Skyrim: A Tale of Two Dragons
Chapter 16: Separate Ways
Per his map, it would take roughly seven hours on foot to make it from Ivarstead to Windhelm. Likely double that time if the weather was foul or you stumbled across a group of bandits.
Pushing himself, Wulfric believed he could make it there in just four hours.
The large Nord hadn't broken or slowed his stride since he'd left Frande and Thomas, covering ground much faster than an average man. Beyond that, the Dovahkiin moved like a man possessed and had even taken to casually carrying his Orcish warhammer in a single hand as he walked.
He was fairly certain that he'd spotted a few bandits hiding amongst the trees as he walked, but they'd chosen leave him be. Apparently, a massive, angry Nord carrying a nearly thirty-pound warhammer as easily as if it were a dagger was enough to discourage such things.
Wulfric was making his way alongside a large winding river when he first began to notice odd things. He saw everything from large elk to the small quick foxes going directly against him. He glanced at the sky and saw multiple birds doing the same. Wulfric tried to look further upon the horizon but his vision was blocked by tall, snow-covered pine trees.
Sudden unease rolling in his gut, the Dovahkiin increased his pace from a long stride into a fast jog. He made it another quarter of a mile before the smell hit him. It was foreign to him but maddeningly familiar, like a food you tasted just once as a child, more a memory of something than anything of substance. Mixtures of burning wood, pipe tobacco and smoked meats all mingled together with an overwhelming acrid smell.
Pushing through it, Wulfric broke into a faster run now, pushing himself to make it clear of the tree line. Something was clearly wrong ahead. It was another few minutes before the trees began to thin and the massive plume of smoke began to emerge. Thick and black, the great cloud rose into the sky, slowly beginning to block out the sun itself.
And there, even against the clouds of smoke and ash, black as the night itself, was Alduin. The great dragon wasn't alone, Wulfric realized, as a much smaller dragon flew nearby him. Alduin seemed to pay it little mind, flapping his great wings as he soared further into the distance.
Finally, Wulfric broke free of the trees and saw the hellscape that Alduin had wrought.
It looked like it had been a small farming community or maybe a mining village, too small to even have a proper name. There were maybe a dozen small huts set up around a larger crop of land, each of them already collapsing in on themselves as the flames ate away at them. Dozens of bodies littered the field; men and women, child and livestock, all charred and smoking before him.
Wulfric saw several guardsmen with blue cuirasses running around, trying to find survivors and put out the fires. He also saw several more burnt bodies, these ones wearing charred armor, in the street.
Wulfric stood frozen, unsure on how to help and where to begin.
"They're coming back!" a female voice in the distance screamed, ripping him from his stupor. "Archers at the ready!"
Wulfric snapped his eyes to the sky and saw Alduin and the smaller dragon circling back to the ruin village. The closer they came, the more apparent the size difference between the two dragons. The second dragon was a vibrant emerald color with its scales less jagged and more streamlined. A large frill crested its head, replacing the horns that other dragons seemed to have. A matching frill was at the end of its thinner and more whip-like tail.
The large Nord's eyes narrowed at their approach.
The emerald dragon veered off from Alduin, blasting a stream of ice along the landscape as it soared. Guardsmen scrambled away from the icy steam while archers launched arrow after arrow into the sky.
Alduin drifted closer to the tree line Wulfric had emerged from, cold red eyes gazing down at the destruction below him. He didn't see Wulfric until it was too late.
"FUS RO DAH!"
The Nord blasted out his Unrelenting Shout with all his might. The unseen force slammed into Alduin's scaly underbelly as Wulfric gave a violent smile. That same blast of force would have sent multiple fully armored soldiers soaring ass over elbow.
Alduin tilted slightly in the air as the shout hit him, looking no worse for the wear. Wulfric felt his heart drop as crimson eyes spun around to lock onto him.
"Ah, fin mal joor wo dares mindol himself Dovah. Zu'u morah zu'u sensed hi."
The great dragon whirled throughout the air in a tight circle, before flaring his wings and landing directly in front of Wulfric.
Again, the Nord was forced to be in awe of the World Eater's size. The dragon towered over Wulfric like a mountain, his very size blocking out the sun above him. Cruel red eyes gazed at him as Alduin lowered his head nearer to the ground, giving Wulfric an excellent view of each of the dragon's sword-sized teeth.
"Hello again, little sparrow," Alduin growled at him, dropping the dragon speech. "Have you come to stop me?"
Wulfric stared at the dragon definitely, hands bone white as he clutched at his warhammer. Not even an hour ago, Wulfric's skill and might with that same weapon had left him confident to travel alone. Now it seemed like little more than a toy as Alduin stood before him.
Alduin inhaled deeply, twin trails of smoke flowing into his nostrils. He exhaled them in Wulfric's face and spoke. "Koraav hi lost been koraav dii tahrodiis Zeymah. I'm surprised Paarthurnax ni nu succumbed wah ok ahraan."
Wulfric's eyes went wide as he saw pair of soldiers charging at Alduin, just out the dragon's field of vision. They were young men, too young for war with tear-streaks running down their ash-caked faces, carrying only simple spears.
"Get away from here!" Wulfric bellowed at them. "Run!"
Wulfric's warning came too late as they both hurled the spears at Alduin. The great dragon didn't even flinch as the sharp sticks bounced off his obsidian scales like they were raindrops.
With a terrifying casualness, Alduin swung his thick, spiked tail at the pair. It plowed right through them with sickening cracks, smashing into a burning hut. The hut collapsed into itself with burst of ash and flame that washed over Wulfric.
Through all of it, Alduin never broke eye contact with Wulfric.
The Dragonborn snapped into a rage, charging at the great black dragon, warhammer already lifting to strike a blow.
Alduin was ready for him. "FUS RO DAH!"
The blow of force hit Wulfric like a slap from Akatosh himself, sending the large Nord hurtling backwards through the air. In the back of his mind, his heard father's voice was screaming at him before he slammed into a burning hut and everything went black.
Wulfric felt himself stumbling backwards before finally falling, the force of the blow too much to keep himself upright.
"Tuck your chin, boy! Protect your head!"
Wulfric forced his chin to his chest just as he slammed into frozen ground, the air rushing from his lungs with a pained wheeze.
He rolled from his back to his knees, coughing all the while. He heard the heavy bootsteps of his father as he approached, his shadow looming over him.
"Come on son, to your feet."
Wulfric felt a thick hand with a grip as strong as steel grab the back of his shirt and lift him clear off the ground. He glared up at his father but the effect was diminished as he began to cough again.
Vulwuff let out a light laugh and set his son back on his feet. "Focus on your breathing, Wulfric. Get your air back to we can continue training. Now go get your sword and try to hold on to it this time."
"Why do I even have to learn this stuff anyway? I don't want to be a Companion like you were." Wulfric grumbled back as he stomped over to pick up the weapon from where his father had disarmed him.
Vulwuff sighed as he stared down at his eight-year-old son. The boy was already large for his age and plenty rowdy, often running around with the Orc children from the nearby Stronghold. The boy was nearly a spitting image of himself, but with his mother's intellect and patience. A perfect blend of the two of them as Sonir often said.
"We've been over this before, Wulfric," Vulwuff said evenly. "Every man should know how to fight, especially the son of a Companion. No one is saying that you have to be a mercenary or soldier in the Imperial army, but you have to know how to defend yourself and those you care about."
"Yeah, I guess," Wulfric answered, clearly unhappy with the answers but unable to do much about it.
Vulwuff sighed again and sheathed his greatsword. "Let's take a breather for a few minutes."
Wulfric's face split into a smile, revealing a gap where a tooth had recently fallen out. Vulwuff smiled back and plopped down on a nearby downed pine tree. He gestured for Wulfric to come join him.
"I know I've told you all kinds of stories about the Companions," Vulwuff began as Wulfric sat down. "But have I ever told you about why I left?"
Wulfric looked at him with a frown. Despite his father regaling him with stories about his time in the Companions for years, this idea had never occurred to him. "Why did you leave, Dad?"
"It wasn't an easy choice," Vulwuff admitted, sheepishly scratching at his beard. "Your mother had to be very…insistent with me, to say the least. She really had to talk some sense into me, but eventually I realized that she was right.
"You see, Wulfric, it's very important for a person to know how to defend themselves and the things that matter to them. There are always going to be people in the world that want to take the things you have – your home, your goods, your spouse – and you have to be ready to fight for those things."
"Why can't they just get their own stuff?"
Vulwuff smiled down at his son's innocence. It likely wouldn't last for much longer. "There are people who think it's easier to take what someone else has than to do the work to earn it themselves. You've seen the weapons that Chief Bashon makes?"
Wulfric immediately lit up at the mention of two of his favorite things: forging and the Orc chieftain of the nearby Stronghold, Bashon gro-Urgash. Vulwuff suppressed the urge to sigh. He secretly worried that his son favored the old Orc chief more than his own father.
"You've seen how hard Bashon works to make those weapons. There are people who would find it easier to just take those weapons than do any of that work themselves."
"But that's not fair to the Chief!"
"Exactly," Vulwuff agreed. "And that's why the Chief and the rest of the stronghold work so hard to keep it safe inside. It's why I never let your mother go down the mountain to bigger cities without me there."
"Because you'll protect her, right?" Wulfric smiled widely as his father nodded. "Good. I don't want anyone stealing Mom."
"Me either," Vulwuff said with a chuckle as he pushed himself up from the downed pine. "Now let's get back to it so you can keep her safe in the future."
Wulfric shot up, filled with more excitement at why he needed to train. As he stepped into the stance his father had shown him earlier, a thought crossed his mind that caused him to lower the sword back down.
"Hey Dad, what about those old people you saved last week?"
Vulwuff frowned for a moment before the memory came back to him. He'd been escorting his family down the mountain to visit Cloud Spring for some basic essentials when he'd seen a small band of bandits attacking an elderly couple. Instructing his family to hide in the woods, Vulwuff had confronted the bandits and killed them before helping escort the old couple down the mountain.
Vulwuff sighed, careful with how early he wished to burden his son with worldly problems. "Not every person has the skills needed to protect their families, Wulfric. That's why I'm teaching you them now. The gods have blessed me with incredible physical skills and the intelligence to use them. To me, it's only right that I use those gifts to help those that are in trouble."
"So, we should protect people who can't protect themselves?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that, as you'll learn as you get older, but for the most part, yes."
Wulfric smiled as he lifted the sword back into a ready position. "If I don't become a smith, then I guess I'll just protect those people instead."
Wulfric's eyes snapped open, wide with pain.
He tried to draw in a breath only to find himself pinned to the ground by a massive black claw. Alduin towered over him, neck craned down until it hovered about ten feet above his face. Wulfric thrashed wildly but his strength was useless against this monster, like a minnow caught in the mouth of a bear.
Alduin gave him a wicked grin, teeth stained with old blood.
"Well, little sparrow, you have lost my interest." Alduin growled down at him. Wulfric nearly vomited as the dragon's hot breath rolled over him, stinking of rotting meat and blood. "I thought you might be something of interest to me but even I can be–"
The dragon stopped mid-sentence as his nostrils flared. The dragon's crimson eyes went wide in shock before narrowing into thin slits. Alduin lowered his face directly down to Wulfric's own and inhaled deeply.
"Nok," Alduin muttered. "Wah carry fin scent do tol wretch…NID!"
Not sparing Wulfric so much as another glance, Alduin launched himself into the sky with a deafening roar. The World Eater beat his wings harder than Wulfric had ever seen him and soared off.
The battered Nord forced himself to stand, his body giving great hacking coughs. Alduin had at least a cracked rib if the searing pain was anything to go by. He looked across the horizon and spotted Alduin, now little more than a distant speck, flying away at a great speed.
Wulfric continued to take deep, painful breaths as his coughing slowly began to wane. He suddenly became aware of a burning pain in his left cheek. He brought his hand to touch it and immediately jerked it away upon feeling the touch of raw bone, his hand coming away stained a bright red.
Gritting his teeth, the Nord pushed the flayed edges of the cut back together and forced a golden glow into his hands. The pain was terrible and he cursed through his gritted teeth as he forced the wound to heal closed.
After a full minute, he lowered his shaking hands from his face. The cut was closed but it would leave a terrible scar.
A thunderous roar snapped the Nord out of his stupor, eyes snapping to the horizon where Alduin had disappeared. Seeing no sign of the great black dragon, he quickly scanned the skies for the source of the roar.
About a mile away from where he stood was the emerald dragon that had been with Alduin. The dragon was roaring at a group of guardsmen, unleashing a wave of frost from its mouth. A few guardsmen held up shield to protect themselves, but the majority tried to run from the blast. Wulfric saw three of them caught up in the icy blast and drop lifelessly to the ground.
The remaining guards drew their bows as the dragon circled back to higher skies. Even from here, Wulfric could see that it was a losing battle for them.
Taking a few deep breaths, trying his best to ignore the pain in his side, Wulfric forced himself to compartmentalize the situation. He took all the pain that wracked his body and forced it to the back of his mind. He scanned the burning fields for any sign of his warhammer, finally spotting its long shaft sticking out of one of the burning huts.
Wulfric raced over to the hut as quickly as he could and yanked the shaft free. His heart immediately fell as it was only the shaft that came free, the weapon's head having been shattered off when Alduin attacked him.
Wulfric swore and tossed the useless remains away and looked around for anything useful to use. He spotted a dead guard a short distance away. She was face-down, massive claw marks having ripped clean through her back armor and into her spine. He saw a large bottle filled with red liquid strapped to her belt. Wulfric made his way towards her and removed the healing potion from her belt before pulling a steel great axe from her limp hands.
He muttered a quick thanks to her and downed the potion. Relief flood through him in seconds, not completely erasing the pain but making it far more manageable.
The Nord stared down at the large steel axe. He had never been the most proficient with axes. His father had been a swordsmen while the Orcs that he had trained with preferred to use hammers.
He glanced over to see that the battle had slowly moved closer to him, now only about a quarter of a mile away. The emerald dragon had just landed on the ground and slapped one of the few surviving guardsmen into a burning hut with its tail.
The great axe would just have to do.
Thomas trudged along the cobbled road, his staff doubling as a walking stick. Next to him, Frande rode atop an older horse with a small wagon hitched to its saddle. She bought the wagon and horse from a local farmer in Ivarstead, using them to carry what few belongings she'd managed to pull from the remains of her inn.
The pair walked at a slow but steady pace with a comfortable silence between them. Internally, Thomas was stewing a bit at essentially being given an escort mission instead of following Wulfric to Windhelm. It wasn't that he was against helping Frande, but going back to Whiterun wasn't exactly going to help him reach his own goals.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Frande asked, breaking the silence between them. "Wulfric, I mean? I understand that he's the Dragonborn but if he joins Ulfric, he's going to have the entire Imperial army out for his head."
Thomas thought about it for a moment before answering. "I've only known Wulfric for a short amount of time, but he has a good heart. He's not from Skyrim. He has no stake in this war, but he's still willing to throw himself into the middle of it because he sees bad things happening to innocent people. He barely knew me and was willing to risk his life for me after a day's journey."
Frande nodded at that. "I only met him twice and the conversations were never long ones. Yet he's willing to help me rebuild my life in a new city using favors he's earned. I don't know how to feel about any of this."
Thomas shrugged, eyes scanning the woods near the road. He thought he'd seen a bit of movement a second ago. He relaxed as an elk walked into view, a young fawn at its side. The elk eyed the pair warily before it leaned and began to graze on some of the longer ferns.
"That's just who he is," he told her. "I wouldn't think too heavily about it. The more time I spend with Wulfric, the more I realize that he's all over the place with his beliefs. He's a pure-blooded Nord, raised in the mountains of Wrothgar with Orcs everywhere, who apprenticed under a Dunmer blacksmith in Morrowind…who just also happens to be a mythical Dragonborn. There's no stereotype he could possibly fit into."
Frande stared over at Thomas. "How do you know all that after only a few weeks together?"
The scholar patted his backpack with a smile. "Scholar and historian. I've been traveling with him to document the feats and life of the first Dragonborn in ages in real-time. Only now I'm on my way to Whiterun and he's heading to join a rebellion in Windhelm."
"I'm sorry that he sent you with me."
Thomas waved her off. "It's hardly your fault. I just hope I'm not missing anything important."
Thomas heard a snapping sound from the woods. He glanced over to see that the elk had already begun sprinting away, its fawn right behind it. His eyes scanned the tree line and spotted a quick flash of metal reflecting the afternoon sunlight.
He spun towards Frande and slapped her horse on its hindquarters, causing it to break into a gallop. "We've got company! Get out of here now!"
Frande turned back towards Thomas. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine, just go!"
Without another word, Frande pushed the old horse into an outright run, the wagon bouncing behind it.
Thomas turned and faced the woods as a group of four bandits strode out into the open. It looked like a ragtag group with two Nords, an Imperial and an Orc. The Nords both carried axes, while the Imperial held a sword and battered shield and the Orc had a simple iron mace. They all wore studded armor but it looked to be in rough shape.
"Someone must be feeling pretty noble today," the Imperial sneered at him. "Sending the woman on along like that. It's not very often we get to see such easy pickings without any guardsmen around."
Thomas casually adjusted his staff so that the mouth of the dragon was pointing directly at the group. "Well, I'm not exactly the kind of guy to brag–!"
Thomas thrust his staff out, launching a firebolt from the staff. He didn't stay to watch the bandits scatter, turning and fleeing into the woods on the other side of the road.
Wulfric carefully made his way towards the dragon, ducking behind the few huts that still stood, mindful to not draw its attention before he was in range to do anything.
Every pained yell from one of the guards made him feel more and more like a bastard.
Finally, the dragon was within sprinting distance, still planted firmly on the ground. The guardsmen had been whittled down until there were only six left.
He watched until the beast's head was turned away and sprinted out into the open, great axe clenched tightly in his hand. With a single mighty swing, the large Nord cleaved down on the last few feet of the dragon's whip-like tail in a spray of blood.
The emerald dragon roared in pain, its head snapping around to find Wulfric's ready for it.
"Yol Toor Shul!"
A wave of fire rushed from Wulfric's mouth, slamming into the emerald dragon's face. The dragon howled in pain again, furiously pawing at its face to extinguish the flames. Wulfric didn't waste a second, hefting the great axe and charging at the nearest hind leg. He swung at the dragon's haunch with everything he had, punching directly through the green scales and burying one head of the axe all the way to the shaft.
The dragon staggered away from Wulfric, trying to slap at him with its severed tail. Wulfric dodged out of the way, only hit by its blood spatter, but it forced him to let go of the axe before he could pull it free. The dragon flapped its wings, trying to get itself airborne again.
"Now!"
Wulfric watched a volley of arrows rip into the dragon. Unlike Alduin, its scales weren't nearly thick enough to block every arrow, several of them digging into its thin wing membranes. The beast faltered for a moment, allowing Wulfric to act on a completely stupid idea.
The large Nord raced at the dragon as fast as he could and ran up the beast's leg, even using the buried axe as a step to get on the dragon's back. He pulled a small dagger from his belt as the dragon flapped its wings harder, gaining enough altitude to get it in the air again.
The beast was already a good thirty feet off the ground as Wulfric began to make his way towards its head, carefully gripping the taller ridge of scales in the middle of its back. He was nearly at the dragon's neck when it swiveled its head around, locking eyes with him again.
Wulfric tried to draw upon his Thu'um once again but just fell a hollowness within him. It clearly hadn't been long enough since his use of Fire Breath earlier.
He could only look hopelessly at the dragon as it narrowed its eyes at him. "Oh shit."
With a violent roar, the emerald dragon let loose with a stream of ice from its mouth, completely enveloping the Nord.
Frande struggled to contain her trembling as she huddled behind a large rock outcropping.
She ridden the old horse as hard as she could but the poor creature was just too old to hold up for long. Instead, she urged him for a solid few miles before pulling the horse and her wagon behind the large rocks for cover.
These were not the type of situations that she normally found herself in. While she was a Breton, Frande's family had been in Skyrim for generations, maintaining their inn and generally surviving as merchants at the foot of Skyrim's holiest temple.
Now, her inn had been burnt to the ground and she was fleeing for her life. Not exactly the turn of events she had expected when she started the day.
Frande felt her entire body clench as she heard a steady clip of footsteps on the cobbled road. Frande eyed the woods nearby, already planning to abandon the horse and her few remaining things. She valued her life far more than anything else in this world.
She let out a huge sigh of relief as Thomas walked into view.
The young man had clearly seen better days but hardly looked like he'd just taken on an entire bandit group by himself. She could see a few splotches of blood on his clothes and smears of an ashy-grey powder on his hands and face, but other than that he seemed well enough.
"Thomas?"
The scholar glanced over by the rock and spotted Frande waving at him. He raised an ashy eyebrow. "I thought you'd still be running to Whiterun?"
She explained the bit about the old horse, Thomas nodding in understanding as she spoke.
"Yeah, this old guy doesn't look like he's got much left in him anymore," he agreed, walking over to stroke the horse's mane. "Either way, I'm glad you're safe."
"What about you? Are you alright?"
"Eh, I'm well enough," Thomas said lightly. "My staff finally gave out on me so I had to ditch that, but I was able to pick them off running through the woods. Kind of tired now though."
Frande smiled at him. She'd seen enough travelers pass through her inn that she could see the exhaustion seeping into the man's bones. She admired his toughness and ability to push though it all.
"Why don't you ride up on the horse for a bit?" she offered. "I can walk aside you two easily enough. We can probably walk for a few more hours until it gets too dark to travel and make camp for the night."
Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing."
He hoisted himself up on to the horse with little effort and looked down at her.
"And don't think that I don't appreciate it," he said with a smile.
Wulfric could only grit his teeth as shards of ice and frost bit into him.
Every second felt like being trapped in the worst blizzard of his life, but he knew that he'd survive. The dragon's Frost Breath, for all it's power, lacked the raw, overwhelming cold of the highest peaks in Wrothgar.
So, as the ice barrage cut off, Wulfric locked his eyes back on the dragon and grinned wickedly with blood-stained teeth.
Clutching firmly onto the scales that crested the dragon's spine with one hand, Wulfric swung down the great axe with his other, cleaving into the delicate wing of the beast.
The dragon roared in pain as its wing gave out entirely.
The dragon struggled to right itself with its good wing, but Wulfric swung himself around and brought the great axe down on that one as well. He felt the steel cut cleanly through the scales and muscle, smashing right through the thin bones of the wing.
Both wings useless, the dragon began to drop like a rock.
Wulfric tossed the axe away and held onto the dragon's scales with both hands now, eyes locked on the fast-approaching ground. The dragon tried to snap at it him, but the bites were slow and disjointed from the pain and blood loss.
Seconds before the dragon smashed into the ground, Wulfric abandoned his grip on the beast's scales and sprinted to its tail end. He leapt clear of the dragon just as it hit the ground, throwing himself from the scaly beast and tumbling wildly across the burning field.
Wulfric felt his already frost-raw arms begin to bleed as stones and sticks ripped at his tender flesh, but he ignored the pain as he rolled to a stop, eyes focused on the emerald dragon.
The dragon lay dead, its body having smashed into a collection of rocks near the edge of the large field. Wulfric could see one of the stones had come to a jagged point and had impaled itself clean through the beast's underbelly before ripping through its back.
Blood was spraying everywhere, coating the surround area in a thick red blanket. The dragon's head lay lifelessly on the ground, jaws and eyes wide open in death.
Wulfric pushed himself to his feet and slowly made his way over to the beast. As he neared it, he began to hear a familiar voice whispering in the back of his mind. It spoke it words he couldn't understand, but he felt an overwhelming sense of emotions that were not his own: pride, rage, sadness and shame.
The large Nord felt his knees buckle as the emotions roared through him, his body feeling like it had been dunked into boiling water for just a second and a roar of wind deafened everything around him, before everything went silent.
Wulfric looked back at the dragon's body and wasn't surprised to see the scales and muscle had burned away, leaving only a broken skeleton. Like every other dragon he'd killed, he had absorbed the beast's very soul.
Wulfric stared at it for a moment before slumping back onto his rump. "I really hope this get to be easier."
"By the Gods, you're a Dragonborn!"
Wulfric looked over and saw the few surviving guardsmen, seven in all. One of them, a Nord woman with shoulder length dirty blonde hair was already approaching him with wide eyes.
"Yep," Wulfric agreed, too tired to make a big deal of it. "Wulfric White-Wind, Dragonborn, at your service."
The woman looked at his bloody arms and looked back at the rest of her group. "Does anyone have a healing potion left?"
Another guardsman ran forward, pulling a small red vial from his waist and handing it to her. She passed it right along to Wulfric.
"Drink this," she told him before spinning around to the group. "The rest of you fan out and search for survivors. Klimmek, you're the fastest of us all. Start making your way toward Windhelm and get more help here. I'm sure they've already seen the smoke and are gathering a force as we speak."
Wulfric watched the group split up slowly, most still staring at him. The woman gave a shrill whistle and the soldier snapped to attention, fanning out across the field while one soldier turned and began running towards Windhelm.
The woman turned back to Wulfric. "I'm Eisa, captain of the guardsmen in the area. Thank you for helping us to kill the dragon. We owe you our lives."
Wulfric downed the potion. He felt the pain in his arms lessen but not outright stop. He'd still need to heal them more later.
"You're welcome," he said as he swallowed the last of the potion. "Sorry I couldn't get here sooner."
Eisa looked out across the burning field, taking in the broken huts and burnt crops. She shook her head and turned back to Wulfric.
"You killed the dragon. That's all the matters now. If you hadn't, then all of this loss would be for nothing. Tell me, Wulfric, where is a Dragonborn headed?"
Wulfric pushed himself to his feet with a grimace. He watched Eisa's eyes widen again as he stood at his full height, towering over her by nearly two feet. He took her in fully, seeing the blue uniform that all of the Stormcloaks had worn when he was in Helgen. Given her uniform and her position near Windhelm, it seemed safe to assume that she was a Stormcloak herself, or at least a supporter.
"I'm actually heading to Windhelm to meet with Ulfric Stormcloak. Don't suppose you could help me get there?"
Eisa eyed him for another moment, eyes darting up and down his giant frame, before smiling. "I think I could get you there and put in a good word for you at the gate."
Wulfric gave a sigh of relief. "That would be great."
That's a wrap for Chapter 16. Woo, I have been busy lately. I have had barely any time to actually sit down and work on this. It's all been done in bits and pieces so I apologize if this chapter seems a bit disjointed.
Luckily, I've gotten a very large work project out of my way now, so hopefully I can get the next chapter out sooner. I'd like to give a special shout out to the author ShoutFinder. In addition to giving a review for every chapter, they have consistently offered me really helpful feedback and critiques that I am incredibly grateful for. I'd happily suggest that everyone should search out his work, particularly Dawnguard: Shadow War. It is excellent!
That's all for me, see you in the next one!