Chapter Two - The Keep and Beyond

We found ourselves in the middle of a circular room, a small table across the room from the door with a pair of corpses, one Stormcloak and one Imperial on the floor. Gates led off at ninety degrees from where we stood, one with no way through from this side and the other with a hefty padlock. Ralof crossed the room, myself a step behind him, and scooped up a dagger from the table. He cut his own bonds, then turned and cut mine. "Gunjar there won't be needing any of his equipment anymore," he said brusquely. "Nor will the Imperial. Take what you need and let's get moving."

I nodded, then moved to the Imperial and started stripping off his gear, slipping on the heavy breastplate to replace my lost steel gear. The armored skirt came from the bottom, protecting my upper legs, while a pair of greaves attached to boots protected my legs. Finally, a pair of Imperial bracers shielded my arms. I left the helmet. I had always hated having something holding my head down in combat. There was a bow and a quiver of twenty iron arrows leaning against the wall, so I grabbed them and slung them over my back. Finally, the Imperial's Imperial iron sword and sheath went on the left side of my waist. I retrieved a second dagger from Gunjar's corpse and slide its sheath into the swordbelt on my right.

As I finished arming myself, we heard footsteps from the passage that had been to the left of the door we came in through. Ralof ran to the wall on that side, pressing himself against it and peeking around the corner, through the gate. "Imperials coming," he hissed. "How do you want to play it?"

"Follow my lead," I responded. I dragged the Imperial corpse out of sight from the gate they were coming from, the unslung my bow and nocked an arrow, but left it aimed at the floor. The Imperials approached, it was a pair, and as they drew closer I realized it was the cart driver and the captain. I smiled inwardly. A perfect opportunity for a bit of revenge.

The gate clattered open, and they strode through, not noticing Ralof still pressed against the wall since they focused on their apparent ally in the middle of the room. "You!" the captain shouted. "Soldier, come with… wait, you're not…"

She was interrupted when my bow came up as I drew back the arrow, sighted, and fired. The arrow took her through the throat, and she stumbled backwards, clutching at the new addition to her windpipe. I cast aside the bow, ripping my new sword from its sheath and charging at the other soldier. He got his sword up, deflecting my first blow to one side. Unfortunately for him, my off hand had pulled my dagger from its sheath as I charged him, and the small blade found its mark in the weak point of his armor, under the left armpit. The blade broke through the thin leather easily, piercing his heart. As I stepped back, withdrawing the dagger, I saw that Ralof had finished the captain with an axe blow to the back of the neck. I did the same to the soldier in front of me, my sword easily severing the poor bastards spine after a quick slash.

"Check the bodies," I said, "look for a key for the other gate." Ralof nodded and started going through the captain's belt pouches, while I did the same to the soldier I had killed.

After a moment of searching, he held up a key. "Got it! This should open up any doors we run into," he said. I nodded and crossed to the other door, recovering my bow and the arrow from the captain's throat as I did so. The arrow was still serviceable, so I nocked it and stood by the door as Ralof unlocked it. I kept the bow half-raised and the slack drawn out of the string, ready for a quick draw and a quicker shot. We moved into the hallway, following the single trail until we rounded a corner and saw a pair of Imperials standing at the end of the corner. I stepped back quickly, throwing out an arm to drag Ralof back with me before they noticed us.

I raised a hand, two fingers extended, and gestured towards the hall around the corner. Ralof nodded, and I drew a second arrow from my quiver, once again knocking the first arrow and holding the second between the third and fourth fingers of my drawing hand. Then, in one motion, I stepped around the corner, drew, sighted, and loosed the arrow. Right as a tremor shook the hallway, throwing my aim off right as I released the string. Even as I nocked the second arrow, the first careened into a wall, clattering to the floor right before the middle of the roof collapsed, cutting me off from the Imperials and burying my arrow. Shit. I only had nineteen left, and every arrow might count.

The hallway was entirely blocked by the debris, totally impassable. Luckily, there was a door on my side of the hallway, so I slung my bow over my shoulder and drew my sword, slowly pushing the door open. There were three enemy soldiers in what appeared to be a storeroom, and I evaluated my options. I could probably get one, maybe two of them with my bow, but I probably wouldn't be able to switch to my sword before the third got to me, and that was assuming Ralof stalled one of the ones I shot. I could charge like a berserker, a plan that appealed to my Nord heritage. Or I could be smart and get Ralof to watch my back while I attacked. So far the Imperials had been fairly unskilled warriors, but I couldn't assume that was the norm. Plan three it was.

I pulled back from the door and turned to Ralof. "Three Imperials inside. I should be able to take one and distract another if you take the third."

Ralof nodded and hefted his axe. "A solid plan, kinsman," he said. "I'll go first." A wild grin spread across his face as he shoved through the door, raising the iron war axe high as he sprinted at the soldiers, and his chosen foe barely managed to draw his sword out and up in time to block the overhand swing. I followed close behind, sword in hand and my iron dagger in the other. I struck at the Imperial to my right first, my sword swinging in a flat arc that would have carried it through his throat if he hadn't snapped his sword up into a high guard, knocking it to the side. I spun with the momentum of my blade, angling my blade into a cut at the other soldier's legs, and lashed my dagger out at the first soldier, forcing him to abort the strike he was winding up and step back out of the way of the strike. I felt my sword's blade bite into the second man's leg, cutting deep into the back of his calf. I continued the spinning movement started at the first soldier's parry, pulling my dagger back in to my body and then burying it to the hilt in the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord.

With one of them dispatched and the other momentarily forced back, I spared a moment to check on my partner. Ralof was forcing the third soldier back, raining blow after blow on the man while he fell back step by step, his blocks and parries becoming less and less effective as he tired and his arms went numb from the weight of the repeated strikes. I was forced back to my own fight when my remaining opponent rushed me, his sword lowered like a spear and aimed at my stomach. Instead of trying to recover a fighting posture right then from where I stood over his friend's corpse, I simply stepped slightly to one side, allowing the soldier's sword to skate across the iron of the breastplate I wore. Then I stepped in and repeated the strike I had begun the fight with, a flat swing at the neck that he had parried easily the last time. This time he was off balance and over extended, and my blade bit deep, sliding past the base of his helmet and the ridge on his shoulder armor and into the flesh. The edge went through, carving a path through three quarters of his throat, releasing a spray of arterial blood and causing him to topple to the floor.

Ralof's man had rotated and was now coming towards me, still backing away from the frenzied axe. This soldier wore light leather armor rather than the steel of the two I had already slain, so once he was close enough I stepped forward and rammed my sword into his back, piercing through the armor and emerging out the other side. He crumpled, mortally wounded by my strike to his stomach, and was finished when Ralof buried his axe in the soldier's skull. I went back to the men I had killed, and used the cloth tunic under one of their armor to wipe the blood from my sword and dagger, then returned them to their sheaths on my belt. "Take a look around," Ralof called over. "Might be something useful here since it's a storeroom."

"Aye," I responded, then cast about. I found a mana potion and a health potion on a shelf full of alchemy ingredients, three more health potions, another mana, and a stamina potion in a barrel, and one more health on another table with more ingredients. I stuck them all in pouch on the swordbelt, but left the ingredients since I knew nothing about alchemy. Once I was done we went through the second door to the room , depositing us on the other side of the rockfall that had blocked our path. A twist and a turn later and we were looking down a flight of stairs at a battle. Three Stormcloaks fought against a pair of Imperials, one with a shield and mace, and the other with an Imperial sword in one hand and firing lightning blasts from the other. "Malacath's ass," I swore. "A damned spellsword?" I turned to Ralof, who was watching with an angry expression on his face. "I suppose you're going to insist we attack."

He only looked at me, then nodded tightly.

"Very well," I said. "I have the heavier armor, I'll distract the mage and you cut him down."

He grunted, and readied himself to dash in. I waited until the spellsword's back was turned, then charged down the stairs with my sword drawn. My armored shoulder smashed into his back, pitching him forward and forcing him to disengage from the Stormcloak soldier he was pouring lightning into. He rounded on me as I slashed at him, and he faded backward, away from the strike, and launched a bolt of energy that I ducked to the side to dodge and attacked to interrupt the casting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Stormcloaks who hadn't been half-fried backing the other Imperial into a corner, heavy two-handed weapons pounding on his leather shield. I wasn't sure where Ralof was, but I pressed my attack against the spellsword, pushing him towards the middle of the room. The spellsword was skilled, and faster than I was thanks to the leather armor that left him less encumbered, not to mention that I couldn't read his eyes or face for intent thanks to a hood pulled low over his face. His sword flickered back and forth, in and out, and I was pressed to keep up with his speed thanks to my heavier armor. Our blades crossed and shivered against each other, but he was slowing. Between his mana expenditure, which he continued with occasional blasts at me, and the weight of my blows which he was often forced to block when I had him too pinned to parry he was tiring. Another minute of this and he would fall, while I was still going strong. I had spent eighty years building my strength and endurance, not to mention my Nord heritage meant I was already stronger than most man or mer, barring the Orsimer of course. Finally, just as he was nearly faltering, Ralof was suddenly behind him, and with a single, mighty swing of his axe that beheaded the spellsword.

I stepped back, sheathing my sword. I hadn't managed to land more than minor hit to his armor in the length of our fight, so there was no need to clean it. "Took you long enough, kinsman," I said.

"Had to help out the others. Turns out this torturer scum's assistant was tougher than he looked," he said. And sure enough, when I turned to look the two surviving Stormcloaks were both sitting on the ground, one with an an obviously broken leg, I assume from the Imperial's mace, and the other simply appeared exhausted.

"Fair enough," I said, then started exploring the room. On a table next to a pillar I found a knapsack, and from it I picked up another pair of health potions and a second iron dagger, which went into the pouch and onto the belt respectively. There were also a pair of lockpicks, which I slipped into the pocket on the ragged pants I still wore beneath my armor. A search of the weapons cage in the corner of the room yielded a few septims and another pair of lockpicks. The lockpicks joined the others in my pocket, and the gold went in another pouch on the swordbelt. There was an iron shield hanging on the wall, which I picked up and slung over my back by its strap, where I could easily swing it around and slip it onto my arm.

When I walked back out, Ralof was examining a prison cage, the central one of three. Inside was the corpse of a mage, still wearing robes that looked like a slightly updated version of what I remembered College of Winterhold robes looking like. Next to him was a mana potion, some more septims, and a spellbook. "Anyone know how to pick a lock?" Ralof asked.

The other two Stormcloaks shook their heads, but I stepped forward. "I'm not Thieves' Guild quality, but I can get through most locked things," I said.

"Good," he said. "Some of that may prove useful if you can get at it. I'll scout ahead a little and make sure no one ambushes while you see to that lock."

He started off down the next hallway while I knelt in front of the cage's padlock. A few moments work, and it sprang open, allowing me access. I scooped up the potions and gold, stowing them away, then checked on what the corpse wore. A hood and robes, all of which glowed faintly with some kind of enchantment. I stepped back into the room, grabbed the knapsack from the table, then went back into the cell and stripped the corpse. Even though I may not have a use for it, it was probably worth a pretty penny. I slung the sack over my shoulder, rearranging my bow, quiver, and shield to sit with it. One last look around pointed me towards the corpse of the lightning-cooked Stormcloak. Next to his corpse was an iron greatsword, an inferior version of my preferred weapon.

In my hundred years of life, I had picked up as many martial skills as I could, barring magic, making me proficient with sword, shield, bow, and greatsword. Of all of those, the greatswords capability for blasting through armor and defenses had always been my favorite, especially fighting against lightly armored elves. I couldn't pass up that weapon, so I shucked off all of my weapons and laid them on the floor so I could rearrange it all. First the greatsword went onto my back, the hilt jutting over my right shoulder. Next was the quiver, the straps of which I wrapped around the greatsword's sheath to hold it in place. It was slightly awkward to reach around the hilt for an arrow, but not awkward enough to slow down my draw. I swung my knapsack on over those, pinning them in place once the straps were over both shoulders. It wasn't exactly accessible, but then it didn't need to be. If I needed something out of it, I would just take it off. My shield I fastened to the side of the bag on the left side, arranging the straps so if I gave it a tug it would come free and I could fasten it to my arm. Finally, I hooked my bow over my right shoulder by its bowstring, where the ridge on my shoulder pauldron would hold it in place but I could easily swing it off. I belted my swordbelt back on, the Imperial iron blade hanging from my left hip and the pair of daggers sitting in stacked sheaths on my right, the bottom dagger on the outside and the other resting on my hip.

Now that all of my equipment was settled, I turned my attention to the last item I had taken from the cell: the spell tome, which based on the image on the cover was a Destruction spell. I opened the book out of curiosity, and the first page bore an image of a faceless figure launching lightning from his hands, and a warning.

"Beware. Beyond this page lies knowledge arcane of lethal application. Read beyond and and this book shall be destroyed, but the information within shall pass unto you."

I stopped and stared at the warning. I had been avoiding learning any kind of magic for decades. My father was a high elf sorcerer. I use father in the loosest terms, since the only thing the bastard ever gave me was extremely long lifespan. The milkdrinker had essentially raped my mother, and I had been doing my best to reject anything related to the bastard my entire life. I had refused to learn magic, not even the most basic healing spells that almost every soldier with the capability did, and I had been killing altmer for years. But now my homeland was at war with itself, dragons had returned, and I had seen the damn high elves with Tullius. It may have been time to set aside my self-imposed restrictions. There was too much to do to set unnecessary limits on myself.

I turned the page of the book, and my vision exploded with light. My head felt like it was splitting open, and I could feel channels of energy running through my body and my head. I could only assume it was my magicka conduits opening up after a lifetime of disuse. The knowledge of how to cast the Sparks spell appeared in my mind, and I could feel energy sparking out of my fingertips. When I came back to myself, I was on my hands and knees in the middle of the floor, panting. A pattern of burn marks dotted the floor by my hands. Looks like I hadn't imagined those sparks. I hauled myself upright and saw Ralof standing in the doorway, staring at me.

"What was that?" he asked.

I had barely recovered my breath, but I had enough to respond. "Magic. Haven't used any before," I told him.

"Aye, that would do it," he said. "I've heard that the first time after shutting it out is always… interesting."

My breath was back, so I hauled myself up against the weight of my weapons and armor. "Shor's bones, man, you couldn't have mentioned that BEFORE I read the bloody spellbook?"

Ralof simply smiled mockingly. "Well, you seem better now. Keep moving?"

"Aye." We started down the hall, down a flight of stairs while Ralof filled me in on what he had discovered scouting ahead.

"There's a large chamber up ahead with four or five Imperials in it, a couple of archers and a couple others."

"Nice and open?" I asked.

"Aye."

"Good. I'll take the archers with my bow, then I'll back you up against the others." We reached the corner and I peeked around. There were platforms around the left edge of the chamber, with a grotto in the middle and bridges connecting the platforms. There was a soldier standing in the water down below, one patrolling the bridges, one standing a fair distance, and a pair of archers by the far wall. I turned back to Ralof and confirmed his count, then outlined the plan in more detail. "One enemy close on the bridges, one far, one below, and two archers on the far wall. Charge when I start shooting."

Ralof nodded, and settled his axe in his hand while he settled into a running stance. I drew a pair of arrows from my quiver, laying one on the string and holding the other between my third and fourth fingers. I raised the bow, taking the slack out of the string, then stepped around the corner. I pulled the string back to my cheek as I sighted on the farther archer, the more difficult shot. Half a second later, I released, and the thrum of the bowstring filled the chamber as Ralof dashed by. I couldn't afford to take the time to see where my arrow hit, so I nocked the second arrow and repeated the action, aiming for the second archer. As soon as that arrow was on its way I drew another arrow from my quiver, laying it on the string and peering out at my handiwork. The first archer lay on the floor, totally unmoving, while the second was just then snapping off the shaft of the arrow buried in his bow arm. I raised and fired a second time, watching the arrow fly in this time, and it struck just below the rim of his helmet, driving into his skull.

My first targets dispatched, I turned my attention to Ralof. He was fighting two of them, while the third climbed a set of stairs that would have him emerge behind my ally. I had sixteen arrows left in my quiver, but Ralof was too close to two of them, and soon the third would be too close to risk a shot as well. However, he was too far to reach in time with my sword. The only thing for it was to use my newfound skill: magic. I called the Sparks spell to my hand surprisingly easily considering I had never done it before. Then I thrust my hand out, willing the lightning to lance out, and it did, taking the Imperial in the middle of the back of his iron breastplate.

The soldier convulsed, every muscle in his body spasming, before collapsing, smoke rising from the corpse. The magic was in my left hand, leaving my right free to draw my sword. So I did, and then I ran for the clump of enemies. Once I was close enough, I raised my hand and fired another lick of lightning at one of the Imperials. The power seemed to sting him more than anything else, and he rounded towards me with his sword raised. He turned just in time to catch my thrust in the stomach, just below his breastplate. The wind left him in a rush, and a look of surprise appeared on his face. Surprise quickly compounded when I laid my other hand on the blade of my weapon and channeled the Sparks spell into it the sword. The leather wrapped around the grip that I gripped prevented the spell from shocking me, but he was blown backwards off of the blade and lay on the ground, unmoving.

The last enemy was laying on the ground, bleeding from several axe wounds all over his body. "Impressive," Ralof said. "I've always wondered if magic was all it was cracked up to be."

I nodded and started walking again. I could feel a strange tiredness stealing over me, obviously the cost of using magic. "Aye, but there's a cost and I can feel it. Let's keep moving."

Those were the last Imperials we saw. We passed through a spider cave on our way out, where I slew three small frostbite spiders with my blade while blocking their poisonous spit with my shield, then dropped both and used my greatsword to slash the legs and split the skulls of a pair of larger ones. After recovering my weapons we ran into a bear, which I killed with a pair of arrows to the eyes and a blast of lightning to finish it off. The arrows were recoverable, and with the arrows I had taken from the quivers of the dead Imperial I was back up to a full twenty count of arrows in my quiver. The tunnel leading off of the bear's cave led outside, finally, dumping us into the sunshine.

We were barely outside when we heard the dragon's cry, a sound that had been burned into my consciousness during the attack on Helgen. We dove for cover, Ralof behind a rock, and myself into a stand of trees. The massive black beast flew over, winging its way I knew not where, not so much as looking down at us. Once it was gone, we cautiously moved back onto the trail. "Looks like the beast is gone. This is Falkreath, an Imperial Hold," he said. "I can't travel by daylight here, I'd be attacked by any guards we see. There's a village just north of here called Riverwood. My aunt runs the mill there, and if you tell her I sent you she'll be sure to help you out. I'll hide out until dark and then make my way there."

We clasped forearms, and then I responded. "Thank you for your help and the offer, Ralof. I'll see you tonight in Riverwood."

"Aye, my friend," he said. "Oh, and if you ever find yourself near Windhelm you should go to meet Jarl Ulfric and Galmar Stonefist. The Stormcloaks could use a warrior of your caliber."

Then we parted, Ralof disappearing into the woods while I headed down the trail in front of me until I hit the main road.