Author's Note: Thanks for tuning in. Chapters 1 and 2 have been updated again with some minor edits. Feedback appreciated, could always use some corrections.
Part 1, Chapter 3: The Fires of Helgen
The stone beneath her cheek was warm with fresh blood, and her head felt heavy as her consciousness faded in. Laira began to choke on the smell of burning wood as she breathed in smoke from the thinning air. She felt the calloused grip of a man grab her by one bound wrist at her back and the cold touch of a knife against the skin of her palms. When she finally opened her heavy lids, she saw the hulking body of an auburn-haired man, roughed up and keeled over a pile of rock and timber with his chest down. It was Erik Erikssen. She watched him slowly open his blackened, emerald eyes from a distance. His alliterative name floated in her mind like a whisper as the ringing in her ears began to dissipate.
"Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" Laira heard a familiar voice fade louder as she came to her senses.
She felt dizzy, staggering to her feet with very little blood flowing in her head, as she was suddenly pulled up. Her eyes widened as a flying lizard, the size of a Boeing 747, came down with its massive weight, shaking the ground as it perched over a wall with its giant claws like a raptor. The air filled with black smoke and blood curdling screams as the creature swept the streets with its fiery breath, eliciting a slurry of cries from all around.
"What in the Eight Divines is this thing?!"
"By Ysmir! Nothing kills it!"
"Die! For the love of the gods, die!"
"Let's go!" The familiar voice called again.
It was Ralof, the man who had unbound her. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him, heading to a nearby tower past the rubble. But, Laira pulled all her weight against his grip.
"He was with us. We have to help him!" Laira cried, yanking his rigid arm as she limped towards Erik's direction.
Without a moment to hesitate, Ralof followed through. Taking the lead, he paced ahead, keeping their arms interlocked. Laira ignored the burning beneath her toes as they leapt over piles of embers under collapsed beams to reach him.
"Get up, kinsman! We need to go!" Ralof quickly cut Erik's binds, and put his arm around his shoulder, lifting him to his feet.
"Can you walk?" Ralof asked.
Erik nodded as he quickly caught his balance.
"Good, this way!" Ralof went went ahead of the two, leading them at a jogging pace towards a watchtower. Laira lagged behind, slowed by her injury despite the adrenaline pushing her through the pain. Erik grabbed her by the forearm and kept her at his pace. She had to run twice as fast as him to keep up with his long strides. They followed Ralof, weaving through the rubble, and quickly made their way into the stone tower. Erik firmly pulled Laira through the entrance, just as Ralof shut the door behind them. But, he was suddenly stopped by the weight of a grown man pushing against it. Singed fingertips peeked through the open crack.
"Wait!" Another familiar voice begged from the other side.
Ralof quickly eased, and a pale wrist covered in red, blistering burns pushed its way through the opening. A haggard man stumbled into the tower, sitting forward on his knees to catch his breath. His frame was broad, but he was lithe compared to the others around him.
"Horse thief?" Laira recognized the man.
"Looks like Sovngarde didn't have any room for a coward," Ralof said, eyeing the thief as he finally shut the door, muffling the sounds of the chaos outside.
Still, Laira heard the dragon's deafening roars through the thick, stone walls of the bare tower, and the smoke in the air still penetrated the few arrow slits lining the tower. A small group of Stormcloaks gathered around their leader, who had also made it out alive. A couple of them were hurt, sprawled on the ground, leaning against the stone. The rest were in a small huddle around Jarl Ulfric, exchanging whispers of shock and conspiracy. Lokir awkwardly averted his eyes from the Jarl's presence, keeping them to the floor. He kept his mouth shut, knowing his momentary shelter was at the mercy of the rebels.
"Ralof, you're alive! Thank Talos," Ulfric turned to face the warrior with his arms open like a bear. Laira had finally heard the sound of his voice. It was deep, husky, and boisterous as a storm.
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked.
"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric said with haunting intensity, as the image of the black dragon flashed in Laira's mind. "I don't know where that dragon came from. But without it, we'd all be a foot shorter and a lot less talkative."
"Other prisoners from the cart. Empire thought they were with us," Ralof gestured towards the group of survivors. Ulfric gave the horse thief a dismissive glare before turning to Erik and Laira.
"Well friends, I'd ask you to join the rebellion but I think we're all a bit busy staying alive," Ulfric said. Then, the ground shook with the sound of a thundering explosion.
"We need to move. Now!" Ulfric commanded.
"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof called to the group. Erik followed, and Lokir raced after him.
Laira fell behind as her eyes were glued to the wounded rebels slouching against a wall beneath the cold staircase. A woman feebly lifted her hand up, pleading silently through soft moans of pain. As if by instinct, Laira took her hand, and she saw the woman's eyes soften behind the shadow of her steel visor.
"Let's go! With me, up the tower!" Ralof shouted from above the staircase.
"They're hurt, but they'll live. Another second out there with the dragon, and they'd both be dead," one of their comrades told Laira, gently pushing her to move.
On shaky legs, she made her way up the tower, catching up behind Erik.
"We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!" Another Stormcloak called from the top of the stairwell, where Ralof and Lokir had been stalled.
Erik was running up the tower when he suddenly heard and felt a rumble. He instantly turned on his heels and fell on his hands, pinning down Laira's shoulders against the stone steps with heavy, blunt force. Suddenly, the dragon knocked a hole into the stone wall with its snout where Erik had stood, causing a part of the tower to collapse and block their path.
"YOL…TOOR…SHUL!" The dragon breathed as a wave of fire filled the air behind Erik's back, burning another Stormcloak to a crisp.
Laira's stomach turned as the smell of flesh sizzling against hot armor filled her lungs. Erik got back on his feet, yanking her up with him, as he uttered her a casual apology. Too terrified to be flustered, Laira ignored him and rolled her shoulders to ease the pain.
"That was a close one!" Ralof exclaimed. Then, he pointed out the gaping hole in the wall. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow when we can!"
Without hesitation, Erik leapt out of the tower, collapsing through the thatched roof and landing like a Marvel superhero on one knee with his fist on the ground. He sprang into a hop and ran down the sloped wooden floor with wide strides. Lokir followed suit. Leading with outstretched arms, he aimed for the hole in the roof Erik had made and smoothly landed into a roll like a ninja. Laira hesitated. She hadn't done gymnastics since she was ten years old. The gap was at least two stories tall, and looking down the height made her vision spin.
"Go! There's no other way out. You can do this," Ralof urged her with a hand on her shoulder. Gathering her nerves, Laira took a comically loud, deep breath in through her flared nose.
"Parkour!" She blurted, just as she followed Lokir's lead.
Laira tucked her head to the side and jumped through Erik's hole on the roof, leading with her arms extended by her ears. She brought her knees up to her chest in midair and landed on her forearm into a botched roll. Her scapula made a loud thud against wood, and she scraped her arms against the loose thatch before sitting up on her ankle. Nearly twisting her joint, she dispelled her momentum into a sprint, slowing down as she made her way down the ruins of the inn onto the ground outside.
Looking around, she was met by the chaotic scene of civilians and soldiers tripping over burning rubble, scattered across the ruins of the plaza. Flames ravaged the thatched roofs and wooden walls of every building around her. The neat lines of Imperial archers had plunged into complete chaos, breaking their positions and missing shots at the sky. Fireballs came from all directions as Imperial battlemages launched their desperate attack on the creature flying overhead. Then, she saw the face of her ex from a distance.
"Haming, you need to get over here. Now!" The soldier called to a small child. "That a boy. You're doing great. Torolf! Gods... Everyone get back!"
"YOL…TOOR…SHUL!" The dragon roared, engulfing the boy's father in flames. The smell of burning flesh filled the air once more. Laira froze, unsure where to go as she had lost sight of Erik and the horse thief. She looked over her shoulder, waiting for Ralof to make his way out the tower. But, he never came.
"This way," Erik suddenly came from around a corner and grabbed her by the arm, leading her to a pile of rubble, away from the dragon's view. The tall soldier was there, crouching behind the ruins of a house with the child from earlier under his arm. The horse thief was hiding right behind them.
"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," the soldier told Erik.
"Gunnar, take care of the boy." The soldier called out to an old man across the street, urging the child towards him. "I have to find General Tullius and join their defense."
"Gods guide you, Hadvar." The old man said, taking the boy in his arms before he fled.
So, he has a name, Laira thought, completely lifted from her irrational rage at his sight. She followed the soldier inches from his back, and Erik trailed behind her with Lokir.
"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar yelled, leading the prisoners into a narrow space between the stone wall and another building.
Suddenly, the wall shook with a mighty force and the edge of a black wing nearly grazed the top of Laira's head. In her panic, she tried to run away, but Erik yanked her by the shirt. She fell on her tailbone before she could move, just as she felt the extreme heat billowing above her head.
"YOL…TOOR…SHUL!" The dragon roared from right where they stood, breathing a conflagration over the path ahead.
Laira looked behind her back, and Erik gazed at her sternly, still holding on to the back of her shirt. Laira gulped, intimidated by his presence. Yet, he had already saved her twice that day.
"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar called as the dragon flapped its wings, leaving its perch.
Following the soldier's lead, Laira dodged the remaining fires on the ground, talking quick steps as to not singe her already damaged toes. Trudging over corpses strewn over stone and ducking under the burning timbers, the group made their way to an open space near a fortified building. Around it, General Tullius was surrounded by a small garrison of battlemages charging at the flying beast with minuscule balls of fire. A civilian was curled up by their feet, emitting subtle steam off his singed clothes.
"Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" The General ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Hadvar called out. "We're almost there, prisoners. Stay close!"
Laira couldn't help but approach the injured man on the ground. His clothes were nearly burnt off, and his flesh was red and bare as if his skin had melted away. His eyes were blank, and his shallow breath rattled with the sound of dying. Laira reached out to what was left of his hand. She couldn't just leave him.
"Run, you idiot!" The General barked at her, and she felt Erik pull her by the arm, once more.
They followed Hadvar's path, passing beneath a small bridge, where a lone archer desperately shot at the sky. Laira could only shudder as the dragon grabbed him by the claws and dropped him from over the mountains. Pushing forward, the two of them made their way before the keep's entrance.
"Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar yelled as he stood at the center of the floor with his sword drawn. Lokir was crouching behind him, close by.
"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."
Laira looked up and saw Ralof at the edge of Hadvar's blade, his axe drawn at the ready.
"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde," Hadvar spat with a swing of his blade, deliberately missing his old friend. "Let's go, prisoner!"
Hadvar ran up the steps to the entrance, holding the door open, and Lokir looked over in his direction.
"Come on, into the keep!" Ralof called from another door. Relieved to finally see his face, Laira ran after him. She instinctively grabbed the wrist of the man behind her and made her way through.
Erik still stood at the center of the floor, looking in both directions, frozen in hesitation. Then, the dragon flew over his head hovered right in front of him. It brought its head back, ready to strike with another round of fire, baring its jagged teeth around its bottomless maw.
"YOL…"
"Erik!" He heard Laira call his name from the side of the keep, holding the door open as Ralof fought with her to get it shut.
"TOOR…SHUL!" And a sea of blaze erupted.
つづくTo be continued...