Chapter Four

Today's Allies

Today's opponents can be your allies tomorrow. And today's allies can be tomorrow's opponents.

― Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem.

In the end, my trepidation and the others' outright fear was misplaced; Ralof did a good job of explaining the situation and I was not met with raised swords when I entered the river cavern.

"Hello," I expended some energy by waving in a disarmingly cheerful manner. "I'm Lyra and if the others would stop mucking about back there we can get on with not dying today." I smiled widely to gloss over the snippy comment I'd tossed at the people still skulking down the corridor.

The taller of the two Stormcloak women looked me up and down before declaring: "I like you."

I blushed.

Eventually we were all in the same place, their blue-clad group of four joining our mismatched nine. Then followed some heated debates about the formation of the party, as no one wanted to go in front in case stabbing implements were employed by those behind.

As I knew exactly what was coming (top of the list: giant spiders and a sleeping bear) I did not volunteer to go first.

In the end a double file formation was decided upon, with each person paired with a partner from the opposite faction to fairly distribute numbers. It meant that I could sneak off to the back (with Pétur- the odd one out with Liv still on Ralof's back) and not worry about the giant spiders ahead of us.

Giant spiders. Nope. Not my cup of tea. Thank you for your consideration, eight-legged abominations of physics-defying nightmare fodder, but no thanks.

After everyone had been organised like a litter of malcontent school kids on a day trip, we all squeezed into the next passageway and the Captain and Einarr proceeded to engage in a battle of wills over who would pull the lever to drop the bridge.

At this rate, the keep was going to fall on our heads through the inevitable plod of passing time, rather than the dragon bucketing about upstairs. The wall to my right looked sturdy enough to bash my head off of it for a few minutes, I observed. It was a supremely tempting option.

Not everyone was 100% done with current events however. Some of us were downright cheerful.

"Ralof tells me you are a draconic scholar." Hrafn grinned back at me from where he was paired with the scowling Inquisitor. "I'm glad someone knows what's going on."

"I wouldn't go that far." I said, my ongoing reconstruction of the main plot's logistical details still patchier than I would like.

"Can you wrap your mind around this though?" Hrafn pressed, tossing his head of dark curls like he was a contestant on Nordic Idol. "My mother loved to tell me dragon tales most of all, although I didn't believe half of them once I was out of swaddling. To think, after all these years they've come back..."

I hummed non-committally. Is there a troll in these caves? No I'm thinking of the Thalmor embassy aren't I... There are too many bloody trolls in this game, I have just decided.

"Company, there is fallen debris blocking the exit!" The Captain called from the front, having evidently finished fighting with Einaar over the lever while I was preoccupied. "The tunnel ahead destabilised, we are going to have to move the obstruction or find another way out!"

I distinctly remembered the bridge being crushed by falling rocks in the game, one of the reasons I had been so aware of the passage of time after the first tunnel collapsed outside of plot narrative convenience. In game the rocks would crush the bridge moments after you crossed, blocking the passageway forever. Without the initial obstacle of the bridge, the boulders had mostly fallen into the riverbed below, but there was still a rather large one on the ledge ahead of us stopping the bridge from coming down.

There was a good deal of cursing while we figured out what to do.

"We need to destroy the bridge, or at least take it apart at the top." Laeca reasoned. "Then we can climb through the hole and over the boulder into the river. The water isn't deep or fast flowing and we can always boost the little ones onto the opposite ledge."

Personally I was offended by that comment, but the red haired woman only a little taller than me positively snarled.

I took a moment to observe her while I had the chance. Unlike the others I couldn't place her race, for all that she possessed the almost transparently pale skin and strong features that all Nords seemed to share. She was simply shorter and more finely boned than I would expect from a Nord. I wondered if it would be a major faux passé to ask about her heritage, or if it was just so obvious to everyone else that it would only make me stand out to question her.

That would happen in the game sometimes too, the pale-skinned human races all blurring together, but the fact remained that one group was highly resistant to cold, another naturally adept at magic, the third blessed with preternatural luck in finding treasure.

Knowing what an opponent is capable of from a glance may just save my life, and I was not naive enough to assume that I'd never be attacked in my time here. Perhaps only the Final Fantasy series had The Elder Scrolls beat for their random battle track record.

Just thinking about it was enough to make my stomach roil like a ship on the ocean.

As anxiety swirled in my mind and gut alike the entire bridge was dismantled- through enthusiasm more than strategy. At least I managed to scramble up the boulder then the opposite bank on my own; boosting the Inquisitor up before me whose robes were all the more impractical for their sodden hems. The redhead-of-indistinguishable-race clawed her own way up and then stubbornly hauled up the dark haired woman despite her unsteady footing in the mud. The redhead soon overbalanced, falling flat on her back and taking the other woman with her.

The brunette considered her position with the measured thought process of a cat eyeing an unattended and breakable object then reached up and booped the redhead on the nose.

"Ge'off me." The smaller woman's face was in the process of catching fire.

"What's the password?" The brunette teased, hiding a grin.

"Now!"

She danced to her feet, laughing, and pulled the redhead up. It was a moment of levity that everyone could appreciate and some of the tension coiled in all of us since we had found ourselves in danger loosened.

While the blockage and loss of the bridge was inconvenient, it was far from the disaster I had envisioned by being later than canon.

A part of me kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Liv moaned weakly as she was jostled about with the climbing and when I broke formation to check on her I saw her skin was pasty and slick with sweat. It had been far from smooth getting her through the blocked corridor and I worried about her bound ribs.

"Hang in there," I squeezed her hand comfortingly, "we'll be at Riverwood soon."

She stared glassy-eyed over my shoulder. "Who're you?"

I shot Ralof a worried frown and went to rejoin Pétur at the back of the company.

We continued along another river tributary and this time I was able to dart away for a few moments to retrieve the small stashes of potions and coin purses off the beaten track. I was honestly surprised they existed outside of the game, but I wasn't going to look gift horse in the mouth.

Twice Pétur looked like he wanted to say something as I slipped away but his surprise turned to irritation when I returned both times with my spoils visible in my hands.

"Do you have hidden caches stored all over Helgen?"

I blinked, although I didn't know why I'd been surprised he thought they were mine. "Pétur, everyone knows the best place to store loot is in underground tunnels. Doesn't mean they hide their stashes well in those underground tunnels so it kind of defeats the purpose but..." I shrugged, quickly losing the energy for jokes even when I should have been building momentum for a punchline. "It's easy to find stuff if you look."

Pétur looked unconvinced and as he turned away all semblance of humour drained from me like a sack of sand someone had stabbed a hole in.

In that moment, I would have given almost anything to just be able to crawl into bed and sleep.

We came all too soon to the spider chamber, draped with webs like mummer shrouds, the sight of them all dangling in the gloom made my skin itch.

"I hate these damned things!" Ralof spat, his axe cleaving through the legs of one that dropped from the ceiling almost immediately after our entry. "Too many eyes!"

Admand kindled flames in his hands, breathing them a ravenous fervour before letting them loose. The webs and the spiders upon them (many of them small and translucent hatchlings) all caught alight with shrieks.

It was strange how quickly the shine of magic was tarnished when used as a means of pest control.

The spiders that fell were quickly dispatched by the others while I lingered at the entrance of the passageway. From there I saw Laeca gleefully charging a giant spider, her sword swiping snakelike at its many eyes, dodging projectile acid spat her way. When it's attention was set firmly on Laeca, the red haired Stormcloak finished the beast by jumping on its back and stabbing it through the back of the head.

As it collapsed Stormcloak and Imperial soldiers shared a victory, grinning at each other over a pile of twitching legs.

I tried not to dry heave, the smell of ichor catching at the back of my throat even with the distance I kept from the fighting. I didn't try to intercede, of course, any spiders scuttling in my direction swiftly dispatched by Pétur with my eternal gratitude.

Gripping the torch tightly in one hand and my pack ready to dispense potions in the other, I turned my head this way and that, paranoid that an arachnid would jump on me Alien face-hugger style if I lowered my guard for even a second.

The only place I forgot to look was directly above me.

A spider the size of a full grown labrador dropped down and wrapped its legs around my upper arms, pinning them to my sides.

I did the sensible thing: shrieking loudly and dropping the pack and torch that was now in danger of burning me. That rolled away, igniting the thin dusting of webs on the ground before coming to a stop somewhere out of my line of sight.

My thought processes shut down after that as my reptilian brain took over.

I slammed my back into the stone wall behind me, prompting an alien screech that was far more high-pitched than my own.

The spider's mandibles continued to click together, too close to my vulnerable neck which I had immediately, instinctively, shielded with a tucked chin and raised shoulders.

It was still alive.

I slammed myself into the wall again and again, simultaneously trying to overpower the legs which more than wrapped around the circumsphere of my upper body.

Pétur was busy with two spiders of his own, the others likewise pinned down or too far away. I saw Hadvar guarding Ralof who was in turn guarding Liv, both unable to move without exposing someone to attack. Mere moments had passed since the spider dropped down, although it seemed like longer, no one was coming to my aid just yet.

There was only one option really.

With a shriek that could not be mistaken for a battle cry I tucked my elbows in, tilted my head forward, and threw myself to the ground back first.

The spider managed to latch onto my exposed neck a split second before I landed and it's inhuman screech of pain was deafeningly close.

But it stopped moving.

Thank god. All the gods. I would lie on the floor and list them all, just to show how grateful I was.

The spider twitched.

On second thought- getting up sounded like a great idea.

It was easier to pry the legs off now, although I couldn't help but compare the strength of that grip to a crocodile's snapping bite.

I shuddered and once I was up proceeded to stomp the spider's head in... just in case the twitches weren't death throes.

My torch had created a little trail of ash but there wasn't enough flammable material to ignite the whole floor. Good thing too or my plan would have been very, very stupid.

Bad reptilian brain. Bad.

I clutched my retrieved torch and pack tightly before retreating back to the previous passageway- taking refuge inside it this time. When one intrepid hatchling got past Pétur I kicked it back before setting it on fire.

It was as gross as it was therapeutic.

As it burned I waited for more to come, not even loosening my grip on the torch when nervous sweat slicked my palms, eyes straining to pick out movement in medieval lighting.

Eventually it was all over (thank you every pantheon in this world and the next) and the webs stopped moving under the force of scuttling legs, the shadows no longer making disquieting noises.

"It's safe to come out now," Hadvar called, the gesture unnecessary but very welcome.

Stepping into the cavern I was struck by how little light I'd left the company to fight in after retreating fully into the passageway- the Inquisitor, Admand, and the tall dark haired Stormcloak woman had all cast light spells to compensate.

Well, okay, they would have been needed in a cavern this large with so many skulking arachnids lurking in corners anyway, but still.

"Are you injured?" The Captain demanded, flicking spider gunk off her sword, "we saw you go down earlier."

"No, uh, there was one on my back that's all. I'm fine."

...Why did my cultural sensibilities demand I say that?

Also now I had nothing to focus on but a damp spot on the back of my t-shirt. Spider ala squish. Ew.

Oh and my neck was kind of numb. "Oh. Um. I was bitten, I think." The words sounded faint, like they were coming from far away.

"Alvise!" The Captain called and I frowned, who the heck was Alvise? My question was answered when the Inquisitor hurried over to check the wound, pulling my collar down without so much as a 'by your leave'.

I supposed a professional torturer would have to have a degree of medical knowledge, and a knack for keeping his victims alive. Not much of a bedside manner though.

"Is everyone else all right? There are still potions..." Focusing on other people was a great way to distract myself from my own problems.

I'd better not be going into shock right now, it would be embarrassing to get shock from a spider rather than the planet-consuming, village-burning dragon.

"I think we're all fine." Hadvar soothed, his eyes already on their third or fourth sweep of the party. Stoic Einaar was also going to each Stormcloak individually and checking for injuries whether they wanted him to or not.

Alvise's touch was suddenly evident, startling me into flinching.

"The numbness is fading already, you're lucky you got such a minor dose." He reported.

"Woo." I said sarcastically as sensation returned hand-in-hand with pain, a mixture of pins and needles and chilblains if I had to describe it. I stood as still as possible as the puncture wounds were cleaned out and then healed by Admand.

The Captain looked more irritated than she had a right to be, given I was the one who came out the worse of the whole mess. "Do you even have a weapon?"

I stared at her. "If you recall, I was being sent to my death an hour or so ago."

She waved me off, "of course, but you could have grabbed something at least."

...When?

On the battlefield, when Alduin was belching fire from above? Or when I was herding Hadvar and Ralof into the keep like a couple of rival tom cats? How about when I was trying to stop two rival factions from tearing lumps out of each other?

I had an intense desire to stare into the distance and pretend I was on The Office.

"Of course," I echoed, expression and tone utterly placid. "If I'm ever knocked out, trussed up, then carted off to my unlawful death right before a dragon attack, I'll be sure to grab something suitably sharp and pointy as I flee for my life."

The Captain had evidently heard a fair share of backtalk in her time because her face barely twitched into a smile before she smoothed it out again. Visibly considering for a moment she unbuckled the belt at her waist, slipping a small leather sheaved dagger from the strap and holding it out to me.

I blinked bemusedly before taking it. "Thank you. Are you sure you won't need it?"

She shook her head, fixing her uniform again. "Given the state of... affairs, I'm one of the few people here who can spare it." She kicked out a foot, angling it so the pommel of a knife sheaved there glinted under the cast of magelights. "Tell me if you feel cold in your hands or feet while we move. The spiders here are different from the kind you have in High Rock, aren't they?"

I recalled the 1996 crudely three-dimensional graphics of Daggerfall and the predominately green spiders inhabiting it's many underground dungeons. Smaller than the frostbite breed, able to jump a little but not spit venom. They also got stuck in doors a lot, but that was par for the course in that game. "Yes, though I don't believe they're quite as ferocious as the ones here."

The Captain huffed a laugh, "welcome to Skyrim, Lady Aragon, only the finest in Nordic hospitality here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Einarr huffed.

I pointed a finger at him before they could get into another argument. "Almost all of Skyrim's fauna is hostile."

"Some of the flora too." Laeca chimed in.

Einarr considered the point before conceding; "fair enough."

I nodded, satisfied that more in-fighting had been avoided, and slipped my new dagger into a front belt hoop of my jeans where it lodged without great comfort but passable security.

As we left the spider cavern, both Alvise and Admand called up more fire spells, casting them off into the flammable webs once we were all safely in the corridor.

There was nothing to burn beyond that cavern, no chance that the fire would spread further than the flammable webs and the eggs ensconced in them.

The two mages hadn't conferred among one another so I wondered if the practice was part of the Imperial army's training, or just what people did when they came across a spider nest. It seemed like the smart thing to do to reduce their numbers.

Once more, I couldn't ask for clarification without revealing my ignorance, so I simply observed.

The corridor was very uneven underfoot and I caught myself on the shoulder of the woman who had complimented me earlier. The Stormcloak held my arm until she was sure I had my footing and I flashed a smile at her in thanks.

"I'm Lyra," I murmured in the gloom, stretching my arm up as high as it would go to try and illuminate the path, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Erna. That's Hildegard," she nodded to the redhead, "Einarr," the stern faced blond always picking fights with the Captain, who looked about seventeen, "and Hrafn." I knew the last two already, although Hrafn was the only one who caught the sound of his name and turned to grin with a jaunty wave.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, which seemed a little ludicrous given the circumstances, "nice work with the spiders back there, love the mace."

Erna held the gore encrusted weapon up proudly, like it was her child's first macaroni art project rather than, well, a gore encrusted weapon. "Thank you, I tried spellwork for a while, but there really is nothing like the weft of a good mace or morningstar."

"I'll take your word on that."

"What's your weapon of choice?"

"Sarcasm."

Hildegard snorted with laughter up ahead, descending into unladylike guffaws as she clamped her freckled hands over her mouth to try and stifle them.

"Will you girls be quiet back there," Alvise snapped, "there may be more than spiders in these tunnels."

I remembered the bear and clamped my lips together. Hildegard on the other hand snarled right back at him. "We are women, not 'girls', and we'll damn well talk if we want to, Thalmor boot-licker!"

Despite her words, the atmosphere was decidedly stilted after that.

We came to the large cavern with the sleeping bear and even near the back of the group I could see the beast; a mound of brown fur and menace, still on the cave floor beside a modest pile of animal bones.

The Captain held up her hand, gesturing what I assumed was a military signal to be quiet. We trod carefully, our footfalls covered by the rush of the river. I looked longingly at the outermost edges of the cave, where I knew there was likely to be treasure hidden away like in the other hidey-holes I'd pillaged. Even from here I could see a lump of cloth which might be a skeleton or thief's stash atop one of the far ledges.

The bear was thankfully in a deep sleep; even when Admand tripped over a rock and yelped the animal didn't so much as stir.

As we left the cave, I wondered about the dangers of this world. One bear against ten able-bodied, battle-hardened people: you'd think the winning side would be obvious. True we were all tired and emotionally strung out, roughly half of our number had been held prisoner for who knew how long on top of that. But still.

Ten people against a single bear. Assuming myself, Liv, and Ralof who was carrying her were discounted from the party. Was it simply not worth the risk in this reality? You couldn't really skin an animal in under two seconds and no one here struck me as an alchemist. Pretty sure bear meat was inedible too. Did the fact that the Stormcloak banner depicted a bear factor in at all? Or was it just an unwillingness to kill random fauna without a good reason that stayed their hands?

All the same, Hadvar circled around to cover the rear, keeping his eyes fixed on the bear while I guided him by his elbow out of the cave.

Maybe I was still thinking of people as their video game representations, leaping head-first into peril at the first sign of a dragon attack (even little old ladies with iron daggers). I thought about grizzly bears back in my world and how likely a group of ten people would be to face one there, even if they did have training and weapons.

Still, it didn't match up with NPC behaviour patterns and- that was my issue.

I'd need to sleep on it. Alcohol optional but preferred.

Sunlight had never felt so warm on my face, or the scent of fresh air so welcoming.

Alduin wasn't anywhere in sight, so being behind on the game time line had paid off for a change. All the same, I instinctively kept close to the rocks and shrubbery for cover, not that they would make much difference against an aerial attack.

I blinked repeatedly, suddenly overwhelmed. How had this become my life?

"So," Pétur was the first to break the silence, "what now?"

"Someone has to go to Whiterun, warn the Jarl." Hadvar spoke first, averting his gaze when the Captain turned her own on him.

Yet she nodded in response of that plan. "I suppose you want to be the one to do it?"

"Lyra has the knowledge but should not travel alone, what she knows is too valuable to risk its loss and I assumed..." He looked at me but I couldn't read his expression. "It's the closest city and people must be armed against this rising threat."

"And Riverwood is defenceless," Ralof added, "the Jarl will need to send guards to bolster the watch there or the townspeople stand no chance."

I nodded, "Whiterun is the only relatively neutral city left in Skyrim and the best place to distribute the information to all sides, we'll stop in Riverwood on the way there though. Liv needs rest and a real healer."

"My-" Ralof cut himself off, remembering the company he kept. "I'm sure someone would grant her a bed there until she recovers."

Liv was now flopped out cold on Ralof's back and I tried not to think about the travel ahead and her chances of surviving it. Instead I said: "I hear Riverwood is beautiful this time of year, I'm sure she'll make a speedy recovery there." I turned to the Imperials, all clustered together bar Hadvar since we left the caves. "And yourselves? What will you do?"

"Spread the news of this dragon in the western holds as we make haste for Solitude," the Captain said matter-of-factly, "the Imperial army must know of this new threat to better arm against it."

Einarr scowled in her direction, "the Stormcloaks will warn the east and rally to defend the people there."

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if someone broke out in a rendition of 'Anything you can do, I can do better'.

"Aye," Hrafn clasped the younger man's shoulder, "but this journey to Whiterun is important also. Perhaps one of us should accompany the Lady Aragon as well? Ralof's handy with an axe and bow I'll grant you that, but he's got Liv to worry about too." He grinned rakishly at me, "mind if I tag along? Another set of hands an' all that."

"I won't have my Sergeant travelling outnumbered." The Captain retorted, crossing her arms. "If you're going another of our party will be accompanying you as well."

"Aw, don't you trust me, Captain?"

"Less than the distance I could throw you." She sniffed then looked among her number. "Any volunteers?"

Pétur looked like he wanted to say something, but quickly clammed up when he took in the five or so inches Hrafn had on him.

Me? I would be happy to have more bodies on board, it meant I was less likely to get mauled by wolves.

Still... it would kind of defeat the purpose if everyone was busy taking lumps out of each other.

"Well, while you all decide that amongst yourselves I'll fill you in on the footnotes version." Suddenly everyone's attention was superimposed on me. I cleared my suddenly tight throat before beginning. "All right, for those of you who weren't here before: The dragon is called Alduin the World-Eater, his name is self explanatory. He wants to destroy everything. To do this he will resurrect the dragons from the original Dragon Crisis; many of those were buried in Skyrim and the mounds are still be visible today."

"Will it be any obstacle that they are buried?" Admand interjected, "if Alduin needs to excavate them that will buy us time."

I shook my head. "That won't matter. Honestly, I don't know if we can do anything to deter him, or if he is preternaturally attuned to the remains of his people. Certainly I know that if Alduin knows where they are he can bring them back."

"And does he know where they are? Discounting any ability he has to sense them, I mean, surely his kin were mostly buried after Alduin disappeared?"

I liked Admand. He gave off a real Ravenclaw kinda vibe.

"The mounds aren't exactly hard to spot from the air, in fact an aerial view would be the easiest way of picking out geological abnormalities-"

I cut myself off. Now was not the time for an archaeology geek-out.

"Right. Um, it may be a good idea to excavate the bones before Alduin can get to them. Grinding up the bones, or weighting them down and tossing them in the ocean may deter or even stop Alduin from resurrecting his kin." I shrugged. "I don't think it's guaranteed to work, but a long shot is better than doing nothing." I tried desperately to remember where the burial sites were located. "I know there's one near Kynesgrove... maybe more than one. Uhhh... another to the east of Windhelm, one south of Morthal, another beside Rorikstead."

As my musings pattered away, the expressions of the people around me became decidedly pinched.

"There's, ah, about twenty or so? That I know about? I'd need to sit down with a map and really think about it..."

Hildegard summed up the situation succinctly: "Well, shit."

In the end only four of us were going to Riverwood and Liv barely counted.

That's the easiest way to compress half an hour of arguments and hand waving before I lost my temper at them all and woke Liv with my acidic tongue-lashing. We already had one person injured, we didn't need any more bloodshed and I drove the point home with as much vigour as I could muster.

Honestly, I thought a common enemy would change something, but it seemed the Imperials and Stormcloaks were as hell-bent as ever to fight amongst themselves.

At least Hadvar and Ralof had learned to get along better by now. They weren't exactly friends, but their journey through the caves had brought them closer together. I suppose having grown up in the same small town helped in that regard, so at least they pulled together rather than apart when there were so many foreign elements in the mix.

Frenemies are a go. Maybe this trip would even patch some old wounds.

Suddenly every road trip movie I'd ever seen flashed before my eyes.

I face-palmed.

Statistically speaking, they were more likely to kill each other.

A.N.: So I was going to extend the last scene when I played with the idea of more people coming with Lyra to Riverwood, but in the end it was exhausting to juggle so many characters at once (thirteen characters, was I trying to kill myself?).

We will see more of the OC Stormcloak/Imperial characters introduced here a bit later on and a couple of them will play pretty large roles in the plot-lines to come.

...My personal favourite OC is Hildegard because she's basically a smol ginger bundle of 'FIGHT ME!'. :D

By the way, don't you think its interesting that 'Imperial' is a term used both for a race and a profession in Skyrim? Everyone in the Legion is called an Imperial regardless of race.

Name Meanings:

Alvise (Male, Imperial) – Italian form of Louis which is the French form of Ludwig, which may or may not have sprung from the Germanic Chlodovech: composed of the elements 'hlod' = famous and derivative of 'wig' = war/battle. Basically I just really like this name. Plus the Imperials are based on the Romans, who took cues from many different cultures and in the three hundred years between Oblivion and Skyrim the Imperial names have become more Italian than Roman. Linguistics~

Erna (Female, Nord) – Germanic. Depending on the etymology, the reading is either 'eagle' or 'serious/determined'. Feminine form of 'Ernest'.

Hildegard (Female, Nord) - 'Battle/glorious warfare'. In Norse mythology Hildegard was a Valkyrie who helped fallen heroes ascend to Valhalla.

Question: Do you think I was able to establish character personalities reasonably well here, or were there just too many people to remember all at once? Do you have any favourites?

Final note: I am posting this at 5am on a work day, if you have any spelling/grammar slip-ups to point out, sit on them for a few days or I will literally not give a damn.