CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR: A PLACE FOR SLEEP
Wyldfyre craned her neck straight upwards as the Nordic God Tsun, Keeper of the Bridge, spoke quietly. He looked down at her sternly and pointed out again to her that normally, people did not make it across his bridge without firstly being tested. He had been tasked by Shor himself to stop anyone from crossing without showing that they were worthy. Wyldfyre nodded and thanked him, again, her patience wearing thin. She hoped he would soon get to the point instead of scolding her like a naughty child.
“Tsun” Felldir interrupted “I am sure the Dragonborn is very sorry for not being conscious enough for you to administer your test, but now we have a bigger issue. Alduin..”
“I am aware of your troubles and I can tell you that he is still here, in our realm, feasting on the lost souls out there in that mist.” The enormous man said while still studying Wyldfyre closely. She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She had been slightly in awe of him when they had first approached him after crossing the bridge made of bone. He stood statue-like before it, an imposing figure in ancient armour that only covered his lower torso and legs, as well as the huge Nordic battleaxe strapped to his back. Wyldfyre had never met a deity before and the God of Trials against Adversity was an impressive sight.
She looked away now and scanned the immediate area. It was hard to see through the mist that hung over everything, but she could tell that Sovngarde was beyond beautiful. A small rocky stream bubbled down the hill to their right, growing in speed until it fell off the edge of the cliff, cascading into the chasm that separated the Hall of Valour from the rest of Sovngarde. Wyldfyre could picture it in better times, people roaming the grassy hillside, relaxing in the meadow, strolling along the paths. But Alduin had infested everything with his evil mist.
A movement caught her eye and she saw a soldier running along the path, his face full of fear, and for a heart wrenching second Wyldfyre thought it was Ralof before she saw he was far younger than her friend.
“Quickly! This way!” she shouted, startling the group, who all turned in the same direction.
“By the Gods!” Harkon exclaimed. A great black shadow loomed up out from the mist and was heading straight for the petrified soldier. Wyldfyre, without thinking, raced down the stairs towards him.
“RUN!” she screamed at him, while releasing her crossbow and setting a bolt. She stopped as the soldier sped past her and then she fired off a shot. It hit Alduin just as his great bulk broke out from the mist. He passed over her head, narrowly missing colliding with her again and Wyldfyre spun and released another bolt but it missed the dragon. Alduin roared in anger at being denied another soul and turned in the air and sped back towards Wyldfyre.
“You have made it to Sovngarde, mortal, but you will not be leaving it!” he roared at her. Wyldfyre had to jump to the side to avoid being snapped up by huge teeth. Harkon and his sister were at her side, helping her up and drawing their weapons. They squinted into the mist, searching for the dragon.
“How do we see the beast in this mist?” Harkon exclaimed.
“Hush brother! Listen..” Gormlaith scolded him. They stood there, not making a sound, listening for the beat of wings. Wyldfyre’s keen hearing picked up the dragon coming at them from the right and she turned.
“This way!” she warned them. Felldir had joined them and he gripped his Greatsword while peering out into the mist.
“He comes!” Felldir exclaimed, just as Alduin broke free from his concealment again and fired a jet of flame towards the group, scattering them in all directions. Wyldfyre collided with Gormlaith as Alduin sailed past their heads and disappeared into the mist again.
“There has got to be a better way than this” she said to the woman “We are standing here, ripe for the picking”. Gormlaith nodded and rubbed at a scorch mark on her arm.
“You are injured” Wyldfyre observed. She had no idea the dead could be harmed in Sovngarde.
“It is nothing” the warrior shrugged “The Worm did worse to me than that, Dragonborn. You saw it remember” Wyldfyre nodded. She had indeed. It was a sight she had hoped to forget.
“I’m sorry” she apologised.
“We all die, Dragonborn. I did it with honour, and that is all that matters. Alduin comes again..” she warned then. Wyldfyre peered into the mist and saw the black shape coming towards them. He swooped down at them again and managed to knock Harkon off his feet. A bloody gash appeared on his shoulder where his armour had been torn off. Wyldfyre and the others stood over him while he gained his breath again. She let out a growl of frustration. There had to be a better way than running around like frightened rabbits trying to avoid the eagle’s talons.
If the mist was gone.....
“Felldir” Wyldfyre said then “Can we clear this mist?” the old warrior looked thoughtful for a moment then his eyes lit up.
“Clear Skies... do you know it?”
“Yes! That’s it!” Gormlaith slapped Felldir on the arm. They looked at Wyldfyre expectantly.
“I do know the Clear Skies shout. Are you thinking we combine our shouts to clear the mist?”
“We can only give it a try,” he nodded then looked down to Harkon, who was more badly injured than they first thought. “..but not presently. Our comrade is in need of attention”
“I am fine” Harkon protested as they helped him up. He winced in pain. Gormlaith shushed him.
“You need attending to brother. We will fight the Worm another day. Come; let us return to the Hall.” Gormlaith and Felldir helped Harkon back over the bridge. Wyldfyre stopped next to Tsun, who looked out over the misty meadow, frowning.
“This was never going to be easy, was it?” she said to him. Tsun’s eyes moved to study her and again she felt uneasy.
“No it was not, Dragonborn.” He simply said. Wyldfyre looked around the raised platform.
“Where is the soldier?” she could not see him anywhere and grew worried.
“I tested him and sent him on his way” the god answered her.
“Oh..? In the middle of our fight with Alduin?” she asked him. Tsun raised an eyebrow.
“Are you questioning the actions of a God?” he asked her sternly. Wyldfyre backed away slightly and tried to smile.
“Umm.. no. I guess not” she turned and quickly made her way back over the whale bone bridge and into the hall. Harkon was being fussed over by a couple of women, much to his sister’s disgust, and Felldir was nowhere to be seen. Wyldfyre herself had bumps and bruises all over her body from being thrown to the ground. A few scrapes bled, but she ignored them. Her head pounded from the bump she had received that morning. She spied Ysgramor and his group of Companions and trudged over to them.
“How do you fair Dragonborn?” he asked her as she sat heavily. Someone placed a tankard before her and she reached for a tray of fruits.
“Better than Harkon” she said, then bit into a soft fuzzy fruit that had a seed in its centre. It was sweet and sour at the same time. Wyldfyre studied it as Ysgramor continued.
“You must think me a coward, hiding away inside the Hall like a frightened child cowers amongst his mother’s skirts.”
“Not at all!” Wyldfyre exclaimed. “I’d probably be in here with you if I wasn’t the Dragonborn”
“But it’s more than that lass” he said earnestly “You say you do it because you have a duty? But you have a choice, Dragonborn or not. You could have walked away from it all, but you chose to stay and fight. For us, for those you love, for Skyrim and her people!” The others nodded enthusiastically and Wyldfyre could see why Ysgramor was a great leader. He had a way with words. Someone tapped her on the shoulder and Wyldfyre turned to see the soldier she had saved.
“Dragonborn” he said kneeling before her. Wyldfyre went red with embarrassment and helped the soldier up. He sat next to her and she offered him her tankard which he took gratefully. “I thank you again My lady” he said, causing some of the Companions to chuckle. Ysgramor shushed them.
“Soldier, what is your name?” he asked the man.
“Rogen Sir, Rogen of Rorikstead.”
“May I ask, how is it you came to be here Rogen?” Wyldfyre asked delicately. She was not sure if the young man would want to discuss his death so soon after the fact. He scratched at his stubble and thought for a moment.
“I’m not really sure. It is a little fuzzy”
“Just what you can remember” she soothed him.
“Well after the Dragon attack on Windhelm, Jarl Ulfric disappeared. No-one saw or heard from him again. Some of the men.... they were saying he had died, but... I never believed them.”
“He is alive” Wyldfyre assured him. He sighed then continued.
“It all kind of fell apart for a while. Then Galmar and Ralof began marshalling the troops once again and leading attacks on various Imperial strongholds. I was with a squadron tasked to taking back one of our own strongholds that had been taken. Fort Greenwall. Captain Ralof led us into the Fort and it was looking like we were going to retake it. I was up in one of the towers, fighting a last group of resistance and then suddenly I was here. I...Don’t know...how I died.”
“An honourable death Lad” Ysgramor nodded. The soldier smiled slightly and drained his tankard.
“I guess” he murmured. Wyldfyre felt a pang of pity for the young man; struck down in the prime of his youth. So much potential ended in a single moment. What was Ralof and Galmar thinking? Continuing the war at a time like this? And why had Ulfric not made an appearance? He had lost a leg but not his voice. He could have given his men a speech, boosted their moral. What was going on back there?
“I’m sorry Rogen” she said then to the young man, placing her hand on his arm. She felt somehow responsible for him being there.
“I am...was, a soldier My Lady” he said “Soldiers die in battle. I only wish...” He left his thoughts unsaid and got up and moved over to a window, staring pensively out to the scenery beyond. Ysgramor studied him before he looked back to Wyldfyre and noticed her concern.
“Do not worry about the Lad. Some enter here with their hearts full of sadness at the world they have left behind. He will lament his loss and then his heart will mend. Like so many others before him”. Wyldfyre nodded and stood, looking for her friends. She found the siblings sitting at a small table, Harkon’s wounds having been tended and bound.
“Where is Felldir?” she asked them as she approached.
“I think he mumbled something about finding Jurgen Windcaller to ask about the shouts” Gormlaith answered her.
“You look exhausted Dragonborn” she then observed. Harkon nodded and took another swig from his tankard. Wyldfyre did feel like she was about to collapse and looked around the great hall.
“I could use a quick rest...where do you sleep here?” Gormlaith laughed.
“The dead don’t sleep Wyldfyre” she used her name for the first time “What would we need to slumber for?”
“You have a point. In any case I still do and I need to sleep now. So where can I rest undisturbed for a while?” Gormlaith stood and led Wyldfyre to a small room off the great hall.
“This room has had many uses over the time I have been here, but never a bedroom before” she said as she swung the door open. Wyldfyre stepped inside to find a large, luxurious bed sitting in the middle of the room. A trio of candles burned on a table next to the bed and a white silk shift hung over a chair.
“I thought you said you don’t sleep here?” she asked as she entered the room and tested the bed. It felt marvellous. She began shedding her armour as Gormlaith closed the door, away from prying eyes.
“We don’t. Like I said, this room has had many uses and now it’s a bedroom.”
“What do you mean?” Wyldfyre asked as she pulled the slip over her head. Her limbs suddenly felt very heavy and she yawned as she climbed onto the bed.
“I mean” Gormlaith said as she opened the door. Before she stepped through it she continued “That it can be whatever you want it to be.” And with that she was gone, closing the door behind her. Wyldfyre lay there, her lids growing heavy as the flickering light of the candles played across the ceiling. She sighed and curled onto her side, her head burrowing into the soft pillow and she was soon asleep.
*****
“You do not belong here She-wolf” a sharp voice startled Wyldfyre awake. She sat upright and glanced around the room to find she was alone. Unable to explain who had just spoken to her she began to put on her armour. She felt refreshed from her sleep but was slightly unnerved by that voice. It had thundered through her head like it had been spoken by some enormous omnipresent being. She was shaken at those words. She knew she did not belong here in the realm of the dead and she had every intension of leaving as soon as she could. She did not need to be told that. What did the voice mean by that statement? She picked up her weapons and left the room hurriedly, seeking out the heroes of old. She saw Felldir speaking to a man she did not recognise and she moved over to them. The man, dressed also in Greybeards robes turned and studied Wyldfyre as she approached. She slid her sword into its scabbard and stopped when Felldir turned and his eyes lit up at seeing her.
“Ah, Dragonborn, there you are” he said excitedly. “Please allow me to introduce you to someone you should have knowledge on. This..” he indicated elaborately to the man by his side “Is none other than Jurgen Windcaller.” Wyldfyre’s eyebrows shot up, impressed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you” she said to him as he took her hand. She noticed his was cold to the touch. She wondered if all the souls in the Hall felt the same, this being her first flesh on flesh contact with one. Jurgen also looked down at their hands, then back into her eyes.
“Long has it been since I felt the warmth of another’s touch” he said quietly. Wyldfyre grew uncomfortable and pulled her hand free. Jurgen paid it no mind and shook himself free from his revere. “The pleasure is all mine Dragonborn” he said to her.
“I have been speaking to Jurgen about the use of the clear skies shout, Dragonborn” Felldir began as the tree walked over to where Gormlaith and Harkon sat. “And he seems to think that it will work on Alduin’s mist. But only if we combine our strength and shout together”
“It’s what we expected” Wyldfyre nodded to the others then continued “I don’t think we should delay this any further. I don’t want Alduin to devour any more souls and... I don’t think I am welcome here”. The others looked at her confused.
“What do you mean Dragonborn?” Harkon asked her, standing up and looking around. “Has someone said this to you? Point them out to me so that I may defend you in your name!” he started sliding his weapon out.
“Stay your hand Harkon” Wyldfyre grinned. “As noble as your intentions are, it was not anyone amongst this place. In truth, I don’t know who it was. It spoke to me back in the room but when I opened my eyes, there was no-one there.” The others looked at each other oddly.
“Are you sure of this Dragonborn?” Jurgen asked her intently.
“Positive” she nodded. “It was just a voice and it told me I didn’t belong here”. Felldir looked at Jurgen.
“Do you think it was....
Him?” He asked the founder of the Greybeards. Jurgen peered around him.
“Perhaps, but I don’t know for sure. It seems unlikely, but, who else could it have been?”
“What?” Wyldfyre asked.
“Yes Felldir, Jurgen, you are talking in riddles” Gormlaith said impatiently, standing up with the rest of the group.
“It appears our host is not so dead after all” Felldir said to the group, nodding smugly as Gormlaith rolled her eyes. This was obviously something that had been debated many times in this realm but Wyldfyre still had no idea who they were talking about. She looked to Gormlaith for an answer.
“It never ends” the warrior shook her head “all this time and they still think that Shor is somehow still alive”
“But how do you explain the room that changes?” Felldir said to her heatedly “And how we never seem to run out of mead and food? And now the voice that spoke to the Dragonborn? Explain that all to me Gormlaith!” The woman opened her mouth to respond but just then, a soldier ran up to the group, gasping for breath.
“Alduin” he panted “He has returned and is attacking the bridge!”. All arguments were forgotten as, in one swift movement, weapons were drawn and they all turned and ran for the bridge.