A/N: Okay guys! I wrote the entire plot out for the sequel, and I'm finally ready to put that plot skeleton into words!
Side note: If you have not read my other fanfic, "Where The Cold Awaits", I STRONGLY suggest you read that before reading this, otherwise you're going to have no idea what in Sam hill's name is going on, as this is the sequel to that story.
As always, enjoy the story! I hope this story is as liked as its predecessor!
The bright orange sun slowly dipped beneath the horizon as the smoky-gray clouds tucked it away. The moon slightly peeked over on the other side of the horizon as if it were playing a game of peek-a-boo with the setting sun.
A small swallow flitted her feathery wings as she landed on a half-attached tree branch. She squawked in surprise when the tree branch snapped, and she flew to a sturdier branch. She perched herself up on the branch and ruffled her feathers, expelling all the dirt and feather dust she had accumulated. She clicked her beak and looked around the tree. Its wood was decaying near the roots, but the higher areas of the tree looked relatively healthy. The swallow relaxed her wings, pleased with her choice in a new home.
She quickly crouched, lowering her tiny head as her brownish-beige tail feathers flared. She gave a few warning clicks of her beak to the unseen intruder she had sensed.
Out of the nearby brush, an arrow embedded itself in the decaying tree, startling the swallow. She gave a squawk of fright, and quickly retreated into the hollow part of the tree.
"Get back here, cowards!" An enraged male voice exclaimed.
A red-haired man ran from the brush, swiftly dodging the decaying tree he had nearly collided with. "Come on, Caehir!" He yelled back to his Bosmer companion, who followed close behind. "How much further do we have to go?" Caehir asked, ducking his head to avoid an arrow that whizzed by. "We can't lead them back to the Home, they'll cause all sorts of trouble!" The auburn replied, glancing over his shoulder.
The three bandits that had been chasing the pair were still in hot pursuit, their weapons at the ready. "You'll be so much easier to rob when you're DEAD!" One of them shouted as the auburn fellow turned back around. "Ysgrig, we need to stand our ground and fight!" Caehir told his friend, stopping in his tracks.
Ysgrig nodded, brushing a stray tuft of his red hair from his face as he turned around with his glass mace in his hand. Caehir unsheathed his rusty dwarven sword, readying himself for the inevitable fight. "You have one final chance; leave us alone, or we'll have no choice but to kill you." Caehir warned, flames of fury in his eyes. "We don't have to take that from you! Why don't you both just kill yourselves and spare us the trouble?" The bandit with the brown, scraggly beard shot back, a malicious grin slowly etching itself upon his blood-speckled face as he nocked an arrow into his bow.
Caehir and Ysgrig briefly exchanged a glance of acknowledgement, and the two ran off in different directions, quickly dashing over to the bandit trio, who stood there confused. "After them!" The youngest of the bandits cried, wielding his iron dagger as if it were an ancient sword carried by a God.
Ysgrig took one look at their faces, covered with dried blood and faded war paint, and knew that they weren't taking any prisoners. He gave a fierce cry and leapt forward, slamming his mace into the younger bandit's skull. His eye popped out, and he gurgled his own blood as he slowly bled to death, shattered fragments of his skull flying everywhere. The biggest of the bandits lunged for Ysgrig, but quickly froze in place as Caehir's sword pierced his heart. Caehir pulled his sword out of the bandit just in time to block the bearded bandit's attempt at decapitating him.
Ysgrig ran forward, but quickly stopped when he saw a bear lumbering towards them from the thicker area of the woodlands. "Caehir, get back!" Ysgrig shouted. Caehir stole a glance at the cave bear and retreated to Ysgrig's side as he backed away. The bandit growled and gave chase, but quickly tripped and fell when the bear had grabbed his right leg. The bandit's sword fell several feet away, embedding itself in a nearby mud puddle.
The bandit snarled, pushing the bear off him. He got back up, but the bear quickly struck back by tackling him to the ground. The bear let out an earth-shaking roar as he clawed the bandit's throat out. The bear quickly leapt off the dead bandit and charged towards Caehir and Ysgrig. The bear immediately focused on Caehir, who was closer. Caehir was almost paralyzed with fear when the bear came dashing towards him, the fiend's sharp claws leaving evident marks in the ground as it approached.
"Ysgrig, help!" Caehir cried as the bear sunk its teeth into his leg. "GAH! YSGRIG!" Ysgrig dashed over to the Bosmer and stabbed the bear through the eye with his sword. It gave an anguished roar, releasing Caehir from his teeth. Caehir grasped his leg before hurriedly limping back into the Home. The enraged bear growled fiercely, scaring the nearby birds from the trees. The furry beast lunged for Ysgrig, who fell over on his back. The bear bounded towards him, but stopped in its tracks when a katana shot through its head. It fell to the ground, blood pouring from its body. Ysgrig's eyes trailed up the katana and the katana's hilt until he got an eyeful of the beholder. "Thank the Gods. It's you."
Ysgrig's eyes met another pair of emerald eyes that matched his own. His savior's red hair was in slightly longer tufts than his own, and his skin was relatively unscathed. Ysgrig pushed himself off the ground as his rescuer sheathed his katana. The two stood in silence for awhile before the fellow spoke. "Dad…I thought I lost you."
"It's alright, Kyrike. Your dad's a strong man. You're a chip off the old block, son." Ysgrig replied, giving Kyrike a fatherly pat on the back. Kyrike's face remained the same, not smiling or frowning. He just stared ahead, a blank expression on his face as usual. "Another run in with bandits?" Kyrike asked, looking over at the three bandits who lay sprawled on the ground. Ysgrig nodded. "You know, son…bandits didn't used to be this much trouble. Skyrim is falling apart." Ysgrig explained, walking back to the Home alongside his son.
"Why do you think all this is happening now?" Kyrike queried, brushing one of the longer tufts of his hair from his face. "It must be because of the dragons. They came back about eighteen years ago, several months before your mom gave birth to you." Ysgrig smiled, fondly remembering Chalvia. "Why isn't that Dragonborn friend of yours doing anything?" Kyrike asked, a hint of annoyance and doubt lingering in his deep voice. "Kyrike, Valelia has been missing for years now. If she's still alive, she'll do something about it." "And if not?" Ysgrig fell silent at his son's retort. "I swear, Kyr. You're the exact opposite of your aunt. At least she had a little bit of hope." Ysgrig scoffed, shaking his head as the two trekked back to the Home.