Chapter 2

Get out Alive

"Getting in is the easiest part. Getting out is much harder and getting out in one piece? Sometimes that's more luck than anything else."- An Unofficial Pocketbook for Thieves, written by Marvadine Shadowtalons and published 3E 386

The first thing Hammel heard was Ralof. "I can't see my beard in this darkness." The words, casually spoken, seemed to come from everywhere, the exact origin impossible to discern due to the utter darkness.

"Ralof," Lianna's words carried just the tiniest hint of sarcasm, "You can't see your beard normally."

"True enough." Ralof chuckled. "Could you light a torch? I didn't escape the block just to break my neck fumbling around in the darkness like some drunk."

"Give me a moment, I'm not a god you know." A rustling came from the Altmer's assumed direction as she fumbled along the walls, looking for a torch. A few words were muttered before a blast of fire erupted from her right hand, igniting a nearby sconce. The torch burst to life, chasing the darkness away.

Now that he could see, Hammel looked around. The walls and floor of the entrance chamber were stone, an Imperial flag dominating the left wall and an empty weapon rack the right. A iron gate on the left and a thick oaken door on the right blocked passage deeper into the keep. A table with a few chairs took up the middle of the room. A dead Stormcloak was slumped against the table. His throat had been slashed open, his blood staining the table.

Ralof's eyes fell at the sight of the fallen Stormcloak. "Swift journey to Sovngarde, brother," He said sadly. "You might as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't need it where he's going." The words were soft-spoken and directed towards Hammel.

"Be respectful of him as you do!" Lianna growled, pointing her shovel at Hammel.

"One problem," He responded casually, pointedly ignoring Lianna's threat, "My hands are bound. I can't pick up much of anything."

"Oh right," Ralof said, "Hang on." Looking over the table, Ralof noticed an iron dagger stuck in its surface. The blade was stained with food and coated in rust, clearly more for eating than killing. Snatching the dagger up, Ralof approached Hammel. "This should do the trick. Hold still."

Hammel held his bound hands outward, "I'm a statue." Ralof chuckled but Lianna didn't seem amused. Pressing the rusted blade against Hammel's bonds the Stormcloak began sawing. It took a moment but the ropes finally snapped with a loud twang.

Throwing off the remaining rope, Hammel rubbed his chafed wrists. "Thanks," he said, feeling the blood flow to his hands again. Bending over Gunjar's corpse, he pulled off the supple fur boots.

"Don't mention it," Ralof answered warmly. "Now, Lianna and I are going to try those doors, you get that armor on."

Hammel almost groaned from pleasure as his feet snuggled into the soft rabbit-hide. He'd get his feet cleaned and bandaged later but for now the boots were a vast improvement. He'd rather escape the keep alive but a little sore than die in comfort.

Removing Gunjar's fur gauntlets, Hammel put them on his own hands. He was reaching for the chainmail shirt when he heard the voices.

"I don't give a damn what you think! There's a mythical beast rampaging through my town at the same time we've got a full blown prison break on our hands! We can't afford to play nice. You see a prisoner, you put it down, understand?" Even though he couldn't see the speaker, Hammel knew she was the same captain who'd ordered his death.

"Hide, you fool!" Lianna hissed, pressing herself against the table. Ralof backed into a corner. With only moments to spare, Hammel threw himself against the wall beside the iron gate the captain's voice had echoed out from. Hammel nodded towards the opposite door, silently asking the question, fight or flight? Ralof shook his head. Locked.

Fight it is.

"Where's Hadvar?" Another voice, this one male, asked nervously, "He was right behind us."

"Whoever falls behind is left behind, you know that!" The captain snarled. "Now get this gate open! We're needed on the front!"

The gate rattled for a moment, someone muttered something about "Getting us all killed," and the gate swung open. Two legionaries dashed into the room with their swords drawn. Behind them strode the captain. She may have been the shortest in stature but she was the largest in presence. Her sword was in one hand and a shield in the other. Unlike the legionaries, her expression made it clear that she was hoping for a fight. Little did she know she was about to get her wish.

Springing to his feet, Ralof dashed towards the Imperials screaming, "Skyrim!" Lianna leapt over the table with the shovel in hand, matching pace with her husband.

Ralof and one of the soldiers were already trading blows before the Captain ordered, "Take no prisoners!" She took several steps forward, intent on skewering Lianna in the back while the Altmer was distracted fighting a legionnaire. The Captain's plans were thwarted when she was tackled by an onrushing force of hatred and fury named Hammel Greymist.

Hammel was on her back, slamming the Captain's face into the floor. She lost her sword, the blade sliding into the far right corner. Flipping her over so she was face to face with him, Hammel snarled before striking her directly in the nose with his fist. Cartilage broke and blood flew as a second furious punch followed the first. He was bringing his fist back for a third punch when the Captain countered by bashing Hammel in the chest with her shield.

He hit the stone with a resounding smack, stars flashing before his eyes. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Hammel rose again. The Captain was moving for her sword and if she recovered it he'd lose the fight. Ralof was still occupied with his opponent while Lianna's lack of proper weapon left her backed against the wall. She hadn't been able to get off a spell, she was too focused on defence. Neither of them would be able to help, this battle was his alone.

Taking three quick steps to build momentum, Hammel rushed the Captain. He grabbed her neck from behind with both hands and began squeezing. He might have been stronger but the Captain was tough and unafraid of brawling. She snapped her head back, the solid steel helm struck Hammel's unprotected face adding another scar to his forehead. Hammel's hands grasped desperately as he fell, managing to grab her helmet's cheek-guards. The chinstrap broke, sending Hammel stumbling backwards with the Captain's helmet still in his hand.

She rushed away, making another play for her fallen sword. Hammel did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed the Captain by the shoulder and pulled with all his might. His strength and momentum proved enough to spin her around. The Captain was face to face with Hammel for a split second, all the time he needed. Fist clutching the remains of the chinstrap, he swung.

Steel helmet met unprotected face in a spray of blood and snapping bone. The Captain staggered, three teeth shattered, bleeding from several cuts. She seemed genuinely shocked to have been struck. Hammel hit her with the helmet again. Falling onto her back, the Captain lay bleeding, her face almost unrecognisable. Taking the helmet in both hands, Hammel raised it over his head and then, with all his might, smashed it into her skull.

There was a noise like crushing a melon, a little resistance, then the body went limp. Tossing the blood-soaked helmet away, Hammel went to the now deceased Captain's belt, looking for anything that could help them get deeper into the keep. The silence in the room told him his companions had managed to win their respective fights, a good sign.

"Nice job," Ralof commented, gazing at the remains of the Captain with a look that implied both respect and total disgust. "Not very clean though."

Finding a blocky iron key and yanking it free from the Captain's belt, Hammel shrugged, "I had to improvise."

"Here," Lianna said, tossing an Imperial longsword across the room to the kneeling Nord, "This might make the next kill cleaner."

Catching the blade mid-air, Hammel responded by throwing the key to Ralof. "See if that fits the door. I'm getting a second sword."

Lianna raised a single black eyebrow. "Fancy huh? I hope your theatrics don't get us killed."

Hammel gave a sarcastic bow. "I live to serve, my lady." Moving off into the corner before the Elf could reply, he snatched up the Captain's fallen sword.

Weighing the blades against each other, Hammel took a few experimental swings. His arms felt heavy and his feet stiff. The cart ride seemed to have strained him, inactivity had left him rusty. He'd be back into combat readiness soon. He simply hoped it would be fast enough to keep himself alive.

Ralof growled a few times while wiggling the key in the lock. A satisfying click sounded, eliciting a shout of triumph and a pumped fist from the Stormcloak. "It worked! By Talos it worked!"

"That's great dear," Lianna said, "Now come on! Let's move!" Hammel noticed she'd ditched her shovel for the last of the Imperial swords. Judging by the way she held it, the blade wasn't made in her typical style. Still, it was far better than a shovel.

"Right you are!" Ralof said, slamming the door aside. "Let's go!"

Hammel took the lead, a sword in each hand. Bolting through the corridor his eyes took everything in. Torches still lit, chairs and barrels overturned, a few bodies scattered here and there. His ankles were stinging from the pain of a thousand tiny cuts, making it difficult to focus. To distract himself from the agony, Hammel asked Ralof, "Do you have any idea where this hallway leads?"

The Stormcloak shook his head, "None, though that cart of lettuce we passed," he nodded back at said cart, "Implies a storage room." The trio of escapees descended a short flight of stairs. "I'd be careful though, the last thing we want is more Imperials than we can handle." The dragon's mighty roar was heard again, chilling those inside the keep despite the stone walls. "Then again, they seem to have their hands full."

"You heard that Captain, Ralof," Lianna pointed out, "If they see us, they won't hesitate before attacking, dragon or not."

The stairs ended and the hallway leveled out before them. A few steps ahead the corridor bent to the left, hiding any possible soldiers. Ralof pointed this out, much to Hammel's joy.

My new friend here has some decent military experience.

Pressing his back against the wall, Hammel peaked around the corner. To the right was an oak door, directly ahead the hallway continued deeper into the keep and the left hand side was taken up by a wall. "We're clear," Hammel reported, voice hoarse, "But I don't know for how long."

"Then we'd better move now." Lianna said, flourishing her sword. "Come on, before more guards show up."

The trio began moving down the hallway swiftly but silently, alert for any soldiers. But the danger wouldn't come from the Imperials. Hammel's senses, honed after years of scouting, felt the rumbling of the roof above. An upward glance showed cracks shooting rapidly across it. "Get back now!" He roared, flinging himself backwards.

Lianna and Ralof complied without argument, backpedaling with the speed of a thief fleeing an angry mark. Even as they moved, the hallway collapsed directly before them. Rubble completely filled the passage where they had been standing only moments before. Forward was no longer an option.

"I wonder what..." The dragon's roar cut off any doubt in Ralof's mind as to the cause of the collapse. "Dragon's persistent, I'll give it that."

Ignoring Ralof's half-compliment of the creature trying to kill them all, Hammel looked to the door. "I guess we're going that way after all."

Rising shakily to her feet, Lianna went to check the door while the two men gathered their wits. "It isn't locked," she said after a moment, "But there's people on the other side." She pressed a pointed ear against the door for a moment, listening. Spitting on the floor she gave a report, "They're Imperials."

Drawing his battleaxes, Ralof smiled. "I suppose we'll have to kill a few more on the way out."

"What do you say to shock and awe?" Hammel asked, trying not to think about what was about to happen.

"Good plan." Ralof kicked the door open and led the trio in. They were greeted by an ordinary storeroom. A fireplace roared in one corner while a table, covered in food, sat unbothered by the chaos around it. Several cupboards and barrels surrounded the room while various pieces of game hung from racks. Two Legionaries were going through the barrels while a third was watching the door Hammel and the Stormcloaks had just burst through. A Sargent was in the middle of giving orders when the door gave way, spilling escaped, and armed, prisoners into the room

"Kill them!" The Sargent roared, dropping the wooden box in his hands and drawing his sword. The door guard was already charging the Stormcloaks and Hammel as the other two soldiers went for weapons.

Hammel met the guard head on, a sword in each hand and a battle-cry on his lips. The Legionnaire shouted, "Die you bloody prisoner!" while swinging his blade high. Hammel blocked the clumsy strike with his right sword, simultaneously plunging his left through the guard's stomach. With a look of shock and a grunt of pain the Imperial collapsed, blood rushing from the wound.

Ralof buried both his axes right in the face of one of the Imperials, while Lianna threw magic flames at the Sargent. Ralof moved to assist his wife, leaving the last Legionnaire for Hammel.

Gingerly stepping over the body at his feet, Hammel approached the survivor. This Imperial rushed him, swinging high, low, then high again. The flurry of blows put Hammel on total defence, forcing him backwards until his unprotected back was against one of the cupboards. The Imperial lunged, fully intent on running Hammel through. The Nord blocked with his right hand sword, jabbing outward with his left.

The Legionnaire hopped to the side, narrowly dodging the strike but completely unprepared from the follow-up swing from Hammel's right. His blade took the Imperial in the side of the face, striking with enough force to launch him backwards. The Legionnaire's body hit one of the cupboards head first, smashing through the lower shelf. This prompted the whole unit to collapse, burying the fallen soldier beneath wood, tankards and bread.

The sounds of battle ceased as the Sargent fell, his unprotected head split by a well placed axe blow. The three victors stood silently for a moment, catching their breath after the short but fierce confrontation.

Hammel sheathed his swords and grabbed an empty goat-hide sack that was resting by the fire. He began shoveling things into it, bread, wine, potions, coins, even silverware.

"Might I ask, what in Oblivion, are you doing?" Lianna snapped, looking scathingly at him.

"Gathering supplies," Hammel responded casually, pulling both a full rabbit and pheasant off the hanging rack. "I don't know exactly where Helgen is and I don't know what the situation is out there. I'd rather spend a few moments grabbing some things that may be useful instead of dying of starvation because I ended up on the Throat of the World."

Lianna looked to her husband for support, only to see him following Hammel's example. The Stormcloak had popped open a barrel and was shoving the potions it contained into a sack of his own. "Fine," Lianna said, jabbing her head in the direction of the double doors leading out of the storeroom. "I'll just guard the exit until you're satisfied. By Talos, I hope the dragon doesn't kill us all before you're done looting."

Her words, laced with disdain, barely registered to Hammel. "Alto wine," he murmured, looking at the bottle he'd found, "A hundred year vintage," he almost salivated at the thought of drinking that oh so smooth wine. Adding a guard's coin purse and a hunk of goat cheese to his pile, Hammel tied the bag shut. "Ready to move." Slinging the bag across his back, Hammel drew his blades once again, ready for anything Skyrim would send his way.

Ralof followed suit with an axe in each hand and a makeshift backpack carrying his treasures. "Get that door open, Lianna. We've been in this keep far too long."

"My pleasure." Giving a vicious smile the Altmer rammed her shoulder into the double doors, throwing them aside with resounding thuds. The trio advanced, grim looks of determination capable of sending a Dremora fleeing in terror.

"Did you hear that?" Ralof asked after a few moments of travel, straining his ears against the muffled din of dragons and battle.

"Steel on steel," Hammel answered, already moving as fast as he could. His ankles and body screamed at him. He'd already taken a massive beating from the day's unexpected labours but he willed the pain away. He could rest later, get cleaned up later, eat later. Right now he had to survive.

The walls grew darker and more ominous as the escapees descended. The tunnel became less even, feeding into more natural rock. Hammel had a sinking suspicion where the chamber led. This tunnel was meant to be traveled very rarely and avoided if at all possible. Only two rooms in such a stronghold held functions best avoided, and the smell wafting up the hallway wasn't feces.

The room lacked a door, almost daring the keep's residents to enter. A trio of crudely designed iron cages were pressed against the back wall, each held the remains of someone unlucky enough to have entered the torture chamber as a guest of honor. Two more cages hung from the ceiling, both currently empty, but stained from frequent use. A ramshackle wooden table occupied another corner, covered in torture instruments and embalming tools put to wicked use.

The details of the room were secondary to Hammel, what mattered were the occupants. Next to the cages a young man in simple robes was banging his mace repeatedly against the shield of a Stormcloak. The blocking warrior held a sword but was unable to use it because any kind of opening would prove fatal. The other Stormcloak was young and built like a snow bear. The giant warhammer she clutched in powerful hands should have made short work of the robed man before her. But this man, the head torturer judging from the blood on his robes, was a mage. Crackling lightning blazed forth from his hands, striking the Stormcloak and slowly burning her to death. Her face was contorted in agony as she gripped the warhammer's handle for support, trying unsuccessfully to get to her feet.

The old man laughed insanely while advancing slowly. "Death to you and all your vile traitorous friends!" His magical lightning grew stronger, his eyes dancing with the fire of maniac energy.

Torture was something that Hammel hated. He'd kill a man in a fair fight, or a not so fair fight, or if he was paid to, but torture? That was sick and unnecessary.

Striding across the torture chamber without pause, Hammel approached the torturer from behind. The old man had no knowledge of the Nord in life and he would have none in death.

Running both swords through the torturers' chest, Hammel kicked his corpse to the floor, watching the lightning fade away. The assistant gaped at the sight of his master lying dead, a pause that provided an ample opportunity for his opponent to lop off his ugly head. He followed his master to the floor, blood oozing from the stump of his neck.

Hammel sheathed one sword before offering a hand to the kneeling Stormcloak woman. Looking up at Hammel for a moment, she scrutinised him before accepting, clasping her hand around his forearm. "Thanks," she said sincerely as he pulled her to her feet. "I thought that old bugger had me." Her eyes fell past Hammel's shoulder to Ralof, "Ralof! You made it, praise The Nine! What about the others? Did you see anyone?"

"Natala!" Ralof said happily, clapping the woman on the shoulder, "Good to see you alive." He looked past her to the man, "You too Thangar." Thangar kept his gaze directed towards the pathway out of the chamber. Ralof looked back at Natala, "To answer your question, we haven't seen anyone else. We gathered in one of the guard towers with several others, including Jarl Ulfric, but got separated. What about you? Have you found anyone else?"

Natala shook her head. "Only in the courtyard, but with that dragon flying overhead finding cover was the only thing we were thinking of. Thangar and I wanted to avoid any entanglements." Gazing down at the remains of the Imperial torturer she grinned wryly. "We almost succeeded." She looked at Hammel again. "You should probably put some armor on." She glanced at his ragged trousers and crudely spun tunic, "Those aren't going to block any blades."

Hammel shrugged. "I'll grab armor when I have time. Where does that tunnel lead?" He pointed down the path leading out of the torture chamber, one obviously leaving to a natural cavern.

"Based on the notes we found," Thangar answered, speaking for the first time his expression hidden behind a full helmet commonly found on town guards. "This leads into the mountains somewhere west of Helgen. If you make it out of the tunnels alive you should be home free."

"Why if?" Lianna asked, "There can't be anything more dangerous than a few wolves in there."

"Ordinarily," Natala answered, shooting several sideways glances at the tunnels, "But Thangar and I heard movement and voices down there. Sounded Imperial, probably trying to escape."

Ralof chewed his lip a moment, "You two stay here as long as possible, send anyone else you see our way. We'll clean these tunnels of Imperials as we escape." He looked over to Hammel with a questioning look, "That's alright with you...?"

Hammel realised Ralof didn't know his name. "Hammel, Hammel Greymist. Fine by me, so long as we don't stay here." He didn't want to admit it but the torture room was giving him the chills and, as a Nord, he didn't chill easy.

Both Thangar and Natala seemed fine with this arrangement, neither were keen on exploring the tunnels. "Talos be with you," Ralof said. "If you get overwhelmed, retreat. No sense dying over this pile of skeever droppings."

His orders were met with affirmations "You too," Thangar answered,"Be careful down there."

Without another word, the trio moved into the cave tunnels, further into hostile territory but also closer to the cool, free air of Skyrim. Moving as silently as possible, they followed a river, went down several bumps and around several bends. They almost had a battle with a brown bear but fortunately she was sound asleep and they snuck by her without incident.

After ten minutes or so, voices could be heard ahead, Legionaries. The tunnel the escapees occupied bent sharply to the right, opening up into a large natural cavern. The voices were drifting up from it.

"We have orders to help General Tullius in a situation like this!" That voice held a Nordic tinge; it seemed Hammel would be facing his own kin.

"Hang our orders!" Another voice answered, Imperial in birth and not simply allegiance. "We can't help the General very much if we're dead now, can we?"

"Shut up you two!" This voice was Redguard and very annoyed, "We barely made it out of there! And we still aren't out of the woods yet." There was a pause and the sound of shuffling bodies, "Grogrot! Get those three moving!"

"But Titus took an arrow right through the leg! We're moving as fast as we can!"

"Shut it, Pictus!" Undoubtedly an Orc. "Dump his useless ass if you have to, we need to get out of here!"

Hammel glanced out from behind his corner, taking in the scene before him. There were seven Legionaries, in various states of injury, moving through the cavern. Four of them, those speaking, were further down the tunnel with their weapons drawn. Behind them two others were helping a third between them, moving the groaning soldier as fast as they could. The soldier Pictus, seemed to be one of that group. They were so focused on moving their injured friend that they didn't notice the trio of escaped prisoners creeping ever closer to them.

"I've got a knack for sniping," Hammel whispered to Ralof, "My Praefect once said I could shoot the wings of a fly without warning his brothers. You wouldn't happen to have a bow?"

Ralof's bearded face cracked a smile, "Now that you mention it..." Lowering his sack to the ground, the Stromcloak removed a simple wooden longbow and a dozen iron arrows. "Don't miss."

Accepting the offered weapon, Hammel looked at both Stormcloaks, "When the first Imperial hits the ground go charging in. Ralof, take whoever you can, Lianna use magic." He looked back into the cavern grimly, "If we don't even these odds quickly, it'll end badly for us." Both warriors nodded, faces set in a ready expression. "Alright, let's go."

Creeping into the new area, hidden in the shadows, Hammel strung the bow. Notching an arrow, he surveyed the possible targets.

In that moment the realisation of what was about to happen dawned. He'd been killing Legionaries on instinct after they'd attacked him first. Now, he was about to fire on men who wore a uniform he himself had worn not so long ago. Men who were like his friends, his brothers.

This was different than before. He was about to make a conscious decision and attack from the shadows. He knew it was them or him and they wouldn't hesitate but it didn't make the ambush any easier. He grit his teeth and hardened his heart.

If I see old Ghorbash down there I'll only wing him, for old time's sake.

Hammel mentally drew straws for the three men in the back. The left supporting Legionnaire drew the short one.

Sorry, friend.

Hammel pulled the string back to his ear, took aim, then released the arrow. It sailed silently through the air, slamming into the unfortunate soldier's neck. With a gargle, the Imperial slumped to the ground, dropping his wounded comrade. A second arrow put the injured soldier out of his misery before anyone was aware what had happened. Pictus drew a blade, his face revealed in the light. He was helmet-less and his handlebar mustache proved no deterrent for Ralof's axe.

Screaming war cries, the two Stormcloaks dashed past the newest corpse, approaching the four remaining Legionaries. Hammel raced behind them, slinging the bow over his shoulders and drawing both blades.

"The Elf is mine!" The Orc howled, a steel morningstar clutched tightly in a powerful green fist. His other hand glowed with magic energy. Two of the others, the Redguard and the Nord, went after Ralof. That left the remaining Imperial to face Hammel. The soldier dashed in with his shield raised. Hammel leaned back, dodging the Imperial's attempted shield bash. Launching a three strike attack, Hammel attempted to keep the soldier on his toes. While his adversary managed to block the strikes, it left him unprepared for Hammel's next move.

The Nord kicked the Legionnaire in the ankle, putting everything into the blow. The bone snapped, light armor proving useless against Nordic rage. Howling in pain, the Imperial fell before being silenced forever by the flashing blades of Hammel Greymist.

Glancing over, he saw Ralof holding his own just fine against the Redguard, the Nord Legonarie already bleeding on the ground. Lianna, on the other hand, seemed a bit outmatched. Raising a ward to block the fireballs the Orc was hurling her way, she took a step backward. Even as he moved, Hammel knew there was no way he'd reach her in time. The Orc advanced, licking his lips in anticipation of the kill, morningstar held outright.

Then Lianna did something very unexpected.

Taking two further steps back, the Altmer opened her mouth and shouted a single word in Dovahzul, "Iiz!" For a second, the air around the advancing Orc rippled. Then, without warning, the Imperial battlemage froze solid, falling to the ground with an audible thump. The Redguard looked over for a second, long enough to catch an axe to the throat. Hammel did his best to process this new information.

This Altmer can Shout! How in Oblivion is that possible?

He'd have to get more details later because now was not the time.

Lianna advanced on the frozen Orc, looked down at him and stamped her boot on his head. The Orc's head shattered, icy pieces of skull and brain rocketing off in all directions.

An eerie silence fell over the cavern, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors and the gentle bubbling of the underground stream they'd been following. "Do you smell that?" Hammel sniffed once more, standing completely still. "It's a cool breeze, and it's fresh."

Lianna took several hesitant steps forward before hissing excitedly, "This way, come on Ralof!" Her steps turned into a full blow sprint, blasting past her husband towards the fresh air. Ralof and Hammel followed closely, aches and pains all but forgotten. The tunnel grew wider, light spreading in the tunnel, breeze obvious now. They could hear the whistling wind howling, promising them freedom. Pushing themselves to the limits, they rushed out of the tunnel, leaving the caves behind and revealing a free Skyrim stretched out before them.

They were standing on the outside of a small mountain. A valley stretched outward below them, dominated by towering pines. The mighty forest was broken only by a proud river gargling its way through the valley, promising salmon and fresh water. The air was cold and crisp. The land before them was like a painting, complete with cool blue sky and distant, snow-capped, mountains. A lone eagle shrieked as it soared through the sky, a few elk dashed over a log, and a fox ran under a shrub. After his near execution, the wilderness was lovelier to Hammel than any woman he'd known.

Each took a moment to catch their breath, greedily sucking the free air into their lungs. Helgen was nowhere in sight, though smoke rising in the distance behind them gave a clue to its presence. No Imperials, bears, or other enemies were visible as far as the eye could see. They'd made it.

"Well, what no-?" Ralof's words were interrupted by the roar of the dragon. The creature was flying over the mountain in their direction. "Not again!" He cursed, throwing himself to the ground. "Get down, now!" Dropping to the dirt so fast he ate mud, Hammel swore as he bashed his knee on a rock, injuring himself yet again. Lianna fell back into the mouth of the cave, concealing herself in the shadows. Hammel didn't dare to even breathe.

The dragon circled once overhead, roared again, then pressed on. Flying towards the distant mountains, the dragon bellowed a mighty howl of triumph, boasting of the destruction it had caused to the world.

"Okay," Hammel murmured, looking at the dragon growing smaller in the distance. "I think he's gone for good this time." The others joined him in gazing over the wooded valley. "What do we do now?"

"If we keep moving," Ralof mused, stroking his beard, "I might find something recognizable. I know Falkreath Hold well enough, I grew up here after all."

"I'm not going another step before drinking one of these," Hammel commented, dropping his sack to the ground. He withdrew three unmarked vials, each filled with a dull green liquid.

"Stamina potions," Lianna commented dryly, taking one as Hammel passed them around, "I'm surprised you can tell without a label."

He shrugged. "They taught us to recognize potions in the Legion. Didn't want us poisoning ourselves by accident I suppose." Uncorking the little bottle, he swirled its contents gingerly and sniffed. "Fair warning, this is the cheap stuff. That means it smells and tastes just like piss."

"More of a piss with ink taste," Lianna muttered, grimacing as she downed her shot. Ralof took his potion with a grimace, clearly not looking forward to the experience.

Hammel raised his bottle, "Bottoms up."

The bottle's contents burned down his throat. The taste was worse than expected. Yet a few seconds later it was worth it. The sore tugging on his muscles and the tired feeling in his lungs vanished.

Potions really are wonderful things.

Smashing the bottle on the ground and grinding the shards underfoot, Hammel re-slung his pack, ready to move on.

Spitting on the ground once, Ralof stated, "Let's get moving. I don't want to be here if that dragon decides to come back.

The trio began their journey down the mountain side. Physically refreshed by the potions but emotionally still weary, even wounded. No one who stares death in the face walks away completely unharmed. There are always scars, no matter how deep they might be buried.

Had they waited a few more moments at the exit they would have seen someone exit the cave behind them. The man's boots were ragged and torn, his armor in tatters and stinking of smoke. His sword dripped blood, while his left arm fell mangled and useless against his torso. His eyes held a vacant look, his face covered in blood and soot. However, despite all appearances, he was alive.

Hadvar looked around, judged where he was, then took off in the opposite direction the trio had gone. Running as fast as his wounded body would take him, only one thought echoed through Hadvar's mind.

General Tullis and Jarl Elisif need to know what happened here.