My second Skyrim fanfiction peice. All characters belong to Bethesda and all content written about belong to Bethesda. Reveiws and comments are greatly apprieciated.
CHAPTER ONE: FINALLY AWAKE
Jagen woke suddenly, pain coursing through his shoulders and neck. He looked around, the cold wind whipping his long, dreadlocked hair about and making his dark brown eyes water.
"Ah, Redguard. You're finally awake."
The speaker sat opposite him, a fair haired Nord in a battered blue cuirass. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked into that Imperial ambush same as us, and that thief over there."
A shivering man in ragged clothing glared at the blonde Nord. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The thief looked over at Jagen. "You there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." The horse thief's voice was ragged and whiny, like his clothes.
"Well, we're all brothers and sisters in binds now, horse thief" The blonde man looked mildly amused by the thiefs outburst, and opened his mouth to say something else, but the Imperial driving the cart turned his head over his shoulder and shouted:
"Shut up back there!"
Silence dominated the scene for a while, the only sound the rattling of the carts wheels and the sound of horse hooves hitting the stones. Jagen looked to the man sitting next to him. An imposing figure, even in his bound state, with a scrap of cloth tied around his mouth. Stony eyes glared out at the world under long brown hair swept back over his forehead. A huge fur cloak covered his shoulders and spilled out onto the cart's floor. Bloody hell, thought Jagen, what have I got myself into this time?
The horse thief glanced at the gagged man. "What's wrong with him, huh?"
His voice harsh, the Nordic man retaliated. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, true High King of Skyrim!"
"Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion.. If they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?" The horse thief's voice had reached new levels of whining, and Jagen would've punched his moronic face if his hands weren't bound.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits"
"No, this can't be happening! It isn't happening!"
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" The Nord's voice was softer now.
"Why do you care?" came the sharp retort.
"Because a Nord's last thought should be of home"
"Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead" The horse thief sounded on the verge of tears. Looking at him, Jagen was suprised that he'd even managed to make it this far without breaking down into a gibbering mess.
The horse-cart clattered through the entrance to a small town, bristling with Imperials armed with bows, and swords. A tall man in ornate armour, a red cloak whipping in the wind, stood watching the proceedings. Jagen just about heard the Imperial next to him speak over the wind.
"General Tullius sir! The headsman is waiting!"
The red cloaked man replied.
"Good. Let's get this over with"
NOW the horse thief descended into a gibbering mess.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!"
Shor's bones, Jagen was practically itching to hit the silly bastard. "Face your death without pissing yourself, horse thief" Jagen spoke up, his voice growling from the lack of hydration. The horse thief just stared at the Redguard, quite probably too busy pissing himself.
The Nord whipped his head round to look at the General. "Look at him! General Tullius, the Military. And it looks like the Thalmar are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in... funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."
Despite his steadfast expression, Jagen's heart began to beat a little faster. He'd always been a rogueish character, selling his skill with swords and other pointy instruments of death to the highest bidder, and adventuring into forgotten tombs, and drinking his liver to tatters in the taverns of Hammerfell. However one thing Jagen had not been, was someone who enjoyed the prospect of being beheaded. He bloody liked his head. He looked up at the sky, grey and rainy. How typical of Skyrim. He'd barely been in the province six months, and already he was being sent to the block.
Jagen's thoughts were scattered as the cart jerked to a stop. An Imperial woman clad in steel plates and a crested helmet looked up at the prisoners impassively. Two other carts clattered up to next to Jagen.
"Get those prisoners out of the cart!"
Jagen glanced over at the Nord. His face was expressionless.
"Why are we stopping?" The horse thief had spoken up again.
"Why do you think? End of the line... Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." The blonde Nord stood to his full height and jumped down from the cart, Ulfric Stormcloak following, then the horse thief and finally, with a sense of resignation, Jagen.
The horse thief was now physically shaking, like a frightened sweet roll. "Wait, no! We're not rebels!"
"Face your death with some courage, thief" muttered the Nord. Jagen was inclined to agree.
"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
The woman in steel spoke up. "Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!"
Rolling his eyes, the Nord looked over at Jagen with a sardonic look on his face. "Empire loves their damn lists"
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm!"
"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric" the Nord whispered under his breath.
"Ralof of Riverwood" the Nord, now known to Jagen as Ralof, stepped forward and gave Jagen a parting nod. The cold wind had seeped into Jagen's very bones. To be honest, being killed right now would at least stop the cold, thought Jagen.
"Lokir of Rorikstead"
The horse thief stepped forward. "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Breaking into a run, Lokir sprinted away from the Imperials, but was promptly stopped by an arrow between the shoulder blades. He skidded on his face for a bit and stopped.
Jagen's first thought was "At least that whining excuse for skeever shit isn't bothering me anymore" His second thought was "Oh bollocks, it's me next."
The Imperial with the list stared at him. "You there. Step forward. Who... are you?"
Jagen cleared his throat with some difficulty. "Uh, Jagen Shoord"
"Redguard aye? What are you, a sellsword? A sailor from Stros M'kai? Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list"
The captain looked at Jagen. "Forget the list. He goes to the block." Jagen raised his eyebrows.
"An Imperial ignoring the list? By the Eight Divines, what's going on?" Jagen was rewarded for his sarcasm with a smack on the cheek with the flat of the captain's sword.
"By your orders Captain. I'm sorry. We'll make sure you remains are returned to Hammerfell."
Yeah bloody likely. More like dumped in the nearest river to be eaten by slaughterfish. Jagen hadn't had too much experience with Imperials, but he'd developed a hearty dislike for them already. He moved next to Ralof and stared bleakly at the block.
General Tullius stepped up to Ulfric, but the effect was lost because Ulfric was easily a foot taller than the General.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp the throne"
Ulfric just stared at the silly little man in his little red cloak and growled like a wolf. Not the most eloquent of replies, thought Jagen, but there's only so much a man can say when he has an old rag in his mouth.
"You started this war, flung skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace."
That's unlikely, thought Jagen. More likely is the Empire will continue to be fucking idiots with their bloody lists and stupid armor. I mean who wears armor with no trousers in Skyrim? What kind of idiot do you have to be to think that's a good idea?
A roar echoed out of the sky, far off but bloody loud, like a giant having a shouting match with a troll. Everyone looked up into the sky, confused and slightly frightened. I mean, if you hear something that loud you don't want it anywhere near you, no thank you.
"What was that?"
"It's nothing. Carry on!" barked Tullius.
"Yes General Tullius!" replied the Captain. "Priestess! Give them their last rites!"
A priestess in cowl and robes raised her arms to the skies. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-
-For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with!" The Stormcloak soldier first to the block marched over to the headsman and knelt down. "My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials, can you say the same?" He spat out his last sentence as the axe smashed his neck in two and sent his head into the basket in front of him. His body slumped to the side and was dragged away.
Ralof looked at his body sadly. "As fearless in death as he was in life."
"Next, the Redguard!"
The Imperial in front of the block looked up as the roar sounded again, this time louder. "There it is again..."
"I said, next prisoner!" shouted the Imperial Captain impatiently. I bet she hasn't been fucked in a while with a temper like that, Jagen thought. Not that I'd put anything in her aside from an axe.
"To the block, nice and easy, prisoner."
Jagen walked slowly to the block, and knelt to it. He turned his head to look at the axeman and tried to think of something clever to say. "You have lovely eyes" The axeman frowned and raised his axe. As the axe made its journey towards Jagen's exposed neck, a huge black shape emerged from a cloud, and settled on the tower behind the axeman like a gigantic raven. Screams erupted all around, and the creature roared.
"DRAGON!" The shout went up.
The dragon roared again, this time it's roar became tangible and knocked the axeman and Jagen over.
"Redguard! Follow me, the gods won't give us another chance!" Ralof was standing in front of Jagen, somehow unbound. Jagen really didn't need telling twice, and launched himself up. Ralof and Jagen sprinted towards the tower left of the block, fire and chaos raining quite literally around them. Together, they shouldered the door opened and jumped through, just as a wave of fire swept past the space they had just been in. Jagen turned around to be faced by Ulfric Stormcloak. Now Jagen was a tall bloke, 6 foot 5, maybe 6 foot 6. Ulfric towered at roughly 6 foot 8. Ulfric pushed him aside and looked at Ralof.
"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"
"Ralof, legends don't burn down villages" Jarl Ulfric's voice was a deep baritone, and tinged with power. Ralof moved to say something, but was interrupted by a deafening roar.
"We need to move, now!" Ralof and Jagen ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. A Stormcloak soldier was knelt by a pile of rubble, trying to move it. A dull thud of wings shook the air. "Get back!" Ralof shouted in Jagen's ear as he grabbed his collar and yanked him back. The wall behind the Stormcloak soldier exploded and the dragons black, scaly maw opened wide and bathed the man in flames. He fell wailing out of the tower, flesh seared from his bones. "See that inn on the other side? Jump to it! I'll follow when I can!"
Jagen looked suspiciously at the space between tower and inn. He'd usually been one for entering inns via front door, not roof but these were what his mother used to call Circumstances. He tensed his legs and sprang the gap, stumbling and nearly landing on his face. He sprinted down the collapsing stairs and out into the burning village. The Imperial list-reader glanced at him.
"Still alive prisoner? Stick with me if you want to stay that way!" They ran together past a man on fire, a woman with no legs, and a suprisingly calm looking dog who had singed fur. The keep loomed up in the distance, just as Ralof sprinted out of a fallen house.
"Hadvar! You're not capturing us now!" Ralof clutched an axe in his blackened hand and did not look afraid to use it. Jagen approved; arm oneself as soon as you can.
"Ralof you damn traitor! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde! Come on prisoner!" Hadvar ran towards the side door of the keep as Jagen scoffed and turned to accompany Ralof. Like hell was he going to go with an Imperial.
Inside the keep it was relatively unscathed, aside from the dead man in the corner who Ralof was knelt next to.
"You're in Sovngarde now my brother. Hey, Redguard. You'd better take Gunjar's gear, he won't be needing it anymore"
"Yeah, hold on, I need to catch my breath." Jagen leaned against the wall. It wasn't easy running with tied hands.
"Oh yeah, your bindings. Come here, I'll cut them for you." Ralof pulled a short dagger from his belt and motioned to Jagen's wrists. Offering his bindings to Ralof, he waited as the Nord sawed at them. Shit, he thought, I'm alive. Jagen grinned and clapped Ralof on the shoulder.
"Cheers, Nord, I owe you a drink."
Ralof chuckled "Ah well I'll have to hold you to that once we get out of this hellhole! Now get that gear on, we best be off!"
Jagen pulled the cuirass off the body. He didn't really have any qualms about relieving the newly-dead of their belongings, sometimes it had to be done, and an adventurer couldn't be picky about these things. The axe on Gunjar's belt was picked up and the weight tested.
"Damn. The doors locked, we'll have to find another way." Jagen looked up at Ralof, who was speaking about the resolutely locked iron door.
"Bugger. Well we could try the gate over there." Jagen jerked his head at the steel gate opposite the locked door. Just as the two were peering at the door they heard voices, and footsteps.
"Imperials! And they're coming this way! Take cover, we'll get them by suprise" Ralof took up one side of the door, and Jagen the other.
Jagen thought he could hear the voice of the Imperial Captain. He'd enjoy slapping her with his blade, except not the flat of it. As the gate swung open and they stepped in, Ralof and Jagen were upon them like wolves.
The first Imperial brought his sword up and parried Ralof's axe blow, but was kneed in the cock and axed in the shoulder. As he lay writhing on the ground Ralof brought his axe down on the man's neck and finished him. The Imperial Captain caught Jagen's punch with one hand and tried to bring her sword down on his wrist, but he twisted away and smacked her cheek with the back of his axe. She rolled with the blow and slashed her sword up Jagen's leg, who'd moved his axe handle in the way. The sword lodged in the wood, and was stuck. Now unarmed, Jagen brought fire to his palms and pressed them against the Captain's face until she was still.
"Good fight" said Ralof, nodding at Jagen's handiwork. "Now one of them must have the key for the door"
Jagen relieved the Captain of her steel bracers, preferring something solid to block a sword strike with, and found a key on her belt.
"This is probably it" he said, holding it up. It was indeed the key for the door, and they both made their way deeper into the bowels of the keep.