Not Alone (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 40 (Part I)

Chapter 40 (Part I)

I've nearly died more times than I can count. Every second in every fight was another brief, fleeting moment in which I could have, sometimes should have, been killed. Yet, somehow, here I still was, very much so alive.

Sometimes I wondered why that was. Why was I, of all the people I had fought and killed, the one who somehow survived? This question stemmed not from survivor's guilt, but mere curiosity. It was fascinating to me that so far, every time I had entered into a lethal confrontation with someone or something, that person or creature had been the one to go into the afterlife.

Now, as I darted from one rock to another, trying to avoid the diligent Stormcloak archer who had somehow spotted me even through the cover of rain and darkness, I wondered if I had survived all those altercations in the past just so that I could be here today, trying to avoid being killed by arrows from my own side.

So determined was I not to die here in such an ignominious and ridiculous fashion that I actually fished a shield that I hadn't used in nearly a decade out of my pocket, using it as a safeguard to cover any vital parts of my body. I reached the broken down stone structure without actually getting hit, but I was grateful for the protection all the same.

Shoving the shield back into my pocket, I swiped rainwater out of my eyes and glanced around the stony room. It was small, barely wide enough to lie down in, and on the far side there was a high stone wall with no obvious handholds. A few closed crates and burlap sacks were scattered around the little room, but none were big or sturdy enough to stand on.

Before I could become too perplexed or consumed with urgency, a face appeared atop the ledge and Aela the Huntress extended a hand to me. "It's about time," she said snappishly. "Warriors are meant to fight, not stand waiting for a knock at the door."

I took her hand and let her help me up the wall, managing not to almost pull her down with me as my wet boots slipped on the rock. "Let's go fight, then," I agreed, a thrill running through my body at my own words. Despite myself, I could feel my anticipation mounting as my fingers twitched slightly with the desire to hold a sword.

"This way." Aela led the way up a short corridor that led into a small, circular room. She circumvented a strange rock formation in the center of the room, hardly giving it a second glance, but I paused briefly to look at it. It appeared to be natural, for it had no fancy carvings or particular uniformity to it, but the enormous stone bowl that rested on top of the rock looked as though it was carved into the very rock itself.

I thought briefly about asking Aela what it was for, but she had already exited the room through one side and I had a battle to fight. Breaking into a jog, I followed Aela out into the dark city, wincing as the sounds of the battle abruptly increased in volume as I left the cave with its thick walls.

"Vignar should be somewhere near the market square. You should speak to him before you assume command." Aela darted away, her lithe hands removing her bow from her back as she ran.

I hesitated, torn between following her example and taking a few extra minutes to change into my Daedric armor. It didn't take me long to decide on the armor.

Every strap, every buckle seemed to take ten times longer than usual to fasten. Each extra second was an eternity, an eternity in which I knew good soldiers were fighting and dying on the walls while I was here changing my clothes like a noble heading to a party.

Except I wasn't heading to a party, I was heading into battle, and if I wore my Thieves' Guild armor into battle, not only would I be harder to recognize, but I would probably get myself badly injured or worse. I was accustomed to bulling my way through opponents, trusting my armor to keep me safe from stray arrows and poorly crafted steel weapons. Now was not the time to change my habits.