"Ralof, watch out!" Rendarion swiftly intervened, striking an enemy legionnaire with his shield before thrusting his sword into the assailant's gut. Through the visor, he locked eyes with the dying Imperial soldier, witnessing the shock in their brown irises. Blood oozed from the soldier's lips as Rendarion withdrew his blade, leaving behind a trail of gore. He averted his gaze as the lifeless body slumped to the ground.
"Are you okay?" Rendarion inquired, concern etched on his face as he turned to Ralof.
Ralof nodded, his gratitude evident. "Damn Imperial spies," muttered Galmor, Rendarion's uncle, his voice laced with disdain. The chamber they stood in was strewn with bodies, evidence of a close encounter with an ambush. Rendarion's scouting had averted disaster, leading them through a side chamber that spared them from the enemy's trap.
"Do you think we've taken care of all of them?" one of the two women in their party asked.
"Undoubtedly, there are more lurking deeper within," Galmor replied, giving a disdainful nudge to the corpse at his feet. "No matter. We press on."
Rendarion couldn't ignore the fallen Stormcloaks among the Imperials. Their losses could have been greater. Galmor led them further into the ruins, and Rendarion tightened his grip on his short sword. Ralof stood close beside him, their bodies almost touching. As they passed an opening along the wall, they saw sharp pendulum blades swinging in a deadly arc along the hall, while two Imperial bodies lay sliced to pieces on the floor.
"Seems like they got too greedy," Ralof joked.
Rendarion's attention was drawn to a chest on a pedestal, tempting him with its untold treasures hidden within the burial crypt. Under different circumstances, he might have attempted to bypass the swinging blades. They continued through the chamber, entering a wider hall adorned with carvings depicting Nordic warriors.
"By Ysmir's beard, a hall of stories," Galmor exclaimed, taking in a deep breath.
"I've heard tales of these halls," Ralof said, his voice filled with awe. "They depict the heroic feats of those buried here."
"Doesn't help us figure out how to open this damned door, though," Galmor grumbled, frustration evident in his tone.
Galmor paused before a circular door with three movable parts, his gaze shifting to the dead legionnaires. "Looks like this is as far as they got."
Ren sheathed his sword, his attention caught by a glint of black in the torchlight. There, inches away from a legionnaire's hand, lay an ebony claw-shaped artifact. He picked it up, feeling its smooth and cool surface in his hand.
"What's that? Some kind of claw? Looks like it broke off a statue," Galmor inquired.
Rendarion turned it over, noticing etchings of a fox, moth, and dragon on the bottom. A memory flickered in his mind, reminiscent of his fifth winter when Brunwulf Free-Winter told him stories of his adventures, showing him a similar copper claw. "It's a key," Rendarion announced, stepping closer to the door. "We have to turn these to match the symbols on the bottom."
With precision, Rendarion aligned the circles on the claw to correspond with the symbols on the door. Placing the claw into its designated space, the door groaned, releasing a cloud of dust. Galmor coughed, waving his hand in front of his face as the stone wheel lowered into the ground.
"By Talos, you did it, boy. Good work," Galmor commended, a touch of pride in his voice.
Rendarion fought back a grin and secured the ebony claw to his belt with a leather strip. They proceeded through the opening, entering a vast room with black tombs standing as silent sentinels in the walls. A gate blocked their path deeper into the ruins.
"Unblooded, go do what you do best," Galmor instructed after inspecting the gate and finding no apparent means of opening it. "We'll stand guard down here."
Rendarion sprinted up a flight of stairs, diligently searching hidden corners for a chain or lever. A few gems found their way into his pockets as he scoured the area.
"Have you found anything yet?" Galmor's voice echoed from below.
Balancing along a narrow pathway above the others, Rendarion discovered a pull switch tucked into a crevice. As he pulled it, the gate swished open, coinciding with the lids of the coffins crashing to the ground.
"Bone walkers!" one of the female Stormcloaks cried out, her words abruptly cut off as a draugr slammed its mace onto her skull, felling her like a sack of grain.
"Form up!" Galmor's voice rang out, accompanied by the clash of steel and bone. Rendarion dropped from the walkway, executing a roll before rising with his Colovian bow in hand, swiftly releasing arrows. The first found its mark in a draugr's eye, bone fragments flying out the back. The next arrow struck a draugr in the throat just as it cast an ice spell toward Ralof.
What felt like an eternity transpired in mere minutes. In that brief time, they lost two more comrades. Ralof leaned against a pillar, his breath labored. Six draugr lay dead, their threat neutralized.
"I told you I hate those fucking bone walkers," Ralof jested upon Rendarion's approach.
Rendarion wiped gray matter off the ends of the three salvaged arrows, contemplating whether the crown was truly worth the loss of life. Out of the original twelve, only five remained, including the two stationed at the entrance of Korvanjund.
"I believe this is the end of it," Galmor remarked, leading them under the gate, his movements betraying his hidden wounds.
The entrance revealed a grand temple area, with a slumped draugr seated on a throne at the center. Rendarion notched an arrow, his gaze darting around the room. The hair on his neck stood on end as whispers tickled his ears, repeating indistinguishable words over and over.
"Do you hear that?" Rendarion whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Hear what? All I hear is the sound of your teeth chattering in your head," Galmor replied, casting a quick glance around.
"That chanting," Rendarion said, looking at Galmor and then Ralof. "Don't either of you hear it?"
"I think you took a hit to the head back there. This is why Gallyn and I always tell you to wear a helmet," Ralof teased.
Rendarion frowned at the mention of his boyfriend's name, Gallyn. What would he think upon returning from his trip to Solstheim, only to discover that Rendarion had taken the oath and joined the Stormcloaks? Gods, he didn't want to dwell on that now. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.
"Hey, there's a crown on this one's head," Ralof remarked, reaching out toward the draugr on the throne.
"Ralof, get away from there, you fool!" Galmor barked, but it was too late. The coffins on either side of the throne burst open, and two more draugr emerged. Ralof cried out, stumbling over his own feet. Towering above him, the draugr on the throne stood, its eyes glowing with an eerie blue light in the empty sockets.
"Over here, you walking sack of wyrm food!" Galmor roared, rushing forward with his war hammer swinging.
"Zun haal viik," the undead creature bellowed, releasing a pulse of energy that passed over Galmor and Ralof, causing them to stagger and disarm them. The monstrous draugr let out a deep, unnatural laugh, raising its rusty blade high.
"Commander!" Rendarion spun, using the momentum to throw his shield like a disc.
Galmar caught it, raising it just in time to block the blow. The clash of sword against shield reverberated through the chamber. Three arrows flew in rapid succession, sinking deep into the draugr's skull. Rendarion swiftly drew his sword, hacking down one of the lesser draugr.
Ralof rolled to his feet, his sword in hand. Together, he and Galmor launched a relentless assault on the larger draugr. Galmor bashed it with his shield, while Ralof sliced and slashed. With one final powerful swing from Ralof, the draugr's head went flying, coinciding with the last of the lesser draugr falling under Rendarion's blade.
The three men collapsed in a heap, breathless from their exertions. Rendarion wasn't sure who started laughing first, but soon their laughter filled the chamber, echoing off the walls. Galmor rose to his feet, shuffling over to where the head lay. He removed the Jagged Crown, holding it aloft so that it caught the faint torchlight.
"Is that battered, rusted piece of junk what we risked our lives for?" Ralof asked incredulously, extending his hand to help Rendarion up.
"This is no piece of junk, boy," Galmor retorted gruffly. "This is the crown that the future High King of Skyrim will wear."
"Well, for one, I've had enough fighting my undead ancestors for a lifetime. How about we find a way out of here?" Ralof suggested.
Thinking along the same lines, Rendarion searched the back of the temple. Based on his experience exploring similar ruins with Gallyn near Windhelm, he knew that many of them had back entrances. He paused in front of a crescent-shaped wall adorned with strange runes, one of which began to glow faintly.
An intense pain stabbed behind Rendarion's eyes, and the chanting grew louder, resonating with a pulsating rhythm that drowned out all other sounds. Powerful magick surged from the glowing runes, ancient and potent. The intensity increased, swirling away from the wall as if flowing into Rendarion. As the last particle of light faded, Rendarion closed his eyes and succumbed to darkness.
