Author's Note:
I am assuming dragon fire is much hotter and leaves a sort of "magical imprint" on whatever it touches. Basically, those marred by dragon fire will always feel a part of it for as long as they live.
Making up the explanation as to why Aventus' father is never mentioned.
Chapter Six
The boy slammed to the cold, hard ground, jostling his shoulder against the snow-covered road.
"Get up, boy!" the Nord soldier ordered for the hundredth time. The other troops groaned and shook their heads as they reigned in their horses to a stop, waiting for the boy to stand and climb back onto his steed... once again. Having no experience in horseback riding, the fourteen year old boy had fallen repeatedly on their journey across Skyrim, each time bringing their party to a halt and earning more and more disdain from his companions.
Head already half-buried from the blizzard's white cascade, the Imperial remained motionless. The searing pain in his back which had plagued him the past few days had finally subsided, thanks to the deadening cold of the snow. In just the short amount of time, the cool embrace beckoned him to sojourn in the silver blanket. Eyes closing, he sighed and allowed the fuzzy, crackling numbness to spread throughout his limbs.
Soft crunching reached the boy's ears and a deep voice growled, "Boy, get up." A hand closed over the back of the boy's coat and pulled him out of the dirt and snow. The grasp on his back brushed his raw, inflamed skin and elicited a yelp of pain. "You have been falling for the past few days, boy. This one will not break you."
"It is not that, sir," the boy muttered, opening his eyes and blinking past the pain. "My back, you see..." When they escaped Helgen, the group had resupplied in Ivarstead, purchasing new equipment and warm clothes, replacing the burnt fur coat the boy had been wearing the day before.
The man immediately released his hold on the boy and closed a hand over his shoulder. "What happened to your back, boy?"
"The dragon at Helgen ignited the forest, sir. My coat caught fire." As he spoke, he felt the broiling heat return to his back, the ghost of the dragon fire still gnawing at his skin.
Ulfric nodded to himself after a moment. "Your wounds will be tended to once we reach the city. If we try to act now, you will freeze."
"Understood." the fourteen year old clenched his teeth together, his burn still sending waves of pulsating pain up his spine.
"Aventus," the Jarl said, his voice soft yet firm. "We must depart." The man rose to his feet and ordered, "Stand, boy."
Looking up at Ulfric, Aventus placed his hand onto the snow and managed to push himself onto one knee. One of the soldiers called out a jeer of scorn but it barely registered in the boy's mind, the white hot sear wracked through his body once again. Pushing past the pain, Aventus staggered up and clambered back onto the black horse.
"Let's move!" Ulfric bellowed over the howling wind, and the party increased the pace to a trot.
The other soldiers had given the boy a wide berth ever since he introduced himself. Aventus understood. His father had been a merchant, earning vast amounts of wealth for himself and his wife by trading a variety of metals, ores, leather, and everything else required to make weaponry. His trade had earned him the respect of the Jarl of Windhelm and they were given a large house near the Palace of Kings itself. After Aventus' birth, his father had been killed. The boy had never received a straight answer: some claimed the Argonian drowned the merchant, others said the man simply fell into the frozen water. Either way, the merchant was dead and Argonians were no longer permitted into the city.
Isolation did not bother Aventus, it gave him time to think. Although, it was particularly difficult to keep his mind focused on any one thought with the constant searing upon his back and the biting snow hitting his face. He found himself counting the number of steps his steed took and after several minutes, the mundane task
"We are almost to Windhelm," the Nord with the black bearskin cloak rode up to the boy. "Almost home." The man's last words were almost lost in the blizzard, as the road and White River had before and beside them.
"We have journeyed far from home for far too long, my King," one of the other men called back to Ulfric. "'A long time to roam, a rough voyage home!'"
The Jarl chuckled and replied, "Nonsense! Kyne is simply welcoming the true Sons of Skyrim home!"
A series of whoops and cheers spread throughout the procession, despite the onslaught of snow and ice and wind. Aventus remained silent. Ulfric was the Jarl of Windhelm, not the High King of Skyrim. So why were these men and women addressing him as such? It was impossible for them to be mistaken, Ulfric's own guards would never call him by the incorrect title. If he was truly the High King, why was the Imperial Legion after him? Aventus knew worship of Talos was forbidden, and Ulfric was a devout worshiper of the man-god; perhaps the Empire sought to enforce the banned worship of Skyrim? The boy was not sure. He would have to observe and listen to receive an answer.
Cries of joy erupted over the blizzard's screech and the men and women increased their pace. Aventus urged his horse into a gallop to keep their azure cloaks in sight, Ulfric kept pace beside the boy. Each rise and fall of the horse's stride aggravated his injury, and he dug his nails into the saddle in an attempt to relieve the pain. The sound of horse hooves clattering on well-maintained stone reached his ears and Aventus realized they were crossing a bridge.
"Talos guide us," the boy heard the man whisper under his breath. It was then Aventus remembered the shrine of Talos overlooking the city. The bridge ended and the party swept right then left. The guards dismounted their horses and tucked them into the stables. Aventus was about to follow suit when Ulfric ordered, "This way, boy." He turned his horse to the left and trotted over the bridge leading up to the city gates.
Aventus followed, silently thanking the man. They rode up to the gates and Ulfric waved to the gatekeepers, sending the pair scrambling over one another to allow their Jarl into the city. The boy looked up at the ramparts and sighed. He had never thought he would return, he had never wanted to return. Too many specters of the past resided within these walls, and he had no desire to commune with them.
The blizzard continued to rage within the walls of the city and few townsfolk ventured out of their homes. Even in the snowy haze, Aventus noted the same unsightly tree-like face of Candlehearth Hall, its two half circle windows divided in two looking almost like two pairs of eyes. Ulfric rode his horse past the tavern and up the stairs to the Palace of the Kings.
Swinging himself off his horse, the man helped the boy to the ground. A broad-shouldered giant stood outside the palace gates. The full skin of a brown bear draped over his shoulders, and its lifeless skull was placed securely on the man's head. He stood at attention and called out to Ulfric, "My King, Kyne herself smiles upon your return."
"And Talos as well, my old friend," Ulfric led the boy up the last few steps and into the warmth of the palace as the man-bear pushed open the doors. Several guards garbed in blue leapt to their feet at the sight of their Jarl. "Wuunferth!" he yelled, causing the men and women to jump back and refrain from asking questions.
A thin, elderly man dressed in brilliant red robes dashed into the hall. Eyes finding Ulfric, the man queried as he approached, "You called, my King?"
"This boy requires your skill." Ulfric firmly sat Aventus at one of the Great Hall's benches situated before an empty feasting table. Before he could protest, the Jarl had already managed to peel off the boy's coat and shirt, wresting a hiss of pain from the dark-haired Imperial.
Wuunferth moved behind Aventus. "My, my, you have managed to acquire a nasty burn, boy."
"Yes sir." the youth replied simply.
"Might I ask what caused these burns?" the elder inquired.
"A dragon." Ulfric stated as if it was a common occurrence. The assembly of guards muttered excitedly amongst themselves.
"A dragon!?" Wuunferth exclaimed, his tone of voice was equally both elated and terrified.
The broad-shouldered man strode up to the trio and folded his arms across his chest, listening intently. Aventus finally realized the man was none other than Galmar Stone-Fist, a veteran of the Great War.
A hand pressed against Aventus' raw back and the boy flinched at the touch. "Yes, dragon fire is much more damaging than normal fire, or so the old texts say. Now that I am observing it first hand, I can say the accounts are -"
"The boy is in enough pain as it is, Wuunferth," Ulfric insisted, imploring the man to simply heal Aventus' wounds. "If you would please."
"Ah, right." A soothing warmth flooded over the boy's back and he welcomed the relief. Despite feeling much better, the court wizard did not seem to be finished with his task, as he continued the healing spell and remained behind Aventus.
"And set meat and mead on the table," the Jarl waved at attendants as he sat beside the boy. "Our journey has been long and hard and we still have far to go."
Galmar remained where he stood, as if he was fixated to the floor beside the end of the table. "Then the Imperials intercepted you? There is no way on Nirn you could have traveled to the Imperial City and back to Windhelm in the time you have been gone... unless you have ridden on the back of a dragon." There was no glint of humor in the Nord's eyes.
As Aventus began to wonder for the reasoning Ulfric had to travel to the Imperial City, the other guards from their party entered the palace and, upon seeing the group sitting at the table, joined them. Guards on duty within the palace simply listened, and the attendants returned with large platters of meat, cheese, bread, and mead. One set a silver plate in front of Aventus and he glanced to Ulfric, wondering if he was permitted to indulge.
"No, Galmar. We were attacked just before we reached the White Pass," Ulfric piled his plate high with venison and eidar cheese. He was about to take a gulp of mead from his tankard when he saw the boy looking at him. "You may eat, boy; you are my guest, not my prisoner." He motioned to the platters as he drank.
"Thalmor?" a burning scorn flashed through the man-bear's eyes.
As Aventus reached for a leg of goat, Ulfric shook his head. "Imperial ambush."
Several curses growled across the table, though the most commonly heard insult was none other than "Imperial bastards." Aventus simply listened and ate his fill.
The Jarl raised his hand and silence enveloped the hall. "The Imperials transported us to Helgen to be executed." His expression turned solemn. "We lost Kjarik Bull-Head and Gunjar. We will see them again in Sovngarde." The others murmured the prayer and Aventus was nearly convinced the Jarl was truly in grief. After a moment, he looked at every man and woman present. "But now is not that time. There is much to do before then. We will drive the Imperials and the Thalmor from Skyrim, storm the city of Solitude, I will take my rightful place as High King of Skyrim, and then we will rebuild Skyrim back to her former glory."
The men and women jumped up in fervor, throwing fists and full tankards up into the air and spilling mead onto the table and ornamental rugs. "For Skyrim!" they cried, over and over and over again, until their voices gave out and they had drank themselves into a stupor. Some stumbled out of the palace, making their way towards the barracks while others dragged their unconscious comrades outside.
Before long, Aventus, Ulfric, Galmar, and Wuunferth were alone.
"You may go Wuunferth, and thank you." Ulfric said quietly.
"Of course, my King." The elderly man strode quickly away, returning to his chambers.
The Jarl's eyes shifted to Aventus. "And what do you make of all of this, boy?"
Thinking, the fourteen year old replied slowly, "I must apologize, sir, but I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the events of Skyrim as of late."
The gray-eyed man stared at the boy. "How long were you in the wilderness?"
"Since the 17th of Last Seed, in the year 200 in the Fourth Era."
"You survived in the wild all by your lonesome, boy? For over a year?" Galmar's gruff voice emanated beside the boy.
Aventus shook his head. "There were several of us."
"I assume you met these individuals at Honorhall?" Ulfric raised an eyebrow.
The boy froze. After a moment of consideration, he narrowed his eyes and straightened up. There was nothing anyone could do to him that he had not been put through already. If Ulfric sought to give him to Honorhall, once again, Aventus would escape just as he had before. "Yes sir. However, the woman who became our mentor, was not from the orphanage."
Ulfric raised both eyebrows this time, in surprise. "A woman you say?"
Aventus nodded. "She called herself Jasia, an Imperial. She taught us to hunt, fish, and survive in the forests of Falkreath."
The man smiled. "I admire her skill. I would like to meet her someday."
Shrugging simply, the boy revealed, "I imagine that would be difficult. She is off hunting Vampires, you see." Aventus saw no reason to keep things from Ulfric, he had to show the man he trusted him. Hopefully then, the Jarl would see he could be a vital asset and would either keep him close or at least allow him to move freely long enough for him to find the others.
Ulfric released a booming laugh. "A woman hunting Vampires! I would assume she was a Nord if you did not tell me she was an Imperial!"
"Vampire attacks have been less frequent as of late, my King." Galmar stated.
"Then our men will seek her out once the scum have been eradicated from Skyrim," the Jarl smiled before returning to business. "Since you have spent such a length of time away from society, I imagine you have not heard of the Civil War plaguing Skyrim?"
"No sir." Aventus kept his ears pricked and his eyes on the man's expression, searching for any sign the man might be lying.
Ulfric looked straight at the boy. "High King Torygg was weak. I showed the entirety of Skyrim as such when I bested him in combat and declared myself High King, as is my right. However," he clenched a fist as if in anger, "the Imperials seek to thwart Skyrim's growth and quash our legacy of a strong, honorable province. In response, as the true Sons of Skyrim, we have retaliated. We will not be silenced and we will flaunt our free worship of Talos. But first, we must drive out the Imperials and the Thalmor."
The dark-haired boy thought to himself for a moment. "If the battle is in Skyrim, then why were you traveling to the Imperial City?"
"Do not question your King boy." Galmar growled dangerously.
Aventus bit his tongue, stopping himself from stating, "He is not my King." He knew better than to provoke the man-bear.
"It is alright, Galmar. The boy is curious," Ulfric reassured his friend before turning back to the boy. "I sought to speak with the Emperor about our plight; but, as you heard, the Imperials stopped us." Nothing in Ulfric's expression or posture refuted he was telling the truth and so Aventus could only nod. The Jarl exchanged a glance with Galmar. "What happened to your friends, Aventus?"
Swallowing, the boy admitted, "I know not."
There was a pause before Ulfric spoke again. "Do you wish to see them again?"
Aventus looked at the man, unsure if the question was a threat.
"If you help us, join our cause, my men can help find them," Ulfric stared into Aventus' eyes. "Do you wish to see them again?"
The fourteen year old was unsure if the man was telling the truth, but there was nothing to indicate he was lying. "Yes sir."
"Will you join us then?"
Aventus did not need to be asked twice. "Yes sir."
"Hold, Ulfric," Galmar growled. "He is a boy. We need men."
"He will grow up and become a man, Galmar," Ulfric waved dismissively. "Until then, he will train and become my personal squire. He will be a Son of Skyrim."
"If he truly seeks to become a Son of Skyrim, then he will have no problem proving it." The man straightened up.
Aventus shot an inquisitive look at the broad-shouldered Nord. "And how would I do that?"
The man-bear locked eyes with the boy. "Go to Serpentstone Isle, slay an Ice Wraith, return, and you will prove yourself to me. Until then, boy, you are nothing to me and you will be nothing to Ulfric." He folded his arms across his chest and stared down Aventus. "If you want this, prove it."
Mind racing, Aventus weighed the options in his head. Galmar was giving him the opportunity to leave. He could find the others and he would not have to deal with the futile Civil War. Aventus knew he did not owe anything to Ulfric, he had forsaken him when he was a boy and now, by some luck, he had saved the boy's life. For Aventus, the pair were even. However, the fourteen year old did not know where to start in his search. At least here, he was guaranteed food, shelter, a bed... if he could kill an Ice Wraith.
Either way, Aventus knew he would be leaving Windhelm tonight.
Sorry guys for it being late, that was bad time management on my part (played way too much Guild Wars 2 and Mortal Kombat X with my younger brothers). I'll get the next chapter up on Thursday, as scheduled.
As always, feel free to PM me or write a review, and thanks for reading!