The thanks; to Delphine hater, thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the chapter. Amol will not betray his Jarl, so don't worry about that. To Blade Agent, thanks for the review! Ulster should get an award for his timing. Well, Jon was always grumpy, and Alsfur is unproven; you have to give them time. That said, they liked Jon, but not closely. It was more than respect, as you know he could be very inspiring, but certainly he wasn't the buddy Ulfric was, but then no commander can afford to be in a feudal system like this. Power must be preserved, and they must know who controls who. Thanks to everyone that reviews. ShoutFinder is on a massive quest to review every chapter, so thanks for that!
Let's see what was happening back at Morthal, and then it's Casta, and then, we'll see what happens to Alsfur and co. This is a good old one off.
Djurien
The window broke easily. Djurien threw aside his cloak, which he had used to muffle the blow, and hauled himself through the gap. Thank the gods for the Jarl's bloody big windows. He hit the ground lightly, and looked around with a practiced glance, taking in his surroundings quickly. The room was some kind of store, filled with bags of flour and wheat. Djurien moved to one and used his dagger to open the cloth; beans of some kind spilled over his feet. Djurien turned away, and started towards the door, before the sound of voices caught his attention. What the hell? He had come to see Idgrod, to talk about the letter and everything that had passed between them. It hurt to recall how he had locked her out. What a bastard, he thought, cursing himself. He sighed; I acted the child. But it was hard to keep his head when she talked about Thorek, the man who had stolen her heart.
Djurien was ripped from the painful thoughts by the voices again, and it was then that he realised he had heard them before, from the inn. His heart froze, and he pushed himself against the wall of the room, edging to the door. Djurien had expected that something was amiss when he had spotted the horsemen on Morthal's street, hence his less than glamorous entrance through the window, but a part of him had wanted to deny what he had suspected this might be.
He moved to the door and peaked round the frame, to see two men standing in the throne room, facing away from him. he saw sent ripples of shock through his spine. They've captured the Jarl! Even as he watched, another man came down the steps dragging Joric. The boy was silent, his head bowed. The Jarl's face became pained as she saw him, but the man ignored her, instead exchanging a few words with the ringleader, a Nord presumably, in steel mail, his head covered by a dark blue hood. A rich sword hung at his side, and his easy stride suggested skill with it. Djurien's stare burned; the cocky stride, the head movements… It was everything he resented in a person. He frowned at that; Idgrod had mentioned his own stride more than once, but he quickly pushed it from his mind as he noticed the man dragging Joric coming forward to the store room.
With sudden, sharp fear pounding through is veins, Djurien pressed himself against the wall, squeezing himself into the shadows and then drew his dagger with a swift movement. The man entered a moment later. Djurien knew what he had to do; he had no choice. With a quick motion he moved forward, forcing his dagger into the man's spine sharply. It broke with a sickly snap, and he fell, spasming slightly. Joric stepped back, watching his blood pool beneath his feet, before turning his fizzing green eyes on Djurien.
'Nice work,' he said mildly, completely unconcerned by the corpse in front of him.
Djurien gave him a disconcerted look, and dragged the body to the side, pulling Joric with him as he did so. Safely in the shadows, he asked what had been on his mind since seeing the horsemen. 'What the hell is going on here?'
'Isn't it simple?' Joric said, slightly patronisingly. 'It's a coup.'
Djurien's body was hit with a burst of shock that shattered any illusions he had held a moment before. 'A coup? To kill the Jarl?'
Ravencrone nodded. 'We need to leave and warn my sister.'
'What about your mother?' Djurien hissed, edging to the door again to peer around it. The men were walking around, looking bored now.
'She wanted this,' Joric said. 'But my sister had no part in this,' he affirmed fiercely.
Djurien turned, more confused than ever. 'Wait, she wanted this?' His question was cut off as the sound of a door crashed through the building. The Nord quickly moved back to the frame, as his worst fears came true. It was Idgrod.
The man in the armour kicked out her leg expertly, drawing his dagger with a fluid movement, flipping it into the air as she fell, before grasping it deftly. He placed across her throat. Deep longing, and horror flashed through Djurien as he beheld Idgrod's expression; she was terrified.
He stepped back into the darkness, breathing heavily. Sweat began to prick at his brow, as he tried to make sense of what he had just seen. A coup. It's a coup. Djurien looked back at Joric, who was moving forward, any nonchalance gone now he saw his sister. The elder Nord knew what he was going to do, and he grabbed Joric, pulling him into a grip. Ravencrone struggled, but Djurien held him tight.
'If you go out there, you'll die,' he hissed.
Joric wrenched Djurien's hands off his mouth, and turned to face the other Nord. 'I have to go out there!'
Djurien pushed him back. 'We need to go.' The words felt like ash on his tongue, as he realised he was going to abandon Idgrod to her fate. His heart wrenched painfully, but the scroll she had given him, charged him to deliver safely, burned a hole in the bag at his side. Looking down at Joric, he knew exactly what she would want him to do. 'Use these sacks to find food. We'll take enough for a day or so, after which we'll have to find other ways to get across Skyrim.' Those words felt sour as well, as he realised he was committing himself to piracy.
'Wait, where are we going?' Joric asked, fear gleaming his eyes.
'Away,' Djurien said simply, pulling open a bag. This time, Joric didn't question him, and he started rummaging through the sacks. They swiftly packed bread and apples, along with some cheese, stuffed it in the bag, and then Djurien pulled him to the window. Joric climbed out as more commotion came from the room opposite. With a start, Djurien recognised Gorm's voice, and Idgrod's, and he paused. It can't be, can it? Hot anger flared up in his mind as he slowly pieced together what he was hearing, but then Joric hissed from the window and Djurien remembered he had to leave now, or never.
The Nord swiftly hauled himself up the window and dropped to the muddy ground, his boots emitting a squelch that made Djurien winch and quickly listen out to see if anyone heard it inside the longhouse. No one did, and Djurien was about to move away, but then Idgrod flashed back into his mind, and he paused, torn between getting her to safety, or saving her brother. Djurien moved back tentatively to the window, all the while trying to force himself away, before Joric came up beside him.
'We need to go.' The older Nord looked at him; Ravecrone's eyes were hard, but even so Djurien could see the pain behind them.
'Okay,' he consented reluctantly. They turned away and started padding along the side of the longhouse, before they heard a scream, which made Djurien's blood freeze. It was followed by a cry, and the Nord realised what had happened instantly. They've found the body.
'RUN!' he bellowed at Joric, all attempt at secrecy gone. Ravencrone needed no prompting; he broke into a gangly sprint, making for the road. Djurien followed him before noticing the men leaping into horses, drawing shining steel. 'Fuck and shit.' He shoved Joric to the side, dragging him towards the guard's barracks. Djurien knew they would need proof, but it was following them now; they would fight.
The Jarl's Guard's barracks were by the longhouse, quite luckily, and Joric burst inside. Djurien followed him, his heart matching the pounding of hoofs that splashed in the mud outside. He locked the door behind him, and turned to see Joric being knocked down by a man. The guard's barracks was a two story room, the first being a common area. Two men slumped dead over a table, killed by a couple of Nords dressed in dark cloaks. Agents of the King. Idgrod's warning forced it's way to the front of his mind and without hesitation, Djurien leapt forward, drawing his sword.
His first strike decapitated one of the men, but the other recovered quickly and their steel met in a ringing clash. Djurien knew he had the advantage, as the men was likely still in shock, so he pressed him back, their swords kissing once, then twice, before Djurien slammed his weight into the man. He stumbled and attempted a wild swing at the Nord's head, but Djurien ducked and rammed his blade into the man's side. It stuck on a rib, and blood burst out. By now, the commotion had woken the guards from above, and five of them entered the room armed with axes and swords. Djurien drew himself, pointing his bloody blade at Joric, who had recovered by now.
'You liege needs you! Defend the Jarl.' Saying that confirmed the obvious; everyone else was dead.
The men looked stunned, but the pounding at the door quickly drew them to their senses, and they started calling for the rest of the men. There were a fifty here in total, enough to cover Joric's escape. Djurien didn't fool himself; the only thing to do was spirit Ravencrone away. Staying here would see him die.
Hurried on by fear, the guards quickly armed themselves and slipped into mail. Their captain was still alive, and he moved to Djurien as his men started bracing the door.
'Djurien? What's going on?' He glanced uneasily at Joric.
'My sister and mother are dead,' Ravencrone said. He drew himself up, looking fierce, but Djurien could see the anguish inside. 'There's been a coup, and those men outside mean to kill me. Don't allow it to happen.'
The captain's shock gave way to righteous anger. 'No, my Jarl. They won't get through.' He started bellowing for his men, calling them together, obviously pushing back any surprise he had for this sudden turn of events; it was what they were trained for after all. 'Lads! Hold the door, and secure the prison downstairs. We need to ensure no-one gets in.' He turned to Djurien. 'How many are there? Can we signal to the main fort?'
'Only a few men are actually here, but the man behind this will see that the men at the fort are dead, or corrupted, captain,' Djurien said, the words sticking on his tongue. What a mess…
'Then it's just us,' the captain confirmed resolutely. He looked at Joric. 'My Jarl, we need to get you out of here. I'll send what men I can with you-'
'No!' Djurien said. 'We'll travel faster alone. Armour me with leather and I'll get him away.'
'The stores are at the back. Go quickly. We won't have long to make a push before your coup's main force arrives.'
Djurien nodded and beckoned Joric with him. He quickly pulled on a boiled leather jerkin, abandoning his cloak. Steel bracers went on his arms, but that was all he could manage if he was to make a quick escape. Djurien fitted Joric in leather as well, with a short sword, which would be easier to use and carry for him right now. It only took a frenzied few minutes before they made their back to the front, where the men were arranged as if to fight their way out. The captain nodded as he saw them, approving their choice of equipment.
'Okay, lads! This is it. Let's get our Jarl to safety.' The Guard returned his cry and threw up the locking bolt, before bursting out. Their steel was met by little resistance, but out of the town, torches were bobbing in the darkness like fireflies as the main force approached, ready to crush any dissent to the new regime. The captain saw it, and pursed his lips. 'You'll be faster on foot. Make for the marshes. We'll hold them off.'
'But you'll die!' Joric protested.
The captain gave him a soft look. 'For you, my Jarl. Go.'
Djurien pulled Joric away, exchanging a nod for the captain's immense loyalty, and they started running, Behind him, the Guard formed up, the best in the hold, ready to fight the invaders for their Jarl. It would hopeless though; Mortal was unwalled and they were vastly outnumbered. We'll see them in Sovngarde though. A pang of regret briefly thrust itself to the forefront of his mind, but on seeing Joric's concerned look, he shoved it away, replacing the look on his face with steely determination.
They raced to the beginning of the marshes, sprawling off from the side of the road, away from Morthal. They plunged in, throwing up mud and water as they waded through, jumping to the firmer parts of the mud to pick up speed. Behind them echoed the sound of combat, and the cries of the wounded. It sent a chill through Djurien as he thought about all those men dead behind them, sacrificing themselves for the young Nord struggling through the mud beside him.
'The forest,' Djurien instructed. 'We need to get among the trees.'
'They could have ridden ahead,' Joric said, breathing heavily as he forced his way through the mud.
Djurien didn't answer that.
They heard hoofs and whipped around to see horsemen on the edge of the marsh. They must have forced their way past the Guard. Brashly, one of them tried to force his mount into the mud, but as soon as he did, the horse started shrieking as it fell in under the deep mud. He thrashed around wildly, but their combined weight was far too heavy, and they stayed trapped, slowly being sucked in further. The other horsemen moved back wearily, and drew bows from their saddlebags.
'Shit,' Djurien muttered, dismayed.
They released their arrows as the sounds of combat fell silent behind them, and they plunged down like angry hornets into the mist lining the bottom of the swamp. One slammed down by Djurien's foot and he let out a curse, forcing his way forward at a far more rapid pace than before. Joric followed suit and they squelched forward furiously, as the missiles landed around them. Glancing back, Djurien noticed one advantage to the arrow storm; even as they tried to hit them, the horsemen were not making for the forest, so intent as they were at catching their prey. But suddenly, another man appeared behind them, dressed in the shining steel mail. His arms moved wildly, and the horsemen started dropping their bows and mounting up, obviously cowed by his rage.
Djurien wasn't sure if he was happy by this turn in events; miraculously, they had escaped unharmed from the arrows, but now they were going to go head to head with the King's men in the forest. Joric must have noticed the same thing, but the older Nord pushed him forward regardless as they slipped among the pines of the forest. It was almost pitch dark now, and it gave each tree a threatening look, which chilled Djurien to his spine.
His breath was heavy, and fog wrapped out from his mouth as he surveyed his surroundings. He knew the forest well, but even so, it was going to be a gift from the Divines if they actually made it out. Djurien sent up a prayer to Talos, and Stendarr, the righteous Gods, for an escape, before padding further into the trees.
The air was cold, but silent, humming with tension. Djurien looked around wildly; obviously the man in steel was smart. Using torches would have revealed their positions for Djurien to take out in a fiery glow, but now, the Nord was just as disadvantaged as they were. Guessing at a rough path though, Djurien began to tread forward, peering into the darkness…
Suddenly, a shape drove into his side. He fell, letting out a cry, to find himself straddled by a vicious looking man who held a dagger in his hand. Without hesitation, he drove it down, but Djurien caught it just as it was about to slam down into his face. He held it, but the man was in too good a position. Soon, it was drawing a bloody line across his cheek. But as quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by Joric's figure in the emerging moonlight. His short sword was bloody by his side, and he reached out a cool hand. Djurien glanced at the man; his back had been torn open savagely, and his spine snapped. The Nord let out a breath of relief, and unease at Joric's ferocity, before pushing him forward with a nod of thanks. But by now, the whole forest had heard those screams and Djurien sensed the men all around them.
Without a word, they both started sprinting forward, weaving through the trees and stumbling over roots. The moonlight was providing a guide for Djurien now and he led them without hesitation, glancing around them. With a surge of icy fear, he noticed the shapes of men behind them. He turned his head again just in time to spot a sword swinging at his face. Quick as a cat, Djurien hit the ground, drawing his own blade with a bloody swing that severed the man's leg. He screamed, but there was no point in silencing him now. The King's men had arrived.
Djurien turned to Joric, pulling off the bag he had been carrying. It contained Idgrod's scroll, and if she was to be believed, it was one of the most important documents in Tamriel now. He thrust it all at Joric, and started whispering quickly.
'In this bag is a scroll detailing important information. I don't know what it says, but it is for the eyes of one man.' He thrust aside all rivalry now, instead concentrating on what she would have wanted. 'His name is Carl Thorek Silver-Blood. He was once King Balgruuf's Housecarl, and son of Thongvor. Find him, Joric. He is the only one who can help.' If Idgrod is right, that is. He felt sick lying to Joric; there was no certainty he would even care. He was a Silver-Blood after all, and now Djurien was forcing the boy on a quest that might see him killed.
Ravencrone nodded solemnly though, and ran off without another word. Djurien watched him go, and then turned to face his attackers. The rasp of steel echoed throughout the night as they drew theirs weapons, and Djurien watched them wearily. There were two of them now, but more were coming.
With a battle cry, Djurien leapt forward, parrying a blow to his head, and sweeping out the man's foot. He fell as the Nord twisted, blocking the other man's strikeand swinging round the opposite way to cut deeply into his neck. Screams rang out as blood splattered his clothes and face. Djurien spun round to thrust his point into the fallen man's throat, finishing him. As he stood, he saw more coming. They pounded through the trees, steel flashing. Djurien met them, quickly dodging a strike to his head, then parrying the return swing to his side. He pushed the blade away and attacked fiercely to trap the man against a tree. He stumbled, and Djurien hacked him down brutally. Then there was another behind him, and the Nord twisted to avoid the sword, catching it in between his waist, covered in leather, and his arm, while still facing towards the tree. With a savage tug, Djurien ripped the weapon from his opponent's grasp and swung to decapitate him with his sword. With lightning speed though, the man ducked and charged Djurien, slamming his into the tree, driving the wind from his chest.
The Nord sagged, but as the man pulled him up, he drove his dagger into his heart. It burst all the way through, such was the raw force behind it, and Djurien let him drop. He let out a heavy breath as his last opponent stepped forward, flipping his sword whimsically. It was the man in steel.
Depression raced through his mind, and Djurien heaved himself up properly to his feet. 'Who are you?'
The man wore no cloak, but a dark blue hood shrouded his face in darkness. 'An agent of the King.'
Idgrod's warning emerged again. The King. Djurien didn't suspect he could beat this man, and impending death made him as sharp as he imagined Idgrod would have been. 'If I'm going to die, don't be coy.'
'Nor will I, then.' He spoke with a refined accent, and had a condescending tone that irked Djurien. 'Call me the Knight, as you might call "him" the King.'
'Fine. Let's end this then.'
The Knight nodded, amused, and swung forward, but Djurien parried it easily. They stepped back, and then the Nord moved forward, thrusting at the Knight's chest. He dodged, but to Djurien surprise, and faster than he would have thought possible, the Knight moved forward, knocking down his sword, and swinging his sword towards his face with a backhand blow. Djurien ducked quickly, but before he could move, the Knight's gauntleted fist followed his own sword, slamming into Djurien's jaw. The force knocked the Nord off his feet, and pain numbed his face with fire.
Djurien collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily as the pain burned his nerves. The Knight strutted around him, sighing.
'Was it really too much to hope for a better fight? Come on, get up.' He kicked Djurien in the stomach and the latter groaned, but managed to pull himself up. Every second he stood was another brought for Joric, and revenge for his sister.
The Knight seemed to guess what he was thinking, and his eyes gleamed with malice as he spoke. 'That girl of yours, the younger daughter.' He moved closer. 'She cried like a bitch when I slit her throat,' he mimicked the next bit; 'from ear, to ear.'
Djurien's rage boiled over and he leapt forward, screaming. The Knight jerked back and drew up his blade to block the Nord's furious strikes. He swung low in retaliation, but Djurien kicked it off his boot and struck downwards. The Knight dodged, and swept out Djurien's leg, but the Nord rolled as he fell into the leaves, avoiding the Knight's following downward stroke. With a cry, Djurien caught the next strike on his blade and pulled the Knight down, throwing him over his body. The King's man landed heavily next to him, but regained his feet quickly and charged Djurien as he pulled himself up, wrestling him down into the ground. Torches began to flare up around them, and he knew he couldn't win now; but I can take this bastard with me.
Drawing his dagger, Djurien jerked it up, aiming for the Knight's throat. His reflexes were amazing, and he leapt back, rolling to regain his feet, blade in hand, as Djurien advanced with sword and dagger both. The Knight didn't wait for him though. He stepped forward, grabbing Djurien's sword hand, and blocking the dagger strike. He launched a vicious headbutt into the Nord's head and pain burst through his mind, leaving it dizzy and surrounded by dark fog. Then, he pressed his attack.
Djurien was led back as torches surrounded their duel, trying to step out of his current position, but the Knight wasn't playing anymore. He blocked him off swiftly, all the time their swords met in a ringing clash of steel. They flashed in the moonlight, and sweat began to run down Djurien's brow as he clumsily warded off his attacker. His blows were slowing though, and in a desperate last-ditch attempt to survive, he knocked aside the Knight's weapon and thrust forward with his sword. It was over then. His opponent spun round, missing the sword and ramming his elbow straight into Djurien's ribs. One cracked in a blast of red hot pain, and the move had ripped the Nord's hand from its grasp on the Knight's own sword hand. He whipped his blade across Djurien's head, and everything went black.
I hope you enjoyed that. I wrote that at light speed, so I'm going to sit down and rest now. (It was run to write some combat again though.)
