Huntress of Drakes Part 1- A Skyrim tale

  • Another Refugee



    Ian S. McClure



    I awoke to cold, biting winds and the strange sensation of being jostled out of slumber. I found myself in a carriage. Immediately, a feeling of dread and sorrow overtook me, for I knew I was being driven to my death. And what a horrible way to die awaited me! Far from the lush fungal forests of Deshaan, from the small township I called home, I was - I knew I was - to be executed, due to a rebellion I didn’t even know was happening. Damn it all! I wasn't ready to die - especially not like this.

    Of course, the people of Skyrim who read this now know that I did not perish there. The bards still sing of the unlikely heroine, Vevsa Athrel, the ‘grayskin’ who had saved them all. Did I know, during that carriage ride, that I was to deliver this land - and beyond - from the jaws of fiery annihilation? Me, a poor huntress who had fled after Argonian raiders ravaged her home? Of course I didn't. When I left home for a new life, it was because I wished to be as far from Morrowind as I could. The sounds of my mother’s screams and my father’s blade clashing against the raiders’ shields were still fresh in my mind - indeed, even know I hear them on occasion. I tried life in Cyrodiil for a while, eking out an existence through selling the pelts and eating the meat of my kills. When I went to Skyrim, it was actually by accident - I did not know I had crossed the border.


    Until, of course, I was harassed by the damn rebels. Stormcloaks, they called themselves. “Grayskin!” they cried. “Get out of our land! Skyrim belongs to the Nords!”



    I observed that one of their number – a blond-haired man - frowned at this. “Hey now. She can be here if she wants. She's no Imperial.”


    Before I could answer or walk away, the ambush occurred.



    It was a quick, one-sided skirmish. The Imperials had the upper hand in both numbers and coordination, for the rebels were disorganized due to the surprise of it all. Most were captured, though a few were inevitably killed. The Imperials also decided that, since I was with them, surely I must be a Stormcloak as well. How in Oblivion they thought a Dunmer would join them is beyond me. My worn hide armor, my beloved longbow - a weapon wrought by my father before his untimely demise - all confiscated. That was the first blow, for that bow was more than a tool for the hunt. It was a reminder of happier times, now long gone. The second blow was when I realized that the rebel leader was among those captured, which surely meant our execution. I fainted when I realized that. Perhaps it was my mind trying to cope with the fact.


    In the carriage with me were three men – the thrice-damned rebel leader, Ulfric Stormcloak, another victim of chance named Lokir, and the man who defended me earlier. His name was Ralof. Ralof was resolute when facing his death; it was inspiring yet sad. Lokir, on the other hand, was frightened witless. He begged his gods to save him, but his pleas - like so many others’ - went unnoticed or ignored. We eventually reached Helgen, a Nord town, and the carriages stopped. This, then, was where I was to die. Or so I thought.

     


    I faced two Imperials, though only one was of their race. The foul-tempered captain, clad in heavy armor, and yet another Nord, whose armor was light. As they called the names of the rebels, they walked towards the horrible chopping block, but when Lokir was called, he panicked. He tried to run, the fool. Archers shot him down effortlessly, their arrows jutting from his back. I had seen death before, and I felt nothing for the man, yet I felt my bile rise. Surely, I was nervous beyond reason – was the afterlife real? And would I be allowed entry? My thoughts returned to reality when a Nord legionary asked me to step forward. He frowned at the sight of me.


    “Who… are you?” he asked.



    I sighed shakily, trying my utmost to not weep, to retain something of my dignity. “Vevsa Athrel,” I said simply.



    His face softened. Quietly, he said: “Another refugee? Gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf.” As I finally succumbed to the tears, he turned to his commander.



    “Captain. What should we do?” he asked. “She’s not on the list.”



    “Forget the list,” she spat. “She goes to the block.”



    He looked at me again, clearly saddened. “By your orders, captain… I’m sorry, Vevsa. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Morrowind.” As I wept, unable to form words to say that there wasn’t even anything left there for me, the Nord said, “Follow the captain, prisoner.”



    I saw two men – one, Ulfric, clad in blue furred armor, the other a legionary clad in ornamental red – stare each other down, hatred boiling in each gaze. Ulfric was gagged – singularly cruel, I thought, to not allow him final words if he so desired. The other man, clearly the Imperial leader, said, “Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”



    The rebel grunted, unable as he was to speak with the gag.



    The Imperial continued his speech: “You started this war – plunged Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!”



    Just then, a sound echoed from the distant mountains – a roar, as though of some mighty beast. “What was that?” the Nord legionary asked.



    “It’s nothing. Carry on,” ordered the leader.



    I watched, sadly resigned, as the armored woman ordered the priestess who was there to give us our last rites. As if I wanted to be blessed by the Divines, as if I cared at all about the Imperial pantheon. This priestess was interrupted, however. A brave rebel stepped forward, insisting they “get this over with”. As he lay on the chopping block, the headsman lifting his axe, all he had to say was, “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”


    And then he was no more.



    And I was to be next. I remembered, in a flash, everything I feared of my death, and my tears began anew. The roar returned at that moment, resounding for all to hear. “There it is again. Did you hear that?” the Nord legionary asked yet again.


    “I said, next prisoner!” his captain responded.



    “To the block, prisoner,” he said, not looking at me. “Nice and easy.”



    Somehow, I walked, despite the maelstrom of emotion I felt. I stood sobbing before I felt the captain’s boot against my back, pushing me down so my head rested on the block. I saw the headsman staring at me, uncaring. And I closed my eyes, attempting to resign myself to my end.



    And then, the roaring.



    “What in Oblivion is that!?” the Imperial leader cried, as a deafening thud was heard. I opened my eyes and saw it – a fearsome, winged creature, with eyes of malice and fury. I heard a Stormcloak cry, “Dragon!”



    The monster roared again, and the headsman was toppled by the sheer force as the sky split open, fire raining down everywhere. I lay there, shocked beyond reason, until a familiar voice cried out.



    “Hey, dark elf!” Ralof shouted, having freed himself from his bonds. “Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance! This way!”



    I got up, despite my bound hands, and ran with him inside the nearby tower, where Ulfric – similarly freed of both bondage and gag – stood.



    “Jarl Ulfric!” Ralof said. “What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”



    Ulfric shook his head. “Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now!”


    “Up through the tower.” Ralof said, looking at me. “Let’s go!”


    And yet, even as I followed, in a haze of panic, we were delayed. The wall burst open, the beast's maw delivering a torrent of flames to burn some rebels alive. It flew off, leaving us to stare at the chaos outside.


    “See the inn on the other side?” Ralof said, pointing. “Jump through the roof and keep going!”


    “Are you mad!?” I cried, the first words I had spoken in quite a while.


    “Go!” Ralof insisted. “We’ll follow when we can!”


    Looking at the ruined building, I steeled my courage, and leaped through the air! I landed roughly, receiving slight burns from the nearby fire. Gasping in pain, I got up and kept running. Outside, the Nord legionary from before was calling to a child who stood shocked over a wounded man, perhaps his father. I never found out.


    “Haming! You need to get over here, now!”

     

    The boy stood and ran forth, abandoning the wounded man, who I saw briefly smile as the child reached relative safety.

     

    “That a boy, you’re doing great. Wait – Torolf!” the legionary yelled as the creature landed and incinerated the wounded man. “Gods… Everyone get back!” Only then did he notice me. “Still alive, prisoner? Keep close if you want to stay that way.” We left the child behind, hiding in the ruins of the inn, running at full haste.

     

    We ran through the burning, ruined town, hearing cries of pain and panic. I kept running, even as the Imperial commander, who stood valiantly as his soldiers attempted to fell this ‘dragon’, cried, “Into the keep, soldier! We’re leaving!”

     

    We only stopped when Ralof appeared, staring at the legionary.

     

    “Ralof!” he spat. “You damned traitor. Out of my way!”

     

    The Stormcloak replied, “We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time!”


    Hadvar shook his head. “Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde! With me, prisoner. Let’s go!”


    Ralof ran into the other entrance. “You! Come on!” he called to me.


    I stood there, amidst the flames and death, before I made my decision. I followed Hadvar. I figured that with an Imperial soldier at my side, there wasn’t a chance I’d be executed. In hindsight, utterly naive, but I had already entered behind Hadvar.


    Hadvar panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Looks like we’re the only ones that made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?”


    I shook my head, finding my voice again. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen such a horror.”


    Hadvar sighed. “Vevsa, come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off.” Surprised he remembered my name, I went over. He took out a knife, and freed my hands. “There you go. Take a look around, should be plenty of gear to choose from. Going to see if I can find something for these burns.”


    “Wha—Hadvar, right?” I asked. “I’m a huntress, not a warrior. I’ve never killed a man! How do you expect me to fight?”


    Hadvar hummed. “Well, you still need to defend yourself. Grab a sword, and some armor. You’ll need it if we find more trouble.”


    I hesitated, then went to the chest. It was filled with different sets of light Imperial armor. I eventually found one that fit me. Making sure that Hadvar was occupied with his burns, I removed my prisoner’s rags, donning the armor. I then found a sword wrought of simple iron and placed it in the scabbard. Though I was not confident with blades, I did know the basics of how to wield them. I was uncertain of my chances in a real skirmish, but I could at least cause some injury. I hoped.


    When Hadvar rejoined me, he pulled the chain near the gate, which caused it to open. We walked in silence for a bit, until we heard two voices, talking amongst themselves.


    “We need to get moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!” a man said, urgently.


    The other voice, a woman, panted, “Give me a minute. I’m out of breath.”


    Hadvar said lowly, “Hear that? Stormcloaks… Maybe we can reason with them.”


    I nodded silently, hopeful that this could be resolved without bloodshed. Hadvar opened the next gate, and stepped forward. The two rebels looked at us. “Hold on, now,” Hadvar said. “We only want to—”


    “Death to the Empire!” the woman said, before drawing her sword. Her companion similarly drew his weapon, a massive warhammer.

     

    “Damn it! Vevsa, stay out of the way!” Hadvar cried, as he engaged them. I bit my lower lip, watching the battle.

    Hadvar was a fine warrior, but so were the rebels – many were the times that I thought Hadvar would be killed, before he blocked or dodged and resumed his offense. Finally, I could stand by no longer. I drew my blade, slowly approaching the battle with the stealth I had so often employed hunting netches or kagouti. I stopped when I was near the fight, the woman’s back to me. I steeled myself – it’s her or me, I thought. And then I struck. Charging with a cry, I grabbed the woman by the hair, and stabbed her, piercing her damaged armor and going through her heart. The other Stormcloak was distracted by the sudden loss of his companion – enough that Hadvar could slash at his neck, felling him.


    As the two rebels fell, I felt the sadness, the horror, return in full force. I had just taken a life. Yes, my hand was forced, and yes, I knew it was necessary. But despite what most storytellers may say, it is no easy thing to have the blood of others on your hands. I began to sob again, crumpling into an upright ball on the floor. I became dimly aware of Hadvar standing over me.


    “Vevsa,” he said softly, “we need to move. That dragon’ll kill us all if we don’t.” When I merely continued to weep, he said, “You saved my life. They’d have killed me if you hadn’t stabbed her… I hate to say it, but sometimes you have to kill to survive. That’s the way things work in Tamriel.”

     

    I sighed, shakily, but nodded, rising once again to my feet.

     

    “Come on. Let me see if I can get that door open,” Hadvar said. I began to follow, but stopped. I saw the corpse of the woman, sword and shield still in hand. After a moment of hesitation, I grabbed her shield – partly to defend myself, yes, but partly to remember her, lest I become a monster who kills for sport as have so many others. And then I followed Hadvar, on our quest to escape this blasted town.

     

    Yet unfortunately, we were delayed yet again. The thunderous, monstrous roar sounded again, muffled by the stone walls. Then, the ceiling collapsed in front of us, blocking the path! Unable as we were to clear the rubble, we took a side path, opening a door into a storeroom. Within, more Stormcloaks were occupied with a barrel, trying to pry it open. “The Imperials have potions in here - they could prove useful.”, one said.

     

    I looked at Hadvar, who scowled. “No diplomacy this time,” he said darkly.

     

    With a cry, he drew his sword again, rushing the two rebels. They barely had time to draw their weapons before the legionary was upon them, and yet the two were able to hold their ground, dueling with Hadvar. I observed the fight, drawing my own blade with trepidation. But the sound evidently was audible – enough that one of the rebels abandoned Hadvar and charged me! With a startled cry, I raised my new shield, blocking his crazed greatsword strikes. Clearly, this particular man was no expert in battle, but then, neither was I. Eventually, mustering my strength, I bashed him with the shield as he raised his weapon again. He staggered backwards, but with a cry, charged once more.

     

    Unconsciously, I winced as I thrust my blade upwards. There was a dull clatter as the greatsword hit the floor, then sudden silence was all I heard.

     

    Slowly, I opened my eyes, beholding the limp body, my sword jutting through his neck. “By the Reclamations,” I said, the panic threatening to return.

     

    Two people. I had killed two people, now. Yet I would not succumb to the tears again. And so, I closed my eyes anew, attempting to steel myself. Memories, unbidden, flashed through my mind. Of learning to string and fire a bow with my father. Of catching my first fish, a gourami, with my mother. Of meals of beetle-cheese soup and ash yam loaves. I sighed shakily, calmed by these recollections, and opened my eyes. Hadvar was watching me with an expression of curiosity.

     

    “I’ll be fine,” I said, removing the sword as cleanly as I could from the corpse, which collapsed into a heap. “Just… remembering life back home.”

     

    Hadvar nodded, grinning. “Aye. I find that helps as well. Hold onto those memories – they’ll serve you well.”

     

    As I sheathed the sword, pensive, I walked over to the now-opened barrel, which held a few potions of differing colors. “We should probably take these. No telling what’s next,” Hadvar said.


    I placed said bottles in the armor’s pouch, before grabbing a sack full of tomatoes and apples. “I figure we’ll be hungry when we get out of this place,” I said to Hadvar.


    “Yeah, that makes sense,” he replied. “Done, then? This way.”


    And so we continued onwards. There was a foul torture room ahead, where the torturer and his assistant fought off Stormcloak attackers. With Hadvar’s help (I did not truly participate in this battle), they were slain, and the assistant agreed to help us for a little bit. However, the battle to follow was to be more challenging.


    A horde of Stormcloaks awaited us, some patrolling, others talking. When the fight inevitably began, I stood with Hadvar and the assistant as the warriors attacked. Luckily, they all were in front of us, facilitating the battle. I did not kill any of the warriors, though I wounded one enough that he was crippled, before the torturer’s assistant bashed his head in with his mace.


    I looked away from the carnage a moment, overwhelmed – and beheld an archer nocking an arrow.


    He had my longbow.


    I blocked the arrow, and kept my shield held high as I rushed him. He attempted to fire another arrow, but he was too slow! I bashed him with the shield, dazing him, before slashing at his legs, toppling the man. His cry gave me pause, and I hesitated at killing him. Perhaps luckily, Hadvar came then, and cleanly beheaded him.


    I knelt, picking up the longbow, almost tenderly. I had never expected to see it again after the Imperials confiscated it. Smiling for the first time in many, many hours, I put the bow on my back.


    “That’s yours?” Hadvar asked.

    I nodded. “Yes. My father made it for me. Having it back – it’s comforting.” I then grabbed the man’s quiver of iron-headed arrows, and then I stood. “I’m ready to keep going.”


    The rest of the journey was uneventful. With my recovered weapon, I felled a group of giant spiders, harvesting their venom for later use, and a bear that was in the cavern. For the first time, I was confident – partially because I had my longbow back, but also because these were animals, which I had plenty of experience slaying.

     

    When we saw the exit of the cave, frosty air whistling through with the sunlight, I laughed. “We made it, Hadvar!” I cried, overjoyed. “We made it!”

     

    Hadvar nodded, smiling. “Aye, we did.”

     

    We stepped outside and savored the wintry air for a bit. I never thought I’d be so relieved to see the Skyrim wilderness. After a few moments, Hadvar turned to me. “Hey… I know this area. Closest town is Riverwood. My uncle, Alvor, is the blacksmith there. I’m sure he’ll help you out… It’s probably best if we split up, though.”


    I shook my head, digging into some of the food I had grabbed earlier. I hadn’t realized, but I was practically starving, and I ate the tomatoes and apples with gusto, Hadvar waiting patiently despite the rather rude behavior. When I finished, I said: “No, I’ll go with you. You’re an actual Imperial – I’m just wearing the armor. You’ll be able to smooth things over if we run into more soldiers.”

     

    “Hrm,” Hadvar said, before shrugging and grinning. “Well, I suppose… Ready to leave when you are.”

    I nodded, looking out into the frosty wilderness, watching my visible breath. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”



    That will suffice for this first volume, I think. When I next write, I shall write of our arrival to the town, and the events that happened therein. Until then…

     

    -Vevsa Athrel

     

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Comments

9 Comments
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  June 12, 2016
    That's perfect .
    You'll find other members will give suggestions which is good as it presents other ways to show and explain things but ultimatly it's down to the writer to make the final choice.
  • Tenebrous
    Tenebrous   ·  June 12, 2016
    Thanks, Sotek! Changed it to 'due to a rebellion I didn't even know was happening'.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  June 12, 2016
    A great read Ian.
    I kind of floundered on the first paragraph though.
    Far from the lush fungal forests of Deshaan, from the small township I called home, I was - I knew I was - to be executed, alongside a rebellion I didn’t even know was happe...  more
  • Tenebrous
    Tenebrous   ·  June 11, 2016
    Added TOC!
  • The Wing
    The Wing   ·  June 11, 2016
    Anytime!
  • Tenebrous
    Tenebrous   ·  June 11, 2016
    Thanks! Typing on my phone is a bit difficult, and I've been out of the house all day. It's also why the TOC isn't up yet. Still, thanks for pointing out the typos.
  • The Wing
    The Wing   ·  June 11, 2016
    There was also something I apparently missed, this line:
    and beheld an archer notching an arrow

    The correct word is 'nocking'.
  • The Wing
    The Wing   ·  June 11, 2016
    I'm glad to see this up, Ian!  Just wanted to point out one typo I noticed:
    I saw twoo men
  • Tenebrous
    Tenebrous   ·  June 11, 2016
    A million thanks to The Wing for the editing! TOC will be up soon.