Legends Yet Grown: Chapter 1

A/N: This is a backpost. This chapter has already been posted on other websites that I am adding to the collection here for convenience

Chapter One: Hey, You

I woke up in the back of a cart, to the sound of hoofbeats against cobblestone.

“Hey, you,” a rough voice said. “You’re finally awake.” A pause. “Guards sure worked you over.” My head lolled back as he spoke, eyes blinking rapidly. As my vision cleared, I found myself looking at a man in a ragged jerkin, dirt and a black eye marring his…less than handsome face. “You and me? We shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“We told them you weren’t with us, just some huntress we found passed out in the snow,” another voice said. I turned my head slightly, blinking as my vision swam. A man in armor, chainmail with blue cloth over it. “The Imperials grabbed you, like that thief over there. You stand with us, or you stand against us.” He gave a wry grin at the first man, blond hair waving slightly in the breeze. “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

Slowly, my head stopped throbbing. Imperials? Snow? Contessa had clearly taken some liberties with my body. Not the least of which was that I had gotten my arm back just in time to wake up with my wrists bound together with coarse rope.

“Shut up back there!” the man, no the soldier driving the cart said.

I found myself…unsurprised.

The just grunted. “And who’s this one?” He grunted. I looked to my right, where another man in armor was bound and gagged. “He looks kind of familiar...”

The blond man glowered. “Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

I blinked slowly, mind catching up to what was being said. A ‘High’ King, tied up with common brigands, soldiers that looked like… roman legions escorting them. It sounded like I’d been caught up in a Rebellion, and a failing one, by the look of it.

The thief only confirmed my suspicions when he said, “That’s the man who used the Voice to murder High King Toryyg? The leader of the Rebellion?” He spat. “Ulfric, you traitor! You’re the reason we’re here!”

Apparently, it wasn’t the most popular rebellion, either.

But I was still lumped in with them. And that was a problem. “Yell louder,” I said, twisting my wrists against the binds. “Surely that will him make him regret every decision, and then the guards will let us all go, and we’ll have a giant feast and all the beer you could drink.”

“Gods, I could go for a beer right now, or mead,” the man said. “But why are you on their side? We’re not part of this stupid war!”

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” I said. The rope had some give, perhaps whoever tied it had been lazy since I’d been unconscious. “But do you really think these Imperials threw us in the same cart with the ‘True High King’ because they thought we were different?”

I could see my words slowly penetrating through the man’s skull, as his expression changed from befuddlement to horror. “But wait, if you’re Ulfric, then where the hells are they taking us?”

The Stormcloak gave a wry laugh. “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.” I twisted at my binds again. I’d go to this Sovngard place on my own damn time.

I almost laughed at how quickly my determination came back. But then, I had never been one to go quietly. If Contessa wanted me executed, she should have done it herself.

I’d heard, back when I worked for the protectorate, that women had a higher incidence of slipping out of handcuffs than men, usually due to thinner wrists. It was time to put paid to that rumor.

I braced the bindings against my knee and pulled. There was give, the material wasn’t quite flush to my skin. I worked the rope over the bump of my thumb centimeter by centimeter.

“Hey! What are you doing?” The thief asked. I glared at him, but I didn’t dare stop now. If the guard driving the cart turned around…

“Saying my prayers,” I bit out. “Now shut up.”

I opened his mouth again, but the gagged man, Ulfric, kicked him hard in the shin. He gave me a steady nod. In a minute more, I slipped the ropes over my hand.

I hunched over as I slid myself towards the front of the cart. Across from me, the blond man had a barely disguised grin on his face. I managed a small answering smile.

Then I stood and looped the rope cuffs around the cart driver’s neck.

The man choked in surprise, but I’d already braced my foot against front of the cart. I watched clinically as his struggles quickly turned into full-fledged panic.

“Grab his sword!” I shouted. Behind us, I heard hoofbeats.

The blond man lunged forward over the driver. His hands were bound, but the other man’s blade leapt into his grip almost of its own volition. He stood, spinning—

The air rang as two swords met. I felt the ripple of wind as a blade passed less than an inch over my head.

I pulled back harder on the rope. After a second more, the soldier went limp and I tossed him to the ground.

“Damn you, Ralof!” The rider shouted, his horse wheeled in front of the cart. “I won’t let you escape this time!”

The man next to me, Ralof, only grinned savagely. “Come on, then, Hadvar!” He shouted back. “Let’s see how you fair against a true Nord!”

Hadvar beat his sword against the bright steel of his armor, horse rearing as he spun to charge once more.

Ralof spun as well. “Jarl Ulfric!” he shouted. I turned, watching as he swung his sword through the air, the ‘Jarl’ was already on his feet, hands outstretched.

Ralof sliced through the rope binding him with a single blow.

Ulfric reached up, and tore off his gag, revealing a severe face covered with a sharp beard. As Hadvar charged, the man gathered his breath. Suddenly, I remembered the thief’s words from earlier, how Ulfric ‘shouted’ a man to death.

I hit the floor.

“FUS RO DAH!”

The Air howled, a waved of force pressing against me. I looked up just in time to see Hadvar fall to the ground as his horse bolted into the undergrowth.

“Quickly now!” Ulfric shouted, his voice almost as deep as the shout had been. “Take the reins, Ralof, we have the rest of our men to save.” He sliced his man’s bonds with ease, and I could only grip the front of the cart as Ralof suddenly spurred it forward.

“And you, horse thief,” Ulfric said. “Will you rise up, to defend the Nine Holds?”

The man swallowed. “I…” he started.

“A pity,” Ulfric said. And with that, he pitched the thief over the cart. I could hear the man groaning in pain. “The Stormcloaks do not need the faint of heart.”

At this point, the soldiers in front of us realized what was happening. The first cart was picking up speed, and the other horsemen had formed up around it. In the distance, I saw a small fort, and the gate was opening as more Legionnaires spilled out on foot.

“In for a penny,” I muttered. “Give me the sword and get us closer!”

“Yah!” Ralof cracked the reins as I backed up in the cart. Ulfric gave me the blade, and I tucked it against the back of my arm. Least chance to stab myself. The riders wheeled to face us, but with another shout, Ulfric sent them scattering once more.

If the fort hadn’t known what was going on, they sure did now.

I took a breath, and I ran. Two steps, then one on the bench, and the last, pushing off the front of the cart itself. For a moment I was airborne, next foot already reaching out as I flew over our horse.

I tumbled into the front cart by a toe. But there was no time to thank god for my height. Instead, I sprang upwards, sword lashing out. The flat hit the side of the driver’s helmet like a gong. It wasn’t enough to knock him out of his seat.

But it was enough to make him flinch.

The sword bit deep into his neck. A with one hand, I grabbed the reigns, pulling the horse up short. Ralof and Ulfric thundered past in their cart, buying us time with bravery and thunder.

“If anyone knows how to drive this think, get up here and cut yourself loose!” I shouted, waving the sword behind me. In a second, as I wrested the dying soldier’s blade from its sheath and pushed him from the saddle. One of the Stormcloaks took the reins.

She started the cart turning, even as Ralof drew even with us. The legionaries from the village had almost reached us.

But almost, in this circumstance, was a dozen yards to short.

Even as the cart spun, we started to pick up speed. The carts thundered up the road as the rest of the Stormcloaks made quick work of their bindings. Behind, I saw the last rider, an older man in ceremonial armor, pull his horse up short. His expression was carved from stone.

But then we crested the hill, and the legionnaires vanished from sight.

Ahead the road dipped, turning behind a copse of trees. Ulfric and Ralof slowed, one jumping from the cart and then the other, before Ralof smacked the horse’s flank and sent it careening down the road., “This way!” He shouted.

The five of us in this card did the same, slowing before dropping to the road and sending the cart on. Only a short distance ahead, I saw the cobblestone rode give way to mud from recent rain. The cart wheels left unmistakable tracks.

For our part, the six Stormcloaks and I vanished into the woods. Or, at least, we would have.

But just as we passed the treeline, as the second cart was just about to vanish from sight, I heard an earth-shattering roar. It echoed off the mountains like a clarion.

Next to me, the woman muttered. “What in Oblivion was that?”

“Keep moving,” Ulfric said. “The Imperials won’t be far behind.”

He met my eyes once, giving me a brief nod before we all took to the trees. The road vanished quickly, and with it, any sounds of pursuits.

But the shrieking roar only grew louder.

I could see the tension growing.

Ahead, the trees broke into a clearing. Above, a shadow blocked the sun.

I picked up the pace, breaking past the last of the trees just as a massive black shadow crashed into the ground before us and roared.

“Dragon!”

And so it was. With wings spread wide and red eyes glowing balefully. It looked like nothing so much as a dragon out of myth and legend.

My feet pounded against the snow, caring past the stunned rebels.

The dragon flared its wings wide as it roared, craning it’s neck towards the sky. Perhaps it expected us to be cowed. Defeated by its majesty, is maleficence, it’s massive size.

But I’d seen bigger.

As it’s head came back down, I jumped. Over it’s sharp claws and parted fangs. Over the torrent of fire already licking at its jaws.

I didn’t have the time to think or plan, only to act. So really, it only makes sense that I did what came naturally to me—

And plunged my stolen sword into the monster’s eye.

Legends Yet Grown

Worm/The Elder Scrolls V: SKYRIM