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Word count.
Original: 1,580
Re-write: 4,767
Chapter III
The Crypt
Serana
I wake up with a start, my eyes snapping open in the dark. The prison I was put in, it all comes rushing back, my mother telling me it's the only way and then… nothing. Just nothing. There's the sound of stone grinding on stone, it's echoes and surrounds me, tears at my ears and invades every sense as the small confines of my cell fill with dust and the strong smell of blood. Live blood.
It can't be mother.
There's a heavy breath and then the sounds of more grinding between stones, metal scrapping on stone. A loud grunt, as there's what sounds like scrambling. Maybe it is mother with a thrall. There's more blood in the air, the thick and rich metallic stench fills the small hell my mother made for me. A heavy clank, the tightening of material. I can taste the blood at the back of my throat, my mouth unwillingly opens to accept more of the thick liquid. Except there isn't any, at least not in my coffin.
There's another loud clanking of metal and wood on stone. Then a heavy thud, and scrambled, hurried footsteps. And a heavy brushing sound.
I can smell the blood even more strongly than before now. I close my eyes as the smell surrounds me. I open my eyes slowly. The front of the coffin has gone, slid down into the ground, I feel my whole body collapse forward as the part I was leaning against disappears into the stone. Falling forward I manage to catch myself on my hands and knees, I stare down at the ground, the floor spinning as I try to get a grip of my sense of balance. I close my eyes, still keeping my head down, I feel my body sway from to side to side as I let slightly more weight fall onto my hands.
It takes me a few moments to gather my senses and come to grips with being out of the coffin. I open my eyes, the rooms finally stopped spinning. I glance up. There's a man, sat with his lets stretched out in front of him, a strange bow like weapon held in one hand, his left arm is resting on top of it a rag tied tightly round his left hand. Must be where the smell is coming from. He climbs to his feet, slowly. He keeps the weapon aimed at me. It looks like a smaller version of the "crossbows" in my books about Dwemer technology.
The man gets to his feet fully. He looks older than me, he's obviously not actually older but he looks to be in his thirties. He's got a thick beard, and long and black hair. Parts of the left side of his hair look like they've been knotted into dreadlocks. He's pale, dark rings under his eyes. He takes a step to the side. His armours made of leather, parts of it stitched up and some parts have noticeably been replaced with newer pieces of leather. It's mostly black but some parts are a very deep, dark red. There's studs coming through some parts of the armour and chainmail covering the top parts of his shoulders and hanging over the upper half of his chest. There's a very torn woollen hood on his head, falling off to the side and revealing his face. The only colour about him are his eyes, a very pale and cold green.
I climb to my feet, using the coffin as support. I sway gently on my feet as I look away from the man. I take another look at him, he's still aiming the "crossbow" at me. He takes another step to the right, he stretches his left arm out a bit before quickly pulling it back to him and putting it back on top of the "crossbow". I go to say something but nothing comes out, I cough lightly, swallowing a couple of times to try and get my voice back. I move my hand to my throat and massage it gently, looking back to the man.
"Unh." I swallow, another quiet cough coming out. "Where is…" I cough again, this isn't good. Mother should be here, not whoever this man is. "Who sent you?" I lean against the coffin, a bit lighter than before. I look at him properly, he just stares at me, crossbow levelled at my chest. "Who sent you here?" I ask again, more forceful this time, my hand strays down to the small elven made knife at my waist. I take a closer look at his weapons, a dagger on his left side and the hilt of a sword just showing past his right shoulder. I doubt I could beat him in a straight up sword fight but with my spells I could stop him in his tracks fairly quickly.
He stares at me a moment longer, moving the crossbow down slightly, before he adjusts his hand on the weapon and lifts it back up fully, he lets his fingers drop down to the side of the weapon. "Who were you expecting?" He speaks in a low, gruff register. Quiet and intimidating, he half whispers as he takes another step to the right. His voice is gravelly and tough to listen to. He takes a quick step back
I'm taken aback by his answer somewhat. I suppose in the back of my mind I still half expected mother to have sent him to finally free me, but no. If mother had sent him he would've told me and he wouldn't still have that weapon aimed at me. "Someone… like me at least." I regret saying it as soon as I do. He probably would have figured it out eventually, he doesn't look too thick in the head.
A small humourless grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, he puts his weight back on his right hand. "Vampire." He says, with dead certainty in his voice. He lifts the crossbow up more, moving his left hand down to the underside of the weapon.
I look him straight in the eyes. He just stares back, no fear in his eyes. He's trying hard to keep his emotions closely guarded, I remember seeing that look in both mother's and father's eyes, trying to hide everything that they were feeling from each other, trying to constantly get and keep the upper hand. He is scared but he's keeping it from me, probably from himself. Not allowing himself to feel his fear because if he admitted his fear to himself, then he'd lose his upper hand right now. "Yes." I confirm for him, his head goes down slightly and his crossbow goes up slightly.
He grumbles something under his breath. "The Dawnguard would want me to kill you." He states circling to the right again. He readies the crossbow again, pushing it harder against his shoulder. I hear a muffled sound from the other side of the cavern, a couple of dulled footfalls.
I swallow. This man's Dawnguard? The order of vampire hunters? I used to have a book about the old and ancient orders in Tamriel, the Dawnguard was in that book. They waged a very aggressive and very long war that they ultimately lost against the vampires, they managed to thin out the population by a massive amount though but the Dawnguard were destroyed in the process. "Not very fond of vampires, are they?" I ask, glancing back at the coffin.
He takes another step back, there's another muffled thump from the other side of the cavern. That grin pulls at the corner of his mouth again. "You could say that." He answers gruffly. It's a sarcastic answer but there's no humour when he says it. There's a hint of aggression and bitterness to his tone. But no humour.
"Well." I say, not quite knowing what to say next, but if I don't say anything he might fire one of those arrows at me before I get a chance. "Look kill me, you've killed one vampire." He tilts his head to the side slightly, the small grin disappears from his lips. "But if people are after me." I stop not quite knowing how to finish, he straightens his neck back out. "There's something bigger going on." I finish, watching him to try and gage how he's going to react.
"That right?" He asks, grumbling lowly. He takes a slow step forward and then another to the right. "And what makes you think people are after you?" He asks, dropping the crossbow down slightly and relaxing his hold on the weapon. He drops his left hand away from the crossbow.
I watch his movements, he moves his hand and tucks his thumb under his belt. Then drops his crossbow down, holding it with one hand, still aiming it at me. "You're here and I can smell blood." I take half a step forward, he raises the bow, his left hand straying to his dagger. "Which means you're bleeding or someone else was." He tilts his head to side slightly.
He lowers the bow slightly, still keeping it high enough to fire if need be. "What do you propose?" He asks, genuine curiosity in his voice as he says it.
I take another step forward, there's that noise again. I half turn my head in the direction it came from. It's slightly louder than it was before. "My family used to live on an island, near Solitude." I tell him, he squints slightly as he looks at me.
"We're not going near Solitude." He tells me, shooting my plan down before he's even heard it, he lowers the bow more. "Legion's got it locked tight. We'd be lucky to get within a hundred leagues." He clarifies for me. He looks off to the side, flexing his jaw slightly.
Legion's got it locked tight? What is he talking about? I take half a step to the right and he responds by taking one to the left. "Legion?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"The Empire's legion." He says it like it's the most obvious and sure thing in the world. Like it's always been a constant in his life, like there's no doubt about this Empire. Only problem is there wasn't an Empire at all when I was locked away and all of the provinces stood by themselves, not united under an Empire and while we never got too involved in the politics of Tamriel, there was no chance of any of them forming an Empire. Skyrim's one of the last places I would expect an Empire to call home, the holds seemed happy enough killing each other for the position of high king.
"Empire? What Empire?" I know I probably sound scared and unsure but right now, at this very moment I need answers and this man is the only one who can give me them. If an Empire has risen and come to power in the time I've been down here then…
"From Cyrodiil." He answers.
…it's been longer than we planned. "Cyrodiil is the seat of an Empire?" I ask quickly, moving forward again, he steps back and raises the crossbow more. Cyrodiil was one of the weakest provinces, never thought they'd come to any sort of power.
"Aye." He moves his left hand back to the underside of the bow, curling his fingers around it slowly. He clenches his jaw again. "How long you been down here?"
I take a couple of steps back and brush my fingers against the coffin, I lean back against my prison. I close my eyes slightly, trying to think about when I was put in and how long it would take for an Empire to rise. "Hard to say." I open my eyes, and focus on the man in front of me. "Whose Skyrim's high king?"
He lets out a low bitter laugh making me raise an eyebrow. "Depends on who you ask." He answers, dropping the bow down some more.
"A war for succession?" He nods silently. Good to know Skyrim's the same as it's always been. "Who are the contenders?" I ask, so the holds are still fighting and struggling for power over each other. Somethings never change, the Nord's are strong but they were always way too stubborn to bend to a leader. They've always more interested in how and when they can kill something.
"Torygg is on the throne but many believe that Ulfric should be king." He looks around the cavern. Torygg and Ulfric? Those names aren't familiar. None of this is familiar, even this man's equipment is unknown, smaller versions of Dwemer technology and his armour? Warriors don't dress like that. And the Dawnguard supposedly carried highly decorated axes and wore bronze armour. This man here, just looks like a mercenary or worse.
"Any idea how you get out of here?" I ask him, moving away from the coffin, there's that sound again. Now the unmistakable sound of boots on stone. The small studs on the bottom of his soles tapping along with each step.
The man, hears this as well as he turns to where the sounds are coming from. He pulls his crossbow up to fire but the new man. The thrall manages to knock it to the side, sending the short arrow flying away harmlessly. The thrall swings a mace down overhead, getting at much momentum and weight behind it as he can, the man uses the crossbow to defend himself raising it up with both hands. The mace crashes down into the wooden stock smashing it into two parts, the man's left arm dropping down slightly with the hit. Leaving an opening, the thrall swings the mace to the left of the man and he unexpectedly tries to defend himself with his right arm, moving his left out of the way as best he can. He uses his right hand to push the thrall's hand out of the way and then rolls along with the remaining force of the blow, greatly reducing the strength behind the mace but still knocking him to the floor. I skirt around the fight to the back of the thrall. He pulls his fist back and slams it down into the man's face, knocking him to the floor completely.
I decide to step in before the man dies and draw on my knowledge of spells, sending a spear of ice gliding into the thrall's back, blood bursts from the spear and it pushes all the way through his chest. I quickly follow it up with another spear, sending it slicing through the small of his back. The thrall slams into the ground, landing face down on the stone.
The man pushes himself up to his feet, his left eyebrow is split, dripping blood down the side of his face and into his eye somewhat. I feel my tongue graze over my teeth at the sight of it. "We should leave." He grumbles, moving towards where the thrall came from. He wipes the back of his hand against his eyebrow, getting the blood out of his eye.
"You're going to help me get home?" I following him closely, he doesn't turn his back on me completely, only slightly keeping his right facing me and his hand close to his dagger. He drops a small quiver filled with those short arrows on the ground. He just nods in answer to my question. He leads us up a wide staircase, although by the way he's looking around he has about as much of an idea where he's going as I do. Gargoyle's line the stairs, sitting proudly with their jaws open showing off rows and rows of teeth. "Be careful." I mumble, keeping my eyes on the gargoyles.
I glance back at the man and he's just watching me with his hand still on the hilt of his dagger. "Of what?" He grumbles, looking at me like he's getting ready to attack.
I look back at one of the gargoyles, staring at it. My fingers wrap around the knife at my waist. I look back at him and his eyes are glued to my movements around the knife, eyeing me like a threat. "Gargoyles." I tell him, gesturing to them with my free hand. He breaks his hard glare on my hand and moves his eyes to one of the gargoyles, staring into the cold, stone and lifeless eyes of the proposed threat to his life. "We should keep moving." I tell him.
He looks back at me and then gestures with his head for me to lead the way. I look at him and frown slightly. "I want to keep my eyes on you." He grumbles shortly. Obviously not wanting to explain himself at all. Especially to a vampire, or maybe just a stranger.
I eye the gargoyles as I walk around him to go in front I take a few steps into a tunnel before I hear him start to follow. The tunnels narrow, too narrow for the gargoyles to fit through never mind actually be able to fight in. That's not what worries me though. There's torches lining the walls and more light at the end. "Did you light these torches?"
There's a long pause as I continue walking, I don't turn around and I don't bother to pressure him for an answer I don't think I'd be able to even if I tried. "Draugr." He grunts, the short and gravelly answer echoing slightly in the tunnel. Draugr, the reason people stay away from these ruins and tombs. The undead and restless occupants of these mass graves. The ancient Nords, plagued by years and years of war and endless conflict which they now carry with them to their graves.
I look at him over my shoulder, his right hand is resting on the hilt of the sword on his back, ready to draw at a moment's notice. "Are you fine to fight?" I whisper to him, looking forward again as soon as the last word leaves my mouth, we're nearing the end of the tunnel and if he's right about it being draugr then they might be waiting for us.
"Aye." He grunts. He sounds angry when he says in but also makes it seem like a warning. I tense up slightly as I hear his sword slide out of its scabbard.
I come to the end of the narrow tunnel and stop. The man stops shortly after me then I hear him edge back slightly. I put my hand on the side of the tunnel and slowly draw my dagger, edging round the corner slightly so I can look into the room better. There's large stone caskets up against the wall, standing up right, one of them is open the lid lying flat on the ground. I turn back to face the man slightly, giving a short nod and then walk fully into the room. There's a short passage way leading into another much smaller room. There's a draugr standing in the doorway. The man, pushes me out of the way slightly, moving in front of me with his sword. Heading directly for the draugr. He creeps up behind the dead creature and stabs his sword into its back, the dry cracking and breaking of the beast's ribs echoes around the room, sounding much louder in the dead silence.
The draugr keeps standing for a few minutes, a choked moan coming out of its skull. It moves its arms and the bones noticeably pull at the tight and sullen, grey skin. The creature moves its head around, its neck cracking with the movement. He finally pulls his dagger out and stands up right, stabbing the small blade into its chest and forcing it down to the ground, unmoving. Brought to rest. It lands on the ground with a heavy thud.
The man freezes his movements. Not daring to move. The air is thick with the stench of decay and with the paranoid silence he's created. I stop moving and look to the man, he holds his breath still keeping a grip on his sword and dagger. He looks back at me, frowning, he looks worried. He slowly pulls the dagger out, making very little noise. He holds the small weapon at the ready as I follow his lead. Gripping my knife and spreading my fingers out on my left hand. I look around the room and I hear the man pull his sword out of the now dead draugr. Maybe we're clear.
There's a loud grinding sound, smashing the silence that we were in only seconds before and bringing me back to the harsh reality that the draugr heard the short struggle. The man moves away from the body and puts some distance between himself and the caskets against the wall. One of the lids is pushed away and slams into the floor with a deafening crack as the stone is split into thirds. A draugr steps out its confinements, a bronze sword in its cold grip and a bronze shield strapped to its other arm. It lets out a choked and muffled dust filled, dry scream. Two more of the abominations follow it, echoing its actions.
I take a couple of steps back putting some distance between myself and the draugr. The man readies his sword, getting into a defensive position. The first draugr charges him, swinging an axe at him. He steps back and blocks the attack with his sword, once again favouring his right to his left as he tries to quickly follow up with an attack with his dagger.
I summon lightning at one of the others heading straight for me, pushing it back while I move on the third slashing at it with my knife. It swings it's sword down forcing me to retreat out of its reach. I quickly send one of my ice spears at its body but it pulls its shield in front of it stopping the cold spear from entering its soft and vulnerable flesh. The man pushes into my back with his and I can feel him move around quickly before he moves away from me. I hear a heavy crash from behind and a deep guttural roar from the draugr.
I drop my knife, readying my right hand I choose to throw an ice spear from each hand, one glances off its shield but the other embeds itself in its neck. Stopping it in its tracks and forcing it to the ground. The second tries to hack at me with its axe, I duck back and send three more spears into its stomach, it hits the ground, motionless. I pick up my knife and rush to the first draugr. Slamming the small blade into the front of its skull. There's a dry crack from the other side of the room and I turn around, the man is stood over his draugr, his sword back in its scabbard and his dagger embedded in the creature's stomach.
"We should be quieter." I call to him in a hushed whisper, he looks at me and nods, pulling his dagger out and putting it back into its sheath quietly. "We don't know how many more are down here." I say, stating the obvious but I need to get my point across. We were lucky there were only four. According to my books and stories from some of father's men draugr like to attack in large groups in very confined spaces.
He points in the opposite way we came from. "Only way. You lead." He mumbles. I turn to look at the "only way", it's a very dark and a very narrow tunnel, we'll have to crouch down inside judging from the low ceiling. I start forward, the man following close behind. We move through the long, uncomfortably low and pitch black tunnel going as fast and as quiet as we can. Even with my heightened senses I'm struggling to see in the darkness in front of us so I can only speculate as to how the man is coping without sight, no matter how temporary it is.
We come to the end of the tunnel after about ten minutes of walking, maybe longer and maybe shorter it's hard to tell down here. Everything has a weird feel to it, like it's all unnatural. Must be the smell and the heavy air. I'm glad I don't need to breathe because the air smells like death. The tunnel leads into a massive well-lit cavern, there's a circle of stairs leading down into a sort of pit like area in the middle, a raised up area in the dead centre. A throne sat in the middle with the limp and lifeless figure of a draugr sat on it. A ceremonial helmet resting on its head, large horns protruding from the top of it. Draugr aimlessly mill around the sides, not seemingly doing anything in particular, just walking.
"Move silently, around the edge." The man whispers in my ear, I nod and follow his lead. Crouching low and gripping the sheath for my knife to stop it hitting into my thigh. The man, wraps his hand around his belt buckle, probably to stop the soft tap it makes when he walks. One of the draugr turns its head slightly, it's blank, emotionless skull examining its surroundings. "Stop." He grumbles quietly, I do as he says, staying perfectly still. He holds his breath. I can see his body tense under his armour. The leather gauntlet cracking as his grip on his buckle tightens. The draugr turns away slowly not noticing anything that shouldn't be there. It walks off slowly, its legs looking like they're struggling to move. He lets out the breath, creating a small cloud of mist. He gestures with his injured hand for me to move and then a moment later he starts on his way again. Me following him closely. We hurry out as quietly as possible, reaching the end of the room, he quickly ducks around checking the surroundings for any signs of the dead.
I quickly, move in front of him, leading us both to another narrow tunnel. This one rough with jagged chunks of rock sticking out of the walls. We hurry through, eager to get away from the "throne room". We exit the tunnel and enter into a cave, there's a fresh breeze from one of the walls, showing that we're near the surface. The man walks over to the wall, and looks around the corner, he gestures to me and I quickly follow him. Finally getting my chance to leave this cave. The mouth of the cave is visible up ahead. It's light out. "This is as far as I can go." I call to his back. He turns around slightly. "For now." I clarify.
He walks back over to me, I sit down on the ground. "Sun light." He grunts, I nod. He brushes a hand through his beard before he sits down opposite me. He leans his head back against the rough cave wall, keeping his eyes on me. "What's that?" He asks, pointing to the Elder Scroll I've been carrying on my back.
I rest my hand on the bottom of it. "Doesn't matter what it is." I tell him, he tilts his head to the side slightly. "It's mine." I tell him. "Serana." I say. He look at me, head still tilted. "You?"
He rests his head back fully, drawing his sword and resting it on his lap. He closes his eyes and puts his left, injured hand on top of the swords blade. "No." He grunts. He takes in a deep breath. I watch as his breathing slows down. "Don't try anything." He grumbles under his breath.
I find myself staring at the dried blood on the side on his face, the bruise forming around his eye, the bloodied rag on his hand. My tongue grazes over my teeth again, moving forward and going over my lips slowly. I look back at the man's face. He still looks angry even when he sleeps.
I need to get back home. Find mother. Find out what's happening. Get rid of this man as soon as he's helped me out of whatever obligation he feels. Maybe it's honour, maybe something else. Maybe because I saved him. Maybe it's out of guilt. Maybe he just doesn't have anything better to do.
Maybe it's just for money.