4: The Heroic Dead
I lay on my bunk not sleeping. It was late and dawn was likely closer than dusk. I could hear the slow breathing of the other guards along with Heric's usual melodic snoring. I generally hated sleeping in the barracks. I didn't mind the sharing, but I often felt with the vast hall and quarters of Jorrvaskr bearing down upon us, one day while we slept we'd all be silently crushed. I liked to sleep where I could see the sky, the stars, the moons and the world outside.
When I was small, and my nightmares kept me from sleep, my father had fashioned a little aerie on the top of our house. He nailed a few flat boards outside the upstairs window on top of the thatch, with a sturdy rail all around. Benny and I would wrap ourselves in our favourite furs and curl up on the warm wood. Once it was fully dark, Father would lean out, resting his arms on the sill and tell us the tales of the stars. The stories of the 3 Guardians and how the Serpent chased the others around the sky. He'd tell me, high up there with my brother beside me, where if I looked hard I could see all the way to Solitude, how the vampires couldn't reach me and the Divines would protect us always. He would tell us how I had been born under the Steed Star and Benny, the Warrior. But my favourite story was always the Serpent as it went its own way and followed its own path. I really wished I could see it now, to look up into the black and have the familiar comfort of searching the sky for it.
Loki had survived the attack on the tower with only a few burns and slightly singed hair. He was resting in the temple now and his wounds would heal quickly. I wasn't so sure about his spirit as he had not spoken since he'd returned. Cauis had taken him off the roster.
Hroki and Tor were dead, along with two other guards.
I knew this as the Commander had sent me down to the tower with Anders and Heric to recover the bodies. We borrowed a cart from Severio's farm, for transport.
When we got there we stopped, caught by the sight of the dragon's enormous skeleton. Bare bones white and stripped, spread across the scorched ground. I had seen the skull of the dragon above the throne at Dragonsreach many times, but this took my breath and all my words from me. It was as big as a mammoth and patches of tundra around it were still smoking.
As we discovered were the two burnt bodies. We weren't even sure who they were. I cannot describe the smell except to say it was gut-wrenching. Even now with lavender tucked into my clothes and bedding I am afraid it will never leave me.
We found Tor's body lying peacefully on the cobbles. He was recognisable at least, intact, his helmet still on covering his face. There was very little blood but every bone in his body was broken. I didn't want to imagine how the Dragon must have lifted him up so gently, barely breaking his skin before releasing him high in the sky to fall and slam fataly into the ground, sending him to Sovngarde.
One body was missing entirely.
Heric and I had walked back to the stables to fetch some buckets and water so we could dowse the hot bodies for removal.
"Luna, did you see how big that thing was?" said Heric.
"Yes."
"They killed it."
"Yes they did."
"Not before it killed some of us."
"No."
"Not sure I want to go out hunting dragons, Luna."
"Me neither, Heric."
After we dowsed the bodies and waited for the steam to subside, we wrapped them in linen and put them on the cart. Heric lost it when a foot fell off one of the corpses and we had to retrieve it from the road. We'd tried not to laugh, we really did, but we couldn't help ourselves, and at least it stopped the tears from coming.
After we left them in Anders care at the Hall, Caius sent me to catalogue the dead guard's belongings. Tor was to be interred in his uniform, the other two would be wrapped and laid out, without. Anders had said he would lay them together as they had died. Anders was sweet and practical as we knew who they were, but not which was which.
Any spare armour or weapons would be reissued. Personal belongings would be packed up and sent back to their kin. Caius wrote the letters that would inform them of their deaths. They would go out with a courier on the morrow along with the requisite 50 gold the Jarl sent to relatives of any guard who died defending the city. I was very glad the task had not been mine.
It had been bad enough packing up their possessions. Hroki had had so little, but seemed to really like cheese – I found 3 wheels under his bunk. I dusted them off and left them in the barracks, hopefully the others would honour him in the eating. Amongst Tor's books and clothing, my heart near broke when I found a half-written love poem. He'd apparently abandoned it when he failed to find a word to rhyme with Carlotta. I knew not what to do with it.
The sad knowledge of its existence weighed heavy on me, along with the more unsettling knowledge that we now had a Dragonborn in our midst. I couldn't decide if I should be joyful or afraid. I didn't know if it was the beginning of something, or the end.
