Searching for Memories I

Steel or Steal

Yol...toor shul!

Flames erupted around her, burning her skin, blistering. She cried out in pain and then let loose a cry of her own. "Strun...Bah Qo!" A massive bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens, and her opponent shrieked in pain and fury.

She awoke with a start. She was in unfamiliar surroundings, in the back of a cart with three strangers, and her hands were tied. Her head hurt, and reached up to find a large bump in the back. She must have hit her head when she—

When she what?

She didn't remember what she had been doing. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn't remember anything at all. She opened her eyes to see a soldier sitting across from her. He was around thirty years old, handsome and muscular, with blond hair and blue eyes. "You're awake," he said. "You took quite a bump to the head. I was beginning to wonder if you'd wake at all."

She looked from the soldier to the others, most notably the man driving the cart. He was wearing a uniform, but not the same one as this other man. Was she in the military? Had she gotten caught by the enemy? A look down at her clothes revealed only rags. If she was a soldier, what had happened to her uniform?

The other man opposite her was skinny, dark-haired, and filthy. He was absolutely terrified. He trembled and looked from one of them to the other, then at the road ahead of them. Sitting next to her was a large, imposing Nord with thick, sandy hair and a fur cloak. He was bound and gagged, but he didn't look beaten down. There was a sense of presence about him; he seemed bigger than life. He had a strong nose and intense, hazel eyes. He gazed as her as if he were trying to see into her soul. It should have made her uncomfortable, but she found it actually gave her strength. As they stared at each other, she heard the soldier telling the dark-haired man, whom he called "thief," that this was Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king of Skyrim.

Ulfric Stormcloak. That sounded familiar. With that, she recognized the soldiers' armor. The one across from her was a Stormcloak, and the one driving was an Imperial.

But who was she?

The Stormcloak said his name was Ralof, and the thief said he was from Rorikstead, but she didn't catch his name. She was busy trying to think of her own name as Ralof asked what it was.

"Sorscha..." she said uncertainly. It sounded right.

"And where are you from?"

"I...I don't...remember."

Ulfric sat up straight and looked at her curiously. Ralof raised an eyebrow at her and looked over at Ulfric, who nodded.

"We were ambushed at Darkwater Crossing," Ralof said. "The Imperials took you just as you were coming into town. You tried to fight, and one of them hit you on the head with the butt of his sword. You've been unconscious for more than a day."

"I don't remember any of that."

"What do you remember?"

"My name. Ulfric's name." Realization dawned on her, and he eyes flew open wide. "By the Nine, what if I'm responsible for this? What if I was the spy who told them where you were?"

"Saying, 'By the Nine,' leads me to believe you weren't the spy," Ralof said with a chuckle.

The cart approached the gates of a village.

"Where are we?" said the thief. "Where are they taking us?"

"To Sovngarde," said Ralof. "But that's Helgen. I used to know a girl here."

Ulfric grunted and nodded toward the balcony over the gate, and Ralof looked up. "General Tullius," he said. "He knew you were coming."

The thief started babbling in terror, and Sorscha shared his dread. The memory of her life encompassed about five minutes, and it looked like she wasn't going to live five more. Her heart raced as the cart stopped and an Imperial soldier directed them to get out. Helgen was a small village with two gates, a dozen homes, an inn, and a ramshackle keep, all in a loose ring around a courtyard. In front of the keep stood General Tullius, a handful of Imperial soldiers and bound Stormcloaks, and a hooded executioner, who stood over a chopping block with a large axe at the ready. Two Imperials stood before her party, one a man reading from a piece of parchment and the other a woman in officer's armor. The officer glared at Sorscha. She wondered if the officer knew her. She doubted she'd get the opportunity to ask.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak," the junior officer said. Ulfric stepped past him and walked toward the chopping block.

Ralof stepped forward, and the handsome Nord eyed him. "Ralof," he said in greeting.

"Hadvar."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Ralof said nothing else, just walked past him and went to stand next to Ulfric.

The thief started babbling again and took off running. He got about thirty feet before an Imperial's arrow took him out.

"Anybody else want to run?" the officer said, looking at Sorscha. Sorscha glared her in the eye and didn't move.

"You," Hadvar said to her. "Step forward. Who are you?"

"Sorscha."

"Where are you from?"

"I...don't remember."

"Captain, she's not on the list," Hadvar said to his superior.

"Forget the list," she said, glaring Sorscha in the eye. "She goes to the block." Now Sorscha knew they knew each other. The malice in the captain's voice was unmistakable, and she instantly hated the woman. Oh, to get her hands around that bitch's neck...

Hadvar apologized to Sorscha, saying something about dying in her homeland, but the platitude was lost on her as she stepped past him. Her knees were trembling so violently, she didn't know if she could make it to the block. Maybe an arrow in the back wasn't such a bad idea. She stood next to Ralof, who gave her a reassuring nod. General Tullius berated Ulfric—why did she continue to think of him only by his first name? Maybe they did know each other—for treason, for killing the high king, for crimes unnumbered. Ulfric responded with the grunt that was all he could manage with the gag in his mouth.

The captain had the priest of Arkay pray, but one of the Stormcloaks grew impatient. "I haven't got all morning," he said as he knelt over the block.

Was he out of his mind? Why would he be in a hurry to die?

They headsman obliged the soldier, and swung the axe onto his neck, the blade impacting the block with a harsh thunk. Sorscha flinched at the blow, and at the soldier's head as it dropped into a trough next to the block with surprisingly little blood.

Then the captain looked at her. "You there. You're next."

Sorscha drew a quivering breath and tried to walk, but she found she couldn't move. Ulfric looked over at her with those compelling eyes. He didn't—couldn't—say a word, but his eyes said it all. Be brave. I'll see you today in Sovngarde. She doubted it. Sovngarde awaited those who died valiantly, not those who stumbled upon a raiding party and lost their heads by the axe. But the gesture was enough to get her moving. She stumbled toward the block and knelt before it. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears but opened them again as a bone-chilling screech rang through the air. She looked up to see the headsman's axe stopped in midair. Behind him, a monster sat atop the tower. It was black and scaly, with massive wings and teeth as big as she was. It dwarfed the keep as it peered from one of them to the other, its eyes finally settling on Sorscha.

A dragon. Just like all the myths.

"Yol...toor shul!" the dragon shouted, and streams of fire erupted from its gaping maw.

The headsman was instantly incinerated.

The flames missed her, but the force of the blast knocked Sorscha off balance, and blisters raised on her arm. Could this be happening? And had the dragon attacked her or saved her? It was just like her dream. What was it that she had said to rain lightning down on the dragon? But the dream was gone, and Ralof was grabbing her shoulder.

"Run!" he said. "This way!"

Sorscha scrambled to her feet and followed Ralof into the tower, where Ulfric waited. His binds and gag were gone, and he was shouting orders to the Stormcloaks. "Sorscha, up the stairs," he said, and she started up into the tower toward a soldier who stood about halfway up, only to be stopped abruptly when the dragon broke through the wall, screeching and howling. Its jaws snapped shut, rending the soldier in two. She screamed and fell backward, but Ralof was there to catch her.

"There's no way up now," he said. "Jump out the window, to the inn over there."

How was she supposed to jump with her hands tied? She didn't think about it; she just did it. It turned out Sorscha was more agile than she would have thought. She made the leap into the second floor of the inn easily and was on the run as soon as she was down. She dashed down the stairs and out the door—and straight into Hadvar.

"Aha, you made it!" he cried. He actually sounded glad. "Follow me."

They worked their way through a maze of burning buildings until they were separated by a colossal, leathery wing slamming to the ground between them. Sorscha jumped back and Hadvar swore, but if the black dragon noticed them, it decided they weren't worth killing at this time, because it took flight again and they began running. As they rushed back across the courtyard, Ralof darted in from the other side. He stepped between Sorscha and Hadvar. "We're leaving," he told Hadvar.

"I'll keep her safe," Hadvar protested.

"You were about to let her die for no reason, you bastard!"

"Fine, go. I hope you both end up at the end of the fire's breath!"

Sorscha was about to say something particularly scathing, but Ralof took her bound hands and pulled her toward the keep's second tower. They found one of his comrades inside, lying dead on the floor, with blood still seeping from a wound in his chest. "You were a brave soldier, my friend," Ralof said sadly. He looked up at Sorscha. "Let me get those bindings off, then take his armor. It will protect you better than what you're wearing."

He untied her, and she took the Stormcloak's armor. Ralof turned away while she stripped out of the rags, but Sorscha caught him subtly turning his head to sneak a peek. She should have been angry, but she found it didn't bother her. What's a little nudity between friends when you've just survived a dragon attack together? She donned the uniform, which was almost too small for her—she was apparently very tall—and picked up a small war axe that the dead soldier had carried.

There were three exits from the room. One led outside to the dragon, and the other two gates were locked. While they were trying to figure out what to do, two Imperial soldiers came up the hallway to one of the gates. One of them was the captain.

Oh, the divines loved Sorscha!

Ralof ducked to one side of the doorway, and Sorscha hid on the other while the soldier unlocked the gate. As soon as the captain came through, Sorscha stepped in front of her. "You!" the captain snarled. She raised her sword to attack, but Sorscha was quicker. She buried the axe in the captain's neck.

Killing was easy, and Sorscha felt no remorse. Wasn't someone's first kill supposed to be traumatic? Maybe it wasn't her first. Or maybe she just really hated that captain.

Ralof finished off the other soldier and took his sword, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. He pointed to the captain and said, "Her armor will protect you better."

"I'd sooner fight naked."

Ralof smiled. "Well, if you feel you must."

In the midst of all the horror, Sorscha found she couldn't help laughing. "Whoa, slow down there, lad. You don't want to get all worked up with all these people and a dragon trying to kill us."

She couldn't tell for sure in the dim light of the keep, but she could have sworn Ralof blushed. "You're right, my lady. My apologies." He led her through the hallways and down a set of stairs, where they came upon a torture chamber. Apparently the torturer hadn't heard the din from above, because he was busy beating a half-naked Stormcloak soldier who was tied to a rack. Ralof rushed in and stabbed the torturer in the back, while Sorscha engaged his assistant. The weight of the axe felt good as she swung it, and she managed to dispatch the assistant before he could get in a good strike with his sword. He died with a whimper; he evidently couldn't take the pain as well as he could dish it out.

"You're a fighter," Ralof remarked as he freed the Stormcloak.

"Maybe. I don't remember, but I don't seem to be having any trouble."

"Come on." He started moving down the hall with Sorscha and the other soldier trailing behind. As they went through a door into a cavernous hall on a lower floor of the keep, they heard the dragon howl, and the ceiling behind them caved in, crushing the soldier. "Damn it!" Ralof cried. "We have to get out of here."

They came upon a doorway with stairs leading down to a cave system. "A secret bolt hole," Sorscha said. "Very handy."

They made their way through the channels to a doorway that was covered with spider webs. Ralof cut through the webs, and they entered a large room occupied by four frostbite spiders. The giant arachnids were bigger than Sorscha, and their legs were at least ten feet long. They had more eyes than she cared to count and spit noxious poison, but they weren't so tough. She had used them for target practice—

Was that a memory?

"I think I'm an archer," said Sorscha.

Ralof removed the quiver and handed her the bow and arrows. "You may get more use out of this than I, then. Did you remember something?"

"Not really a memory, just a...shadow."

"Well, anything is good." He started off again, and before long they ran into a sleeping bear.

Okay, maybe the divines didn't love her.

"Oh, by the Nine!" Ralof cried in exasperation. "What's next?"

"Don't lose your humor, Ralof."

"Easier said than done at this point. Let's try to sneak by it. I'd just as soon—"

"Screw that." Sorscha took aim with the bow and shot the bear in the head.

Ralof laughed. "Looks like you are an archer."

They could see light not far past the bear, and soon they emerged from the cave into the sunshine. "I don't remember the day being so sunny," Ralof mused.

"The weather's not something you notice when you're about to lose your head."

"We can split up now if you'd like, but my sister Gerdur is in Riverwood, just up the road."

"I'll stay with you."

As they set off down the road, Ralof said, "You should join the Stormcloaks. We could use a fighter like you."

"I need to find out who I am first." She stopped in her tracks.

Ralof stopped and looked back at her. "What is it?"

"I don't even know what I look like."

He looked her over. "Dirty-blonde hair, hazel eyes, early twenties, maybe twenty-five. You're actually quite comely."

Sorscha felt heat rise in her cheeks; now it was her turn to blush. "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

The stone road wound through the forest, going in and out from beneath the canopy of trees. Sorscha could hear water rushing somewhere off in the distance. About halfway between Helgen and Riverwood, the road came to a switchback that offered a stunning view of Lake Illinalta. Between the road and the lake a platform that accommodating three standing stones. The cone-shaped stones were about six feet high, and each was intricately carved with an image and a pattern of stars. A hole was bored through the stone near the top. "The Guardian Stones," Ralof said.

Sorscha nodded. "There are thirteen of them. After the constellations."

"You know them, then?"

"I guess I do." She stepped onto the platform, which fairly vibrated with magic, sending delicious tingles down her spine. The stones seemed alive and inviting. Touch me, they called. Receive my blessing. Sorscha turned in a circle, studying each one. But which one should she touch? The stone on the right was the Warrior Stone, meant to guide the fighter and help improve his or her skills. In the center was the Mage Stone, which did the same thing for the wizard or enchanter. To the left was the Thief Stone, for speech and other, more larcenous, skills. Sorscha felt drawn to the Thief Stone in a way she couldn't explain, and she almost touched it, but she noticed Ralof watching her closely. She didn't know what it was about this soldier, but she found she very much wanted to please him. She turned and laid her hand on the Warrior Stone. The pattern of stars lit up, and the hole sizzled with magic. The tingle intensified, and a warmth spread through Sorscha's body, bringing with it a vigor and a hunger for battle.

"Ha, I knew you were a fighter!" he said.

Riverwood was a cute little village of about thirty people and included a mill, a blacksmith, an inn, and a general store. As they walked through town, most of the residents waved and said hello to Ralof, the only exception being the smith, who glared hatefully.

"What's with him?" Sorscha asked.

"That's Hadvar's brother."

"Hadvar, the Imperial soldier from Helgen?"

"Aye. We were childhood friends, but I suppose that's over now."

"I'm sorry."

"As am I. War tends to tear people apart, no? Perhaps someday the war will end and we can be friends again."

He led her down a path behind the mill, where they met a woman running the saw. She was slim and tan, mid-thirties, and evidently much stronger than she looked, to be running such a heavy piece of equipment. "Gerdur!" Ralof exclaimed. He went to his sister and embraced her.

"Ralof, you shouldn't be here," she said. "It's not safe. I heard Ulfric was captured."

"Gerdur, we need to talk in private."

Gerdur looked over at Sorscha and then back to Ralof. "Of course. Follow me." She called for her husband, then led them to an alcove by the river out of earshot of the rest of the town. "Who is your friend?" she asked Ralof.

"This is Sorscha. She saved my life today."

"We saved each other's lives," Sorscha clarified.

"Yes," Ralof confirmed. "Ulfric was captured. We were all bound for the headsman's block."

"'Bound for'?" Sorscha remarked.

Ralof smiled at her. "The timing couldn't have been better."

Gerdur's husband, Hod, approached. He was stalwart and exuded strength and resolve, even just walking across the yard. He looked Sorscha up and down appreciatively, then turned to Ralof and clasped his forearm. "Brother, good to see you. You two look like you were in a battle."

"You might say that."

"What happened?" Gerdur asked.

"A dragon attacked Helgen."

Gerdur and Hod's jaws dropped. "What?" Gerdur cried. "A real dragon?"

"You know the gold dragon claw Lucan Valerius has in his store? It's nothing compared to the size of a real one."

"By the gods, how did you survive?"

"The dragon actually saved our lives," Sorscha said.

Ralof nodded. "We managed to escape in the confusion. Gerdur, we need a place to hide out for a while."

"Of course. You're both welcome. But if a dragon has attacked, the Jarl needs to be informed."

"I'll go," said Sorscha. "Now that we seem safe, I find I'm not tired."

"You've been through so much today, friend. Are you sure you'll not rest a bit before you go?"

"Can't afford to. What if the dragon comes here next?"

Gerdur walked back up to the mill and retrieved a knapsack. She dug into the bag for some bread, an apple, and a few gold coins, then handed them to Sorscha. "Here, take these, and know you're welcome in our home. I must get back the mill. Be safe."

Sorscha reached out and hugged the woman. "Thank you."

Gerdur smiled and headed back toward the mill, with Hod following. Ralof stood before her.

"Quite a day, huh?" he said.

"Quite a day."

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Probably."

"I don't know how long I'll stay here. If I miss you, hopefully I'll see you in Windhelm." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "And take care of yourself."

Sorscha reached up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "You, too," she said before turning away.

She headed north through town and started across the bridge on the road that would ultimately lead her to Whiterun, the seat of the hold and home of the Jarl. As she reached the other side, however, she realized she still had unfinished business. She couldn't go back through town; Ralof might see her and wonder what she was up to. Thus, Sorscha turned left and doubled back on the other side of the river, staying as hidden as possible. When she was far enough past Riverwood to be comfortable Ralof wouldn't see her, she crossed the river and headed up the road to the Guardian Stones. When she reached them, she stepped up on the platform.

Warrior, Mage, and Thief. She had touched the Warrior Stone because she hadn't wanted to disappoint Ralof, but though she didn't remember much, she knew that her strengths lay elsewhere. She was a fighter, yes, but there was more. Sorscha turned to the left and touched the Thief Stone.

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