Chapter 10
The Dragonborn and her husband, Vilkas, left the Palace of Kings as soon as his nose stopped bleeding. The mercenary and Castle kept looking at each other with murderous glares each time they crossed paths in the corridors of the Palace, Kate and Vivienne had a hard time keeping the two men from choking one another.
Once the two were finally out of the massive door, Kate heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the High King's shoulders slump. They could both relax, after the bloody confrontation that had happened just that morning. While Vivienne had been quite understanding and had scolded her husband for his stupidity.
Picking up a fight with the king? While you're sitting and he's standing, on the higher ground? Rookie mistake.
Later that day, things seemed to be much calmer, Castle dealt with his duties as king in the morning then kept all the afternoon for hearings. His subjects in the Hold had waited months to speak to him for various matters, and as days passed, he was slowly taking care of listening to their requests and complaints. Trying to resolve everything was another matter though.
Along with hearings, he held trials for crimes and disputes. He had Alexis in the room, so she could learn the craft of ruling a Hold, for the future, the time she'd sit on the throne.
Ever the diligent bodyguard, Beckett stood, for hours at times if needed, beside the throne, ready to take over in case anyone became a little too violent. In addition, learned something more with each hearing, or trial that took place.
The inhabitants of Eastmarch were hotheaded as any other Nord, but they were also pretty tame, everything considered. She had witnessed some trials or hearings back when she was a child, with her father at the Longhouse in Falkreath, but most of the times, those turned into huge fights. Maybe it was Castle's authoritative presence, opposed to the Falkreath Jarl relaxed and jovial one, but even when things got heated, no one ever lifted a finger. Castle assured her that occasionally something big happened and things got really hot in the hall of the Palace, but lately, with the war over and lives slowly getting back to what it used to be before the Thalmor invasion, such big happenings rarely occurred.
Hence, calmer hearings and trials.
However, something happened, a couple of days after Vivienne had left. They were holding a hearing, a boring one too, about two families feuding over the dowry of the bride to be, when the massive door was pushed open without permit.
Swiftly, Beckett picked up her bow and nocked a steel tipped arrow, then trained it on the door, while all the guards inside unsheathed their weapons in unison.
Which were lowered the moment another guard entered, panting and sweating with exertion. "Your Highness!" he screamed leaning heavily on the door. "Draugr… in the Hall Of The Dead!"
"What?!" replied Castle, standing up.
The guard took his helmet off, letting it roll on the floor. He had a large gash on his temple, it oozed blood down his cheek and neck. "Draugr… it's an invasion. They burst from a wall in the back of the hall… we can't push them back!"
Castle looked at Beckett, then at his daughter. "Alexis, go upstairs and wall yourself and your grandmother in the inner keep. Galmar, go fetch as many men you can and take them to the entrance of the hall. Beckett, come with me."
He stood from the throne and rushed down the hall and out. The sun was already setting, winter reduced the hours of daylight and by four in the afternoon, the city was nearly dark already. And cold. Kate shivered when the freezing air enveloped her. She was wearing a light leather armor, and beneath that, a thin woolen tunic and linen pants, not enough for the harsh weather coming down from Winterhold.
When they reached entrance of the Hall of the Dead, not far from the Palace, they found a contingent of soldiers trying to keep the door closed. From behind the thick wooden planks, she could hear the low-pitched screeching of the draugrs trying to open the door, the clicking of ancient weapons against the steel studs that reinforced the door. The ancient warriors, dead for centuries
"This is bad," murmured one of soldiers around them.
Castle looked at her. "You think?"
The former bandit chief swallowed a lump. She had seen awakened draugrs, many times. As a bandit, she had taken refuge in forgotten tombs and burial grounds many times to escape guards or simply the harsh weather of Hijaalmarch, but never venturing deeper than the first couple of chambers. Tombs and burial mounds in general were dangerous, because you never know if the guests were still dead or had been transformed in draugrs, the walking dead from ancient times.
Like what was happening right there in Windhelm. Something had awoken the once grand warriors resting deep in the forgotten chambers of the Hall Of The Dead, and they were now hunting for fresh blood.
But dragurs were nothing but ages old mummies, the shell of the warriors' that once inhabited those bodies. They were driven by what they did when they were alive: war. They wanted, better, needed to fight, to wage war against someone. They weren't difficult to overcome, and they were only dangerous when in packs. Hideous, yes, deadly? Not so much.
"Could be worse. Castle, you said you know all the words of power for Fire Breath, right?" He nodded. "Good. They're highly flammable."
"Open the door!" ordered then the king.
When the guards let go and stopped pushing against the force of the undead, the heavy wooden door burst open with a loud bang and at least ten draugrs in various states of mummification peeked through the doorstep, swords or axes in hand. Some wore what once was armor, others were completely naked, but they all wanted to fight. And kill.
A draugr's blood thirst was boundless, as the legends said.
Beckett saw Castle take a deep breath before he used his Thu'um, the power of the voice, to Shout.
"Vol Tor Shuul!" he Shouted. His booming voice echoed in the cramped space between the tall buildings that surrounded the entrance of the Hall of the Dead.
Kate couldn't believe her eyes. He was literally breathing fire! The flames, hot as hell itself, wrapped themselves around the charging draugrs, effectively stopping them. The undead, enveloped in the magical but very real fire, whined and groaned with their otherworldly voices, before they fell on the stony ground, on a crumpled heap of charred bones and burned linen used to wrap them before they were buried. Ages before.
When the draugrs died again and the flames dissipated, the small place fell silent. Everyone watched, with extreme care, as the wind pushed the acrid smoke away to see if any of the undead had survived.
Slowly, Beckett walked closer to the mound and with the tip of the sword, started probing the smoldering ashes for survivors. She found none, but what she didn't found scared her the most.
"The Warlord isn't here."
Castle let out a low-pitched groan, while Galmar couldn't contain his disgust and let out a curse that had a couple of young guards turn white then bright red for the embarrassment.
Draugrs, like soldiers, followed orders. The orders of the Warlords, the chief that was usually buried in the utmost chamber, protected by booby traps and, of course, lesser draugrs. But most of those mummies rested in their niches or sarcophagus' for all eternity without ever waking up.
What had triggered their awakening?
And more important: was the Warlord intentioned to get more of his warriors to attack Windhelm?
"What do you want to do?" she asked Castle, sheathing her sword.
The king seemed pensive. "We could wall up the hole, but that wouldn't solve the problem."
"It would only delay the inevitable." They all turned around and found Wuulferth The Unliving, the court wizard, striding between a corridor made by all the curious witnesses of the short-lived combat. The black clad wizard had a bad reputation, many gossiped about him being a necromancer, but in his old age, the mage was wise and knew all he needed to, in order to be a good councilor to the Jarl.
"What do you suggest, Wuulferth?" asked Castle.
"My King, you need to go down and investigate. If your…" he threw a sideways look at Beckett, but didn't add anything offensive after that. "...bodyguard here says the Warlord isn't here, then it won't be long before he sends more draugrs. More dangerous this time. "
"Do I need to go there by myself?"
The mage nodded. "The Warlord has awakened. Your guards would only meet certain death if you sent them to face him. Only someone with greater knowledge of combat can hope to kill the Warlord once and for all. Only then, we will be able to wall up the tomb and forget about them."
Beckett and the king exchanged a long, exasperated look. "Makes sense," she commented. "Does he need to go alone?"
The black caped wizard shook his head. "No, of course not. If you wish to go with him, Katherine Beckett, you're free to do so."
She shrugged. "Could be worse, right?"
Castle ran his free hand through his hair and sighed. "Yeah, could be raining. Galmar, have your men put up a barrier and stand guard. Kate and I need to stock up if we want to deal with the warlord."
"Rick, are you serious? You want to go in there alone?" His second in command was furious. Or simply worried about the High King's safety, Kate wasn't exactly sure.
"Want to come with us?" proposed Castle. "The more the merrier, right?"
"Damn yes I want to come Richard! You can't just waltz into a damn infested tomb as if it's nothing! Give me time to prepare, I'm coming with you."
"You think we can pull this off?" asked Castle, looking at Beckett.
"We survived a bandit assault, and I wasn't even armed. If we go down there well equipped, we can definitely pull this off. Come on, they're nothing but mummies!"
"Some of the Warlords can actually Shout, you know?"
She nodded. "Yes, I know. But seriously, we're three trained fighters against a bunch of bloodthirsty relics of the past. How bad could it be?"