It was such an impossibly loud sound that every muscle in Merrin's body tensed and her eyes came flying open, frantically searching the tower and the forest and the sky in her view. She must have just missed something truly horrifying, because suddenly Tullius was no longer stoic.
'What in Oblivion was that?' he yelled.
'Sentries.' There was a tremor in the Commander's voice all of a sudden. 'What do you see?'
'It's in the clouds,' one of the sentries shouted back helplessly.
But it didn't stay hidden in the clouds very long. From directly above Merrin she heard the great flapping of what turned out to be massive wings, and then all at once a monster landed on the top of the Keep's nearest tower.
She gasped. The creature perched above her was massive. It dug long, ebony claws into the old mortar and stone as it folded wings as black as night against a hard, scaly body so darkly iridescent that it shimmered purple in the sunlight. It stretched out a long neck to look down at the astonished and petrified crowds, and she saw that its eyes were glowing crimson.
She sucked in another astonished breath. Her father had read her stories, and...this thing looked just like a—
'Dragon!' The terrified voice of a female Stormcloak rang out over the stunned silent gathering, and Merrin's thoughts were finished for her.
That settled it. As soon as that Stormcloak gave voice to the fears of several people in the crowd, Tullius raised a hand and cued the trembling archers. 'Fire at will,' he shouted.
But the dragon was faster than any of them. Up until that moment it had been staring intently at the crowds, but now it stared straight at Merrin, the ruby red coals of its glowing eyes burning directly into hers. And then, without ceremony, it turned its huge head ever so slightly to the side and released a gout of flame that shot three feet to her left and killed the headsman instantly.
Several people screamed, and the first of the archers fired. Their arrows bounced ineffectually off of the shimmering midnight scales...and then the dragon Shouted.
A terrible wave of thundering shock that made every hair on Merrin's body stand on end came rippling from the dragon's maw, and the archers were blasted several yards back. One of them broke his neck, and crumpled into a still heap. Then the dragon took off with a lurch, wings coming unfurled like oily black sails, and went swooping back into the air with another mighty roar.
In that instant, chaos erupted.
People started to scream and yell, and took off running in all directions—somebody leaped right over her where she was kneeling and kept on sprinting into the woods. The Commander started belting out orders to her and Tullius' troops, the sound of her voice nearly drowned out by the dragon releasing another burst of flame, and then the telltale wooshing crackle of those flames taking root. Somewhere, a baby let out a keening wail, and then there was a splintering shriek as something wooden collapsed to the ground. Behind her, Tullius bellowed.
'Guards! Get the townspeople to safety!'
And the people around her scattered.
For a moment, she was petrified by her sheer disbelief. But then she yanked sharply on her focus, and pulled herself back together.
Evidently, the Imperials had forgotten about separating her head from her shoulders, and now was her chance to escape. She was about to push herself to her feet, when she felt herself being dragged to them.
It was Ralof, his blue eyes wild and his bindings already cut. 'Come on, Merrin,' he yelled. 'Let's go! The gods won't give us another chance!'
She didn't need to be told twice, and she was hot on his heels as he took off running across the courtyard. Above them, the sky was swirling and turning a murky, unnatural red, and when she looked behind her she saw that several of the town's buildings were on fire. The dragon had been busy.
'Come on, into the Keep! Hurry, hurry!'
Ralof had led her to a second stone tower, and when he shoved open the timbered oak door, she quickly followed him through it. He slammed it behind her, and the sounds of the battle outside infinitesimally dimmed, but a second later something crashed against the door, splintering the wood and making them all jump.
When nothing came barrelling through the door, he rounded on someone to their left.
'A dragon,' he gasped. 'A real live dragon! Jarl Ulfric, could the legends be true?!'
And when she turned her head, she saw that Ulfric was in the room with them. He stood tall and broad, with his gags removed and his bindings cut, and as he looked over at Ralof he looked nothing short of regal.
'Legends don't burn down villages, Ralof.' His voice was husky and deeply timbered, and it had a quality to it that pricked her with annoyance—something she couldn't quite place.
'What should we do, then? Where do we go?' But at the moment, she had no interest in the two men's conversation, and instead she took in her surroundings.
The room they stood in was standard for a turret in a Keep. Stone from floor to ceiling, and round, with a curving staircase along the far wall. What captured her attention was the fourth person in the room.
A terribly wounded Stormcloak woman lay gasping on the floor. She was moaning quietly and clutching her abdomen, and her eyes were shiny and glazed. Merrin could see immediately that she'd lost a lot of blood, and her skin was waxen white.
Anger surged in her gut for the Jarl of Windhelm; how long had he been hiding in here, watching this woman suffer? She turned her head to stare at them, and saw that Ulfric had started speeching, oblivious to the woman in front of her. And Ralof was no better; he stood listening raptly to every word, and noticed nothing of what lay in front of him.
Idiots. Not wanting to waste another second, she clambered down awkwardly to kneel on the floor.
'I have healing magic,' she said to the woman, trying to make her voice gentle. 'I'm going to help you now.'
The soldier only gurgled and moaned.
She had to bite back a curse when she went to use her hands and remembered that they were still bound behind her, and she fell awkwardly onto her backside before scooting up to the woman, back first. She craned her head back over her shoulder to see what she was doing, and pushed the wounded woman's hands out of her way.
She had some sort of deep gash, and Merrin couldn't figure where or how she'd gotten it in the chaos of the dragon attack. She placed her hands on the woman's skin and cast Healing Hands, and started to let the magic flow through her.
It was a strong spell, and it worked quickly; the bleeding stopped, internal damage was mended, and skin knit back together, all at a rate that would've been alarming to most anybody. Merrin pulled her hands away, and shuffled to turn around.
A bit of color had returned to the woman's face as she healed, and now she met Merrin's eyes, looking astonished. She moved her hands frantically over the smooth, unblemished abdomen that had moments before housed a seeping gash.
'You've lost a lot of blood,' she reminded the woman. 'But at least now you stand a chance at surviving long enough to escape.'
'I don't know how to thank you,' the Stormcloak stammered.
'Thank me by getting out of Helgen alive.'
A moment later she felt herself being tugged to her feet yet again, and Ralof's voice by her ear. 'Come on, it's time to move! We have to get out of here!'
The men had obviously come up with some kind of plan while she'd been occupied, because he ushered her up the stairs, with the others not far behind. As she neared the top she saw another red-headed Stormcloak, trying to pick a locked door.
'There're proper weapons to fight with in here,' he shouted. 'I know it! As soon as I get this open, we can—'
She was mere steps from the top when the wall to her right exploded. Rubble went slamming into the man at the door, pinning him painfully, and before anyone could twitch a muscle, the head of the dragon came through the hole and into the tower. It peered with cruel crimson eyes at the man trapped in the rocks, and then it opened its mouth and roasted him alive.
'Jarn! Noo!'
Ralof's yell attracted the dragon's attention, and it did its best to kill more of them by sending another gout of flame down the stairs that they barely managed to avoid. Then it released the building and left as quickly as it had come, returning its attention to the town at large.
The smell of burnt flesh hit her nose, and she gagged. Ralof led her to the edge of the smoking, gaping hole, cursing as they stepped over chunks of rock.
'See that inn over there? The hole in the roof? You're going to have to jump!'
Merrin looked at Ralof like he'd sprouted another head. 'Are you crazy?' she shouted. 'That's a twenty foot fall, at least! I'll break my legs!'
'The door is blocked,' he shouted back at her. 'It's your only chance! Jump through the hole, run through the inn, make your way outside from there! We'll join you when we can!'
'But you haven't even cut my binds!'
'There's no time! Go, now, Merrin! Talos guide you!'
It was absolutely crazy, but every second she lingered was a second wasted, another second towards sealing her fate. She took a deep breath as she backed up several paces, and then ran full speed at the hole in the wall. At the edge she leaped with all her strength.
Her heart was hammering madly as she flew through the air. The fall was more like thirty feet, and as the roof of the inn rushed up to meet her, she was sure she was about to die painfully. But she didn't; she passed through a hole in the thatched roof that was still burning at the edges, and landed hard on the wooden planked floor inside. The shock of the landing reverberated up her legs, and her joints and muscles screamed in protest. She stumbled and fell, and had to struggle back to her feet, breathing hard.
The building was on fire, the air thick with smoke, and she choked on the fumes as she started to run, dropping through a hole in the floor to the ground level, and then running through the broken door.
Outside, Helgen was nothing short of apocalyptic.
The sky was a swirling red and brown mass, and fiery comets were hurtling from the otherworldly storm to crash down onto the village below, crushing houses, killing people, spreading the path of the all-consuming fire. The dragon had called down actual brimstone.
She ran forward amidst the utter chaos, no real plan in mind, and moaned when she saw that the carts that might've held her gear had long ago caught fire, the horses either running free or lying dead, still hitched to the carts. She changed course abruptly, cursing as she went, and veered to her right. Her current priority was to free her hands.
She hadn't run far when she came to the smouldering ruins of another house. There were two men crouching behind the wall nearest her, and she froze when she recognized one of them as the man she'd spat on. Would he try to apprehend her again?
But neither man had noticed her. The list-maker was beckoning, and calling out to someone.
'Haming, you need to get over here now!'
She looked over his shoulder from where she stood, and easily recognized the little boy who'd wanted to watch the procession go by. His tunic was torn now, and his face streaked with soot. His father had fallen, badly wounded, and the boy was trying fruitlessly to drag him to safety.
'There's no time, Haming!' The man sounded desperate. 'It's coming. Leave me!'
Merrin looked up and saw that the boy's father was right. The dragon was gliding in an arc towards them, and would be on them any second now.
'Listen to your pa, boy!' The older man behind the house called out.
'But, pa!'
'Go!'
The dragon landed in front of them then, and the boy seemed to realize that his choices were move or die, because he let go of his father and sprinted towards them, leaping into the list-maker's waiting arms and getting pulled behind the safety of the wall in the same moment that the scaled beast blasted his father—and the whole street behind him—with spewing flame. And then he flew off with a roar that sounded eerily like laughter.
'Gods, no! Torolf!' But it was too late.
The young boy sobbed in the Nord Imperial's arms. It was then that the man spun around, face taut with anguish, and finally noticed her. He stared at her hard for one full second, and then called out to her.
'Still alive, kinsman? Stick with me if you want to stay that way.' He slid the boy out of his arms and down to the ground, and ushered him over to the older Imperial. Then he drew his sword and held it at his side.
'Gunnar, take care of the boy! I need to find General Tullius and join the defense.'
The older man nodded, looking grave. 'Gods guide you, Hadvar.' He took the boy's hand, and drew his own sword.
The man who was apparently named Hadvar looked back at her then, and gestured with his free hand. 'Let's go!'
She had no interest in joining any defense. But she couldn't just stay where she was, so she followed.
They ran down the main street of the village, smouldering and in ruins, past the dead body of Haming's father. They rounded a corner and ran down an alley comprising of a stone wall and a collapsing building, when suddenly Hadvar threw a hand out to stop her, staring at the sky.
'Stay close to the wall,' he shouted.
So she crouched as he did, and huddled to the hot stone. A second later there was a mighty crunch as the dragon landed on the top of the very wall at their backs, digging its cruel talons into the stone. It surveyed the scene in front of it, but failed to notice them. Maw opening, it released a gout of hair-raising flame that scattered the people who'd been fighting in front of them, and then it flew off with a whistling hiss.
They took off at a run again, weaving through the remains of a house so destroyed it wasn't much more than a frame. They passed a wounded man sitting down in the street, calling out for the soldiers beside him to tell his family that he'd fought the dragon bravely.
From the looks of him, Hadvar was realizing quickly that there was no organized defense to join. General Tullius was nowhere in sight, and his soldiers were scattered, fighting and fleeing in equal numbers.
He came to a halt and looked back at her, teeth gritted.
'What do we do now?' she asked. Panic was tightening her chest, her head was throbbing with pain, and the smell of the charred dead was nearly making her sick.
'It looks like it's just you and me. Come on!'
They hurtled around yet another corner, both gasping for air through the fiery fumes, and passed through a stone archway in the wall.
The dragon was nearby to their left, great wings beating as it hovered in place and surveyed the wreckage; suddenly it opened its mouth, and a terrible language she'd never heard rumbled from the depths of its chest. The monster was talking.
'Zu'u nis dir, pahlok joor!'
The words struck a chord somewhere deep inside of her, but she couldn't say why. They were meaningless, and yet...
Suddenly a figure emerged from some rubble farther up the road, and as they approached, she saw that it was Ralof. In another moment, the three of them were face to face.
'Ralof, you damned traitor!' Hadvar snarled. 'Out of my way!'
Ralof was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, and his expression was defiant as he looked at the other man. 'We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time!'
So they knew each other already?
Ralof turned to her. 'Come on, Merrin, we're leaving! You can come with us!'
'Oh no,' Hadvar cut in. 'You can't trust this backstabber. Come with me, and we'll make it out together.'
The men glared at each other, and for a moment Merrin was torn.
Hadvar was an Imperial soldier who had just participated, however indirectly, in her near execution. But Ralof had directed her to jump out of a burning building without so much as freeing her hands, and had called it 'safety'. Ralof had stood and ignored a dying comrade while he listened to Ulfric conjecture...Hadvar had endeavoured to save a child. In the end, she turned to him.
'I'm going to stay with Hadvar,' she announced.
Ralof cursed. 'Fine then, good luck to you.' He met Hadvar's eyes, and there was true dislike burning there. 'I hope that dragon takes all you Imperial bastards to Sovngarde!'
He took off at a run, two other Stormcloaks flanking him, and Hadvar turned to her.
'C'mon,' he shouted. 'Into the Keep! We've got no time to lose!'
The room they ran into was empty save for them, and Hadvar let out a ragged sigh. 'Looks like we're the only ones who've made it inside.'
He turned to look at her then, and they gave each other a serious once-over. Merrin knew she must've looked like something out of a nightmare. Then he looked at her arms drawn behind her back, and started guiltily.
'Oh, by the Eight. You poor woman. Let me see if I can cut you loose.'
Finally! Her feelings toward the Imperial soldier warmed considerably as he drew a dagger from his belt and freed her hands from their dingy ropes. Immediately, she started rubbing the feeling back into her tingling wrists.
'It's a wonder you made it this far with your hands tied like that. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner.' He sounded genuinely apologetic, and she gave him a small smile.
'It's good enough that I'm finally untied.'
He straightened up and squared his shoulders. 'We'd better keep moving.'
'What do you suggest?'
He gestured to the room around them. 'Let's take a look around this room. I've been to Helgen Keep many times before. If we're going to find you some gear to wear, it'll most likely be from here. See what you can find, quickly.' Suddenly, he winced. 'In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns.'
It was then that she noticed for the first time that his left hand and forearm were badly burned, skin broken and glistening. She shook her head at him.
'You don't need to find anything. I can heal us both.'
With her hands free, she made short work of his injuries, moving her glowing palms over his grisly burns until the skin was pink and healed over. While he stammered his thanks, she pressed a palm to the side of her head where the rock had connected, and the wonderful warmth of the restorative magic battled her vicious headache until it was gone. Blinking, she let her hand drop, and then she looked up at him.
'I couldn't have gone much further without healing, anyway. Now we can look for some gear.'
With the two of them looking, it wasn't long before they had some luck; this room was clearly a barrack of some sort, with torches flickering in sconces on walls lined with used-looking beds, and chests at the feet that were full of armor and small weapons. On her third try, Merrin found some Imperial leather armor that had clearly belonged to another woman, and she pulled it on over her underclothes and buckled up the sides just as Hadvar discovered a sword she could use. It was far from a perfect fit, and impeded the range of her sword arm some. But it would definitely do. After sheathing the sword in a scabbard at her hip, they took off through the opposite door.
'Do you know the way?'
'I'm pretty sure I do. Follow me.' He shuddered. 'That thing is still out there somewhere.'
They ran down a long flagstone corridor, turning several corners, stopping once to pull the chain to lift a portcullis door that blocked their path.
Suddenly, they heard voices up ahead.
'We need to get moving, Petra,' a male voice shouted. 'That dragon is tearing up the entire Keep!'
'Just give me...a minute,' a woman answered, sounding winded. 'I'm out of breath.'
They pressed themselves against the stone wall, and Hadvar turned to meet her eyes.
'Stormcloaks,' he whispered. 'Come on. Maybe we can reason with them.'
It impressed her that he wasn't eager to spill enemy blood. But she said nothing, and only crept alongside him.
As it happened, the Stormcloaks were not willing to be reasoned with. Hadvar had entered the room with his weapon sheathed and his hands up and open, calling to them that they meant no harm. But Ulfric's soldiers had attacked anyway.
Merrin's stomach had churned as she'd finally brought her sword down into the male soldier's neck; they'd been prisoners together, and she had no desire to fight them.
After both Stormcloaks had fallen, Hadvar turned to her with a similar look of regret twisting his features.
'I wish they'd have listened.'
'Me too.'
They passed through a heavy wooden door on the other end of the room and continued on their way.
They were running down an identical stone corridor (how on earth was he keeping them straight?) when they heard the dragon shriek outside, and a section of the ceiling came crashing down in front of them in a deafening cascade.
'Damn!' Hadvar coughed on the clouds of billowing rock dust. 'That dragon doesn't give up easy. Come on!'
They were forced to detour through one of the side rooms, and found more hostile Stormcloaks inside that they had to fight their way through. From one of these fallen men, Merrin took a longbow and a quiver of iron arrows, and slung both onto her back.
There were health and stamina potions in the storeroom, and they threw them in a sack before they kept on going.
They were starting to head deeper down into the bowels of the Keep, and as they descended a long staircase, Hadvar spoke again.
'The torture rooms are dead ahead. Gods, I wish we didn't need these.'
'Then why participate at all?' she asked sourly.
'I don't. There's no honor in torturing your fellow man. We're coming down here for a reason. If there's a back entrance, the chamber overseer will know about it.'
But a moment later it was obvious to them that the overseer had problems of his own.
They were met with the sounds of battle on the stairs, and upon bursting through the door they saw two men in Imperial armor fighting a group of several Stormcloaks. One was built like an ox and wielding a hammer, and the other, a wizened old man in a deep black cowl, had electricity flying from his fingertips.
Without hesitation, they flew into the fray.
When the last Stormcloak fell dead to the floor, the overseer rounded on the two of them.
'What in Oblivion is going on up there?' he snapped. 'Where did these rebels come from? How did they get all the way down here without being apprehended? Is nobody doing their job in this blasted Keep?'
He stopped then to actually look at them, and took in the gory state of Merrin's face, the blood splattered on her armor. 'And what in the name of the Eight Divines happened to you?'
'Do you even know what's happening up there?' Hadvar shouted. 'A dragon is attacking Helgen!'
The overseer scoffed. 'A dragon. Don't waste my time with nonsense, boy.'
Hadvar clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened, and when he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. 'It's not nonsense. If we don't get out of here, the Keep will come down on all of our heads!'
But the older man only sneered. 'There hasn't been a dragon in Skyrim for a thousand years. I should report you for wasting my time.'
'Fine, then.' Merrin turned quickly to look at Hadvar. 'If he doesn't want to listen, we'll leave him behind. We can find the way out ourselves.'
Hadvar blew out a gust of air, nodded his agreement, and the two of them turned to go.
'Wait!'
It was the younger, more muscular torturer. He was clearly more willing to listen than his supervisor, and his eyes were round as saucers as he ran up to them.
'Forget the old man. I'm coming with you!'
They scoured the room quickly for supplies. When Merrin grabbed a knapsack sitting on a stool, the overseer called out to her, voice dripping with bitter disdain.
'Sure, sure. Take all of my things, please!'
They slid their potions into the knapsack and were about to go, when they noticed a dead mage laying on the floor of a locked metal cage.
'Don't bother,' the overseer drawled, a smugness in his voice that made Merrin shudder. 'Lost the key to that cage ages ago. Poor fellow screamed for weeks.'
'Don't listen to him,' Hadvar growled, shoving some lock picks into her hand. 'See if you can get the door open, and grab as much as you can. We'll need it.'
A minute later she was sliding a potion of magicka and a spellbook into the rucksack as well, and then she handed it back to him.
'Let's go.'
The three of them ran past the detestable old man, and as they did he called out to them in a jeering voice.
'You won't find a way out, heading that way!'
They ignored him, and ran ahead.
It hadn't been long before things got worse. A jagged hole in the wall likely caused by the dragon had led them into a vast room in the lowest level of the Keep. It had been crawling with Stormcloaks that attacked them on sight, and the younger Torturer ended up falling in the battle. Merrin had only just dispatched one attacker when she saw Hadvar getting snuck up on by another with a bow. He was preoccupied with a man bellowing and swinging a greatsword, and if she hadn't managed to nock an arrow and loose it into the rebel's back before the Stormcloak had lined up her shot, Hadvar would likely have died. The woman's strangled scream of surprise alerted Hadvar to her presence, and from there he quickly finished her off. She loosed another arrow that found his original opponent's eye, and the fight was decidedly over.
'You saved my life.' He sounded astonished.
'Yeah,' she sighed. 'Let's hope I don't have to save it again.'
The two of them had only lingered long enough for Merrin to grab arrows from the quivers of corpses, and then they'd plunged ahead.
They'd wandered through a system of earthen tunnels, hitting a number of dead ends that made her gnash her teeth in frustration as icy water soaked her too-large boots and numbed her aching feet.
And then a second cave-in had very nearly claimed her life. If Hadvar hadn't seen the ceiling going behind them and grabbed her arm to yank her forward, she would've been crushed for sure. They'd stumbled forward and hit the dirt, hands coming up to protect their heads as jagged chunks of rock piled up just behind them, and both sustained fresh scrapes to their faces when they met the rocky ground.
After the collapse had stilled, they just laid there for a moment, breathing hard, bleeding afresh. Merrin was the one to break the silence.
'I guess that makes us even, now.'
He gave a hooting laugh that surprised her. 'If things continue like this, we won't be able to keep score.'
Then he reached over and clapped her on the back, before he rolled stiffly to his feet and helped her to hers. 'Come on. I can't wait to get out of this gods forsaken cave.'
She agreed wholeheartedly, and they trekked on, doubly cautious.
Their caution was warranted; after a couple more useless dead ends, they stumbled into a den of Frostbite spiders that were none too pleased to see them there. Ensuring that you didn't take poison directly to the face was hard, when every muscle in your body was tight and aching.
'What next?' he grumbled as he wiped his blade clean on some ferns. 'Giant snakes?'
'Don't even say those two words together,' she groaned. She'd always hated snakes.
'Sorry, sorry.'
They followed the trail of a coursing underground river, the logic being that it had to let out somewhere, and shared a stamina potion while they walked. Merrin sighed gratefully as some of the tension eased from her muscles, and her tired body received a stirring of energy.
'Better?' he asked.
'Better.'
He nodded, stretching his neck to one side until it cracked before shaking his shoulders loose. 'We'd better conserve them, though. When we get out of here, we can—'
'Shh!'
Merrin had stopped dead in her tracks. She grabbed him by the arm and held a finger to her lips, her eyes speaking to his urgently.
'Bear,' she mouthed, and he grimaced.
She turned him around, and pointed. 'See her?' she breathed. 'Up there.'
There was indeed a bear; shaggy, black and huge, it lay fifty paces ahead of them, curled up among some ferns in an alcove of the rocky wall. As far as either could tell, it was sleeping.
'What do you want to do?' he whispered back.
She thought for a moment. She could try to take a shot with her bow, but she was far from feeling lucky and if it wasn't a kill shot, they were in for a messy fight. They were both tired, and an enraged bear was not something she wanted to tangle with just then...
'Let's try to sneak around.'
He nodded, and let her take the lead.
She'd done her fair share of sneaking around in her work, and she was comfortably light on her feet. This was clearly the bear's den, and she was careful to give it a wide berth, pulling off her ill-fitting boots so that she could trust her tread. As she crept along, she pointed out every rock that might clatter or small bone that could snap underfoot, so he could carefully avoid them.
They were close to soundless, and the bear never stirred.
When she was sure that they were far enough away, she straightened up, and Hadvar followed suit.
After rounding another corner, they saw daylight streaming through an opening in the wall, and Merrin's heart jumped into her throat.
'This looks like the way out.' Hadvar's voice cracked with relief. 'I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it.'
'It feels like we've been in here for ages,' she groaned.
'Well, no more.' They'd reached the hole. It was several feet up and only a few feet wide—probably not the bear's main entrance. But at this point, she'd have tried to shove herself through a pinhole.
Hadvar threw their rucksack out ahead of him, and hoisted himself up and out of the cave. Then a moment later he reached a hand down for her.
She grabbed that hand, and let it pull her into the sun.
Despite it being well into the afternoon, the sun dazzled her eyes after so long in the cave. She went to take her first step, but before she could, he'd thrown his arm in front of her chest.
'Wait!'
She saw the shadow, and heard the flapping of wings. The dragon crested over their heads, and her heart stopped dead in her chest. Had it seen them? It either hadn't noticed them or didn't care enough to kill them, because it let out one last shrieking roar and then took off, soaring high into the sky until it disappeared from view.
He relaxed his arm, and looked over at her. 'Looks like he's gone for good this time.'
She nodded. And then the relief proved too much on top of everything else, and she leaned quickly away from him to be badly sick.
He held onto one of her arms until the wracking heaves settled, and smiled sympathetically when she looked around at him, her gaze both wretched and guarded.
'Hey, I'm not judging.' He held up his other hand. 'I've been there before.'
'I need...come on.'
Without looking back to make sure he was following, she staggered on legs made of jelly to where she could hear a nearby stream. She fell to her knees in front of the water, and made a cup with her hands to bring some to her mouth, swishing away the vile taste before it could make her sick again.
Then she leaned forward and dunked her entire face in the icy water, using her hands to scrub away the layers of blood, soot and grime. When her face felt clean, she moved on to her arms, scrubbing them with cold water until her real skin emerged.
Her hair was loose around her and a sopping mess from the stream. She wrung it out as best she could before she gathered it behind her and brought her face back to the water, drinking deeply until she was satisfied.
Hadvar had followed her, and waited patiently; when she turned around, he nodded understanding, and then knelt to take a drink himself.
It was as he was pulling himself to his feet beside her that she suddenly realized her bladder was bursting.
'If I don't find a tree, I'm going to have an accident.'
'Aye. I second you on that, too.'
They walked separately into the woods, and as soon as she was free from her armor, she relieved herself. Hadvar was already finished and waiting for her when she made her way back to the stream.
'So.' He looked her up and down, and although he looked haggard and tired, there was warmth in his gaze. 'If I recall rightly, your name is Merrin.'
She nodded, and he held out a hand to shake. 'I think it's time that we make a proper acquaintance—having saved each other's lives, and all. I'm Hadvar.'
It all seemed surreal, and she nearly laughed as she took his hand and shook it. 'Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hadvar.' Then she grew sheepish, remembering how they'd actually met. 'I'm sorry I spit on you.'
A tired grin broke over his face, and he shook his head at her. 'Don't worry about it. I'd have spit on me too, if I were you.' Something about the smile made her stomach jump, and she turned away from him, feeling flustered.
He picked up the rucksack with their things inside, and slid it firmly onto his back. When he looked at her again, his gaze was serious.
'The dragon may be gone, but we shouldn't stick around and wait for him to come back.'
'So, you mean for us to travel together?' More stomach jumping. 'Where do you suggest we go?'
'I wouldn't leave you out here alone in the woods, after something like what just happened.' The mere thought seemed to offend him, and he shook his head before he continued.
'The closest town from here is Riverwood, and my uncle's the blacksmith there. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help us, and the journey isn't far.'
They set off walking through the woods. Merrin had been to Riverwood more than once in her youth, and it relieved her to be going somewhere she was already somewhat familiar with.
But it wasn't long before the adrenaline started to really fade from their systems, and the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.
'A dragon,' Hadvar said weakly, seeming dazed. 'By the gods. The first in a thousand years...'
'I know how you feel,' she replied honestly. 'I saw it with my own eyes, and still hardly believe it.'
'And all those people,' he lamented darkly. 'We weren't prepared for anything like this. We don't even know if anyone else escaped Helgen alive. For all we know, we could be the only ones.'
She shook her head fiercely. 'You can't think that way. We made it out—I'm sure lots of others did, too.'
'I should've done more to help people escape. I shouldn't have run. I should've—'
'Hey.' She stopped in her tracks, and pulled on his arm to stop him, too. She looked him directly in the eye, and saw raw sorrow there.
'You did the best that you could. That's all anyone can hope for. And you did plenty to help people escape.' She squeezed his arm in a comforting gesture. 'I saw the way you saved that boy. He wouldn't have stood a chance if you hadn't intervened. And you saved me, too. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead under a pile of rubble right now. Might not have even made it to the rubble.'
He was silent for several moments at her words, and his dark eyes were brooding as he looked at her. He thanked her, seemingly deep in thought, and then suggested that they continue on.
The silence stretched, and as they walked it became less heavy, and more companionable. They met no one and nothing on their forested path, and if she could've ignored what they'd just been through, she would've found peace and beauty in their surroundings. Their path intercepted one of the Emperor's roads, and they trekked over the cobbles without remark.
They'd been walking for a good stretch when he stopped her, and pointed to something in the distance for her to see.
'You see that ruin up there? Bleakfalls Barrow.'
She stared at where he pointed, and saw the ruins nestled amongst the trees, high on the side of a mountain. Stormy grey and crumbling, they jutted high into the sky in magnificent arches, foreboding and forgotten. Merrin had seen her fair share of Barrows, and over the last four years, she'd entered what she considered more than her fair share on jobs. She was no stranger to what lurked within, and she repressed a shiver as her mind conjured pictures of glowing blue eyes.
As if reading her thoughts, Hadvar continued. 'When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night...that sort of thing.' He shuddered, and then laughed at himself as he looked down at her. 'I admit, I still don't like the look of it.'
'Any man who claims not to be bothered by the draugr is lying through his teeth.' They started walking again, and she tilted her head as she looked at him. 'You say you lived in Riverwood as a boy. Did your uncle raise you, then?'
He nodded. 'Yes. My ma and da died when I was ten, and I went to live with him and my aunt in the village after that. They're the ones who raised me.' When he spoke of his family, respect shone in his voice, and it tugged at her heartstrings a bit.
'And what of them, do they have any other children?'
He grinned. 'Oh, yes. Twelve years back, my aunt fell unexpectedly into the family way. It'd been just the three of us until then, and I'd already left home and joined the Legion. Now I have a little cousin running around. A girl named Dorthe.' He shook his head. 'She's too sassy for her own good, a proper little monster. You'll be meeting her soon enough, I'd wager.'
She was about to reply when he pointed ahead again, and when he spoke he sounded excited.
'Oh! This'll be an opportunity for you, I think. Look ahead, down the hill—have you ever been to the Guardian Stones?'
'I haven't.' And it was the truth; despite Skyrim being her home, she'd only ever seen a couple of the legendary Stones, and never the three in front of them now. Even though they were making their way towards cover, and despite all they'd been through, Merrin was sorely tempted to inspect them; she'd inherited a love of the mysterious sculptures from her father.
'Do you think we really have time for this?' she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
'I think we can risk it.'
When they stepped onto the raised platform surrounding the stones, she saw that each had a magnificent carving; a cloaked rogue with a dagger, a mage with billowing robes and staff, and a brawny warrior in a pointed helm.
'You know the legends surrounding the Stones,' Hadvar said. 'Each one imbues you with a blessing, and strengthens your skills in a particular area. Our ancestors have been converging at the stones for centuries. These are referred to as the Guardians, because they all aid your offensive skills.'
'Doesn't each Stone have a name?'
'Of course.' He pointed to the farthest stone, and then at the others as he spoke their names. 'That's the Warrior. In the middle is the Mage. This one here is the Thief.' He eyed her carefully as he stepped aside. 'All three have the potential to help you. Which is most useful to you?'
She didn't have to think about it. She stepped up to the Warrior Stone, and placed her hand on the carved orb in the centre. She'd received a Stone's blessing once before, but it still shocked her as she felt the undeniable surge of energy jolting through her body, warming her, lifting her spirits.
When she steadied herself, Hadvar was smiling at her.
'Warrior, eh? I knew you shouldn't have been on that cart the moment I laid eyes on you.'
Her stomach clutched, and she stared with wide eyes. 'You believe I'm innocent?' Her feelings towards him warmed even further when he nodded.
'I do. You were never supposed to be on that cart with those Stormcloaks. It was all a big mistake, as far as I'm concerned. Come on, we should go.' He beckoned with one hand, and turned to leave.
Wait, what?
'Hang on just a minute.' She started walking with him again, but some of her earlier anger was coming out of hibernation. 'If you acknowledge that I shouldn't have been taken into custody, then why was I nearly executed?'
'You shouldn't have been. It was sloppy on the Legion's part,' he replied apologetically. 'If I had to wager a guess, I'd say that it was because of who you were with when you got caught.'
She was trying not to fume. 'Explain.'
He sighed. 'We'd captured Ulfric Stormcloak, after years of him running circles around us. Since the start of the war he's slipped through our fingers, but after that ambush, we finally had him. It was an incredible victory for us, and Ulfric was meant to stand trial in Cyrodiil. But it sounded like some of our men were getting anxious along the way. They feared that Ulfric's rebels would know he'd been taken, and would set up a counter-ambush during the journey. We were still days from the capital, and I guess Tullius changed his mind—decided a hasty execution would be better in the end. And...you know the rest,' he finished meekly.
She was silent for several seconds, battling her anger.
'The burden of chaining a powerful man shouldn't result in the execution of innocents,' she said at last. 'There's no honor in that. And no justice.'
'I completely agree with you,' Hadvar lamented. 'I've followed under General Tullius for as long as he's been in Skyrim, and he's proven himself to be a fair man of character. His actions in Helgen were unworthy of him.'
He appeared to be entirely sincere, and after several more moments, she softened.
'Has Tullius been in the province long?'
He seemed to recognize the olive branch in her words, and looked at her gratefully before he answered.
'Only a few months. But he's turned things around for the Empire in this war. He has a brilliant mind for strategy—in fact, he was the one behind us finally capturing Ulfric. He's brought an outsider's perspective to the war table, and as a leader he's solid and fair. A great many soldiers are devoted to him.'
'And what about you? Are you devoted to Tullius?'
'I'm devoted to his cause,' he replied soberly. 'Most of all, I'm devoted to our land—to Skyrim. And a peaceful life for all of her inhabitants.'
She liked that answer, and walked in silence for several moments as she thought over all that he'd said.
'If he's as brilliant as you say he is, then he'll be busy in the days to come.'
'That's true. Especially if that dragon is under Stormcloak control.'
'What?' That thought startled her, and made her uneasy. 'You really think that's a possibility?'
He shook his head. 'We'd be foolish to discount it. If Stormcloaks discovered a sleeping dragon, and found some way to wake it up and control it...don't you think it a bit too unlikely to be a coincidence? The first dragon in a thousand years burns down the small village holding the leader of the rebellion, just as he's about to be executed?'
'I...I don't know.' She had to admit, the timing had been integral, for her especially. If it hadn't been for that dragon, she'd be dead.
'It's a mystery, to be certain,' he continued. 'But one thing, I know for sure. If the rebels have got themselves a dragon, Tullius is the only one who can stop them.'
After another second he looked back to the road ahead.
'Ah, we're almost to Riverwood now.'
She looked ahead and saw for herself that he was right. Beyond a stone and wooden archway lay the first houses of a quaint and sleepy village. She could see a few people wandering down the main road, and smoke rising from several chimneys. As she continued toward them, Hadvar spoke up again, sounding cautious.
'Listen...as far as I'm concerned, you've already earned your pardon. But until we get that confirmed for you, it's best if you avoid other Imperial soldiers. Things look quiet enough for now, though. You should be safe.'
He looked genuinely concerned for her well-being, and it warmed her.
'Thank you for believing that I'm innocent. It means a lot to me.'
He looked guilty then, and they both knew why; if the dragon hadn't attacked Helgen, Hadvar's beliefs wouldn't have changed a thing. 'Of course. Now, come on. Let's get to my uncle's.'
They passed through the gateway as the sun was starting to set. Cobblestone houses with thatched roofs and rough-hewn log cabins lined the street, and wildflowers spilled from tiny gardens by their doors. The river burbled and flowed nearby to their right, and amongst the lowing of cattle, birds were starting their evening call.
Riverwood was an ideallyic place.
The first person they heard, though, didn't sound happy at all.
'Sven,' an old lady screeched from the shade of her porch. 'Sven! Confound it, you dung-heap, quit ignorin' me and get over here, now!'
'What is it now, mother?' Her screams were directed at a blond man in a bright yellow tunic with sky blue trim, walking slowly down the road, and his tone indicated long suffering and short patience.
'A dragon! I saw a dragon!' The old woman howled, and both Hadvar and Merrin jolted at hearing her words. They looked at one another, and quickened their pace.
'A dragon? Mother, please.' Her son scoffed. 'Don't be ridiculous.'
'I'm not being ridiculous! What's ridiculous is how long it took you to get back from Whiterun! I've been waiting to tell you since it happened!'
'Mother...'
'It was big as a house, and black as night!—' The man had reached the porch and was hurrying his mother inside, closing the door behind them, and the two of them sighed with relief, heads bowed low.
'There's my uncle. Follow me.'
When Hadvar's uncle took in their appearance, all of the color drained from his ruddy face. Apparently the river water hadn't helped as much as she'd thought.
'Shor's bones, boy,' he gasped. 'What happened to you? Are you in some kind of trouble?'
Hadvar lifted his hands up, trying to calm him. 'Shh—Uncle Alvor, please, keep your voice down. I'm fine, but we should go inside to talk.'
'What's going on?' His wide eyes travelled over to her again, and settled this time. 'And who is this?'
'She's a friend,' Hadvar sighed. 'Saved my life, as a matter of fact. But we really should get inside the house. I'll tell you everything there.'
'Fine, fine,' Alvor said, looking worried. He wiped his sooty hands off on a ragged apron around his waist and then walked to the front door, grabbing the handle. 'Come on in, both of you. Sigrid can get you something to drink.'
Hadvar's family turned out to be very kind and welcoming people. Alvor had called out to his wife when they'd entered, and as soon as the red-haired woman had laid eyes on Hadvar, she'd rushed into his arms.
They were ushered to the kitchen table, and seated closest to the fire. Sigrid rushed to fill two large tankards with mead, and handed one to each of them; Merrin sipped politely at hers, her nerves too frazzled for anything else, but Hadvar ended up draining his between the telling of the tale.
At, first, when Hadvar brought up the dragon, Alvor hadn't believed him.
'A dragon...bah! You aren't drunk, are you boy?'
But Sigrid would have none of it. 'Husband,' she'd admonished. 'Mind your mead and let the poor boy tell his story. You asked to hear it, remember?'
He hadn't gotten very far in the telling when a little brown-haired girl with gangly limbs came suddenly rushing up the stairs. 'Hadvar, Hadvar, is it true? Did you really see a dragon?' she asked, talking so fast she was barely understandable. Her eyes glittered with excitement as she threw her arms around his neck. 'Was it huge? Did it breathe fire? Oh, tell me, tell me!'
Hadvar chuckled weakly at her misplaced enthusiasm, and Sigrid cut in quickly before he could say anything. 'Hush now, child, don't pester your cousin. He's been through quite enough already. Why don't you go and play outside with Frodnar? And for pity's sake, don't mention any dragons!'
It took her a minute to convince the girl to go outside and play, but Merrin more than understood Sigrid's feelings. This was no story for a child to hear. When she was finally gone, Sigrid gave them an apologetic smile.
'That was Dorthe,' she said to Merrin. 'A real handful, our little girl.'
She'd already heard about Dorthe on the road, and smiled. 'No more a handful than I was for my poor da, I'm sure.'
Then they turned their attention back to Hadvar, and she let him take the lead, only speaking up when necessary.
When he'd finished the story, both Alvor and Sigrid were looking somber and fearful. Hadvar looked at them with eyes full of sorrow.
'I know times are hard and I hate to ask, but I was wondering if we could lay up here for a while and recover some before I have to head to Solitude and report back to General Tullius...' he shook his head. 'Gods, if he's even still alive, that is.'
Alvor hurriedly insisted that of course, they were staying with him, and at that point he turned to Merrin. She found a key to the house being pushed into her hand, and then he offered her some supplies. The offer touched her—times really were hard—but she accepted hardly anything the kindly smith tried to give her. She'd only escaped Helgen with a few things of value, and she knew very well that she was in dire straits. But she was too proud to really lean on his offer.
Sigrid left the table while Alvor talked to prepare a hot bath in their sitting tub down in the basement, and Hadvar insisted that she be the first to bathe. She stripped gratefully out of her dirty armor and sweaty underclothes and sank into hot, fragrant water that smelled of pine soap and juniper.
The water cleaned her skin while it soothed her battered muscles, and she was able to properly wash her hair, picking the last of the detritus out.
When she was nearly finished in the bath, Sigrid came down and handed her a plain blue dress; she tried to refuse the gesture as too kind, but the woman waved her off. When she emerged upstairs she was wearing the dress, her damp dark hair in a loose braid at her back.
While Hadvar went downstairs and took his bath, Sigrid served up hot bowls of venison stew, and lit candles for them to eat by in the house. Night was falling in earnest outside, and as they ate, Alvor questioned her some more. He wanted to know all sorts of things, including his daughter's earlier question ('How big was it, really?'), and Merrin did her best to answer them. When he'd run out of questions, he looked at her seriously.
'Like I said earlier, any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine, and you're welcome to stay as long as you like. But I need your help in return. We all do.' He looked worriedly at his wife. 'The Jarl needs to know that there's a dragon on the loose out there. Riverwood is defenseless...we don't even have a proper wall, and no guards are stationed in the village. Word needs to get to Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can spare, right away. If you would deliver that message, I'd be in your debt.' Sigrid nodded, and he squeezed her knee as they waited for Merrin's response.
At first, she hesitated; she'd never actually been to Whiterun, despite her mercenary work. And she didn't feel like venturing out on foot through country she'd never been through to deliver a message, so soon after nearly being killed...especially with next to no gear. But she didn't want to see the village harmed, and he was right—they were defenseless.
After only a moment, she told him she'd go, and ask Whiterun's Jarl for assistance. It was the right thing to do, and she was rewarded by their looks of relief.
Hadvar came upstairs a minute later, looking wholly made over in a clean linen tunic and breeches, and sat at the table with them to dig into his own bowl of stew. As he ate and the others lingered at the table, Alvor told her about the amenities in the village and where she would find them, mentioning the inn, the mill, and the general store. She'd been to Riverwood before, but it had been years ago, and she listened intently to his words.
Dorthe came banging through the door shortly after, trailing fireflies and making them all jump; Frodnar's family had kept her for dinner, and after that she and Frodnar had taken someone—something?—named Stump and played in the nearby woods. Sigrid looked more than alarmed at that part, but she must've been trying hard to maintain a sense of normalcy for her daughter, because she smoothed her expression over before she took Dorthe by the hand and told her it was time to get ready for bed.
The little girl whined and complained, but Merrin was on Sigrid's side; she'd just had one of the most grueling days of her life, and it was catching up with her. Combined with the hot food, warm bath, and tankard full of mead...to say she was tired would've been an understatement.
Sigrid must have seen that she was exhausted, because she announced firmly that it was time for their guest to rest.
'Thank you, Sigrid. You're too kind. Just hang on.' She reached a hand out towards Hadvar's face. 'I can heal those scrapes, if you want.'
Hadvar seemed surprised that she'd bother, but agreed, and she pulled from her reserves of magicka to make the cuts smattering his face disappear. His family didn't seem off put by magic, and for a house full of Nords, that was a pleasant surprise. As soon as she was done, she bid him goodnight, and turned back to Sigrid.
'Where should I sleep?'
The family elected to spend the night on spare bed rolls by the hearth, giving Dorthe's bed to Merrin for the night (Dorthe making a brave attempt at seeming not at all bothered by this development), and their own bed to Hadvar. While Alvor pulled bedrolls from a chest in the corner, Sigrid led Merrin downstairs to where Dorthe slept.
As soon as the other woman left, Merrin let her hair down and crawled between the woolen blankets. She really was exhausted, and could tell that she wasn't long for the waking world. Above her, Dorthe and Sigrid both climbed into their bedrolls, and soon fell quiet. But the men stayed sitting at the scarred wooden table, talking in low, sometimes urgent voices.
She could still hear them discussing the implications of Stormcloak-controlled dragons when she finally fell asleep.
Are you enjoying my story so far? I appreciate reviews, and critique is welcome! Do you have a Twitter account? Come to my account TheSamanthaborn and say hi!