Chapter Two: Through the Fire and Flame
Valur took a deep breath and exhaled, until his heartbeat steadied and the ringing of his ears ceased. But he didn't hear the name the prisoner in rags so proudly boasted, as Torolf's concerned tone overlapped it. "That's enough, Valur," he said, gripping the back of the boy's shirt and pulling him to his feet, "Get inside, child."
Valur wasn't sure exactly what came over him this time, but he swung an elbow at the man, causing Torolf to release his hold.
"I'm staying!" Valur insisted boldly. Torolf recaptured his arm immediately, his grip tight. However, as the two held eye contact in a brief stare down, Torolf suddenly released him.
He said not another word, going back to leaning on the rail, while Valur took another breath and sat back down to continue observing the scene. He could do this. The Gods have already destined him to watch people die, have they not? So what? He'd watch it. What ever was going to happen. Without another flinch. He didn't need anyone to take care of him.
"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman," the man holding the list said to the Nord prisoner before him, "…Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."
The Imperial woman spat and folded her arms.
"Forget the list," she said, "He goes to the block."
"By your orders, Captain," the man replied, looking back upon the Nord with a very subtle shake of his head, "I'm sorry…At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoner."
Valur watched as the prisoner joined the others, all looking unafraid, standing unburdened, despite their binds. One of the Imperial guards stepped forward. He had aged silver hair, short to his scalp, that contrasted with his swarthy skin. And even at Valur's distance, he could see that strong nose protruding from the man's profile, though he could say the same of that Ulfric's face. He believed this man was the one the other guards had called "General Tullius". General Tullius stood nearly strong nose to nose with Ulfric, his voice commanding and accusing.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," he said, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero…But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!"
An irritated, but muffled, response came from Ulfric's gag, but Tullius's words continued.
"You started this war," he accused, "Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"
Suddenly, everyone flinched.
Not at the General's words, but at a strange sound that rolled through the sky. Thunder? But not a storm cloud in sight.
The Imperial dressed Nord with the list was the one to speak up. "What was that…?"
General Tullius, however, only regarded Ulfric, shaking his head and disregarding the disturbance. "It's nothing," he said, waving a hand towards the Captain, "Carry on."
The Imperial woman nodded, stamping a foot and clasping a fist to her chest in acknowledgment. "Yes, General Tullius!"
She looked to the woman dressed in golden robes, motioning to the prisoners, "…Give them their last rites."
The woman in gold nodded and stepped forward, extending her arms high, to blanket her prayer over the condemned group before her.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius," she spoke, her voice compassionate, though there was a hint of something prideful beneath it, "blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved--"
One of the prisoner's scoffed, temper as fiery as his hair, and he proceeded forward, straight for the man donned in the black hood.
"For the love of Talos!" he barked at the prayer, halting only to stare her down, "Shut up, and let's get this over with."
Valur wasn't ignorant to the petulant stance the priestess quickly took to that remark, as he's stood that stance plenty himself. She folded her arms and bit back with a sarcastic tone. "As you wish…"
The prisoner walked boldly to the man in black, gesturing his bound hands towards the long axe in the man's hands. "C'mon," the prisoner goaded, a grin spreading across his lips, "I haven't got all morning."
Valur felt a small grin tug at the corners of his own mouth. This man seemed brave…like Hjemly…
Valur's grin dropped as soon as it had began, however, as the Captain pushed the prisoner towards that wooden block, knocking him onto his knees. Placing her foot onto his back, she bent him over the block, his head resting over the conclave divet in the wood. Valur straightened, his heart beginning to race again, though he consciously willed it to steady its pace.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials," the condemned man's smiled widened. He turned his bowed head to stare his fate in the eye, "Can you say the same?"
Valur's eyes widened as the axe reached its zenith, before plummeting downwards in a deadly arc. Every detail after etched itself into Valur's mind: the prisoner's defiant smile as he began to rise, as if silently saying he'd meet his doom head on, only to then have that head brutally severed… The sound of the blade biting into the earth and the sickening crunch of separation seemed to lag behind the sight of the head falling, crafting a morbid sense of delay, allowing Valur to absorb every gruesome detail. It was as if, too, his very eyes moved merely a foot away. Seeing the blood gush, spray forth, from the man's neck, even his last defiant shout of air blow forth with it, with a final twitch of his exposed trachea. Valur could almost hear it, if not for his own heartbeat thumping within his ears.
The Imperial woman nudged the man's body aside with her leg, and the sound of his slunk seemed to snap Valur back to his place on the porch. The sights and sounds resuming their normal pace.
"You Imperial bastards!" one of the female prisoners chided.
"Justice!" Valur heard Vilod shout back from his own porch.
"Death to the Stormcloaks!" his wife cheered.
Valur heard Torolf shift behind him, but he didn't look. Valur assumed if he looked, the man would yet again try to usher him inside. Instead, Valur found himself staring at the golden blond prisoner, the one called Ralof, noticing that same defiant grin the dead man had wore.
"As fearless in death," Ralof remarked of the man, "as he was in life…"
The Imperial woman wasted no more time in moving this along. "Next," she pointed to the man he heard not the name of, "the Nord in rag--"
The sky groaned louder. Everyone turning their eyes upward.
"There it is again…," the Nord with the list remarked, "Did you hear that?"
But the Captain grew ever more impatient. "I said, next prisoner!"
The list man nodded, though his eyes still scanned the sky while he ushered the condemned towards his final bow.
"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy…"
The one in rags took his place upon his knees before the block, though he seemed hesitant to bow his head, his eyes locked upon the detached staring back at him. The Captain remedied that hesitance with her boot to his back, bending him over like the man before him. The axe swung up…
The groan in the sky erupted into a roar.
The sound enveloped the town as if it had become the very walls itself. Valur couldn't help the yelp that escaped him, though neither could anyone else.
"What in Oblivion is that?!" cried General Tullius.
"Sentries!" the Captain called, "What do you see!"
"It's in the clouds!"
A shadow cast over them all, and before Valur could even look up, the creature came down, landing on the tower behind the headsman. The stone cracking beneath its behemoth form.
"DRAGON!!" was the last thing Valur heard before the immense, powerful boom erupted from the great winged beast. It shook what felt like the very world itself and sent a shockwave that rippled out towards the boy in a blink…
Blackness. A dark void. Valur's senses were shrouded in impenetrable blackness. No notion of time's passage. Then, a spark of sensation – intense heat. Valur felt his arm move involuntarily, as if fanning at the wave of heat. Finally came the sounds.
The muffled cacophony of screams, shouts, and crashes gradually piercing the dark veil. Valur's eyes fluttered open, vision blurry, his hearing slowly clarifying. A shout cut cleaner through the muffled chaos.
"Hey! I think that one's alive!"
The voice grew louder, more insistent "You there!" – Ralof's voice.
"Get up, kid!"
A firm grip seized Valur's shoulder, yanking him up by his shirt. His gaze swiveled, blurry vision focusing on the worried face of the golden-haired Nord. "Hey, boy!" Ralof urged, shaking him. "Get up! The Gods won't grant us another chance! Let's move!"
Ralof yanked the boy to his feet and began to pull him along. "This way!" he said, "Into the tower!" Valur started to mindlessly follow, but suddenly remembered his pack in the inn. He was not going to leave it behind.
Valur resisted, Ralof insisted. "Boy, come on! Do you want to die?!"
Valur grasped Ralof's thumb that wrapped around his wrist, using all his might to bend it back. He planted a foot on the man's hip and kicked off, finally tumbling out of his grip. Valur scrambled up and away immediately. "Stop, child!" Ralof yelled, but Valur sprinted towards the nearby inn, its walls engulfed in flames. Despite the chaos and destruction, the thoughts of its disarray and surely the death inside, his focus remained fixed on retrieving his pack. Balls of fire rained down around him, the dragon's roars and its twisted tongue still sailing overhead, yet still Valur pressed on. He needed his pack.
Ralof closed in, nearly grabbing him again, but a blast of fire struck the ground between them, momentarily staggering the man and allowing Valur to reach the inn's door. It should just be…yes! His bag was just inside the door, where he left it, unharmed.
He snatched his pack just as Ralof snatched him. The porch awning groaning above them began to collapse, but Ralof reacted swiftly, leaping off the porch with Valur in hand. The awning missed them by mere inches. Ralof glanced back at it, chuckling, but then he propelled Valur forward, practically slinging him. "What are you, boy, doom driven? Get to the tower, now! Go!"
Ralof ushered him towards the stone tower next to the inn, its door wide open to the refugees. Valur saw another man's face peeking from the door way as they rushed in, and the name flashing his mind as to whom it belonged was correct.
"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof exclaimed, "What is that thing! Could the legends be true?"
Ulfric slammed shut the door, and Valur heard his deep voice unhindered by the gag now gone.
"Legends don't burn down villages…," he replied. He regarded Valur for a small moment, his expression unreadable, before his focus fell upon the two injured prisoners curled on the floor, a third desperately trying to tend to the comrade bleeding the most.
Ulfric and Ralof started to assist, until something-- a large piece of debris-- struck the tower directly, rocking its foundation and sending the door careening inside. It narrowly missed everyone except one of the fallen prisoners, unfortunately eliminating his ailments in one fell swoop. The large object that had struck was now wedged where the door had been. Knowing this tower would not hold shelter long, Ulfric commanded urgently. "We have to move, now!"
The prisoner tending the remaining injured sighed. "We'll have to carry this one on our backs!"
"We'll get them," Ulfric nodded, but he turned his gaze towards Valur and pointed to Ralof, "You two up the tower. Get up there, and then find us a way down."
"Yes, sir!" Ralof responded. Valur however, absorbing everything yet numb to it all in shock, stood still…until Ralof boxed him on the ear to get him moving. "Snap to, boy! We got to move!" he said, "Up through the tower, let's go!"
Valur found his legs moving alongside Ralof, up the stony spiral staircase. Two flights they ran. They could see upwards just ahead, another Stormcloak attempting to clear a debris of rocks that had crumbled from higher up the tower, blocking any further steps to take. The comrade heard them coming and began speaking, "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear--!!!!"
The wall erupted just beside him. A large section shattering open as the dragon itself burst his head in. Ralof and Valur had narrowly missed being crushed themselves, and Valur didn't hear himself, but he's certain he screamed. The dragon's head disappeared as quick as it had entered, but its twisted tongue could be heard--"Yol Toor Shul!"
Ralof quickly shoved Valur against the wall. "Get back!" he said, using himself as a shield for the boy as a stream of fire poured in, silencing the agony of the one not lucky enough to be missed by the crushing rumble. The searing heat thankfully dissipated as quickly as it came, and the dragon moved on to another target. Ralof carefully peeked out of the newly added window, ensuring the dragon was indeed concentrated on the Imperial archers elsewhere. Valur, his mind so rattled it could only seem to focus on the seemingly small things, -- and not the large dragon threatening their every moment-- slung his bag off his back to be sure the contents within were still intact. He felt himself being pulled along again…He was getting irritated with that…
Valur growled and swung his arm at Ralof, only to be ignored and ushered to look out the tower and below. Ralof pointed to the still burning structure just a small gap away, its thatched roof almost completely gone.
"See that?" he said, "That's the inn…The porch may have collapsed, but it seems the upper floor is still holding…for now." Ralof spun Valur to face him, giving him a very serious expression. "Jump through the roof." Valur's expression must have been quite taken back, perhaps confused, or a mix of the two.
"Jump to the other side, to the inn, through its roof," Ralof repeated and explained, "Better than breaking your legs with the straight shot down, I say. Go on, you can do it."
Valur stared at him for moment, before accessing this jump. …Not with his little legs…
Ralof seemed to realize, adjusting his plan accordingly. "Right…Okay…I got you."
Valur felt the man grab ahold of the back of his shirt and the waist of his pants, lifting him up and swinging him back as he prepared to…
"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Valur spat, the first words to come out of his mouth since coming to. It was unheeded.
"Tuck and roll, kid!" Ralof instructed. The next thing Valur knew, he was as airborne as the dragon…for a moment, at least. With a thud, he landed on his side inside the deteriorating inn. He hadn't had a clue what Ralof meant by "tuck and roll", but he had managed to tuck his bag safely against him. He was a little winded, but otherwise fine. Shakily, he stood, looking back up towards Ralof who motioned him on.
"Go!" Ralof shouted, "We'll follow when we can! I got to help our fallen man! Talos guide you, boy!"
Valur looked around, his grip on his bag tightening as he realized himself alone. He spun back towards the tower, intent on calling out to Ralof, but the man had already vanished. A sense of dread and panic began to wrap its fingers around Valur's vision, but the creaking of the inn's wooden beams and the smoke filling his lungs jolted him back into action. With a sense of survival, Valur slung his bag over his shoulder and sprinted towards the hatch leading down to the first floor. But instead of the expected doorway, he found a gaping hole, the floor crumbling beneath his feet. He spotted the bar counter below and grasped an exposed rafter, swinging himself down onto the countertop. As he landed, Valur's gaze darted around the hazardous room, his mind ringing with thoughts of the family that had lived here – Torolf, Matlara, Haming. A fleeting image of their lifeless bodies flashed before his eyes, but the sound of shouts from outside drove the thought away. Someone calling out Haming's name, beckoning him to move. The boy was alive. Valur made his way over the rumble nearby, his stomach sinking at the site of a bloody hand protruding out…Matlara…
He kept climbing regardless, and tumbled out of the gaping hole in the side of the inn. The home next door had already collapsed, but that's not what caught Valur's eye.
Instead, it was the dragon looming over, looking down at the crowd below. Among them, Valur saw Torolf dragging himself along the ground, Haming desperately trying to get his father to his feet. The Nord man in Imperial armor, the one who had held the list of prisoners, was sheltering beside the crumbled home, tending to the injured leg of one of the village's elderly men. The dragon suddenly landed upon the street with a thud, crushing a couple guards beneath it. The Imperial Nord sprang into action, rushing around the corner of the home.
"Haming!" he shouted, "Get over here!"
"But, Hadvar!" Haming cried. Valur suddenly realized that the Imperial dressed Nord was indeed Hadvar. He hadn't recognized him in the armor, but this man had visited the inn a few times over the past week. He had seemed close to the family, and had tried to engage Valur in playful conversation, but Valur had been too absorbed with his brooding to oblige him.
"Haming, now!" Hadvar ordered. Valur saw what he saw, the dragon rearing its head back to surely unleash that fiery breath. "Yol Toor--" Hadvar rushed and grabbed Haming himself, scrambling just as the spray of fire unleashed. Haming screamed. "Daddy!!" Hadvar barely got them beside the shelter in time, Torolf…left behind. Valur had quickly joined them, narrowly avoiding the blast himself. The dragon lifted off once again, reeking havoc on another section of the town.
"Gods," Hadvar breathed, "…Torolf…"
Valur had not a moment to process all this himself, before being ushered by Hadvar, with a sobbing Haming, towards the elderly man.
"Gunnar," Hadvar spoke quickly, "Take care of the boys. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."
Gunnar nodded, taking the distraught Haming into his arms. "Gods guide you, Hadvar," he said. He started to reach for Valur's arm, to pull him closer, but Valur quickly followed after Hadvar instead.
Valur had looked at Haming and…he couldn't stay here.
"Hey!" Gunnar called, "No, child! Get back here!" But the old man couldn't get up, not with his leg and burdened by Haming. Valur rushed around the crumbled home, pausing only to take in the sight of Torolf…his body burnt and lifeless. The stench of searing flesh hit the boy, reeling him back. His eyes grew teary, but his body took over. Survival. He had to keep moving. He caught up to Hadvar, who was about to maneuver through a narrow alley.
"Boy! Valur?" Hadvar noticed the tag along, "What are you doing? Get back to Gunnar!" Valur shook his head, and when Hadvar reached to grab him, Valur dodged around the man and ran down the alley himself. Hadvar gave chase, but his eyes darted upwards, seeing the shadow swooping down. "Get close to the wall!" he shouted. Valur nearly didn't heed him, until the dragon itself landed just overhead, its wings draped over the stony barrier. Valur fell to his knees, but quickly crawled against the wall, the dragon seeming not to have seen him, as the boy hid directly under its neck. "Yol Toor Shul!" its fiery stream shot forth again, Valur seeing it almost as if he spat it himself. It engulfed the guard before him, the man fruitlessly flailing in flames, until he fell dead.
The next thing Valur knew, he was whipping through another fallen home, evading the grasp of Hadvar close behind him. But when Valur finally emerged onto another street, he saw a bloodied Vilod, holding his guts, literally holding them, as Imperial guards stood and knelt beside him. General Tullius was among them. He had a kind hand upon the dying man's knee.
"Tell my family…," Vilod gasped, "I fought…bravely…"
Valur felt not Hadvar's grip around his arm, nor did he know how long he stood frozen, staring at the berry man who had plucked him from the woods. Sights and sounds slowed once more. The dragon's tongue rumbled slowly overhead, like thunder in the storm of Valur's mind.
"Pahlok...joorre! Hin…kah fen… kos bonaar."
To Valur, everything was delayed yet happening all at once. One moment the guards were there, the next they weren't. Vilod was looking to the sky one last time, then flat of his back, motionless. Balls of fire striking around, yet their sounds not reaching Valur's ears. Screams replaced them and explosions replaced the words falling from the General's mouth. Tullius's movements seemed jagged and doubled as he moved across Valur's line of sight, but finally…finally it all caught up at once.
"Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier!" Tullius commanded, moving ahead, " We're leaving!"
Valur looked up at the man gripping his arm. Hadvar nodded to the order. but he looked back at the devastation from which they came. There was no way to get back to Gunnar and Haming, nor they reach them, if they even still lived…
Hadvar's gaze drifted down to Valur, his grip tightening. "It's you and me, boy. Stay close."
For the umpteenth time, Valur was pulled along with no choice, no time for thought. Their legs brought them towards a larger section of the keep, its base of operations. Chaos still ensued all around them. The dragon soaring overhead, its fire and its voice itself devastating the soldiers still vainly fighting against it.
As Hadvar and Valur drew closer to the refuge of the keep, a lone Stormcloak soldier wielding an axe suddenly emerged from the fray. He, too, destined for escape. However, upon spotting Hadvar and the boy, he halted in their path.
"Ralof!" Hadvar snapped, letting go of Valur to withdraw his sword, "You damned traitor! Out of my way!"
Ralof's eyes drifted to the boy, before firmly locking back onto Hadvar's. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time…old friend."
Valur silently watched the two men's momentary stand off, both tightening their grips on their respective weapons. In the distance, the dragon swooped down, snatching an unfortunate soldier from the wall and releasing him high in the air. Finally, Hadvar let out an aggravated sigh. "Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"
He quickly moved around Ralof, though in his frustrated haste, he forgot to take hold of Valur again, who was frozen in place, watching that unfortunate soldier descend from the sky.
Ralof called out to Valur, snapping the child's attention his way. He motioned him to follow to a different entrance than Hadvar. "Come on, boy, this way," he said, "Don't follow that Imperial scum. He'll sell you to the Thalmor! I've seen it myself!"
Hadvar noticed the boy's absence just as he reached his entrance. "Boy!...I mean, Valur! This way!"
But he noticed Valur's gaze turning back towards Ralof.
"No! Don't follow a traitor! This way, now!"
"This way, kid!" Ralof insisted, "I won't let these bastards take any more of our sons!"
"Valur!" Hadvar called again, "Now, boy! This way! I'll keep you safe!"
It seemed Valur had a decision to make. He knew not either of these men, or truly their causes, but if he was to survive, it seemed he had to choose an escape through the keep.
Ralof had already gone out of his way to save Valur's life, but Hadvar, too, seemed someone just as willing. He'd been a kind man on those visits at the inn, even if Valur rebuffed him in his grief. He found his feet starting to move towards his way, until a large piece of rumble shattered upon the path, dropped like that soldier had been. Valur scurried for Ralof…The Stormcloak meeting him half way and leaning his own body over the boy as a shield against the fragments of stones still falling.
Into the keep they went…