The coarse rope was tight enough around his wrists to burn. It was the first thing Skalf noticed as he came out of the black. The second was the swaying of a carriage underneath him.
“You're finally awake”.
Skalf opened his eyes to see one of the Stormcloaks sitting opposite him, bound equally tight. His head was still throbbing, and much of the small conversation went over his head, but Ulfric Stormcloak's name cut through the fog in his mind. The true High King, bound and gagged and thrown in the back of a carriage. It made Skalf's blood boil.
The Imperials lined up the Stormcloaks in Helgen's centre, in the shadow of the largest Imperial tower in the town. Skalf looked around at the townspeople. He knew some of them, yet they remained silent. Not that he would look for a way out, even if it was offered. The chance to die next to Ulfric Stormcloak was too much an honour.
He remained silent as the Imperial headsman pushed him down onto the block. It stank of the coppery blood of the last victim.
For the second time in as many days, Skalf heard an ancient word echo around the mountains. It was accompanied by a huge blast of wind, and a crack of thunder. With a huge crash, a dragon landed on top of the tower. It roared, scattering the Imperials and townspeople. His ears ringing, Skalf found himself thinking of sitting next to a fire with his father, hearing him talk so passionately about Talos and the dragons that still inhabited the world then.
“Hey! Hey you!”
Skalf slammed back into reality, all the screaming, roaring and the smell of burning flesh hitting him at once. He looked up at the voice – Ralof, the Stormcloak from the carriage.
“Come on! We have to get out of here!” he shouted, looking up at the sky. Skalf did the same, and saw the huge black shape of the dragon drop out from the thick smog of smoke to incinerate a building and everyone inside it. Ralof didn't need to tell him again.
They ran for the gates of the town. Skalf's hands were still tied, so when he tripped he could do nothing but land hard on his shoulder. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and Ralof cut his hands free. Everyone was running, Imperials and Stormcloak prisoners alike. A few Stormcloaks had picked up weapons and were cutting down the Imperial forces as they fled.
The fleeing horde moved to the west, heading for Falkreath. The Imperials were looking for the safety that city provided, and the Stormcloaks were just trying to catch their captors. Ralof took Skalf beyond the city walls, and behind the shelter of a rock explained that he had a sister in Riverwood.
“You have to go and tell her. Riverwood will be next if this dragon continues, and it's almost completely undefended. Gerdur will be able to help you”.
Ralof ran off to search for Ulfric, leaving Skalf to follow the road north. Helgen burned behind him, and it was a long time before his ears stopped ringing completely. When he stumbled into Riverwood, found Gerdur, and explained what happened, she took him into her home and offered him food and rest. When her husband, Hod, sat down opposite Skalf with a barrel full of mead and two tankards, he couldn't even think about turning it down. Not with the destruction that dragon rained down on Helgen still burning in his memory.
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