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The Tenth Hold	By : Singalmo Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 23706 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls : Skyrim, or anything related to it. This fiction is purely for entertainment and I do not profit from it in any way.

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Seved finally began to stir in the back of the cart. Sleep had come to him fairly quickly once he’d been loaded up and had felt oddly deep and strange. He was not sure what was going on, but he seemed vaguely aware of something in the back of his mind. Or was that the conversation happening between two of the occupants of his cart?

“We shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.” The man in rags looked upset, but only that he had been caught, not that he had done anything wrong. Seved was unimpressed.

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” The blonde man was equally unimpressed with the thief. Seved only half paid attention to the conversation. He noticed the last man in the cart with him had somewhat finer clothes, and was gagged. He heard the blonde man mention a name Ulfric Stormcloak. Something about him being the High King. But why would they have him in binds in a cart? This didn’t make sense. The thief seemed terrified then, wondering their fate. Seved was sure he already knew, he was just trying to get his bearings at that point. How long had he slept? Where were they now? The blonde man said something about Helgen. Seved tried to remember. He’d seen a map of Skyrim a few times, but hadn’t been in the province since he was only four years old. The name rang a bell. They were still in the southern end of Skyrim, but getting closer to the heartland. That would mean they were in Falkreath hold.

“Get these prisoners out of the cart. MOVE IT!” Some Imperial bitch with an air of too much power bellowed orders. Seved already didn’t like her from her voice. The cart lurched to a halt and it was time to move. Seved still felt sluggish, like he wasn’t in control of himself at that moment. He listened to the man call out names.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm... Ralof of Riverwood... Lokir of Rorikstead...” Seved watched as the horse thief tried to run for it and was taken down by the archers. He shook his head. The man was weak and deserved such a cowardly death. He would face his end with dignity at least. “Wait. Who are you?”

“Seved Kron, originally of Windhelm. Or possibly Riften. I honestly don’t know where I was born.” He was a little surprised that his name was not on the list. Had news of what happened in Anvil not made it up to Skyrim? Or was it only the Thalmor that cared about their dead agent? Maybe he would be let go. A chance at freedom?”

“Forget the list. He goes to the block.” The bitch’s voice was unmistakable. She would not take chances. Seved wanted to choke her to death slowly for being an arrogant officer.

“By your orders, Captain. I’m sorry, kinsman. At least you’ll die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain, Seved.”

“I have no home...” Seved mumbled as he turned to follow the imperious bitch. Ah well, at least it would be a quick and relatively painless death. He would give the Empire credit for making their executions a bit more civilized. He was vaguely annoyed with the priestess only invoking the Eight, but perhaps not as annoyed as one of the other Stormcloaks. On the one hand, Seved was annoyed with the man’s loudmouth behavior. On the other, he liked that the man refused to face death on someone else’s terms. Perhaps that was a good thing.

The sound in the distance made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There was something familiar about it. Something ancient and primal that made his heart beat a little faster. Something was coming. It sounded again, but it was Seved’s turn for the block. He would never know what it was. He briefly mused that he would have liked for the last thing he ever saw to be something more pleasant than an Imperial tower and the executioner looming over him. He wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening around him and settled for fixing his gaze on the tower itself. That, and the thing sweeping through the air to alight on top of said tower. His eyes went wide as the executioner staggered and turned around before the fatal blow could come down.

“DRAGON!!” Seved couldn’t move. His eyes met the beast’s and he knew, somehow, that he was meeting an old enemy. He remembered the stories his mother had told him once about the heroes who slew dragons. He remembered the legend of the great black beast which drove fear into Men and Mer alike. There it was, staring at him from the top of the tower. It didn’t care about the others. He knew, beyond all doubts, that thing was looking at him. It opened its mouth and a wave of force sent everyone staggering to the ground, Seved included, falling off the block.

The first thing that ran through his mind was that he was still alive. The axe had not come down on his neck. He heard the storm of fire and stone around him and all he could think about was the fact that he was still alive. His mind and heart were both racing in that moment when Ralof, the blonde man who had been with him in the cart, shouted at him.

“Kinsman! Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance! This way!” Seved snapped briefly to his senses and shoved himself rather violently to his feet, hauling ass after the Stormcloak soldier into the nearby tower. He was still in shock that he was still alive. “Could the legends be true? Is that really a dragon?”

“Legends don’t burn down villages.” Ulfric’s tone was a mixture of angered, matter-of-fact, and maybe a little superiority. It was the only time Seved had heard the man speak and already he didn’t like the man. “We need to move, now!” Seved didn’t wait for Ralof to tell him to head up through the tower. He was already moving. He could see a man clearing the rocks when the head of the great black beast broke through the wall. Seved nearly fell clear back down the stairs from jumping back too quickly to get out of the way of the flames. He was still running on adrenaline when Ralof told him to jump from the hole to the next building. Not a difficult leap, and a distance that Seved was comfortable with. No different from jumping off the yardarm onto the deck below. A leap he had made many times before, though admittedly, both objects were in active motion and not stationary. The landing was a bit of a jolt to his legs and he winced. A voice in the back of his head told him to keep moving. He saw the man who had read the names from the list. The one who probably would have let him go if not for his captain.

“Still alive, Seved? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” It was a fair command. He had his own duties and loyalties to keep and Seved could not fault him for that in the slightest. He followed the soldier, noting that his father probably was a lot like this man. “STAY CLOSE TO THE WALL!” Seved kept his back to the wall as the dragon landed above them. He was trapped under its wing and couldn’t move if he wanted to. He did, however, have the urge to touch that great leathery membrane, to know the beast better. He managed to get his hand up just as it moved, and for a split second, he could feel it. It was not quite what he was expecting, but honestly he wasn’t sure what to expect at all. He dashed after the soldier as he saw the man start moving again. They were headed toward the keep. That seemed like a wise plan. Ralof dashed up from the other direction, and now Seved had an active choice. He could follow the soldier, Hadvar was apparently his name, or he could follow Ralof. He looked between them, then saw the dragon fly overhead.

“Hadvar, hang back and look after yourself!” He shouted at the soldier, respecting the man who had been trying to save him before turning and dashing toward Ralof, moments before a wave of fire rolled directly at him. He was still shaking as his eyes began to readjust to the dim light of the entryway. Ralof dashed ahead of him to kneel over a fallen Stormcloak. Seved was finally calming down and began to laugh. It was not a laugh of joy or amusement, it was the kind of insane laugh that one utters after just escaping certain death. It took a long moment for him to finally stop and calm down. He breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, forcing his heart rate back down. He looked up at Ralof and felt a true kinship with the man in that moment. They both had escaped the block. They’d made it this far. Now they were sword-brothers. Ralof took out a dagger and motioned him over.

“Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off... And you might as well take Gunjar’s gear. He won’t be needing it any more.” Seved nodded and rubbed his wrists after the ropes fell to the floor. They were a little raw, but otherwise fine. He felt bad for a moment, but it passed quickly as he understood that he wasn’t out of the woods just yet. He stripped the man’s gear and quickly peeled off the sweaty, smelly rags he’d been wearing, glad to be rid of them. The armor was light, but it would do for the moment. He’d just strapped the axe to his side when they heard voices. Seved recognized the voice of the captain and a wicked grin formed on his face. He drew the axe and took position at the other side of the gate, waiting. The lower ranking soldier went through first, and then the captain. Seved sprung forward and swung low with the axe, slicing the woman’s thigh rather badly, effectively hobbling the woman. She cried out in pain and turned to look at her attacker before crumpling to the ground.

“You!” She growled at Seved.

“Getting what you deserve, woman.” Seved swung again and before she could raise her arm to block it, the axe caught the weak point in her heavy armor, slicing through her throat. He felt it was fitting. Ralof was having trouble with the other man and Seved heard it. He wheeled around and sliced the man open across the gut. The armor would need repairing, but would sell decently. He stripped the bodies of what was useful and that he could carry, finding a convenient sack to haul it in.

“Get that gate open.”

“Wait a minute. I’ll check their path, make sure no more come up behind us.”

“Good plan. I’ll stay here.” Ralof nodded, axe at the ready and Seved took off down the hall. A small barracks was all he found, along with some more things that were easy to carry and worth a decent amount of coin. He was going to need it, he was sure. Satisfied, he returned to Ralof and took the key he’d gotten from the captain’s body to unlock the gate. It was time to keep moving. The two men proceeded onward, tearing through Imperials in their way, dodging collapsing tunnels, and Seved managed to grab some useful things on the way. He opted to change into the heavier Imperial armor on the way once he’d found a man closer to his size. He liked the way it felt better than the lighter armor. Ralof briefly shouted at him for picking too many locks.

“Old habits die hard, Ralof. Besides, I’m rusty... Hah! See? More coin. Come on.” They moved on, having picked up another soldier along the way, tearing through the next batch of soldiers. She opted to stay behind and wait for Ulfric while Seved and Ralof went ahead. It was a good plan, at least until the next tunnel collapsed. They pushed onward, following the stream until they reached a wall, and a side passage. Seved could see the webs and frowned. He did something then that he had never thought to do before. He readied a sword in one hand, and in the other, a small flame burned. It was almost instinct, though he honestly could not recall having learned magic at any point in his life. He would worry about it later. Sure enough, there were three small frostbite spiders. Seved burst forward and cast the spell, shooting flames out to burn the nasty things. He hated spiders. He nearly jumped when the bigger ones dropped from the ceiling, but they burned just the same. He and Ralof shared a hatred for the vermin. He did, however, pause to empty the venom sacks, as frostbite venom could be useful when coated onto a blade. Seved blinked as he got to the last one.

“What is it?” Ralof looked at him curiously, but still anxious to move.

“Nothing,” Seved replied, looking confused, “just wondering how in Oblivion this spider ended up with seven gold septims stuck to its underbelly.”

“That... is a bit odd, I will admit.”

“Let’s go.” They moved onward and both screeched to a halt when they noticed the sleeping bear. Seved suddenly lamented his choice of heavier armor. Still, he crouched and moved slowly. There were some things in a cart that seemed useful to grab, including a coin purse. A familiar voice whispered in his ear to keep to the shadows and move very slowly. It was a voice he had known well and that he trusted. They were almost past the bear when Ralof decided to voice this, albeit in a whisper. The bear stood up and looked at them. Seved froze and glanced at Ralof angrily. The blonde warrior shut up and held still. The bear sniffed, looked, then turned around and laid down again. Seved took a long step behind the rock, blocking view, and then kept moving until they were well past the beast before he breathed a sigh of relief. He could see the way out and dashed for it, Ralof right behind him.

He didn’t breathe in the fresh air right away though, as the two heard a noise above and both dove for the bushes. They watched the great black dragon sweep overhead, flying off in some unknown direction. Safe at last, the two breathed deeply. The fresh air felt good. They looked at each other and started laughing. They embraced one another as sword-brothers often do after a fierce battle. They sat there in the bushes, laughing together for a few minutes before finally calming down. It was cathartic, really. Ralof stood up first and offered his hand to Seved, helping the red-haired Nord up onto his feet. Together, they started down the path toward the road.

“Might be best if we split up.” Ralof sighed. “I couldn’t have made it without your help.”

“Let’s keep walking together. You know better where we are than I do.”

“Riverwood is just down the road.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m sure my sister and her husband would help us out.”

“Lead on, then.” Seved grinned. “It’s been ages since I had a hot meal.”

“You’re in for a treat, then. Gerdur’s always been a good cook.” The pair continued onward. Ralof pointed out some things of note along the way. He paused to point out the ancient ruin of Bleak Falls Barrow. Seved wondered if perhaps there was anything of value left in the old ruin and promised himself he’d look into it later. Then they came to the Guardian Stones. He did not recall his mother ever mentioning the standing stones with the star signs on them before. He looked at the three and for the moment settled on the sign of the Warrior. He placed his hand on the stone and felt a light tingling sensation as the stone lit up and sent a light into the sky, granting its blessing on the Nord.

“Those stars will lead you to honor and glory.” Ralof smiled and the pair continued on to Riverwood.

Seved later sat on the stump where Ralof had sat to talk to Gerdur earlier in the day. It was four, maybe five hours before sunrise, and sleep eluded him. He’d sold what he could from the keep and then headed back to Hod and Gerdur’s house for supper. It had been a good meal and had done much to lift Seved’s spirits. He felt like he was home again. He almost felt like his whole life hadn’t happened the way it had. The stew was just like his mother used to make and for a moment he swore he could hear her calling to him to go get more wood for the fire. He’d managed to hold back his emotions at the table and simply enjoy the meal. Perhaps she was still looking after him somehow. He’d tried to sleep but found that he couldn’t. Ralof was having similar problems, but managed to find sleep after another bottle of mead to relax him. Seved went outside to get some air and ended up doing some exploring around the town. He cleared out a bandit camp and the nearby iron mine so that it could be used again. Sneaking through that in heavy armor had been tricky, but good practice. He looked at the sawmill and the town on the banks of the White River. He still couldn’t sleep. Gerdur had asked him to go down the road to Whiterun and speak to the Jarl. The town needed guards, Seved knew this, and he had a pack full of things to sell once more. It was more money than he’d made in all the years of sailing or being a few hours pleasure to some Altmer woman for whatever reason. He’d long since ceased caring.

His thoughts drifted to the dragon and he shivered. Something bothered him about that particular beast. He recalled once more the stories his mother told him. He shook his head and hauled himself up to his feet. His body was tired, but his mind was too active. If he started now, he could reach Whiterun by sunrise and see the Jarl shortly after. The people needed protection, and it felt good to be active and useful again.

“You’ve gotten another chance to live, Seved. You’d best seize it now or someone else will live for you.” He hefted the pack onto his shoulder and started for the road. Maybe he’d get breakfast in the city.
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The Tenth Hold