Part One: Unbound - Helgen
17th Last Seed 4E 201
The jerk of the cart and its sudden decent down the hill forced Nox to throw out his foot in order to prevent him from falling. With his ruse of unconsciousness broken, he opened his eyes and took a look at his surroundings. He shared the back of the cart with three other men, each had their hands bound in front of them. The man across from him wore the light blue armor that Nox had come to associate with the Stormcloak rebellion, even though he had been in Skyrim for only a short time. Sitting next to this man was another Nord wearing a ragged outfit similar to Nox’s. The third man was adorned in a thick robe made of fur. He was the only one who was both bound and gagged. Nox had his suspicions on who this might be.
"Hey, you. You’re finally awake," the one in the blue exclaimed as he looked at Nox. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." The man gestured with his chin to the Nord in rags sitting next to him. Nox did more than walk into the ambush; he had help set it up. Unfortunately, he misjudged one of the Imperial’s swings and was knocked unconscious during the battle. He wanted to get captured, but he didn’t want the headache.
"Damn you Stormcloaks," the alleged thief spat out. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." The disgust in the Nord’s tone was obvious. Nox wondered, not for the first time, how low the rebels were on the social ladder if a common thief—and fellow Nord—could so easily dismiss their cause.
"You there," the horse thief said turning his attention to Nox. "You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
"We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the Stormcloak soldier reasoned.
Nox let the truth of that statement wash over him as he contemplated what he was doing there. Three months before, he was in Alinor when his master gave him this mission. Being an agent was often a precarious lifestyle, but this mission was the hardest that Nox had ever attempted. He needed to assassinate one target in a crowd of onlookers while implicating another target of the murder and do all of this while on the headsman’s block. It would also be beneficial if he escaped alive. That would be the hardest part. No, the hardest part was to get these two men together, but his master assured Nox that he could arrange it. Nox knew his master to be powerful enough to follow through on his promise. But before he let this get to the point of no return, Nox had to be sure that they were—
"Watch your tongue," the Stormcloak soldier said sharply, breaking Nox out of his thoughts. "You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
Ah, so one of his targets was here. It seemed that the man sitting next to Nox was, indeed, the Jarl of Windhelm, who was said to have killed Jarl Torryg by shouting at him. That explained why he was also gagged. Nox listened to the two Nords talk about the leader of the rebellion and pondered how a man could hold the ultimate respect of one of them, and the bitter contempt of another. It seemed that the political strife in this province cut deeply on both sides.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
Nox couldn’t tell which of the guards shouted out this disclaimer, but it was music to Nox’s long, pointed ears. It seemed that his second target was here, and that his master’s promise had been fulfilled. Now, it was up to Nox to make good on his promise of success.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," the horse thief pleaded out loud. Nox just smiled to himself and thought,
Your Aedra won’t save you now. You better hope that I can.
It was still early in the morning, the sun having escaped the horizon’s grasp, but Nox wished a little wistfully that it was earlier still. Azura’s sphere was dusk and dawn, and if ever he needed her guidance and luck, it was now. Still, he survived this long on his skills and quick-thinking. He would do it again today…or die trying.
"Look at him," the rebel spat. "General Tullius. The leader of the Empire here in Skyrim. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."
The rebel paused for a second, considered what he just said, and looked at Nox almost abashedly.
"No offense," he said, as an afterthought.
Nox squinted his eyes and scowled at the rebel, hoping that the Nord saw his offense. He then turned his attention to the general and the High Elves, marking each of their faces.
"I am a Dunmer, not an Altmer, thank you. Like the races of men, we are not
worthy to be a part of the Thalmor," Nox explained, and spat at the end of the word
Thalmor.
The Nord rebel smiled at this. Nox hoped that he gained the man’s respect from this statement. He may need to use it soon.
As the carts full of rebels trundled through the city of Helgen—a city Nox had just left yesterday morning—Nox began taking note of where the guards had stationed themselves. He had been scouting out the walled village and the surrounding countryside for the past week as he portrayed himself as a refugee from Vvardenfell. He knew the various ways in and out of the city, and planned numerous escape routes for any situation. The guards were the only variable throughout his planning, so now he began to determine the best course of action.
The carts stopped next to a large clearing. It was the biggest area in Helgen, and Nox knew they would use it for the execution. During any other day, this area was the marketplace for Helgen’s merchants, but it seemed that all of the stalls had been cleared aside for the spectacle. This was advantageous for Nox, as there was a wooden door behind the cart through which he could escape the walls of the city.
The prisoners formed lines as the Imperial soldiers began calling names from a list.
"Imperials and their damned lists," the rebel muttered. Nox silently concurred.
When they got to the horse thief’s name—which was Lokir of Rorikstead—whatever was left of the man’s courage ran down his leg and he begged the guards to let him go. When he realized that his pleas were going unanswered, he ran down the city’s main road. Nox couldn’t have asked for a better gift; maybe Azura was with him this day. He watched the reaction of the guards and noted how the archers waited for an order before firing. He also noted their positions and mentally plotted a course to the wooden door that would put as many obstacles as possible in their way.
The Legionnaire who was holding the book of names motioned towards Nox.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Drathas Saren," Nox answered. It was the name he had been using while posing as a refugee in Helgen. Only a handful of people in all of Nirn knew his real name.
The soldier searched his book for the name, then looked back at Nox. He seemed to be studying Nox’s features very closely. Almost too closely. Nox began to suspect this man knew more than he should. But how? Then it dawned on him what the man was looking at. Most Dunmer’s eyes were various shades of red. However, Nox had been born with gray eyes. It looked as if he was afflicted by the cloud-blindness disease that often affected older man races, but in reality he could see just fine. It happened every time he met someone new, and he should’ve caught on right away. Apparently, he was more nervous than he realized if he could forget something like that.
As Nox looked at the soldier, he must’ve decided that Nox wasn’t blind. As intently as he was on staring at Nox, he abruptly shrugged his shoulders and began writing in his ledger.
"Another refugee? Gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf," the man commiserated as he wrote. "Captain, what should we do? He’s not on the list."
For a moment, Nox tensed up. If they didn’t think he was with Ulfric, then the whole charade will be for naught. Also, if they went to unbind his hands, they would surely notice that he had weakened the knot during the cart ride here. They would suspect him all over again, and tighten the knot. He probably wouldn’t have enough time to loosen it again before the ax dropped. Luckily, the overly-enthusiastic captain allayed his fears.
"Forget the list. He goes to the block." This one wanted to see blood shed this day. If Nox was good enough, he’d give her more than she bargained for.
"By your orders, Captain," the list-checker said apologetically. "I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Morrowind."
Nox’s respect for this man grew. It was difficult, Nox knew, to keep your humanity when you’re a professional killer. It doesn’t matter if you’re a soldier or assassin. It was only the strong who could do their duty while retaining their soul. This man was not his target and, if he kept out of Nox’s way, he would survive this day.
As the execution began, Nox surveyed the tableau before him. A great assassin, like a master artist, needs to take the colors he’s given and create a beautiful scene. The scene Nox was creating in his head was just painted in blood.
Luckily, both his targets were near. That made Nox’s job easier. He would wait until he was on the chopping block. It was risky, but Nox knew that a bound man on his knees with an ax above his throat is not suspected of danger. This is when he would strike the—
A great roar was heard in the distance. The Imperial general, Tullius, stopped what he was saying as everyone looked to the skies. The roar echoed off the nearby mountains making it sound like it was coming from everywhere. Nox could tell from the confused faces around him that a local animal could not make that sound. These people were as baffled as he was.
"It’s nothing," General Tullius remarked, keeping his composure as best he could. "Carry on."
Nox didn’t think it was nothing. This unknown could ruin his plans. His only consolation was that the roar sounded far off. Whatever it was would hopefully ignore what was about to happen in Helgen.
"Yes, General Tullius," the over-excited captain exclaimed. Even though she wasn’t his target, he would enjoy killing her, anyway.
The Priestess of Arkay began her diatribe, calling down the blessings of the Eight Divines. Nox has no use for the Aedra in his life. Like most Dunmer, he believed that beings who could die were not gods. The Daedra, however, were immortal and worthy of worship. Luckily, one of the Stormcloak soldiers must’ve thought the same, as he interrupted the priestess and walked confidently to his death.
Nox watched the execution with interest, feeling twice blessed. He could again watch the guards’ reactions and even solidify his assassination plan now that he knew exactly where everyone was standing. As the rebel waited for the headsman’s kiss, Nox imagined himself in his place.
With his chest on the chopping block and his hands underneath him, Nox finishes untying the loosened knot binding his hands together. As the headsman raises his ax above his head, Nox springs to his feet, quick as a Bosmer. He reaches and rips the ax from the surprised executioner’s grasp. He turns it sideways and jabs the staff into the list-checker’s head with enough force to knock him unconscious, but not to kill him. The executioner is not a soldier, and with the ax out of his hands, is no threat to Nox. Using the momentum of braining the first Legionnaire, Nox lunges with all his weight, bringing the pointed head of the ax into his first target, General Tullius’ chest. By this time, the other Imperial guard has gotten over his initial shock of the attack and draws his sword out of the scabbard. Leaving the ax in Tullius’ chest, Nox grabs the Imperial by his wrist and head-butts his face, breaking the guard’s nose. The sudden pain makes the guard release his grip on his sword, which Nox is more than happy to relieve him of. With a well-placed foot and a good shove, the guard trips backward, unarmed. By now the Imperial captain has probably figured out that the bloodbath she was looking forward to was her own, and seeing that the tables have turned so quickly, she freezes. This allows Nox to spin to the side, gathering enough force to cleave through her neck in one slash. With all of the Imperials close by either dead or unarmed, Nox turns his attention to Jarl Ulfric, his second target. Nox grabs the Jarl’s binds and slips his sword between his body and arms, the point of the sword resting against the bottom of the Jarl’s jaw. In one fluid motion, Nox takes a step back and draws the sword back with him, cutting the Jarl’s binds. Nox shouts "For the Stormcloaks!" so everyone in the city can hear as he tosses the sword to the newly freed rebel leader. By now the other rebels, bound or not, are taking this chance to escape their fate. Nox glances quickly to the archers, hoping that they hesitate with no one to tell them who to aim for, as he dashes behind the wooden cart and dives for the door out of Helgen.
The ax came down on the rebel’s neck, and in an instant the man was dead. It was a bitter reminder to Nox what his failure would result in. The soon-to-be-dead Imperial captain shouted for the "dark elf" to be next. Again, a roar erupted from the skies and echoed off the mountains. Everyone looked up, including Nox, to see what made that noise. It sounded closer than it was before and Nox again grew worried that it would ruin his plans.
"I said, next prisoner!" the captain shouted, sounding petulant that the roar was ruining her execution.
Nox kneeled into position with the help of the captain’s boot, and began untying his binds. With his head cocked to the side, Nox was the first to witness the dragon fly out from behind the mountain. The sight of the monstrous beast froze Nox in place. It roared again, this time filling the city with its deafening sound. The Legionnaires began to panic, as they yelled out conflicting statements.
"What in Oblivion is that?!" Nox distinctly heard from General Tullius.
"Sentries! What do you see?" the idiot captain asked, as if her own eyes were fooling her.
Then the dragon landed on the guard tower behind the executioner. Nox had completely forgotten about the headsman when he saw the dragon for the first time, but now he noticed him. He had stood over Nox and raised his ax through this whole series of events, either oblivious to the fact that a dragon was behind him, or maybe just hoping to cut one more mer’s neck before he, too, met his end. Before Nox could react, the force of the monster landing on the tower knocked the headsman down.
Nox saw the executioner stand up and face the dragon, hefting his ax as if he were going to fight it. Noise burst from the dragon’s mouth unlike the roars earlier. Instead of echoing around them, the sound from the beast seemed to merge high above the city. It was a sound Nox had never heard before. The sound coalesced into a ball high above them and then exploded. Where once the sky was clear, instantly clouds formed from nowhere in concentric circles around the city. Rocks began falling down upon townspeople and buildings further causing a mass panic.
The dragon inhaled deeply and roared again, this time different from all the rest. It looked like the very air compressed in front of the dragon and moved forward as fast as the wind. The headsman was caught directly in its path and Nox watched as he was thrown back with the force of the wave. Nox, himself, was caught on the edge of the force and rolled wildly across the stone pavement. Color drained out of the world and darkness encroached on his vision. For the second time that day, he was knocked unconscious. But before he completely blacked out, Nox thought he heard a single word in the blast of the wave:
fus.
Nox regained consciousness a few seconds later, just in time to hear the rebel—Ralof, according to the list-checker’s list—yell to him.
"Hey, dark elf. Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance! This way!"
Nox tried to clear his head as he stumbled behind Ralof. The idyllic village that he had ridden into earlier that morning had been transformed into a hellish landscape of rubble, debris, and bodies. Rocks still fell from the sky and the crash they made as they hit the ground jumbled Nox’s thoughts.
Nox followed Ralof into the nearby guard tower, which was currently occupied by the remaining Stormcloak rebels. Nox was grabbed roughly and pushed inside so the door could close.
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"
Ulfric? Why did that name sound familiar? The jumbled pieces of Nox’s mind began to fall into place around that name. Ah, yes. Ulfric was one of Nox’s targets, but he wasn’t to kill him. No, Nox’s master wanted Ulfric framed for Tullius’ murder. It would’ve solidified Ulfric’s claim to rule Skyrim and forever weaken the Empire.
The roar of the dragon brought Nox back to the present. As the Stormcloaks stood and planned what to do next, Nox went over and looked out one of the arrow slits in the wall. He could see the Legionnaires brave the falling debris to launch arrows at the circling dragon. Nox couldn’t tell if they had any affect, though. Nox turned back around to see the Stormcloaks huddling in fear.
"Up through the tower," Ralof said as he beckoned to Nox. "Let’s go!"
Nox followed Ralof up the tower steps to see another Stormcloak moving rocks to create a path farther up the stairwell. A tremor shook the stone tower as something crashed into the side of it. Nox reached out and yanked Ralof back just as the dragon burst through the rock wall ahead of them. Fire erupted from the dragon’s mouth to wash over the rock-moving Stormcloak. Nox shielded Ralof against the fire as best he could. The Nord may be used to the freezing temperatures of Skyrim, but the Dunmer had been raised in the shadow of the Red Mountain and had basked in its heat. Although the fiery breath was not aimed at him, Nox could still feel its scalding heat upon his body, and thought he could hear a single word in its wrath:
Yol.
After roasting the stormcloak soldier alive, the dragon detached itself from the tower and began climbing the winds once again. Ralof rushed to the opening and surveyed the area.
"See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We’ll follow when we can!"
Nox didn’t need to be told twice. Despite his previous actions, he owed no loyalty to these rebels, and he wondered if he could still find General Tullius and finished his mission.
Taking a running start, Nox jumped out of the tower and into the air. As he made his descent, Nox realized that his hands were still bound together so he could not stabilize his fall. He landed on the second floor of the inn hard. He felt his ankle give out as he rolled into a tipped over dresser. As he got up, he gingerly placed his weight on his ankle. A sharp pain shot up his leg; it wasn’t broken, but he definitely sprained it. As Nox began limping to the other side of the inn, he heard a familiar voice calling out over the din.
"Just walk towards me, come on!"
Nox balanced himself along an exposed beam and looked out the window. Below him he could see a young boy pulling at a body lying in the road. He recognized the boy from when he scouted out Helgen. Haming. It was funny what the mind remembered during times of crisis. Then Nox saw the list-checking Legionnaire dash out into the road as Nox jumped down to the ground hoping that his ankle wouldn’t break.
"Get up papa! Get up!" The kid pleaded with the motionless body of his father. The dragon, as if sensing a weakened cub separated from the pack, crashed down on the road in front of the boy. Nox dashed across the clearing and dived behind some fallen stones. In a moment of bravery, or stupidity, the list-checker ran out in front of the dragon and grabbed the boy under his arms. The man quickly carried the boy over to Nox as the dragon took a moment to inhale deeply. This time, Nox could hear it plainly as the fire erupted from its mouth:
Yol!
The Legionnaire tossed the boy to Nox, who caught him awkwardly in his still-bound arms. Nox let the kid’s momentum spin him around as he landed on top of the boy, shielding him from the heat. After the dragon took flight again, Nox looked up to see the Legionnaire and another fellow had made it behind the rubble. The soldier was burned pretty badly on his back and legs.
Oblivious to his injuries, the Legionnaire said, "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."
After seeing his foolhardy dash to save the boy from the dragon, Nox wasn’t sure if that statement was correct. But, the man was still alive, and that counted for something.
"Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."
Ah, so General Tullius was still alive. Nox’s mission wasn’t over. Knowing how little his master tolerated failure, Nox knew that he must kill Tullius. Even if it didn’t look like Ulfric’s doing, his master would still be satisfied, if no longer pleased. And this man promised to lead him right to his target.
"Gods guide you, Hadvar."
As Hadvar ran across the battlefield, Nox followed closely behind.
"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar shouted. Nox jumped over the debris in his way and landed against the wall, crouching down. Immediately, something crashed into the stone wall, and leathery wings draped down in front of Nox. The dragon was using the wall as a stoop, but its attention was fixed ahead. This was the closest Nox had been to the dragon; he could’ve reached out and touched its wings. But with no weapon, and his hands still bound, Nox just crouched down and hoped the dragon would fly off without seeing him.
"Yol. Toor…Shul!" These words, Nox clearly heard as the dragon unleashed a violent torrent of heat and fire in front of him. The Red Mountain had erupted before Nox has been born, but the heat he felt from the dragon’s mouth was the same he imagined the volcano spewed forth during its cataclysmic eruption. Nox was once again thankful that it was not directed at him.
The dragon beat its leathery wings and took to the sky again. Hadvar sprang forward and motioned Nox to follow him. As Nox turned the corner, he saw the charred remains of what had been a man. The man was undistinguishable, the wood around him was charred, and even the stones seemed to radiate latent heat from the dragon’s breath. Nox put his head down and followed Hadvar as fast as he could.
Nox ran through the ruins of a wooden house and found General Tullius standing in the middle of an open area. He was shouting orders to nearby archers and battlemages as they shot arrows and fireballs into the sky. A man was sitting nearby, blood pooling around him. As Nox rushed over, he could see the man was trying to hold his intestines in his body, but with no luck. Nox recognized the man and his memory spat out his name, Vilod.
Vilod puts juniper berries in his mead, Nox remembered randomly. He shook his head to clear it of these persistently random thoughts and focused on his target, Tullius.
Tullius surveyed the men around him, and his eyes fell on Nox. He paused a moment and stared the Dunmer in the eyes. In that moment, Nox realized that this man would not die today. Could not die today. Tullius had lived through the raid against the Stormcloaks and continued surviving a dragon attack. He didn’t run and hide in a tower, like Ulfric. He stood in the midst of battle and rallied his men. Nox was unarmed and bound, while Tullius had his sword out and was in the heat of battle. Nox was a good assassin, but not that good.
"Run, you idiot!" Tullius yelled in his direction, and Nox took the advice. While he ran after Hadvar, towards what seemed like the only building still left standing in Helgen, Nox realized why his master was afraid of Tullius. His master would never admit to being afraid of a man, but that was only hubris, not bravery. Tullius was a great leader of men; that was his strength.
Nox and Hadvar neared the stone fort. All of a sudden, Ralof dashed across the courtyard towards them.
"Ralof, you damned traitor!" Apparently, there was no love lost between these two men.
"We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time."
They stood in the courtyard, each man with his weapon drawn. Nox stood to the side speculating how this would turn out. Suddenly, the dragon swooped out of the sky and grabbed a man from atop the battlements in its talons. The dragon climbed into the sky and let the man drop. He screamed all the way down until he was cut off with a sickening thud.
This seemed to break the stalemate between the rebel and loyalist. "Fine. I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovengarde," Hadvar yelled. Each man ran to a different door to the fort and called to Nox.
"You! Come on, into the keep!" Ralof yelled to Nox.
"With me, prisoner," Hadvar commanded. "Let’s go. I can cut you loose inside the keep."
For a moment, Nox hesitated. This seemed like a choice not to be taken lightly. Nox looked over at Hadvar and remembered General Tullius. If he was going to kill his mark in the coming days, maybe he could use Hadvar to get close to him. Certainly Ralof couldn’t help with that. With his mind made up, Nox ran over to the Legionnaire and entered the fort.
