Chapter 3
The heavy wooden door slammed open, smashing into the back of the soldier guarding it. We trampled over him, jumping through the opening into the storeroom. After killing the first guard, there was only an Imperial captain left in the room. He put up a short fight, but was no match for our axes and my magic, falling lifelessly to the ground, with multiple axe wounds in his body, and his armour smoldering. Shortly after, Ralof and I left the room, now stocked up on potions and rations, determined to make it out of the deathtrap Helgen had become. As we neared a set of stairs, I heard the sound of shouts and the clashing of steel from down the steps. Holding my hand out to Ralof, signalling him to stop, I peered round the corner, to witness a fight ocurring between some Imperials and Stormcloaks in what looked like some sort of torture room. Paying no heed to caution, I hurried downstairs, leaping off the last few steps to embed my iron-bladed axe in a mage's head. However, from the heavy blow I dealt, half the blade became stuck in his head, and while I was trying to pull it out, the mage's assistant came rushing at me with a mace overhead. I pulled the body of the man's master in front of me, absorbing the blow and wrenched the axe out of his head, while concentrating the fire in my hand into a stream of flames that caught the assistant full in the face. His screams were drowned out as the fire burnt through his throat, and he fell dead to the floor. The other Stormcloaks had defeated their opponents as Ralof grouped up with them.
"A torture room. By the gods..." Ralof murmured, looking into the rusted cages around the room. In one, another mage lay rotting old, dry blood pooled on the surface of the cage, but I noticed a potion inside, along with what looked like a spellbook. The mage had no use to us dead, but his supplies would be useful for me. As Ralof and his Stormcloaks discussed what to do, I rummaged around the cupboards, throwing torture instruments out of the way, looking for anything to open the cage with. In a large, deer hide knapsack on a table, next to a black leather book painted with the Empire's sigil, was a few pieces of thin metal I could use as lockpicks. Approaching the door to the cage, Ralof calling to hurry up as him and the others walked on ahead, I hurriedly picked the lock to the cage, grabbed the potion, the book and, after moving the man's body, a few septims too, before I headed on my way. However, just as I was leaving, I had a second thought and grabbed the knapsack too. I'd need it if I wanted to get more supplies.
When we neared another large room, underground it seemed, by the water dripping from the ceiling and the untouched ground, we came across another group of Imperials, talking in hushed voices. Despite the element of surprise, Ralof and I were the only ones who survived. Both of our companions were feathered with arrows from archers, before we managed to get to them. Their bows served us better now, though. Strapping a quiver and longbow to my back, and grabbing a sword from the cold hands of the third and final captain, we went on our way, Ralof mumbling a quick prayer for our fallen comrades.
"Do you think we're the only ones to make it out?" I asked, hoping it wasn't true, even if it was our enemies who had survived, as opposed to our allies. We were walking through a tunnel, somewhere under Helgen, rocky walls and soft, moist ground pressing us in.
"I don't know, but I pray Ulfric survived. Without him, we have no hope of defeating the Empire, no hope of going back to our way of life." Ralof seemed upset, talking about the unknown fate of the first Stormcloak, and what his uncertain fate meant for Skyrim.
"What's so wrong about Skyrim being part of the Empire? It's protected, it's supplied for, it's stronger, with Imperial help." I couldn't understand, fool that I was, why a native of this country wanted to get rid of potential allies.
"What's wrong is we're controlled. We don't govern ourselves, Na'jar, the Imperials watch everything we do, and kill us if we retaliate. But Ulfric proved we can defeat them. We've been beating them throughout the land, taking back Nord forts, Nord villages. If we let the Imperials take over, we won't be Nords anymore. They'll turn us into Imperials, get rid of our culture, our history." The way Ralof spoke, he seemed so reverent of Ulfric, so believing. When I looked at his face, covered in dirt and sweat and blood, I saw his eyes shining when he spoke of the Stormcloaks. I'd seen that look before, in other people who were part of, our believed in other orders. They had so much compassion for their leaders and their cause, but that made me think. What did I have? What did I believe in?
After that short conversation, we lapsed into an unsteady silence. We only communicated once after that, when we stumbled upon a nest of frostbite spiders. The battle ended briefly, but not before one of the creatures managed to hit me with a ball of its venom. I felt the poison running through me, before I drunk a potion to rid myself of the burning venom.
"Hate those things, too many eyes, you know?" the Nord admitted. After that, we continued on without interruption, until the rays of daylight shone on our faces through the exit to the cave. I'd never felt so happy in my entire life.
"Freedom!" Ralof gasped, as we rushed for the opening of the cave. Our happiness came briefly however, as the monstrous dragon that had destroyed Helgen soared overhead. After we ducked under some overhanging rocks, we both thanked the gods that the beast hadn't noticed us. When we emerged, the warmth of the sun, poking out from behind the evergreen forest, flushed our faces and lit them up with regained energy.
"You know," Ralof said, as we trudged through the dirt towards the equally earthen road, "you should join the Stormcloaks, I know you could help us, every man does in his own way." The offer surprised me. I had never held any allegiance, to anyone, before, but this was tempting. After what the Imperials had attempted, and knowing they were aligned with the Thalmor further fueled the fire of my vengeance. "I understand it may be a difficult decision," the Nord said at last, "so if you decide to help the cause, just travel to Windhelm. I know Ulfric, or his commanders, will welcome you." Will they though? Will they accept someone who's campfire got their leader killed? The person they believed in?
"This one will think on it." I answered, leaving us walking in silence until a while later, as we came under the small canopy of trees.
"Will you come with me to Riverwood? My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill there, she'll help you with whatever you need." Another tempting offer...
"Perhaps. I will meet you there, I just want to explore the area first." It was true. Escaping a burning village was not a good way to start a new life.
"Well, if you follow the path I'm taking, you'll come across three of Skyrim's thirteen Standing Stones, next to the river. Mage, Warrior and Rogue. Pray to one, and you'll find yourself stronger in one of their aspects. Magic, Physical fighting and, well... thievery, if that's your style of life. Take your pick." With that, he began to jog down his beaten path, leaving me to my own.
~~~~~~~~~
Table of Contents
Next Chapter
Previous
