun emerging to glisten from the river below. The river that would no doubt lead to Riverwood. All Kay had to do was follow it. Cautiously, watching for signs of the beast that had left vast blood splatters across the rocky ground, this one descended to the river, glad to be away from Bleak Falls Barrow.
With rumbling stomach, Kay consumed the last apple in her rations as she trekked downstream along the river’s bank. With the sun dropping ever closer to the horizon, there was no way this one would make it back to Whiterun before nightfall. Tired and hungry, Khajiit made camp at the edge of Riverwood, smoking some salmon from the river before curling up on her bedroll, the dragonstone clutched to her chest.
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