Calanie
The first thing I remember hearing when I awoke was the soft clopping of a horse's hooves upon a cobbled road. I felt the uncomfortable rocking and bumping of a carriage being pulled along the uneven road, and as I opened my eyes, a thick, misty forest began to materialize all around me. Other figures began to take form—a man in blue armor, another in rags, and a sleeping girl in matching blue armor with the most beautiful red hair that I'd ever seen. I moved my head to the side to see another man in blue armor—but this one had his mouth gagged. I stretched out my fingers, and felt my hands bound in front of me and looked down to see that I was wearing what looked like an old ragged sheet that went just past my legs and a pair of loose footwraps. I felt exposed, hopeless, and, more than anything, cold.
A man's voice broke the eerie quiet. "So, you're finally awake?" I looked at the man in blue in front of me. I stared at him silently, looking him up and down and trying to make sense of this situation. "You're the one they caught trying to cross the border," he said, and a sharp sting hit me in my right calve as I remembered how I had gotten here. A memory of guards chasing me through the woods filled my head, and the pain of an arrow to the back of the leg seared through my mind. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, just like the rest of us."
The man in rags spoke. "Damn you Stormcloaks," he said, shaking his head, "Skyrim was fine until you came along." Skyrim, I thought, so I did make it. "If it weren't for you, I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now!" He looked at me, our eyes met, and I got an uneasy feeling. "You and I shouldn't be here," he said, "It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"
"We're all in this together now," said the first. The man next to me gave a grunt, and the man in rags broke his gaze from me and focused it on the man next to me.
"What's his problem?" asked the man in rags, gesturing to the other man in blue.
"Hey!" shouted the first, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Watch your tongue! That's Ulfric Stormcloak you're talking to—the true High King of Skyrim!"
"Ulfric…" started the man in rags. A look of extreme came over him. "The Jarl of Windhelm? But that means…" whatever that meant, it sent fear through the man like a bolt of lightning. "Oh Gods, this can't be happening!" The man began shaking his head back and forth, looking for a way out. His hands, like the rest of the company's, were bound, and any move he made would mean almost certain death. Fear began to creep over me. What could that possibly mean? My stomach began to flutter as a silence fell over us.
I looked around to where the carriage that we were in was headed. The mist had begun to thin, allowing the path ahead to be seen more clearly. We were headed downward along a cobbled road through the forest, towards what looked like a small village with stone walls protecting it. The sky above was becoming more visible as the morning mist dissipated in the sunlight.
"Where are you from, horse-thief?" asked the first man, politely. I turned my attention back to the company.
"Why do you care?" snapped the man in rags.
The man smiled.. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cold, fresh morning air.
Last thoughts? I began to panic, and my legs started to shake uncontrollably. Are we going to be… executed? I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I fought to keep them down. No. Calanie, you will not go down crying. I shut my eyes, and tried to think of the little house in Jehanna that I used to call home, but no solace came of it. The idea of my imminent death was too powerful, and even the memory of my home was nowhere near strong enough to overcome it. I felt myself choking a sob back in my throat as the man in rags answered the first man in blue. I took a deep breath, and said a quick prayer to Akatosh to put my mind at ease. Almost at once, a strange calm came over me, and pulled the tears back into my eyes before they were shed. I looked up into the sky and mouthed a quick 'thank-you' and a smile came over my face.
I opened my eyes and saw that the carriage was being pulled into the stone gates of the small town. The walls rose fifteen feet into the air and were covered by pointed wooden roofs that ran all around the top. The gate to the town was guarded by two soldier in imperial armor on either entrance of the great wooden doors, and one atop the arch. The soldier at the top shouted down as we passed underneath him.
"General Tulius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"
An older man's voice came from somewhere in front of the carriage. "Good. Let's get this over with."
As soon as the older man, who I assumed had to have been General Tulius, finished speaking, the man in rags began to panic again. He started saying names of the eight divines under his breath, which only seemed to make things worse for him.
"Ah, Helgen," said the first man in blue, surprisingly calmly. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." I was surprised by how calm this man was. He was staring death right in the face, and treating it as just another thing. "Funny," he continued, "when I was a boy, Imperial towers and walls used to make me feel so safe."
I admired the man's courage, and it gave me a little more strength. I wanted to say something to him—a word of admiration, condolence or empathy, but the cart came to an abrupt stop, and all that was washed from my mind by the sight of a tall, hooded man wielding a huge, shiny axe that didn't look like it would be taken into battle. This axe wasn't made to be carried across a field of war; it was crafted for the sole purpose of carrying out the Empire's justice.
The red haired girl woke suddenly, and a look of confusion spread across her face. "What's going on?" she asked, and began looking around quickly. Her green eyes landed on the man next to me, and they narrowed. Her face changed from a look of confusion to one of anger and pure loathing. I heard her make a noise, a kind of menacing growl, directed at the man next to me. A guard moved to the back of the wooden carriage and opened it up.
"Let's go." Said the first man, and he got up. The anger faded from the red haired girl's face, and it was replaced by confusion, but she obliged all the same. The man next to me was the first to walk down off the carriage. The man in rags stood up next, shakily.
"No, wait!" he shouted, "We're not rebels!" he begrudgingly followed the man who was next to me off of the carriage. "You can't do this!"
A deep female voice, coming from somewhere in front of us, shouted this time. "Step up to the block when we call your name!" The red haired girl started looking around, clearly not understanding what was about to happen. Nevertheless, she kept on walking without protest and didn't stop until she was next to the man in rags. I waited behind them, along with the first man in blue.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," came a calm, male voice, "Jarl of Windhelm." The man who had been sitting next to me walked forward along the path to a group of bounded people standing in front of a tower. I heard some gasps from the crowd and noticed that some of the prisoners were wearing the same blue armor that this man, Ulfric, and the first man had been wearing. The word Stormcloak stuck in my head, and things started to come together. These rebels that the man in rags had been shouting about must have been the Stormcloaks that I'd been hearing about for months now, and Ulfric could have only been their leader.
"It has been an honor," said the first man, "Jarl Ulfric."
"Ralof of Riverwood," said the calm man, who had been hidden from view until Ulfric moved. He was a tall, muscular man with a fair face and an ironically pleasant aura. The way he composed himself made it seem like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was, and doing anything else—almost as if this job sickened him. In his hand he held a long, yellowed piece of parchment from which he was reading names.
The first man, Ralof, stepped forward and joined the group of prisoners. He stood up straight, and stared off into the distance, seemingly unbothered by what was about to happen.
"Lokir of Rorikstead," said the man with the list.
"No!" shouted the man in rags, "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" In a moment of blind stupidity, the man ran forward through the throng of Imperial soldiers and back up the path leading out of the city.
"Halt!" shouted the woman, and for the first time I got a good look at her. She was an Imperial, maybe 35 or 40 years old, wearing imperial legion officer armor. She had a frightening face—not at all ugly, but it gave one the idea that she was not the kind of person you'd want to pick a fight with. "Archers!" she shouted, putting her hand into the air. At once, a single arrow was released from the bow of a guard to my right, piercing Lokir right in the back. He stumbled and fell with a scream of pain, and hit the ground with a loud thud. I turned my head away, but not before a second arrow pierced the man's skull as he tried to stand back up.
I had seen a lot of death in my life, so watching a man getting shot in the back and the head for trying to escape execution wasn't the most shocking thing I'd ever been faced with. The girl with the red hair, however, let out an audible gasp and put her bounded hands to her mouth. Her eyes shut tight and she began to sob quietly. I felt a sudden urge to comfort the strange girl, but before I could do anything, the man with the list spoke.
"Wait, you there," said the man, and I faced him and our eyes locked. "Step forward." My heart stopped. This was it. The moment of truth. I made a shaky step towards him. "What is your name?" I paused for a second, trying to find my voice. I took a deep breath and spoke.
"My name," I said as calmly as I could, "is Calanie. Calanie of Jehanna."
The man paused, and then looked down at his list for a few moments. He flipped it once to check the back, and then to the front when he saw nothing there. He looked back at the woman in officer's armor. "Captain," he began, "what do we do? She's not on the list."
"Forget the list," said the captain, "she goes to the block."
The man with the list hesitated before saying, "I'm sorry about this. We will make sure that your body is returned to High Rock."
The injustice of that statement was nearly unbearable. I wanted to attack the woman, but my better judgment stopped me from experiencing the same fate as Lokir. I nodded, hatred filling my bones, and walked towards the group. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but the only thoughts in my head were how much I wanted to kill the captain, and that in a matter of minutes, my head would be rolling around in the streets of Helgen. My thoughts were interrupted, however, by a loud argument that had broken out between the red haired girl and the captain.
"I'm not a… a… what did you call me again?" She sounded legitimately confused.
"A Stormcloak," said the captain, annoyed, "and how are we supposed to believe that when you're wearing the garb of the rebels?"
"Because," she said, sounding exasperated, "a man gave them to me! He told me they would keep me safe!"
"And where is this man?" asked the captain, suspiciously.
"He's…" started the girl, but her voice faltered. I heard a small, choked back sob in her voice when she finished. "He's dead."
"How convenient," the captain replied in a mocking tone. "Was he a friend of the empire, or of the Stormcloaks?"
"He," she began. I turned my head to see what she looked like. Her face showed a mixture of confusion and deserved fear. "He couldn't tell me."
"Well," said the captain, her mind clearly made up, "since you can give me no proof on the matter, you can go to the block as well."
The red haired girl looked like she was about to burst into tears. She screamed at the captain to let her go and that she had done nothing wrong, when the captain pulled out her sword and hit the girl square in the chest with the hilt. The girl collapsed and the man with the list fell down and picked her up.
"Captain!" he shouted, and she put her hand up.
"I will hear no more of this." She walked towards the older man and stood by his side, while the man with the list helped the red haired girl over to the group.
The older man, General Tulius, stepped forward and began speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak. "Ulfric Stormcloak," he began, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero does not use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!"
Ulfric grunted slightly, and shook his head.
"You started this war," continued the man, "and plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"
Just then, a soft wail echoed through the sky, causing everyone to look up. The mist had completely cleared, but in the sky there were only a few a clouds and the rising sun. The strange sound caused murmurs to travel throughout the crowd, both prisoners and guards alike.
"It is nothing," said the older man, waving it off. "Carry on."
"Yes, General Tulius," said the captain. Then, gesturing to a robed woman that I hadn't notice before, the captain spoke. "Give them their last rites."
The robed woman stepped forward, and began to speak. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius," she pronounced majestically, "blessings of the eight devines upon you—"
"For the love of Talos," said a dark haired man in the same blue armor, which must have been Stormcloak armor, that Ulfric and Ralof were wearing, "shut up and let's get this over with."
The priestess backed away, and the man walked towards the block and got down on his knees. An imperial guard placed his foot on the man's back, arching him over and positioning the prisoner's neck just past the block.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials," taunted the man, "can you say the same?"
The headsman positioned the axe on the back of the man's neck, raised it high into the air, and let gravity pull the blade back down, severing the man's head from his body. A stream of blood began to squirt out of the severed head, which plopped into a wooden box next to the block.
"As fearless in death," came Ralof's voice, "as he was in life." More shouting began, from both the Imperials and the prisoners, stopped only by the captain's call.
"Next! The Breton woman in the rags!" As she finished, the deep wailing came through the sky again, causing everyone to look up again. This time, I
"Did you hear that?" asked the man with the list. Everyone except the captain had their eyes on the sky.
"I said NEXT PRISONER!" shouted the captain, and I looked around. Everyone was staring at me, and the captain's previous shout echoed in my head. The Breton woman in the rags—oh divines, this is it! My heart sank and dread filled me once more. I closed my eyes as I walked towards the block, shakily. I stopped in front of it, the smell of blood filling my nostrils. I fell to the ground, landing on my knees, and felt a very strong boot forcing my back to bend forward, making my head land on the block. My eyes landed on face of the Stormcloak soldier's head, and I felt like vomiting. I jerked my head to the side, and the large watchtower filled my vision, replacing the soldier's head. The headsman walked over and faced me, and my eyes locked onto the axe, which shone brightly as the sun hit it. I looked past it and to the sky, and suddenly a calm came over me as a large bird flew towards us, coming from behind the keep.
All of a sudden, the wailing, louder than ever, came from the direction of the bird. All at once it seemed to grow to a massive size and land with a crash on top of the keep, where it rested. The bird had reptilian features, with an extremely sharp beak and horns coming out of the back of its head. Its eyes were jet black and its wingspan must have been thirty or forty feet.
"What in Oblivion is that?" I heard someone shout. The impact of the crash had knocked the headsman to the ground, and a sudden, very strange, feeling of excitement filled me. I looked into the eyes of the monstrous bird and saw it open its mouth. An explosion of sound, followed by an extremely powerful wind, came out of the bird's mouth. I was pushed backwards, almost into the air and off of the block. I fell to the ground with my eyes in the sky. There was a wailing and I heard the beating of wings as the bird took flight. Explosions began to fill the sky, and the blue was mingled with orange and red. I was laying on the ground when I heard a man's voice shouting.
"GET UP!" I felt strong hands pulling at my arms, "GET UP! THE GODS WON'T GIVE US ANOTHER CHANCE!" I got to my feet and a new strength filled me. I quickly looked around to see who had shouted; it was Ralof, and he was swinging his arms trying to get my attention. An explosion sounded above and a wave of heat passed over me. I sprinted towards Ralof, and he led me to the tower. I walked through the door, where a Stormcloak soldier was laying against a pile of hay, passed out or dead. Ulfric had managed to get to the tower as well and was tending to the man lying on the ground.
"Could the legends be true?" asked Ralof loudly, "Was the really a… a dragon?"
Dragon?! I felt my jaw drop as I remembered the sight of the giant beast on the tower. It started to make sense. The wailing, the reptile look and the fire—it was mad, but it was an explanation.
Ulfric looked up at Ralof. "Legends don't burn down villages."
There was an explosion above us and everyone looked up at the spiraling staircase inside the tower. There was a scream and another wail, followed by burst of fire from the top of the staircase that sent a wave of heat through the room.
"We have to get out of here!" Shouted Ralof, and he ran up the stairs. I followed behind him quickly. I was up past the second stone floor of the tower when I stopped dead. Instead of the tower wall up ahead, there was a gaping hole, and the roof above looked like it was about to cave in. I panicked and sprinted towards Ralof, who was standing by the blackened remains of another soldier.
"The roof is about to collapse!" Shouted Ralof. My eyes widened as I heard a sickening crack above and saw pieces of rubble falling from above. "You have to jump!"
Jump? Out of the damned tower? To where?! Ralof pointed down out of the hole and I jumped ran over to him. I looked out of the hole and saw, maybe ten or fifteen feet below, a hole in the roof of a house opening up the second floor. "What?" I shouted. "You want me to jump down there?!"
"Or burn!" He shouted. I wanted to object, but I knew he was right. There were explosions echoing all around and the world was fire. I knew I had to jump, no matter what the consequences. I shut my eyes, nodded, and backed away from the hole slightly. I opened my eyes, counted to three and ran, launching myself off the edge of the tower. I aimed towards the hole in the straw roof of the house, and right as I made it through I managed to land in a squat on the wooden floor of the house right as fire erupted above me, setting the roof ablaze. I felt no pain, which was an amazing relief; I'd managed the jump without any injury. I laughed to myself, but stopped when another part of the roof caved in next to me. I jumped out of the way and ran forward to a hole in the floor in front of me. I slid through and landed on the bottom floor of the house. It was filled with smoke, and the way out seemed lost to me. I waved my bound arms around trying to clear the air, with no avail. I heard a scream from outside, echoing in from somewhere in front of me. Choking on the smoky air, I made my way to where I heard the scream, and felt soft breeze against my shins. I ran towards it, and found my way through a doorway into the clear daylight.
I gasped in the fresh air and ran to where a group of four survivors had gathered. They were shouting something I couldn't hear, and didn't notice the beast that landed twenty feet behind them. "RUN!" I screamed. A young boy and two men managed to get out of the way, but the last was not so lucky. I watched in horror as the dragon opened its mouth and launched a jet of flame from its bowels, engulfing the other man. I was pulled to the side by one of the other survivors and we stood, hidden in a corner by one of the stone gates.
"Gunnar!" shouted the man who had pulled me aside, "Take care of the boy! I need to find General Tulius to join the defense of the city!" The other man, older than the one that was speaking, nodded and the boy ran to his arms.
"Gods guide you, Hadvar!" said the older man, and Hadvar nodded, and turned his face to mine.
"You still alive prisoner?" asked the man named Hadvar. Obviously, I wanted to scream. "Good. Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." I nodded and followed him. We ran down the road where the dragon had been mere moments ago, and picked up speed as we neared an alleyway between a wall and a burning house. "Stay close to the wall!" shouted Hadvar, and he pressed himself against the wall. I followed his lead, and watched with horror as the huge, black, scaly dragon landed on the wall directly above our heads. I wanted to scream, but strangely I couldn't find the courage. The dragon wailed and took off, blasting warm winds over us with his wings. "Move!" shouted Hadvar, and we took off running. We ran quickly through a burned down house and through what was left of the front doorway. We emerged in front of the gates of the city, where General Tulius was waiting with a pair of imperial guards.
"Hadvar!" Shouted the general, "Into the keep! Let's go! We are leaving!" Hadvar nodded and ran to the left and down the road towards an archway. We emerged from under the stone arch when a Stormcloak soldier ran in front of us and stood in front of the doorway to the fortress. Hadvar stopped dead.
"Ralof, you damned traitor!" He yelled, anger in his voice. I felt a sense of relief to know that one of my saviors had survived. "Out of my way!"
"You're not stopping us this time!" Shouted Ralof, and I noticed that he was in company with Ulfric and that red haired girl that was on the wagon with us. The dragon flew above again, shooting a jet of flame over my head. I ducked and screamed, but neither Hadvar nor Ralof seemed to notice.
"Fine!" shouted Hadvar, "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Ralof and Ulfric ran away into another part of the keep, and Hadvar ran towards the door. The raid haired girl broke away from her group and ran towards Hadvar instead. I didn't know if I should keep following Hadvar or go with Ralof, but I heard a wail from above and made the snap decision to stay with Hadvar. He had kept me alive this long, while Ralof had instructed me to dive off the roof of a tower, so the choice wasn't difficult. I sprinted towards Hadvar as he opened the door to the keep and I threw myself inside, followed quickly and close by the red-haired girl.
The bright heat of the fiery world outside was replaced instantly by a cool, wet and dark air. Hadvar shut the door and barred it, and fell to the ground. I gasped and walked over to him.
"What happened?" I asked, kneeling over him. He pulled himself against the door and propped himself up. From a sheath, he removed a small iron dagger and tore open his left boot in a hurry. His leg was burned, and badly. I was surprised at how well he had hid it outside—I didn't see even a limp in his step the entire time.
"It's nothing," he said, and reached around looking for something. His eyes widened and fell. "Damn, I must have dropped my pack outside."
"I can look for it" I said, and Hadvar shook his head with a smile. "I don't think I would ask you to go back out there, even if you were a Stormcloak rebel. Look around in one of those tables and see if you can find me a remedy. Wait," he said, as I made to leave. "I need to take those bindings off."
I nodded and put my hands up. Hadvar put the blade between them and in one quick stroke, ripped the rope that had been holding my hands together. "And you, Stormcloak?" he asked, and the red-haired girl approached him.
"I'm not a Stormcloak," she said with a tear in her eye, "And I shouldn't even be here."
"Then why," asked Hadvar cutting the girl's bindings off, "Do you wear a Stormcloak cuirass?"
"It is a long story," she said, looking away, "One that I'd rather not tell at the moment. But I can say it is because it was the only clothing available to me. See, I don't even have any shoes on!" I looked down, and sure enough, the girl's light feet were bare.
"Well," said Hadvar, "I am sure that there is some other armor in this room. Let's see if we can't get you into something a little more proper." He smiled and the girl nodded. "You too," he said to me, "I personally would rather not die in a beggar's clothing."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I said, and got up to go find some more suitable clothing, as well as something for Hadvar's burns. This was when I managed to get a good look at the room we were in. It was a kind of barracks, with beds and chests against the left and right walls, and a weapon rack on the far wall. There was a hallway up ahead that led off to the left, possibly to the other entrance of the keep. There was a table in the far left corner with a lit lantern on it and some glass bottles. I walked towards it and found a small, red stained glass phial as well as two blue-stained ones. I grabbed the red one, recognizing it at once. All health elixirs had to be put in a special type of glass, otherwise they would destroy or transform their containers; this certain type of glass was always stained red in order to mark the type of elixir that may be stored inside of it. There were other colors too—blue for potions that replenished soul-energy (or magicka as it was sometimes called), green for physical energy restoration, and brown and purple for various weapon poisons. I took the red phial and brought it over to Hadvar. I walked past the red-haired girl as she was pulling out a set of light imperial soldier armor and laying it out on one of the straw mattresses.
Hadvar uncorked the drink and took it down in one gulp. It was a small amount, only enough to really heal minor wounds—particularly cuts and burns. At once, the burned flesh of his leg began to mend until there wasn't any sign of injury left. When the red-haired girl came back and saw his leg, her jaw dropped, as well as all of the new armor she was holding.
"How…" she said, pointing in awe at Hadvar's mended leg.
"Healing potion," he said, "you look as if you've never seen one before."
"I haven't," said the red-haired girl, looking closer at Hadvar's leg for any sign of a burn.
I turned towards her. "How?" I asked, amazed that she'd never seen something so simple as a healing potion working. I could understand it if Hadvar had used a spell instead of a potion, as many people in this world distrusted and therefore avoid interacting with magic. But a simple healing elixir?
"How what?" she asked, catching my eye. This was the first time that I really got a good look at her, and I was stunned by how beautiful she was. She must have been a few years younger than myself, maybe in her early twenties. She had light skin, like a Nord, but had the facial features of my own people, the Bretons. It wouldn't have been uncommon for Bretons and Nords to have children, but the light brown skin was passed on more often than the peach of the Nords. Also, the color of her eyes were strange. They were a beautiful, deep green—a color I'd never seen in the eyes of any creature. Her red hair was also an uncommon shade of red—most red hair that I'd seen was dark, almost a brown-red color. Hers was a deep red, deep as the heart of a daedra. I felt a strange curiosity about this girl.
"How have you never seen a healing elixir before?" I asked, "Where could you possibly be from?"
The girl looked a little dumbfounded. "I—" she stammered, "I can't tell. Not now anyway."
"Why?" I asked, a little suspicious. The girl looked scared.
"That's enough," said Hadvar. "She doesn't have to speak if she doesn't want to. It doesn't matter anyway—what matters is that we get out of this place. Alive."
I nodded. "Hey," I said to the girl, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be hostile, I'm just a little curious."
"Its fine," she said, wiping a tear away from her eye. Then she laughed, "God, I'm acting like such a child right now."
I smiled. "I understand if you're scared. This day has been very strange."
She nodded. "What's your name?" She asked.
"My name is Calanie," I replied, "And yours?"
"Alexandria," she replied, "but most people call me Alex."
Alexandria, that sounds imperial! How strange. "Well," I said, "It's nice to meet you Alex." I turned my attention to Hadvar who had just stood up and was picking up the armor that Alex had dropped. "So, Hadvar," I said, as he handed Alex the armor that she'd dropped. She thanked him and walked around a corner with all of her clothes so that we wouldn't see her. "What's the plan?"
"Escape," he said with a smile. "Was that thing really a dragon? The bringers of the end-times?"
I shrugged. "I can't say. Whatever it is, it's big and dangerous." A muffled wail came from above.
"We'd better get going. There should be some more armor around here, and it looks like there are a couple of swords on that rack over there. Better safe than sorry." I agreed, and began rummaging through the various chests. I managed to find another piece of light imperial armor, as well as some leather bracers and a pair of fur boots. Hadvar turned so I could have a little privacy, and I slipped off the rags and foot wraps that I had been wearing. I pulled the armor over and found the tightening strap and thread it properly. I felt the familiar sensation of the outfit shrinking to fit me, and I tied the loop in the back when it finished. I slipped on the boots and felt the inside padding extend up my shins. Hadvar turned as I began to slip the leather bracers over my arms, and Alex came from around where she'd been changing. The armor she wore seemed to suit her well. I walked over to the other wall and examined the armor rack. There were two swords of iron held in to the wooden rack by leather straps; I unlatched both and Alex and I took one. The sword was light, but a little dull. I gave it a few swings. It didn't feel too comfortable in my hands, but I knew it would have to do until I could get a better one to work with. If all went well, I wouldn't have to use it anyway.
Hadvar approached us. "Let's go" he said, and began walking through the hallway. We walked slowly and softly, listening carefully for any signs of life. We knew that if we ran into any Stormcloaks that there might be a fight, and we wanted to avoid that if it was at all possible. We rounded the corner and reached a gate that led into a circular room, where we heard soft voices coming from out of sight.
"Where in Oblivion are we supposed to go?" asked a man. Hadvar held out his hand to stop us.
"There's a way out through the dungeons," replied a woman, "If we can just get through there."
Hadvar stepped forward and peeked through the gate. He backed off slightly and turned back to look at Alex and I. "Stormcloaks," he said, "Perhaps we can reason with them. Let me go first." He stepped forward and pulled a chain on the wall, raising the gate. Hadvar stepped through.
"What was that?" asked the woman.
Hadvar spoke. "Survivors, just like you."
The man spoke this time. "Bah, Imperial scum!"
"Whoa, whoa," said Hadvar, anxiously, "I'm not going to attack you. We just want to know if you know of any way out."
"If we knew," said the woman, "we wouldn't tell you, elf-lover!" I heard the sound of a sword being drawn.
"Don't be rash," said Hadvar, "I am looking for a way out—that is all. We both know that this dragon is a bigger deal than our own personal loyalties."
"You want the way out, dog?" said the woman angrily, "I'll give it to you!" There was a scream and a clash of metal on metal. I ran out from the hall and readied my sword. I entered the room and saw two people wearing the blue armor of the Stormcloaks; Hadvar was in a dance with the woman, who was swinging a greatsword of steel. The man was faced towards the fight, holding a mace in one hand and a shield in the other, waiting for the right moment to strike. I jumped out from the shadows and screamed, swinging my sword as hard as I could to the left, trying to get in on the man's stomach. He was taken by surprise, but managed to throw his shield up and deflect the blow. My arm reflected off and I lost my grip on the sword. It flew off to the side, and I felt a bash across the face as the man smashed his shield into me. I was thrown against one of the walls, and the man was approaching me with a lust for blood. He raised his mace up in the air, ready to strike. I watched in horror as he swung down to crush my skull. I shielded my eyes, but the blow never came. Instead, a clang of metal and a scream of pain came from his mouth.
I opened my eyes and saw the mace lying on the ground near my feet. Quickly, I scrambled for it. I reached out to grab it, but was stopped by a foot smashing my fingers to the ground. I looked up and saw that the woman who was fighting Hadvar had stumbled and stepped on my hand. I heard a sickening slash and saw a gleam of silver and red protrude from the woman's back. Her back arched and he was lifted into the air slightly and thrown aside. Hadvar was standing, breathing heavily, with his bloodied sword in his right hand. I reached out my throbbing hand once more for the mace, and my fingers found its leather hilt. I pulled it towards me quickly, put it in my right hand and stood up to see where the man had gone.
He was kneeling over with the hilt of a blade sticking in the side of his chest. Blood came out of his mouth in troves as he coughed deeply. Hadvar went over to him and grabbed the hilt of the blade stuck in the Stormcloak soldier's side. He pulled it out quickly, and put his hand over the wound. His hand began to glow golden, and he closed his eyes. He was trying to save this man, for whatever reason. The man, however, saw what he was doing and used his last strength to push Hadvar away.
"Never," he said, angrily, "Will I be saved by imperial scum!" He spat a wad of blood at Hadvar, who backed away.
"So be it," he said, and reached down to grab the greatsword. He lifted the sword up above him, and in one swing severed the Stormcloak's head from his shoulders. Alex screamed from behind me and I turned to look at her. She was standing near the gate with her eyes closed and ears were streaming down her face. I remembered earlier when the headsman had executed the soldier in the square and how she had screamed the same way. She's very green, I thought to myself, she clearly isn't used to seeing all this death.
"That," said Hadvar walking over to Alex, "was an excellent throw!" He put his arm around her and sat her down in a chair by a table on the other side of the room, away from the man's body. He grabbed the woman's dead body from the pool of blood and set it next to the man.
"What do you mean?" I asked, and Hadvar flashed the iron dagger.
"Alexandria here threw the dagger and saved your life. Didn't you see?"
I shook my head, remembering the man's scream of pain and how he dropped his mace. So Alex threw the dagger to stop the man. I looked over at her and felt a strange affection towards her. "I don't know what to say… Alex I owe you my life!"
She shook her head, sniffed in deeply and removed her hands from her face. "I—I killed-I just killed somebody!"
Hadvar walked over to her. "He would have killed Calanie, you know this. And then he would have killed you. You saved her, and you saved yourself."
"But…"
"No buts," said Hadvar, "Save feeling this way for when you murder a man. But for now we must get moving."
Alex nodded, and stood up shakily. She took a deep breath and spoke. "Okay. I'm ready."
Hadvar nodded, and walked towards the other gate in the room, directly across from the one we'd come in. He opened it up and led us through a hallway. We emerged moments later inside a room designed for food storage and dining. Two Stormcloak soldiers were talking next to a couple barrels of mead, standing in the only hallway other than the one we had come through. Hadvar reached behind him and grabbed a long bow and nocked an arrow. We were still in the shadows, and there were two pillars to hide behind so the soldiers didn't know we were there.
"Okay," whispered Hadvar, "I'll take the one on the left. Calanie, you still have a sword?"
"A mace," I said, holding up the man's iron mace. He nodded.
"That will work. Alex, stay back for a moment. This is going to either be very quick or very violent."
"Okay," she said, trembling.
Hadvar notched the arrow and positioned himself between the two pillars. He pulled the string back slowly, trying to avoid making too much noise. I heard him take a deep breath in, and as he breathed out there was a sharp twang and the arrow was let loose. The arrow hit its mark, right between the eyes of the soldier on the left. The other screamed and ran towards us. I quickly got behind one of the pillars and waited for the perfect moment. The soldier ran between the two pillars, and right as he passed through, I swung the mace, hitting him square on the chest. He fell backwards, and before he could scream, Hadvar reached down and broke his neck with a chilling crack.
"Good," he said, "not too messy. Look around and see if we can't find any potions in here."
I nodded and went over to a small table on an elevated floor. There was cheese, a roast salmon, some snowberries, lavender, and a bowl with a couple of Nordic barnacles. On a shelf against the far wall there were two small light green bottles and one small blue one. I opened a few barrels and found two more red bottles and another green.
"Where should I put these?" I asked Hadvar.
He reached down to the Stormcloak soldier with the arrow between his eyes and grabbed a knapsack that he had been wearing. He rummaged turned it upside down, and a bunch of things fell out: a book with a symbol that looked like a kind of hand made of fire, a coin purse, a steel dagger, an apple and an iron sword.
"How did he fit all that in there?" asked Alex. I looked over to see that her eyes were wide open in awe.
"It's an enchanted knapsack," replied Hadvar, "It can fit anything into it, and as much of it as you need. At one time these were very rare and valuable, but it seems that more and more people are getting their hands on them."
"Fascinating," she said.
"Here," said Hadvar, handing me the sack, "We'll keep whatever we may need in that sack."
I nodded and put the potions inside, along with the soldier's leather coin bag, the iron sword and a couple of the food items from the table. Alex looked at me questioningly.
"If it can hold anything, and as much of it," she began, "wouldn't it be easy to lose something inside of it?"
"No," I said, "because whenever you reach into the bag, whatever it is that you are looking for, provided of course you have it in there, will be there when you grab it." She seemed confused, so I showed her. "I put one of the potions in last, correct? So it should be at the bottom?" Alex nodded. "Grab me one of the green bottles."
Alex reached into the bag and pulled out a green bottle. "Okay, but there isn't much in there!"
"True," I said, "but how did you know that the bottle you grabbed was green?"
For a second she didn't understand, and then it hit her. "That's amazing! How does it do that?"
"Magic," answered Hadvar. He pointed to the book on the ground. "That looks like a spell tome. Do you know which one?"
I bent down and grabbed it. Sure enough, it had the Hand of Fire—the symbol for the magic school of destruction. I opened to the title page, where the tome had written upon it the school it was associated with and the spell name and description. The spell was called sparks, which was a weak, and also very common, spell used to send shockwaves through the target. It was one of the few spells that I had already learned and mastered, but the book would still be worth some good gold once we got out of the keep.
"The tome is for sparks," I said, and more confusion settled over Alexandria's face.
"What do you mean?" she asked, "Like lightning?"
I nodded. "Have you never seen it used?" Alexandria shook her head. I smiled. "Maybe I'll show you when we get out of here."
Alexandria smiled. "Alright!" she said, "Let's go already!"
Hadvar nodded and led us down the dark hallway. A huge crashed came from above, knocking me off of my feet. I was disoriented for a few seconds, but when I came back to my senses I saw that the roof of the hall had caved in, blocking off the path. "Damn!" said Hadvar, "Looks like we'll have to go the long way this time." He pointed to the left at a closed door. "If I remember correctly, we can follow this down to the torture chambers. There should be an entrance to a cave, and from there we may be able to escape. If anything happens, just follow the general direction of the keep. They're always built so you won't get lost inside."
I nodded, and followed Hadvar through the door. We walked down the stairs and past a few locked gates. We rounded a corner into a lit room with cages and various torture devices where two men wearing imperial armor were standing. One was older, well beyond his half-life, and the other looked to be about Hadvar's age. There were two Stormcloaks lying dead on the floor in front of them.
"What is going on up there?" asked the older man. He had a sly voice, and had an eerie air about him. Hadvar approached him and spoke.
"A dragon attacked Helgen," he said, "part of the Keep caved in so we are trying to find another way out."
The old man laughed. "A dragon?" he said, waving Hadvar off, "Don't speak of such nonsense. What's really going on up there?"
"I'm not lying to you," replied Hadvar, "we must get out of here quickly, or that dragon is going to destroy the whole keep!"
The older man snorted. "There haven't been dragons in Tamriel in thousands of years."
"There's one now. Either follow us or burn, it's your choice."
"I'm staying," said the older man, "I'll believe there's a dragon when I see one."
"Have it your way. Let's go," said Hadvar, leading us towards a corridor at the far end of the room.
"Wait," said Alexandria, who was standing next to a table looking at something lying on top of it, "What is this?"
I walked towards her, and saw that she was pointing at a black book, with a silver Imperial Dragon stamped into the cover. I reached for it and opened it up, and saw that it was a copy of The Book of the Dragonborn. I shrugged. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"
She shook her head. "Never mind. Put it in the sack and we can talk about it later. That book is important."
I raised an eyebrow, but then just shrugged again and tossed it into the bag. The girl knew just as well as I that we needed to get out of this place, so I knew she must have had a damn good reason for holding us up. "Let's go," I said. Alexandria nodded and we walked through the corridor where Hadvar was waiting. He led us, quickly now, down a dark corridor and down some steps. We followed the halls of the keep further down, meeting not another living soul, to our great relief. A minute or so later we came to a hallway with a wall that looked like it had been blown open, leading into a darker cave. A cold, damp and earthy air seeped through the cave to where we were standing, sending a slight chill to my face.
"Here we are," mumbled Hadvar, "The cave. Looks like it wasn't actually part of the keep after all." We slowed down the pace and stepped through the gaping hole in the stone wall, and followed the cave downwards. The path curved slightly and was lit every thirty feet or so with large flaming braziers, which warmed our faces as we walked past them. A minute or two later, Hadvar stopped and put a finger to his lips, and pushed himself against the wall. He motioned for us to follow suit, and we did, and began to inch along the wall around a corner. On the other side of the bend about twenty feet away was a large chamber with a cobbled stone path going around the wall and disappearing on the other side. There was a brazier at either entrance, and, to our dismay, two Stormcloaks guarding the path at each entrance. Hadvar pulled out his long bow slowly, but Alexandria let out a little screech, barely audible, and just enough to get his attention. Hadvar jerked his head to the left where we were standing.
"What is it?" He asked, a little annoyed.
"On the floor," she whispered, and pointed. I looked to where she was pointing. At first I didn't see what she was looking at, but then I noticed how strangely the light was reflecting off of some parts of the floor. There seemed to be a stream of liquid that looked almost colorful as the light of the fire inside the braziers danced over it. I couldn't figure out what it was at the time, but I knew I'd seen it before. But where?
Hadvar spoke. "Good eye, Alexandria."
"What is it?" I whispered, still trying to identify the liquid. Hadvar motioned towards it.
"Oil," he said, and suddenly it made sense. "Which means…"
"A fire pot," I whispered, turning my attention from the oil to the ceiling. Only a year before I had ventured into my first ancient burial chamber in High Rock; I had been tasked with the retrieval of a family heirloom from a barrow just outside of my hometown of Jehanna—it was a relatively small one, but still filled with its protective devices. One of which was the ever so common oil-and-flame trap, where one wrong step would trigger an enchanted pot of fire to fall from the ceiling and break upon the oil, engulfing the room in flames. One of the draugr that inhabited that crypt had set it off right in front of me, and had I not managed to climb a table in time, I would have joined the burned corpses that had littered the floor. I recalled the shape of the yellowed pot and searched for something similar hanging from the ceiling of the cave. It took a minute, but I spotted it, hanging just above the other entrance. A well-shot arrow would have done the trick, but I personally was never one for archery.
"Hadvar," I whispered. He looked at me. "Above the guard at the far entrance. Hanging from the ceiling." He nodded and looked to where I had said. He spotted it and drew his bow, and looked back at me.
"Here's what we are going to do," he whispered, "I'm going to attempt to knock the pot from the ceiling and take out the Stormcloaks. Calanie, how good are you with producing flames?"
I thought for a second, and spoke. "The best I can do is a jet. Why do you ask?"
"There is a damn good chance that I won't hit the pot. It's a small target and far away. If I miss, the rebels will be alerted and then our chances of making it out of here alive are slim at best. If I miss, I'm going to need to you to ignite the oil on the floor to manually trigger the trap. How far can your jet shoot?"
"The best I've done is a couple of feet, but I'd only need a short burst to light it. I could get out pretty quickly if necessary." Hadvar nodded.
"Here it goes." He pulled an iron arrow from its quiver and nocked it. He drew it back and aimed the tip at the hanging pot. He took a deep breath and as he let it out, he loosed the arrow with a sharp twang. Immediately after it flew, my skipped a beat, and I watched in horror as the arrow sailed out of sight, missing the target.
"What was that?" asked one of the rebels, drawing his sword. There was no time to lose. I closed my eyes and opened my palm, focusing on it. Flames filled my mind and I felt the energy channeling to my hand on my command. Heat filled it, and I opened my eyes to see a small tinder in my palm. Without hesitation, I sprinted towards the entrance to the cave. The Stormcloak saw me and shouted, charging towards me. I lifted his sword, screaming a battle cry as he sprinted towards me. My mind was still on the spell, which was growing in my hand. I had to get out of the way, but knew I'd have to wait until the very last possible second. I kept running, closing the distance between us, and as the silver of his sword came flying through the air towards me, I ducked and rolled on the floor. My hand went cold and my heart sank. Shit! I thought, and tried to focus on the spell again, but this time it was more difficult. I heard a clang and jerked back to see Hadvar sparring the man who attacked me. I turned forward again and made flames fill my mind. Once again, I channeled my energy to my left hand and felt the heat filling my palm. I watched as a second guard came running, greatsword in hand, towards me. The rebel flung the sword down and I dodged it, this time without losing focus on the spell. I scrambled up and sprinted the last few feet to the cave, and used the last of my energy to turn the ball of flame into a jet. Instead, a large ball of orange and red light ejected from the end of my hand onto the floor, and I heard an explosion echo throughout the cavern. Heat engulfed me. I heard a scream from in front of me and another from behind. The heat grew, and I felt myself growing tired, and my vision started failing. My eyes began to droop and I was losing consciousness. No, not like this, I thought to myself. Then my mind went blank and I knew no more.