It was early morning by the time they entered the town’s gates. Guards greeted the exhausted travelers.
“I used to be an adventurer like you then I took an arrow in the knee,” he said.
“Yes, I believe we’ve heard that one before,” Zolara snipped.
“Must have been from my cousin in Markarth,” the guard replied.
“Actually, it was in Markarth,” S’maash agreed.
They left the guard to his duty and entered the Bee and Barb to rent a room. After some much needed rest in their modest quarters, they woke to eat, drink, and discuss the next step of their journey. A lively bard strummed her lute, singing about the Dragonborn and his defeat of Alduin.
The surroundings were rather eloquent. Two argonians, a married couple, ran the two-story tavern. Several chairs and tables lined the social area. Riften’s patrons laughed, drank, and joked.
“What does the journal say,” Zolara asked.
“It mentions something about an immortal soul. I am supposed to infuse the Heart of Lorkhan with something….” S’maash looked up from the journal. “An immortal soul? That must mean a dragon’s soul, right?”
“Don’t they resist soul trap?”
“Yes, however, they were not able to resist the Dragonborn’s ability to steal their souls, a conversation I had with Farengar,” S’maash remarked.
“Then, what do we do? Do we try to find the Dragonborn?”
“I am at a loss, and the journal offers no more advice; we must find an immortal soul, and then place the Heart of Lorkhan somewhere forgotten, but I, I don’t….”
The young elf huffed and shut the book. His friend patted his shoulder.
“We should head back to the College,” Zolara said.