The spectacle at the town gates had me mesmerized, spellbound. In retrospect, though, I had no idea the significance of what I was seeing. On the carriages being brought into town sat two of the most powerful beings in Skyrim, though their respective powers came in quite different styles. But beyond even that, I could not have predicted what would soon transpire.
As I stood in the back of the crowd, my Altmer height granting me a superior view, I could just see the bobbing heads of Imperials, olive skinned and black haired, on horseback. I was straining, shifting my weight onto my toes, as I struggled to see who sat in the carriage. I could hear Elsiv's breath coming in excited gasps as the name "Ulfric Stormcloak" rippled through the crowd. Even Meeko, who was tied by a rope to the side of his master's carriage, barked in excitement. It was as though I was amid a sea of hostility, of apprehension.
Despite my recent arrival in Skyrim, I knew of Ulfric Stormcloak. A student of history and a studier of cultures, I fancied myself quite well-educated on Skyrim's society, and no study of Skyrim could be complete without rather extensive knowledge on the Jarl of Windhelm. As fierce a politician as he was a soldier, Ulfric held a certain interest for me. He was something of a romantic figure; casting down his king in order to build an independent country of like-minded men reminded me too much of my favorite pieces of fiction. It was not just political drive that fueled Ulfric's rebellion; religious purpose inspired them. The love of Talos held by the Nords was not something I could share, but it was still something I found intriguing. The idea that a man could rise to immortality was foreign to me, but, despite that, it was a part of Nordic culture I found to be somewhat endearing. However, my interest did not blind me from seeing that Ulfric Stormcloak was a rebel and a troublemaker.
"What? What do you see?" Bilandis was asking. Only then did I remember that the poor fellow was barely up to my waist and was missing the entire course of events. "Is it him? Ulfric?" There was a desperation in his voice, but as I turned my gaze down towards him, I was frightened by the demonic cast of his eyes. Seeing my look, Bilandis sought some sort of response, as he was wont to do, but found none. Frustrated by the lack of a rise, he turned from me, climbing onto his carriage. Only then did he stand tall enough to see the Imperials leading their prisoners- for that's what they were, bound by the wrists- closer to us in our little square. From his perch, Bilandis called down to Elsiv. "It's him! They've got him! Ulfric and two cart fulls o' Stormcloaks! There's a Nord in rags and- Some hooded fellow- I can't see his face from 'ere!"
Elsiv gently touched my arm, just a brush of contact, though it caught my focused intention right away. "We need to move," she urged me, guiding me towards Bilandis's traveling store. Realizing that she was quite right, that the Imperials were like to trample us, I surmounted the carriage and came to stand beside Bilandis. With some small assistance from me, Elsiv joined us.
It was then, as I turned my gaze from Elsiv back to the convoy, that I saw him.
Hunched beside Ulfric himself, slouching into the Nord's shadow, the figure gave a feeling of nonexistence. Even as his fellow prisoners fidgeted, exchanged words, this shadowy wisp of a man made no movement, no sign of life. Yet for some reason it seemed to me that the others in his cart avoided his gaze or even turned their bodies away from him. All this did nothing to lessen the spectral presence of the hooded prisoner.
"Skyrim for the Nords!"
The cry pulled me out of my fixation. Seeking the source, my eyes fell upon another prisoner. A tall Nord of wide shoulder and wide jaw, the shouter had a fierce expression upon his rugged face. A Stormcloak, if his uniform was any indication. Despite the bravery he held when facing what was sure to be an execution, his sentiment did nothing to inspire pity in my High Elf heart. Just as I took him in, I felt Elsiv's hands about my arm and her head upon my shoulder. Amid the din of the crowd, her whimper was barely audible.
Execution. Yes, that was what it was. Even as I watched the wagons roll to a stop, not even ten yards from where we stood, a headsman emerged from a building, an ax across his shoulder and a black hood over his features. Stooping, he placed a chopping block at his feet. In his wake emerged a priestess, a small Imperial escort and General Tullius himself. Not being the first time I had seen Tullius, he made little impression. My focus returned to the hooded prisoner.
"A Dunmer?" Bilandis wondered aloud, though there could be no doubt.
The prisoners were on their feet, climbing out of the wagons to face a roll call. The hooded spectre cast a red-eyed gaze around at those who observed the proceedings, and as he passed his eyes over mine, they lingered. The sensation, the bone-chilling sensation, that overcame me then, words on a page could never describe. It was not so much a desperation or a pleading in his eyes; no, that would have been easy to bare compared to the hatred I saw there. It was not a look of resignation or even a final gaze of scorn upon a cold, cruel world. No, I had the premonition that it was something much worse than that. Something deadly.
But just as soon as it had begun, it ended. The hooded figure continued his inspection and turned back to the Imperial soldier who was asking for his name.
Terrible in feature, the Dunmer was terrible in speech. For a time he did not answer, but as the crowd fell silent, he stood taller and permitted a crooked, humorless smile.
"Reckoning," he breathed, and though his voice was little more than a coarse and cracked whisper, it pervaded the entire audience. If he had intended to instill a supernatural sort of fear, he succeeded.
Or rather, he succeeded in all cases except for his executioners.
"To the block, then, Dark Elf," commanded the woman before him, obviously irritated by his disrespect.
After him came the Nord who had cried out. Upon being questioned, he gave his name proudly. "Hoster War-Horse," he bellowed, standing tall despite his bindings, "A truer Nord than any of you Imperial lapdogs, who betray your own--"
"Hoster War-Horse, to the block."
I felt Elsiv's body quiver against mine with renewed passion. For a moment, I thought that must have been her hunter husband, but I remembered that he had been called Henrik, not Hoster. Still, I offered Elsiv my shoulder, wrapping one arm loosely about her. War made many widows, I thought to myself.
Next came a cowardly Nord horse thief, but unlike the other firm men who went before him, he fled. The fool did not stand a chance.
"Any one else feel like running?" mocked the Imperial captain, before the thief's body even fell to the ground.
As one would expect, no one else ran.
The ritual was almost comically fast. No trial, and rites cut short by a spirited Nord, who was first to be executed.
It was not the first death I had witnessed. Not even the first execution. Still, when the Nord whispered, only audible to me due to my proximity, that he would go proudly on to Sovngarde, I felt a stirring in my perhaps overly Stormcloak sympathetic heart.
Hoster's name was called next.
But before Hoster could move, there was a distant rumbling which I could not have described at the time. It was unlike anything I had heard before. It shook the earth, and the crowd reverberated with confused interjections.
Only one living thing in all of Helgen seemed not to be frightened. With a hideous grin, the Dunmer walked in a small circle, turning, this time focusing his gaze directly on me.
Reactionary, as they were wont to be, the Imperials came into action, shrieking wildly for Hoster's obedience, though the Nord was all too startled to respond. Seeing the Dunmer's movement, another soldier reached out to grab him, turning him so that his back was to me. Just as the soldier gripped him, the Dunmer burst into a fierce flame. A cry of protest died in my throat as the world exploded around me.
Silence. The worst silence I had ever experienced. Everything was pain and everything was numb. The earth shook in protest and the sky burned like a funeral pyre as a creature, black and ragged as Death landed atop the tower of Helgen, like some great demonic raven, looming over the corpses of the soon-to-be-killed prisoners. Spreading its wings, the colossal creature cast a shadow, seeming to blot out the entire world. Its roar brought sound back to the world, and what a horrible, horrible sound it was.
"Dear Gods above!" cried Bilandis. As we all three leaped from our vantage point on the carriage, a fireball fell like a boulder from the sky, landed right in the center of Bilandis's wagon. I watched as the child-like merchant released a cry, more heart-wrenching and broken than anything I had heard before.
I grabbed him just as he seemed likely to climb onto the burning cart to salvage his goods. As I held him, Elsiv untied Meeko and held tight to his rope leash. "Come on," she shouted above the pandemonium that had descended in fire and death upon the city of Helgen, "We have to get into the Keep!"
My body responded immediately to her order; I clung to the desperate form of Bilandis Bittybundle and permitted myself to be led along by the Nord woman. However, her way was barred by falling debris, and she let out a loud curse.
"We can't get through this way," she shouted, turning back to me. Bilandis was sobbing at this point, though he would hate for me to pen that down into the histories. I, however, can not see any shame in that. A fiery hell had unleashed itself upon our world, and the blue skies had been conquered by storm clouds that could not belong to any worldly storm. Fire rained down on women and children, Imperials and Stormcloaks. It consumed all indiscriminately. Buildings were crumbling all around us, just as human bodies were igniting and toppling. The screams- I shall never forget those screams as long as I may live.
One voice, though, cut through it all.
"Elsiv!" it cried, "This way!"
"Brother!" Elsiv responded, abandoning Bilandis and I, though she kept a hold on Meeko, as she rushed after the voice and into a stone tower. The little merchant was nearly impossible to move and so I sacrificed his pride, hoisting him into my arms like a sack of flour, so that I could more easily pursue Elsiv.
Just as we entered the tower, the door was slammed shut behind us. Seeing our company, Bilandis sobered and demanded in rather coarse language that I put him down. I obeyed.
In the base of this mean tower stood none other than Ulfric Stormcloak and by his side, Hoster War-Horse, who held Elsiv tightly in his arms, her face pressed against his cavernous chest.
"Hoster, come," Ulfric ordered, moving towards a wide, winding stairwell, "We will have time enough for reunions once we leave the city!"
Nodding, Hoster hoisted Elsiv into his arms, much in the same manner I had held Bilandis. "Come, sister," he said softly yet with a fierceness. Bilandis rushed to take Meeko from Elsiv. The dog was nearly uncontrollable in its panic. Throughout the entire course of events, it had been barking wildly, and despite our relative safety in the building, it was no less wild. Bilandis tried in vain to soothe it with whispered nothings, despite his own tears.
"Hoster, put me down," Elsiv was saying. "I can walk. Get the dog."
"The dog?" Hoster answered with incredulity.
Elsiv answered in a voice that would brook no argument. "Get the dog."
Bilandis offered no protest as the hulking Stormcloak put down his sister and took Meeko up into his arms.
From the stairs came Ulfric's voice. "Rubble is blocking the stairway, but Gunjar is getting it clear. Now hurry up, before we all meet fiery deaths!"
We flew to obey. As we mounted the stairs, nearing a Stormcloak who was struggling to move rocks out of the way. However, just as I was moving to give him a hand with the final bits, the wall at his side was broken through and a great maw of scales and fire shoved itself through, snapping closed around Gunjar's upper body. He tore like a doll as the beast vanished, leaving two useless legs. Meeko, barking in a startled panic, squirmed in Hoster's arms but the Nord held him tightly, perhaps even roughly.
For a moment, we all stood, rooted to the spot. At length, I stomached what I had just witnessed, and burst into motion. "There's no point scaling the tower," I said pointedly, ideas turning in my mind like the Dwemer gears I had read of, "We'd just be trapped at it's peak, closer to the storm. We need to get out of the city, or else underground."
"The Keep," Hoster and Elsiv said in unison.
"Obviously the Keep," Bilandis countered, turning on Hoster. "That's where we were going before you lead us into this corner!"
A fire in his eyes not unlike those that burned around us, Hoster shot back. "Please, Elf, you would be nothing but ashes if you had remained out there. And a damn small pile of ashes you would make!"
Bilandis seemed like to come back with words more violent than his little body would be able to back up, but I was seized by an idea. "Through that hole," I cried, pointing towards the hole in the wall that the beast had made. "There's an inn there. We can make it!"
I could see a protest in Bilandis's eyes, but before he could speak, a gout of flame erupted from the base of the stairs. It became obvious to me that, if we did not move, we would soon be trapped, and I said as much. All but Bilandis seemed to be in agreement as the flame grew ever closer, climbing the stairs, and Bilandis's complaints were useless, for Ulfric Stormcloak himself picked him up and flung him rudely across the gap. I saw his frail little frame land on the other side.
"Come on, we haven't much time!" I shouted. Turning to Hoster who held Meeko in his arms, I urged him on with an air of command in my voice I had never heard their before. "Go!" For a moment, he seemed like to argue, but he did not. With a nod to me, he obeyed, easily making the jump, even with the extra weight.
"Now you!" I said, turning to Ulfric. Even as the flames grew closer and closer, he looked at me with a stony refusal.
"No," he said firmly. "Hoster's sister."
Startled, Elsiv saw there was no use in protesting. I thought to offer my assistance, to hold her like Hoster had held Meeko, but I greatly doubted my own physical strength. Even if I had wanted to offer, though, Elsiv was too quick. Nimbly, she jumped through the hole.
From where I stood, I could not see her go. However, the tortured cries of a man from without told me her fate in more truer a way than feeble words ever could.
"You," Ulfric ordered. My heart was so heavy, though, I feared it would weigh me down and I would fall down and land by Elsiv's frail body. Seeing my indecision, Ulfric shoved me on. "Go, you damn elf!"
I do not remember making the jump, but I did.
The scene as I landed in the inn was pitiful. Bilandis lay against a wall, seemingly stricken into silence. Meeko stood at his side, licking at a bleeding scratch on his face. Hoster, though, was sprawled by the edge of the hole in the inn's roof, staring over the side. Moving up behind him, I followed his gaze. There was a fire going there, amid a pile of rather sharp looking pieces of wooden debris. It was there that Elsiv had landed. Raising my eyes, I saw Ulfric preparing to make the jump.
He did not. Something caught his eyes, apparently, for he turned and raced through the path Gunjar had died to clear. I nearly cried out, but stopped when another figure stepped into the spot Ulfric had just been in.
Body all aflame, the Dunmer prisoner looked after Ulfric. By some Divine's favor, he did not turn his ghostly gaze towards us but continued on after Ulfric. If it had been possible to jump back across the gap, I might have been tempted to do so, to help Ulfric fight what instinct told me would be a great battle. But it was not possible.
"Come on," I said, hoping there was both understanding and firmness in my voice, "We have to get to the Keep." I realized I was the only one of us, besides perhaps Meeko, who was not injured in some way at this point, but we had not the time to lick our wounds. Bilandis, surprisingly was first to rise. Hoster was slower, but I granted him the time. Bilandis did not protest.
Finally, with the large Nord back on his feet, we continued on, leaping down from the inn and back into the streets. Hoster came into the lead, and I decided he must have been a native of Helgen, for he knew the way quite well, it seemed. We followed him without question, although Meeko seemed intent on leading us astray. Had it not been for Bilandis's uncharacteristically strong hold on the dog's leash, it is very possible Meeko would have strayed into the raging fires.
Helgen passed by me, but I could not absorb what I was seeing, even as we fell through the door of the Keep and paused to take a breath. There was only one thing in my mind. One vision. The one who had dubbed himself 'Reckoning," moments before a beast unlike any I had ever seen descended from nowhere- or perhaps from the Heavens. The way that Dunmer had seemed to walk through the flames, had even been aflame himself. No, it was not one vision I saw. It was two, for from that moment on, the red spectral eyes of the Dunmer and the red hellish flames of the Dragon were forever one in my mind.
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Great job