Chapter Three: Keep Alive

The door slammed shut behind Ralof and Valur, bringing them into a circular room. Vacant, other than a lone Stormcloak soldier, struggling to haul himself onto a chair across the room. Ralof rushed to his side, taking in the severity of his wounds at a glance. "Gunjar!" he gasped. A deep gash in Gunjar's side and the growing pool of blood beneath him, spoke of no hope for him. Yet, Gunjar still managed to speak, not yet claimed. "Almost made it…" he gasped, "Was so close…Had the door in sight…But one of those… Imperial bastards…Took a swipe at my side as I ran by…" A sudden, bloody laugh burst from his lips. "But I…took his nose off with my axe…"

He coughed, strangling on the bloody drool.

"Easy, Gunjar…," Ralof replied.

"Ah, Ralof," Gunjar waved off, "…Let me laugh out my blood, while they choke on theirs…Where's…Ulfric?"

Ralof looked back towards the door.

"I don't know…," he said, "…We got separated in the chaos…I'm sure he'll make it out. Perhaps he got ahead of us."

"Perhaps…," Gunjar nodded, doubling over, though still holding on the conversation, "I…did see…some others of us…get in before me…"

He coughed again, more blood spewing from his mouth. However, again, he suddenly began chuckling.

"Haha…ha," he wheezed, "Ah. Evaded the headsman's axe…only to lose my liver right after…And not even over a keg! Haha!"

He continued laughing, each snicker pushing more and more blood from his wound and mouth. His smile, however, never faltered as he began to slunk over. Ralof eased his fall, though Gunjar was silent by the time he touched the floor.

Ralof sighed, resting a hand upon the man. "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother…"

With a final pat farewell, Ralof looked to Valur, who stood by with a blank, if not slightly concerned, expression on his face. Clearly all the events having not completely caught up to him just yet. Ralof knew the look well. A greenthumb, mostly numb, to stay in survival mode until all is said and done.

"Looks like it's just you and me right now," Ralof said to the boy. The dragon's muffled roar rang through the stone walls, giving Valur a small flinch.

"What…," he found his voice, "…is that thing?"

A whisper seemed to speak in the back of his mind, as if he already knew, but Ralof answered before Valur truly heard his mind.

"That thing was a dragon," the man replied, his voice tinged in an almost disbelief despite his certainty, "No doubt. Just like the children's stories and legends. The harbingers of the End Times."

Again, something seemed to whisper in the back of Valur's mind. Hjemly had read him stories of dragons, but this…

This was a flash of a memory, several even, though not his? Ralof's voice intercepted yet again.

"We better get moving," he said, looking towards their entrance once more, "It may not be Ulfric that comes through that door next…"

He reached beside Gunjar's body, his hand closing around the axe Gunjar had wielded. Ralof cleaned the blood off on his pants, his expression somber. Turning to Valur, he offered the weapon with a nod. "Take Gunjar's axe…"

Valur's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on the axe as if hesitant. Ralof urged him. "Go on, it's alright. He won't be needing it anymore. We don't know what's ahead for sure, and I'd rather a boy be prepared. Gunjar would want that too." He glanced at Valur's belt, where a small knife hung. "Besides, this is better than that guttin' knife you've got there, heh."

Valur still seemed hesitant. It wasn't that he's never wielded such before. In fact…

A roar from outside, shaking stone within, interrupted his thoughts, giving Valur no more reason to pause. He accepted the axe, its weight settling awkwardly in his hands. Ralof chuckled, "Give that axe a few swings." He stood, his gaze scanning their surroundings. "I'll see if I can find us a way out of here…"

There were two options to take, two doorways at opposite sides of each other, but both had threat of being blocked. One with a pull draw wooden bars and the other with a steel gate door. Ralof checked the steel door first. "Argh," he groaned, "This one's locked…Wonder if they meant to…Nevermind it. Let's see about that gate." He moved to the wooden bars, looking around the sides of the door for the lever to draw it down. Not seeing it, he pressed his face as much as he could between the slats, seeing the pull chain on the other side. Unfortunately, his arm couldn't reach it.

"Damn!" he said, "No way to open this from our side…"

"What do we do?" Valur asked, his hands gripping the axe notably tighter, "…We can't go back out there. Not with that--"

"Aye, not with that dragon…nor the bastards," Ralof said, scratching his beard. He pulled his own axe to hand, looking at the wooden gate. "I suppose we could try--"

A noise down the corridor of that hallway silenced him, driving him into caution. He put a finger to his lips and crouched against the wall next to the doorway, motioning for Valur to do the same across from him. Valur did so, listening with Ralof to the voices echoing through.

"Come on, soldier!" a commanding woman's tone carried, "Keep moving!"

It was that Imperial woman, the Captain of the Imperial guards.

Ralof quietly beckoned Valur to look at him, motioning with his own axe what he planned to do, or what he perhaps needed Valur to do. He motioned the gate going down, before demonstrating a swing of his axe. He patted his kneecap, then neck area, clearly indicating where Valur needed to try and strike.

Valur must have looked apprehensive, for Ralof motioned him to read his lips. "Go for…" He patted his kneecap again. Carefully, the man whispered reassuringly, "You can do it…"

Valur's heart pounded as loud as the footsteps now just on the other side of the gate. Go for the knee…

He's heard it before, but not with…

"Get that gate open!" the woman ordered.

The chain was pulled, and the gate slid down. It's creaking echoing through Valur's tunnel vision. He saw Ralof give one last reassuring nod, before the two Imperials proceeded in, unaware of the impending ambush.

Ralof immediately hacked into the leg of the closest, the soldier, who buckled in a blood curdling scream, only for that scream to turn into a sputtering gurgle, his neck sliced open. Ralof had partially decapitated the man, ending him, but Valur had not done his part. The boy remained paralyzed in place, his knuckles white with the grip on his axe. Valur has never taken a human life before…except…

Valur's thoughts drifted to the memory of Hjemly and the tea that had ultimately taken his life. The tea Valur had made at his request, yes, but…Hjemly. The only human life Valur has taken…was Hjemly…

The clash of steel on steel jolted him back to the present, as Ralof and the Imperial Captain wrestled for dominance.

"Now!" Ralof's urgent command barked through the struggle, "Go for it, boy!"

The Captain's eyes darted, expecting another man or woman, but instead, they widened in surprise at the sight of a child.

The shock upon seeing such, was nearly all the folly Ralof needed to overpower her, but she managed to hold her ground. She pleaded with Valur for the child to simply run away, but Ralof urged his strength.

The moment, for Valur, seemed to slow and stretch, torn between them. One was doomed to fall. He didn't know either of them, but Ralof had saved his life, and Valur felt a compulsion to reciprocate.

He swung his axe. The Captain's boots protected her knees, but the blade bit deep into her thigh. Her defenses crumbled, dropping to a knee, and Ralof seized the opportunity to strike the final blow, aiming for her neck. However, the Captain lowered her head just in time, and Ralof's axe glanced off her helm, denting it but failing to penetrate.

The failure allowed the Captain to counterattack, her blade slicing towards Ralof. He leapt back, avoiding the blow, but the blade's tip caught Valur's cheek, leaving a small, but bloody, gash. The Captain's hesitance said all on her intention of doing so, and the hesitance was all Ralof needed. He bounded back and rammed the knob of his axe into her plated chest, knocking her completely over. It was then he returned the favor she had commanded over his comrade earlier that morning. He severed her head clear from her shoulders in one rectifying chop, her eyes still wide upon him, the realization readable on the twitching lips still attempting to move, to curse him.

Ralof spat upon them just before her eyes glazed with death. He looked over to Valur, who still stood where he was, hand slowly coming to his cheek. Ralof quickly moved to him, pushing his hand back down and using the back of his own to wipe away the blood and assess his wound. He smiled and tore a piece of cloth from his own attire, quickly dabbing it with a strewn bottle of mead laying about and wiping the wound clean.

"Scar well earned, boy," Ralof congratulated, "Good fight."

Before Valur could think of what to say, Ralof got moving again. "Let's get going…" He looked from where the Captain and soldier came, deciding against it. "Let's not go that way if we can avoid it. Wouldn't want to run into another rabble of these fools piling in…Come on, let's see if one of these Imperials has the key to that gate over there. It is their keep, after all. Until today that is…" He began patting the skirt of the Captain, feeling around her belt for any hooked keyring. Finding nothing, he slid his hand under her armors, still coming up empty before moving towards the soldier, but Valur, fixated on the Captain's detached head, seemed to notice something barely visible protruding under her helm. Becoming more curious than he was mortified, he stepped over and lifted the severed part entirely. He tugged at the metallic piece barely sticking out by her ear, but due to the dent on that side of the helm, it was tightly wedged. Ralof noticed the fixation and moved over to him. He took the head into his own hands and roughly separated the helm from the dome with a fierce grip on her jaw. The moment the two were separated, a small ring with a key fell to the floor.

Ralof smiled, nudging Valur proudly with his elbow. "Good work there," the man said and nodded his head towards the metal gate, "See if you can unlock that door."

Valur picked up the key, placed it in the lock, and heard the relieving click. He swung the door open and Ralof cheered him once more. "That's it!"

The cheer was immediately followed by the muffled roar outside, the keep trembling beneath its shout.

"Come on," Ralof guided Valur forward, "Let's get out of here before that dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads!"

They descended the winding stairway ahead. The open doorway at the bottom to the right beckoned, and they hastened through it, caution forgotten, and they weren't alone…

However, the group approaching from down the corridor had no time to be distinguished before a roar shook the keep again, causing the world to tremble, the corridor to shudder violently. "Look out!" Ralof yelled, instinctively shielding Valur with his body.

The stone ceiling gave way above, and a section of the corridor collapsed, sending dust and debris flying. Luckily, Ralof and Valur were spared a crushing blow, but the others weren't so fortunate. As the dust settled, Ralof slowly released Valur, his expression grim. "Damn," he muttered, "That dragon doesn't give up easily..."

He quickly turned his head about, scanning for another way through when he spotted a door. Despite the urgency to escape before more stone rained down, Ralof held caution this time, approaching the door carefully as muffled voices rang through.

"Grab everything important and let's move!" the voice commanded, accent clearly Imperial, "Dragon's burning everything to the ground!"

"I just need to gather some more potions!" another said.

Ralof listened another moment longer before whispering to Valur. "I think it's just two of them…"

His face drew more serious as he looked to the boy directly.

"Listen," he whispered, "I'm not expecting you to follow me axe to glory, alright? But I am going to go in swinging…If you choose to linger back,…and I find way out of this keep through Sovngarde…Do what you can to play hapless child. Get them to get you out of here…but do not let them keep you. You get out, you run."

Without waiting for a response, Ralof burst through the door, axe at the ready. "A Stormcloak!" one of the men yelled, and Ralof declared, "You'll never take me alive!" The clash of steel on steel echoed through the room as Ralof took on the two men.

Valur crept inside, awestruck by Ralof. The Nord's axe sliced through the air, holding its own again and again. One man stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the wild swings, while the other wasn't so lucky. Ralof's axe bit deep into his sternum, but the armor and bone made it difficult to retrieve.

The second man saw his chance and lunged at Ralof, but suddenly, Valur reacted instinctively, hurling his own axe at the attacker. The blade successfully lodged deep in the man's bicep, and he shrieked in pain. Before he could even process what had happened, Ralof was upon him, yanking Valur's axe from his arm and using it to slit his throat. The man collapsed quickly, clasping his hands to his neck as if he could dam the crimson spill. He faded quickly from the shock alone.

Ralof looked to Valur, his smile proud and wide. "A seasoned warrior, are you!" he said, "A natural, for sure!" He handed Valur back the axe before retrieving his own. With a bone cracking pull, he yanked it from the man's sternum. He gazed around the room.

"A storeroom," he commented, moving along the barrels and crates. "See if you can find those potions. We may need them…" Ralof, however, quickly spotted something he deemed quite necessary as well. He snatched up a chunk of bread and the wedge of cheese sitting on a nearby table, quickly shoveling it down his gullet and polishing off the half consumed bottle ale. He exhaled, letting out a quick burp and chuckle. "Sorry," he excused, "…Not like they fed or watered us on the carts, you know, heh. Knew I was feeling a bit shaky when I couldn't get that darn axe out. Phew." He reached over and snatched another bit of food on the table. A boiled creme treat that he offered to the lad. "You deserve this, I think."

Valur looked at it, but shook his head. "I'm…I'm not hungry," he said. Ralof held it a moment longer before pulling it in half and offering it again. "I don't know when your last meal was," Ralof said, "but you don't want the shakes catching up to you at a bad time."

Valur thought for a moment, realizing he hadn't eaten since yesterday evening. Probably far sooner than Ralof had, but Valur understood hunger quite well, and didn't want to experience such himself again. He took half the treat and consumed it slowly as he scrummaged around.

"You know what potions look like, yeah?" Ralof asked, also skimming around, "Vials of liquids, they tend to be color coded--"

He was interrupted by Valur holding out a green vial to him. "This will help your shakes," the boy said, "I smelled it. It's got crushed orange dartwings in it, for sure. It's nasty, but it'll help."

Ralof smiled. "An alchemist, then?" he chuckled, "You're full of surprises, I can tell…"

He exchanged the other half of the boiled creme treat for the potion, encouraging Valur to eat it while he downed the vial, his nose scrunched to the taste, but he seemed much more revitalized. "Much better!" Ralof sighed, "And much faster than a bit of cheese…Alright, let's pick up the pace. Grab anything else useful that we can feasibly carry and let's get going."

They soon found themselves traversing down a short hall, a flight of stairs just to the right, but Ralof snagged Valur before the boy could turn down them. "Wait," he said, listening to the sounds below, "Hear that?" A strange static sound crackled throughout the air. Suddenly, loud cracks of electricity and the flashing light of a shock spell lit up the stairway. Pained yells melded with the magic and Ralof's eyes widened.

"Troll's blood!" he gasped, "A torture room!"

A voice rang out. "This one got free!"

"Well, don't just stand there! Take him down! Don't let him grab a--"

"FOR SKYRIM!"

A fight could be heard erupting below. That last shout was all Ralof needed to hear to spur him into the fray. He thundered down the stairs, his battle cry echoing. Valur trailed behind him, though at a more cautious pace. The boy observed the chaos before him, seeing two Imperials locked in combat with a single Nord. He wielded a long hammer and even against the painful shocks he refused to yield. Ralof quickly cut the binds of the woman still tied to a torture rack, and the both of them charged in. The woman launched onto the back of the mage, her hands grasping around his jaw like a vice. With a violent twist, she snapped the jaw out of place, failing to break his neck, but silencing his incantations all the same. Ralof drove his axe into the mage's gut to finish the job. They needn't bother with the remaining Imperial, as the hammer popped his skull. The Nords victorious.

After a brief cheer with his comrades, Ralof looked to Valur. "Hey, mind if I take one of them potions off you?" he asked, jabbing the hammer wielder with his elbow, "Olafur could probably use it."

Olafur smirked and returned a playful elbow. "Give it to my wife," he replied. Ralof gave that quite a brow. "I mean, if I have your permisson…"

"Shut up, Ralof," the woman chuckled, "We are in the presence of a child, apparently...So who's this little thing anyway?"

"Oh, that boy is something else!" Ralof smiled, "You should see him use that axe! And I bet he can sniff out every ingredient in that potion he's handing you."

"Ya?" the woman said.

"Blue mountain flower and wheat…," Valur quietly mumbled.

"Well that sounds better on the tongue and nose than what I downed upstairs…," Ralof grumbled light heartedly. His expression shifted to something more serious.

"Have you seen Ulfric?" he asked the two comrades.

The woman shook her head as she swigged down the potion, and her husband spoke.

"No," Olafur said, "We haven't seen him since the dragon showed up. We made way for the keep as soon as the sky exploded…Got a little…caught up here."

"Well…," Ralof sighed, "…Guess we go see what else we can all get caught up in."

They started to make way out of the room, but something caught Ralof's eye inside one of the stand alone cages nearby. There was a deceased person inside, but not a Stormcloak. Ralof scoffed. "Looks like we're not the only ones on the Empire's naughty list…" He looked more closely, seeing a good bit of coin just outside the pocket of this poor soul's robe.

"Hey, jack-of-trades," he called Valur over, "Got any skill with picking locks? We might need this gold once we get out of here."

Valur stepped over, but gave Ralof quite a befuddled look. Instead of attempting to pick the lock, Valur simply reached in the small confinement and swept the coin with his hand towards them. Ralof gave a hearty laugh.

"Haha!" he chortled, "Aye, that works too! Good wit about you!"

With that, they ventured deeper, the group entered a dismal corridor lined with empty holding cells, but it was the next room that revealed the previous occupants. A small, dank chamber, its ceiling hung with gibbets like macabre ornaments. The stench of death and decay filled the air, and old blood stained the floors. The gibbets held the gruesome remains of former prisoners, their bodies in various stages of decay. Some had degraded to mere skeletons, while others still wore the tattered remnants of their flesh. Without a word, it told a tale of suffering, surpassing that of the taste of the torture room. Ralof's face twisted in revulsion as he cursed, "Damn those…damn Imperials."

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the room, drawing their attention to a large breach in the wall – their only escape route, aside from the way they came in. "Keep it moving…We need to get out of here…"

They hurried through the breach in the wall, finding a winding tunnel carved through the earth. Soon it neared another breach, which appeared to open back into a section of the keep. But again, they heard the voices of Imperials.

"Orders are to wait until General Tullius arrives!" one spoke.

"I'm not waiting to be killed by a dragon!" another argued impatiently, "We need to fallback!"

"Just give the General some time!"

As they deliberated, Ralof crept along the wall, stealing a cautious glance into the room. His eyes widened at the sight of the large chamber, partially embedded in the earthy cavern beneath the keep, teeming with Imperial soldiers. He retreated, his expression grim as he mouthed a silent expletive. He quietly conferred with his Stormcloak companions. With a reluctant nod, he drew Valur aside, kneeling to whisper, "Listen, I know this isn't right. It just ain't honorable, but we have no other choice. I won't hold it against you if you refuse, but...please, hear me out…"

Valur found himself stepping into the lion's den, Imperial eyes snapping toward him. Some hands rested on sword hilts, but none drew their blades, taking in the sight of the seemingly innocent. Valur swallowed hard, adopting a pitiful demeanor, limping slightly for effect. "Please, help me! The dragon...I ran, but I'm lost!" he pleaded, his voice trembling--though that much, and the words themselves, was honest. His axe was with Ralof, as not to harbor any chance of suspicion, but Valur felt utterly defenseless. The Imperials exchanged sympathetic glances though, one calling out, "Here, child! Come to us. We'll keep you safe." Valur approached, confliction creeping in. The soldiers' kindness seemed genuine, but memories of the torture room steeled his resolve, and he stuck to the plan. To draw their attention. To get as many, if not all, to turn their backs towards the Nords. The more he glanced their sympathetic expressions, though, the more he felt that pit in his stomach. But he could not forsake the others. It was too late to back out now anyway, as Ralof and the other two snuck in, weapons at ready. As soon as Ralof's axe embedded in the back of one man, the chaos erupted, and Valur quickly tucked himself away.

The fight clashed on, and Valur held not much hope that his previous companions would prevail. If they didn't, he only now thought about what the Imperials would do with him…

He untucked himself from his hiding spot, debating on whether he could find a way to slip out, but he saw the Nords had miraculously turned the tide, nearing victory as only a couple of Imperials remained. However, it was two archers, both not far in front of him, both preparing to loose their arrows at the Nords the moment an opening let them. Valur's eyes seemed to spot the odd glimmer upon the ground at their feet. Oil?

Yes, it was oil. An overturned unlit oil lantern had coated the ground, even the bottom of the archer's cloaks as the cloth dipped and brushed against the ground. As if with a mind not his own, Valur rushed and rammed a brazier with his shoulder, sending it tumbling over and the flaming coals onto the oil patch. It immediately caught, the flames quickly seeking every inch of the substance, including reaching up to lick the cloaks of the archers. The wave of fire quickly devoured upwards their backs, sending them in panic, long enough to not see the hammer and axe closing in on them.

"I told you that boy was something else!" Ralof cheered, another battle won. Olafur, however, didn't look impressed.

No, it wasn't that…He looked…tearful. Even Ralof quickly lost the enthusiasm he had just expressed, both the men pulling their attention back onto…

"Kasja…," Olafur choked. His wife. The Nord woman laid lifeless, an arrow lodged directly through an eye. Valur had apparently not been fast enough…

Not that such was said to him. Olafur simply trudged to his fallen love, cradled her in his arms, and sat whispering his hopes that she'd drink a mead for him in Sovngarde.

"I'm sorry, Olafur," Ralof gave his condolences, "She was a true daughter of Skyrim until the end…"

Valur stood nearby, unsure what to do or say, but Olafur's continuance relieved him from it.

"Go on now," he said, his voice plaintive, "I'll keep watch in case Ulfric comes through here… Talos guide you both."

"…And you, my friend," Ralof nodded. He nudged Valur, pointing to the arched tunnel nearby.

"Let's go on ahead…," he said, "See if the way is clear."

As they fled into the tunnel, Valur close behind, Ralof's eyes scanned the darkness ahead. The passageway seemed to terminate in a solid wall of wooden slats – a dead end. But Ralof's squinted gaze picked out a subtle inconsistency. He spotted a lever, almost invisible in the shadows, nestled against the wall. With a swift tug, the wooden slats creaked and swung down, revealing a hidden drawbridge. Ralof looked at Valur with a grin and jerked his head forward. "Let's see where this goes," he said, already moving ahead. It appeared it led into an area now consumed by the cavern, the stone walls of the keep forgotten to either time or never completed. The gentle rush of an underground stream echoed through the air, but their progress halted by a ominous reminder: the dragon's presence still lingered above. Though its roar was muffled, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and the tunnel they had just escaped through collapsed behind them with a deafening crash. Ralof gazed back at the rubble-strewn passage. "No turning back now...," he said, his voice tinged with vain hope for his comrade, "Olafur will have to find another way out…"

With a sigh, he urged them forward. As they descended the final stone steps of the keep and into the cavern's domain. A faint ray of light pierced the darkness through a small opening above, a reassuring reminder that they weren't entirely entombed. Yet, without wings like the dragon, they would have to scour the cave for an alternate escape route.

Ralof stepped nearer the stream, which was actually two converging into one. He looked at each way the stream branched, but Valur suddenly spoke up, teachings of survival escaping his lips. "Flowing streams, flow out."

Ralof flashed that signature grin. "Smart," he said, gesturing forward, "This way then?" They followed the gentle flow of the stream, their path illuminated by an occasional torch embedded in the earthy tunnel walls, telling that they are not the first through here. However, their progress was soon halted by a grim answer. The stream led them to a wall, a body wedged in a futile attempt to dig through a narrow opening at the bottom, only enough space for the drowning water to flow through. The victim of the stuck arm a warning against trying the same. Ralof offered a reassuring ruffle of Valur's hair, a silent "Don't fret about it", but his expression betrayed concern. Just as they pondered their next move, Kyne blessed them. A gust of wind swept through, revealing a narrow, easily overlooked tunnel.

They ventured into the dark winding passage, the light growing brighter with each turn, their hopes quietly building in the claustrophobic space. It finally opened way, but with another ray of light shining down into the open space, they were met with a ghastly sight: a vast network of silky webbing. Large threads woven wherever the eye landed.

This was a lair of…

Rocks on the walls began grotesquely moving on their own, only they weren't rocks…

Rocks don't grow eight spindly legs or have numerous beady eyes and large horrifying fangs.

Frostbite Spiders. They've walked into the lair of Frostbite Spiders…

"Shor's Bones, no," Ralof gasped and quickly tossed Gunjar's axe back to Valur, "Mara's Mercy on you kid…"

Valur though…

He knew exactly what to do.

Go for the knees.

This was what he did have experience with, out in the marshes with Hjemly. The foggy world of Hjaalmarch was a home teeming with the like of these creatures. And skittering monsters even more fierce than these. Hjemly had taught him well on how to defend against these oversized arachnids, and Valur expertly dodged the toxic spit one spat, launching himself quickly to hack of a leg, then another. Again. And again, until it had not enough to scurry an advantage. Valur brought the blade down through its two largest beady eyes, and the creature was no more.

Ralof would have erupted in a rapture of applause if not for the rest of the cluster closing in. He quickly followed the child's lead, dodging spit and amputating creepy crawlies, until all large bugs laid dead. That was when Ralof wrapped an arm around Valur's neck and gave the top of his head a jaunty rub with his knuckles, laughing merrily.

"Now how about that!" he cheered, "That was more impressive than the dragon itself! Way to go!"

He released Valur and shuddered upon looking over the creatures they'd just slain.

With a gag he remarked, "I hate those damn things! Too many eyes, you know?"

Another gust of wind caught their attention, seeing another tunnel from which it came. They looked to each other with a nod and proceeded on, soon hearing the sound of the stream again. They found it resuming its flow through this now expansive cavernous room. Small holes scattered above filtered in light, the fog swirling upon the ceiling with an occasional bat fluttering amongst the mist Following the stream once more, they crossed a small natural footpath over it, to the other side where wind could still be felt whispering its source. A lantern upon the ground caught their attention. A lantern, with a wooden cart beside it…and a person! Hunched over the back of the cart.

Ralof clutched axe in hand, cautiously approaching said person, but as he neared, it grew apparent that they stood too still. Closer inspection revealed the man dead, his blood drained of him by the large gashes adorning his back, and the large chunk missing from his side. Not the work of an Imperial though… This was the work of a beast…

Valur had approached, taking in the sight. Despite all the horrors he's already witnessed today, he still stumbled back, but Ralof caught him, his urgency to be quiet evident.

"Hold up!" he whispered, his eyes wide upon something, "…There's a bear just ahead. See her?"

Valur's gaze matched Ralof's, seeing nestled not far ahead of them, nestled in a ray of light, a bear sleeping soundly. Valur looked back to Ralof who glanced the mauled man. "I'd rather not tangle with her right now," Ralof said, "Let's try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step…"

But suddenly, that grin found Ralof's face again.

"Or…," he said, reaching over the mauled man. Ralof retrieved the item the man had failed to grasp in his last moments, "If you're feeling lucky…"

Ralof present Valur with a bow and quiver of arrows.

"Might take her by surprise…"

Valur's eyes widened as he took the bow, his breath quickening. Ralof's tone had suggested jesting, but Valur's grip on the bow tightened. Seeing the tension, Ralof assured him he was indeed only joking. Taking on spiders, large as they had been, was one thing, but a bear another entirely. It wasn't fear that gripped Valur, however, but memory: the hunting trip Hjemly had promised for his tenth birthday, a rite of passage for proud Nords to bag their first bear. A trip that would never happen now…

Valur's gaze lingered on the bow, his eyes misting with the memories of Hjemly's proud plans, the promise of a shared adventure now lost forever. Assuming the misty wide eyes to be an indicator that the boy has simply faced too many monsters today, Ralof began to reach for the bow back, only to have a small growl escape the boy who then knocked him with the wood of the weapon.

Valur gripped the bow with determination. He had hunted with Hjemly plenty, taking down squirrels, foxes, and deer with ease. But this bow, too large for his frame, felt foreign in his hands. Hjemly had made him his own bow, tailored to his size and strength. The memory of that lost bow, destroyed in the Spriggan attack, cursed his mind.

As he struggled to draw the string of this one, doubt crept in. After several futile attempts, his frustration boiled over. He couldn't do it. Not with this bow. A pang of grief struck him - he would have failed Hjemly's hunting trip, probably even with his own bow. He would have failed Hjemly…

With a grief-stricken growl, Valur slammed the bow down, the echo reverberating through the cavern. Ralof gripped Valur's wrist as they both watched the bear stir. Thankfully, it was deep into its slumber and grew still again. Ralof's gaze drifted to the boy, his eyes acknowledging the sorrow, but he quietly gave a nod and urged Valur away.

They followed the stream again, until it dipped once more under rocks, but the strong wind filtering in from a nearby tunnel guided them on. Sunlight shone brightly through it. This had to be it. "This looks like the way out," Ralof voiced.

As they funneled into the tunnel, and the blinding light cleared, Ralof could see the blue sky beyond. They could smell the fresh air and pine.

"I knew we'd make it!"

As they emerged into the bright sunlight, Ralof took a deep breath, while Valur's eyes struggled to adjust. But before they could take another step, a sudden gust of unnatural wind swept through the trees, and Ralof swiftly pulled them behind a nearby rock. "Wait!" he whispered urgently. The dragon's roar echoed through the air once more, its unfiltered sound sending a shiver down Valur's spine. They watched from their hiding spot as the beast circled overhead before finally disappearing into the distance. Ralof remained still for a moment, listening intently, before standing up and gazing out at the cave they had just escaped.

His expression turned somber as he took in the black smoke billowing into the sky behind it, from the now eerily quiet town of Helgen. "No way to know if anyone else made it out alive," he said, "…If you have people back there, I won't blame you for going back in… But this place will be crawling with Imperials soon. It's better if I clear out. Would hate to have gone through all of that just end up back on the chopping block."

Valur's gaze met Ralof's, but his mind was still reeling from their whole ordeal. Nothing seemed to be sinking in yet, not even their escape. Ralof's clap on his shoulder momentarily broke the numb, and Valur focused on the older man.

"I wouldn't have made it without your help today," Ralof said, his voice filled with gratitude. "And I don't even know your name, boy!"

"…Valur," the boy replied.

"Valur…," Ralof repeated, a stretching smile shaping his face. "A fitting name indeed. I'm Ralof, as you might have heard earlier off the lips of the murderers. But that aside, again, thank you. May the road rise up to meet you, Valur…And good luck."

With one more clap on Valur's shoulder, Ralof turned and moved on, walking away down the hill into the trees.

Valur stood where he was, moments sinking in with delay, until he realized enough of what was happening…and that he would be alone…

Ralof soon heard the quick steps catching up to him, and looked down to see the boy quietly joined beside him. A small smile moved Ralof's lips.

"My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road," he said, not breaking pace, "I'm sure she'll help us out."

They walked through the trees, Ralof seeming to know exactly where to go. Thankfully, as Valur hadn't a clue…

Their boots soon found cobble as Ralof brought them out to a road, after carefully glancing to be sure no unwanted company patrolled it.

As they continued walking, Ralof spoke up again. He seemed a talker.

"You know, you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim," he said and then chuckled, "…when you're a little older, of course. Although, from what I've seen today, I think you could show some of our recruits a thing or two." He grew a little more serious. "But you've seen the true face of the Empire today. And if anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it's Ulfric…"

Valur met his gaze, but didn't respond before putting his attention on the ground before them as they walked. They soon passed another path, Valur noticing the wooden sign post pointing to various towns. Helgen, Falkreath, Riverwood.

These never helped him. The moment he was out of sight of them, their pointers meant nothing.

He continued to follow Ralof's sure knowledge.

Before long, Ralof halted him. Valur, thinking there was danger, placed a hand on his axe, but noticed instead that Ralof was pointing off to a mountain in the distance. A stony ruin embedded in its side.

"See that ruin up there?" the man asked, "Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place... I guess you get used to it."

They began moving again, the road heading down a slope and winding hard to the left. Just before making another hard wind to the right, there were three large vertical stones that stood before them, nestled in the bend.

"These are the Guardian Stones," Ralof explained to the wonder eyed boy, "Three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape…Go on. Get a closer look. See if one speaks to you…"

Valur stared at him for a moment, before approaching the three stones. On them were etched a specific constellation each. Valur recognized them. Hjemly had a book with sketches of constellations that Valur loved to simply stare and trace his fingers along. He looked at these three now.

Thief.

Mage.

Warrior.

His hand slowly reached out to the one he had always been fascinated with in the book, his finger tracing the lines with hint of home. Suddenly, he felt its touch in return! …As if it were tracing him!

Something surged within him, but before he could comprehend it, Ralof spoke again.

"Warrior, good!" he said proudly, "Those stars will guide you to honor and glory!"

As they journeyed on, the road wound its way alongside a river. Ralof's pace quickened, a subtle excitement, and Valur struggled to keep up. They passed another weathered signpost, the names of distant cities - Riften, Markarth, Solitude, Whiterun, Windhelm - etched into the pointed wooden plaques. Riverwood, their destination, was the final name, and Valur felt an odd thump in his heart. His world had been so small, and something still whispered to him, that he was about to see things--more things--that he has only ever read about. As content as he was in Hjemly's cozy little shack, Valur would often sit by the window, his elbow on the windowsill, his eyes watching his fantasies take shape in the clouds over the forest canopy. The journeys to magnificent cities. Adventures in ancient ruins. Seeing lands beyond even Nirn.

All he wanted now was to wake up. To see he had simply fallen asleep over one of those storybooks, and to hear Hjemly calling him to some chore Valur would have grumbled about. He'd give anything for it…To see those four familiar walls of the tiny little shack, the old wood he could recall every minor splinter of, instead of his feet carrying him into this unknown…

"I'm glad you decided to come with me," Ralof said, "We're almost to Riverwood."

Valur's gaze lifted from his feet on this foreign path, to where the thatched roofs of Riverwood's cottages peeked from the trees. Chimney smoke drifted lazily into the air, carrying scent of hearth fires and food, and children's laughter echoed. But the idyllic sights and sounds only twisted Valur's thoughts into a dark knot. Memories of dragon fire and Haming… Haming's cries…

"Looks like nobody here knows what happened yet," Ralof's voice snapped him back to the calm reality, "Come on. Gerdur's probably working at her lumbermill..."