Chapter Text
Immediately after the battle, those who were seriously injured drank healing potions. The effects were not instantaneous, but neither did it take long for their wounds to start mending. At least Lydia was glad that she was no longer bleeding everywhere, and with Uthgerd’s help she was able to hobble along as her ankle continued to heal.
The group wasted no time in leaving the area, wanting to get away from the thick smoke and the smell of burnt flesh that lingered in the great hall where the battle had taken place. They went down the passage that led out of the hall, which turned sharply to the left at one point, opening up into a mostly empty chamber. Anything of worthwhile value had been looted long ago, leaving behind only dust, debris, and cobwebs.
Given the state of their party, they decided it was best to set up camp here and rest. The spiders had long laid claim to this section of the ruins, and with their nest burned out and their forces greatly diminished, there was unlikely to be any immediate threats to worry about.
Able to breathe easier now, they quickly cleaned themselves up with damp rags, doing their best to get the blood, sweat, and dirt off of themselves that they had accumulated thus far. Once they were healed and cleaned up, as best as they could be in their current environment anyway, they then took the time to eat and drink, digging into their ample supplies. There was little chatter during this time. With their thirst and hunger sated, they soon took turns getting some sleep, the weariness of their travels and their recent ordeals finally catching up to them.
All except Kratos, who did not feel the need nor desire to sleep.
Instead, he quietly observed the bustle of his companions while he stood off to the side, close to the passage that led back towards the spiders’ nest. Other than a few times when they asked him if he needed anything or if he wanted to eat or drink—he did not—they left him alone. They all understood by now that he did not want to be bothered by trivial matters.
The blood-red healing potions they had brought with them proved more potent than Kratos initially thought, completely healing even the serious injury that Lydia had suffered. At one point, Uthgerd noted that Lydia was lucky her foot hadn’t been bitten off entirely, for the healing potions they had on hand were not powerful enough to regrow a whole limb, and she was unsure if they were potent enough to reattach a torn limb.
Kratos still had much to learn about this world, but the fact that there were alchemists who could concoct potions powerful enough to regrow missing limbs here was certainly a surprise. Though, unsurprisingly, such potions were expensive and difficult to procure, but apparently not as rare as one might think—they could be found in most major settlements, if his companions were to be believed.
Companions? Kratos thought with a frown. He let out a snort and shook his head slightly.
What potions they had on hand were all of standard quality and thus were the most common. Although their healing effects weren’t instantaneous, the muscles, tendons, and skin that had been savagely torn off from Lydia’s ankle grew back quickly, and within a couple of minutes it was as if she had never been injured in the first place.
Once Lydia had settled down with her injured leg straightened out in front of her, Uthgerd kept a sort of vigil over the newly healed ankle while Lydia complained that it burned and itched terribly. Several times, Uthgerd had to swat her hand away lest she interrupt the healing process.
While the potions were blood-red and could heal a wide range of bodily injuries, they unfortunately could not actually replenish any blood that was lost. Although Lydia had not lost a significant amount of blood, she had lost enough that she was definitely not going to be in top form for a while, which bothered her greatly.
Of the four of them, only Lydia had been seriously injured, and she clearly felt depressed about that fact based on how she was acting. Uthgerd had some scrapes and bruises but was otherwise fine, while Kratos and Anske were unscathed.
Uthgerd was the most heavily armored of them all, and with her thick muscles and stout body, it was not easy to seriously injure her. Anske had stood next to Kratos for most of the battle, and was fighting from range, so she was the least exposed to danger.
None of them faulted Lydia for getting injured, it was simply bad luck, but the young housecarl did not see it that way.
Nobody really questioned the fact that Kratos was unharmed even though he wore no armor and fought the fiercest and strongest of the spiders. Except for Anske, who thought she had seen him get hurt when fighting against the biggest spider at the end. But when she rushed over to check on him, the injury that she thought she had seen was nowhere to be found! She eventually concluded that she must have simply imagined it, and Kratos did not bother to correct her false assumption.
The guardsmen had fared the worst in the battle, having lost two of their number while the survivors suffered several injuries. Thankfully, they too had healing potions of their own, and were able to tend to their wounds without trouble. Though their mood was clearly subdued despite their victory, they nonetheless continued to act professionally and took turns keeping watch while the party rested and recuperated.
Some odd number of hours later, however, Sergeant Carsis came over from where the guardsmen had been resting on the opposite side of the chamber they were camped in. He had a strange look on his worn face, and when he announced his intentions, it became clear why he looked that way.
“Honored Thane,” he addressed Kratos directly with a respectful salute and bow of his head, “My men and I would humbly ask that you allow us to return to the entrance and see to the security there while we await your triumphant return with the dragonstone.”
“You would withdraw?” Lydia blurted out from nearby, bewildered. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her, and had been dozing off, when the sergeant’s words carried across the quiet chamber and caused her to suddenly sit up straight and stare at him.
Uthgerd, who sat to her right, raised a brow, and added, “I didn’t think veterans of the Whiterun Guard like yourselves would turn out to be a bunch of milk-drinking cowards.”
“Uthgerd!” Lydia hissed, turning sharply towards the warrior with a disapproving frown.
Sergeant Carsis flashed a glare at them both, his face wearing a heavy frown. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “Be careful what you say, Uthgerd. Some people might not look kindly on your sense of humor.”
“Oh? Who said I was joking?” Uthgerd’s retort caused the sergeant’s expression to darken. Even Anske was now looking disapprovingly at her.
Sergeant Carsis seemed about ready to draw his sword. “You—”
“Enough.” Kratos cut in and silenced them all with but a word. All eyes turned to him, though his intense gaze remained only on the sergeant. “Why do you wish to leave?”
In truth, Kratos cared little whether the guardsmen accompanied them or not. Well, that was not entirely true. He preferred it if they were not following him around like they had been, but he did not care enough to stop them if they wished to tag along, especially since this was a mission directly relevant to their world and their masters.
However, he was slightly concerned with the possibility that they might be withdrawing for some reason that he maybe should know about, such as some strange and terrible danger that lay ahead that was common knowledge to people of this world. That concern was not due to worry for his own wellbeing, of course, but that of his companions.
The sergeant seemed to hesitate for a moment, the anger in his face subsiding before he exhaled and said, “Well, truthfully… our orders were only to escort you to Bleak Falls Barrow and await receipt of the Dragonstone once you retrieved it. We were not actually instructed to enter the ruins with you. It was my own foolish decision to accompany you inside. And now two of my men are dead.” His voice grew heavier as he spoke.
Nobody said anything as the sergeant paused, shifting on his feet as he lowered his gaze. “I do not wish to leave their bodies behind here, where creatures such as the spiders might happen upon them. And it would be unwise to carry them forward with us if we were to continue accompanying you. I also think that my superiors will not take too kindly to any further unnecessary losses.
Given your exceptional fighting skills, I have no doubts that you will succeed in finding and bringing back the Dragonstone, so I’m not worried about finishing the mission. Lastly, the entrance is also currently guarded by only a handful of my men, and if any other bandits or other threats—”
Kratos held up a hand to stop him, having heard enough. If there were any hidden dangers here that he should have been aware of, the sergeant would have already said as much. With that little worry out of the way, he could allow them to leave without a second thought.
“You may go,” he declared.
Sergeant Carsis bowed respectfully, saluting once more with a loud thump of his hand to his chest. “Thank you for your understanding, thane.” With one last glare at Uthgerd, who wisely kept quiet, he spun on his heel and returned to his men.
For a moment, Kratos thought the sergeant was acting far more deferentially and respectfully than he had been before, but perhaps he was simply imagining it. Why had he asked for permission to begin with? As far as Kratos knew, the title of Thane was honorary and held no actual rank. Or perhaps he was mistaken?
“What was that about?” Lydia whispered harshly to Uthgerd once Sergeant Carsis was out of earshot.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Anske agreed with a frown.
“You had an issue with it too,” Uthgerd said to Lydia.
“Me being surprised that they were leaving and you calling them cowards are very different things.”
Uthgerd was quiet for a moment, then she rubbed the back of her neck. “I just thought he was suddenly afraid after fighting those damned spiders and was running away like a coward. But I guess… there were other considerations...”
“If they really were milk-drinking cowards, do you think they would have stayed and fought when the horde of spiders appeared?” Lydia said pointedly. “They could have tried to run away, but instead they stood their ground and fought. And two of them even lost their lives.”
“Shor’s Beard! Okay, okay. I get it,” Uthgerd said with a flustered wave of her gauntleted hand. “I might have said some things in haste.” She turned away, unable to look Lydia in the eyes. When the silence stretched a little longer, she added, “I just… I’ve had some bad experiences with allies abandoning me in the middle of a quest before. So, I may have gotten a little wound up. That’s all.”
Lydia stared at Uthgerd for a moment longer, the older warrior still not meeting her eyes, but said nothing more on the matter. Then her expression changed, as if she remembered something important.
“Speaking of being left behind by cowards… that damned elf ran away after we cut him free,” she said with a scowl.
Uthgerd’s eyes widened slightly. “I forgot about him.”
Kratos would not admit it aloud, but he had actually forgotten about the elf too. He glanced around like he might suddenly catch sight of the elf hiding somewhere nearby.
Anske spoke up then. “Do you think… the elf could have stolen that golden claw?”
“Most likely,” Lydia said with a nod. “If not him specifically, he must have at least been involved. It’s too much of a coincidence that those bandits were here so soon after the theft. And Camilla even said that the claw had something to do with Bleak Falls Barrow.”
Uthgerd looked lost. “What in the Ni—Eight are you two talking about?”
Lydia and Anske exchanged sheepish glances. Then they turned to Uthgerd and Kratos. It was Lydia who spoke first, explaining themselves.
“We uh… agreed to a request… from one of the owners of The Riverwood Trader, Camilla Valerius. A very valuable item was stolen from their shop, and when she overheard where we were heading, she asked if we could look into it.” She turned to Kratos. “If you recall, they were having a big argument when we entered the shop.”
Kratos frowned ever so slightly as he continued to stand nearby, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the ground as if he were not listening. He remembered that moment, but he did not realize his they had made an agreement without his knowledge.
“She gave us a discount on all the potions we bought just because we said we’d try to help if we could,” Anske added in justification.
“And she said that if we did retrieve the claw, she would compensate us more once it was returned to her,” Lydia said. “The only reason we accepted was because… well, there didn’t seem to be any problem with saying we’d look into it, especially since we were already on our way here to Bleak Falls Barrow. And we got some benefit already just by saying yes.”
“Exactly.” Anske nodded, looking up at Kratos with an earnest look tinged with worry. “We were going to tell you, but… well, with the vampires and all that…”
“It kind of slipped our minds,” Lydia finished her thought, looking somewhat ashamed. “Forgive us, my Thane.” She lowered her head.
Kratos could only close his eyes and sigh. He supposed it was not that big a deal given the situation, but it did not mean he was happy about it.
“You must discuss such matters with me before agreeing to anything in the future,” he told them.
Lydia and Anske shared another look, their expressions torn between worry and relief.
“We understand,” they said almost simultaneously.
“Well,” Uthgerd said, “All I can say is that the coward can’t have gone far. He looked about half dead when we cut him free.”
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Arvel did not make it far indeed, and he was currently not living up to his name as Arvel the Swift. He had earned such a name because he was fleet of foot and his dexterous hands quick, but he was too battered and exhausted from his ordeal with the damned spiders to give any credence to his reputation currently.
He had been stuck in that damned web for over a day, without food or water, and that was on top of the injuries he had sustained trying to fight and escape from the horde of spiders that had descended upon him and his unlucky crew. Why he had been the only one to survive, he did not know, nor did he care to understand. What mattered was that he was still alive.
He collapsed after a while, his shaky legs unable to support him any further. He knew not how long it had been since he ran away from that cursed hallway nor how far he had gotten, but he thought it was far enough. Sprawled on the cold floor, he slowly removed his pack and rummaged around for something to eat and drink, glad that the spiders had not taken his pack from him.
His hand brushed up against something heavy and metallic within his pack. It was cold to the touch, but his lips formed a thin smile when he felt the item still there. The reason he was here in this Oblivion damned place.
He bit ravenously into the dried and salted jerky that he found, losing all semblance of decorum. Not that he had much to begin with. He ate like a wild starved wild animal, and when he started coughing violently from trying to swallow the dried food with an even drier throat, he simply chugged water from one of the leather waterskins in his pack. The warm liquid was not as satisfying as it would have been if it were cold, but it did the job.
Water splattered to the floor as it escaped the sides of his lips, but he continued to drink greedily, nearly emptying the waterskin in one go. He let out a satisfied sigh and licked his chapped lips, which were stinging from the sudden drenching they were enduring, before gasping for breath.
His whole body ached and moving was a pain, but he managed to ignore it enough to eat and drink his fill. When he was finally sated, he managed to drag himself into a corner, uncaring of the dirt and debris that now clung to him from clambering across the floor.
Arvel had hastily put together a crew for this job, promising riches to the desperate fools that followed him. Most of them had been barely useful, but a few had been decent fighters. Now they were all dead, and he was the only one left. And that was perfectly fine with him. That meant he didn’t have to share any of the treasures that awaited him in the unexplored sections of the ancient temple. The untouched places that were beyond the sealed door to which he now held the only key.
Lucan Valerius had been a fool to think the golden claw he had kept was merely an impressive ornament. It was so much more than that, and Arvel was soon going to reap the rewards of recognizing its true value.
But first, he was going to rest. He desperately needed it. In the distance, the sounds of fighting that he had been hearing had finally disappeared. The unfortunate souls who rescued him were probably dead by now, and their bodies should sate the spiders enough that he doubted they would roam far beyond their nest.
He was grateful not to have encountered any draugr in his weakened state, but he knew there would definitely be some beyond the door. And other dangers as well, but he would deal with those when he came across them. For now, he would sleep. So, Arvel shut his eyes and, clutching his pack tightly to his chest, he quickly fell into a deep sleep reserved only for the truly exhausted.
When he slowly came to sometime later, he thought he could hear voices. They sounded distant, muffled like he was submerged in water. The voices gradually grew sharper. Closer. He shifted, frowning. His body felt heavy. Muscles tight and sore. He groaned as his brows knitted together. His head hurt too.
“He’s finally awake,” said a voice he didn’t recognize. A woman. Young, from the sounds of it.
Arvel suddenly froze, his heart thundering in his chest as his recent memories rushed back to the fore. There shouldn’t be voices. Couldn’t be. He was only imagining things, right?
“Oi. Time to wake up, elf,” said another voice. Feminine, but deep. And filled with contempt.
Arvel was not imagining it. Worse than that, he realized that his pack was no longer in his arms. That alarmed him so much that he finally snapped his eyes open, anger rising within him as his hand reached for his dagger. That anger quickly cooled when he caught sight of the people standing over him, large and imposing.
One, in particular, made any thought of resistance melt away. A giant of a man with such a severe expression on his face that he could probably stop a charging mammoth in its tracks by simply glaring at it with the same intensity as he was glaring at Arvel now.
Like with any dangerous situation, Arvel only had one goal: survive at all costs.
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Kratos stared down at the golden object in his hand that was shaped into a dragon’s claw. The Dunmer thief, who they learned was named Arvel, had easily confessed to stealing the claw from The Riverwood Trader and gave it up to them without any trouble. Not that he had much choice in the matter.
The claw had a bit of weight to it, but other than the decently skilled craftsmanship and the fact that it was made of solid gold, there did not appear to be anything special about the item. At least none that Kratos could discern. Even though he was not adept at magic, he was at least capable of sensing magical energy and manipulating it on a low level, and he could feel nothing at all from the object.
Apparently, the reason Arvel stole the claw was that he had learned, by some stroke of luck, that it was a key to access the deepest parts of the ruin. Parts that were untouched for centuries because they were sealed behind whatever door the claw opened. Due to that, the probability of encountering valuable knowledge and treasures was very high.
Since this supposed key was not magical in any way, Kratos wondered why nobody had tried to simply force their way through the door. Was the mechanism that sealed it magical despite the key being mundane? Or was the door simply that strong? With the allure of untold great treasures and knowledge beyond the sealed door, surely powerful groups and figures would have been interested over the years.
Ahead of Kratos, Arvel walked as best as he could with ropes tied around his ankles to prevent him from running. They had given the elf enough slack so that he could walk at an acceptable pace that wouldn’t slow their progress too much while still making it difficult for him to run away. His wrists were tightly bound in comparison, so he couldn’t easily pick up a weapon and wield it if he somehow decided to escape.
Not that he could or would run away even if he was unbound given that Kratos was keeping a close eye on him. Still, it paid to be cautious.
The party had a brief discussion on what to do with the elf, and the decision ultimately fell to Kratos, who decided that keeping the shifty thief within eyesight was far better than leaving him to his own devices. He did not want to have a rogue dark elf and known criminal sneaking around behind them, possibly waiting for a chance to strike from the shadows, no matter how weak he might have seemed.
The only other option was to kill him, but Kratos felt no strong inclination to end the elf’s life even if he might have deserved it for his past wrongs. None of the others objected.
Thus, they pushed deeper into the ruins, with Lydia in the lead, closely followed by Uthgerd and then Arvel. Anske and Kratos walked side-by-side at the rear of their formation.
The first draugr they encountered were, as Kratos was told to expect, simply undead zombies of fallen warriors from long ago. Warriors that were now bound in death to protect this ruin from intruders such as them. The draugr closely resembled skeletons, but were covered by sunken, leathery pale skin that was tight over their bones. They had glowing ice-blue eyes that seemed like crystals. They groaned and growled, but otherwise could not speak. Their armor was rusted and often already damaged while their ancient weapons were only in slightly better shape.
They were not too difficult to deal with in small numbers. Their movements were sluggish and easy to read for experienced fighters, and their weapons were not imbued with magic. However, their strength was nothing to scoff at, and it was still wise not to take them for granted. Even Uthgerd, who was undoubtedly the second best in terms of strength in their group behind Kratos, had some trouble outmuscling some of the emaciated zombies.
Kratos unsurprisingly had no issues at all. He tore through them like paper, sometimes literally tearing them apart with his bare hands and sending their shriveled body parts flying. Everyone was now accustomed to how powerful the Thane was, so nobody really batted an eye.
Except Arvel was clearly dumbfounded and somewhat terrified as he witnessed Kratos’ strength for the first time. Any inklings of possible escape were pretty much squashed immediately after seeing what the pale warrior could do.
Whenever the draugr experienced fatal damage, their eyes stopped glowing, and whatever power that reanimated them stopped working. Strangely enough, despite there being plenty of untouched bodies that lined the walls—which made this place feel more like a tomb than a ruined temple in Kratos’ opinon—only a few ever came to life and attacked them.
Kratos pondered the reason for that as they made their way further into the ruin of Bleak Falls Barrow. Was there some sort of limit to the amount of draugr that could be animated at one time by the powers that sustained this place? Or was it a deliberate strategy so as not to deplete all the draugr in one go? Whatever the case, though he had nothing to fear even if the whole army entombed here came to life around them, he could not say the same for the others in his group.
In his current state and with his current equipment, even he would be hard-pressed to keep them all safe if the whole tomb were to attack them all at once. He debated whether to preemptively destroy the other bodies entombed around them, but whenever they encountered a group of draugr and finished them off, no additional reinforcements came. That seemed to indicate that the possibility of the whole host of draugr coming back to life was very remote.
After winding through more halls and passageways and fighting several more groups of draugr, they encountered an entirely different obstacle: a narrow hallway with several giant axes hanging from the ceiling that were large enough to cleave a human in two in one swing. They swung back-and-forth like menacing pendulums across the hallway, and were spaced out at even intervals, whooshing loudly as they moved.
The party gathered by the entrance to the narrow hallway, staring quietly at it for a moment. There were no other passages, meaning it was the only way forward.
“You’re not expecting me to go first… are you?” the thief asked as his eyes darted around nervously.
Nobody responded to him, and it was as if he had said nothing at all.
Uthgerd turned to Kratos. “There should be a switch at the other end that will stop the mechanisms that move these axes. So, only one of us needs to actually go through the gauntlet.”
Kratos nodded once, coming to the same conclusion. Before anyone else could say anything, Lydia suddenly spoke.
“I volunteer.” She stepped forward without hesitation. Off to the side, seemingly forgotten, the thief sighed with tremendous relief and kept silent in case they might suddenly reconsider him as a candidate.
Lydia looked to Kratos, who gave her a slight nod of approval. She lowered her head gratefully.
Anske stared at Lydia with wide eyes, then looking at the giant metal axes slicing through the air ahead of them in a consistent rhythm, she gulped. “Is your ankle fine?”
Lydia smiled slightly at her. “It’s completely healed. I can move well enough.”
“Oh, I see. Then… please be careful,” Anske said, her knuckles white as she gripped her bow tightly in her hands.
Lydia nodded, her expression one of determination. She stepped forward again, but stopped when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned her head towards Uthgerd, who eyed her seriously.
“There’s enough space in between each swinging axe for someone to safely stand. Don’t rush. Stay calm and take your time, and you should be fine,” Uthgerd advised her. “Just remember, it’s all about the timing.”
Lydia stared at her for a second. “I understand. Thank you.”
Uthgerd grinned and then smacked her shoulder slightly. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
With a quick glance at Kratos, Lydia stepped forward and took off her shield, leaning it against the closest wall. She eyed the first of the swinging axes—there were three in total—and hesitated for the first time now that she was much closer to it. The constant whoosh, whoosh sound made her heartbeat faster.
One mistake could prove fatal.
As long as she keeps calm and maintains her footing, she should be fine… he thought. For this matter, the only enemies she had were her own nerves and fear.
They watched as she paused before the first swinging axe, taking her time. As it sliced through the air mere inches in front of her, she hopped forward decisively, and then the axe sliced back the other way right behind her. She made it through safely.
Anske and Uthgerd smiled as they looked on, while Kratos continued to observe impassively.
Without turning around, Lydia deftly made her way through the remaining axes. Then, once on the other side, she easily found a nearby lever.
Soon, the loud sounds of hidden mechanisms grinding to a halt rumbled from within the walls. The axes stopped swinging, and at the end of the narrow hallway, Lydia reappeared with a small smile on her face as she waved them forward.
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The troll was only slightly bigger than Kratos, with a thick leathery hide covered with dark brown hair that clumped densely in some places, such as the backs of its forearms, over its shoulders, around its waist and groin, and across its jaw like a beard. Their bodies were thick and muscular, and they had three beady, black eyes. To Kratos, they were quite ugly creatures, but certainly far from the worst he has seen.
According to Uthgerd, trolls were tough enemies for three reasons: their impressive strength, their equally impressive hardiness, and their strong regenerative abilities. There were different species of trolls throughout Skyrim, and differing combat abilities, but these dark-furred ones were the most common and thus were considered the average for trolls.
What a troll was even doing in the middle of a ruined ancient temple was a mystery. Not that it mattered much. The troll was an enemy standing in their way, and so they had to deal with it.
This time, Kratos did not even need to get involved. The combined efforts of Uthgerd, Lydia, and even Anske were enough to take down the lone troll they encountered. It took a little longer than if he had done it himself, but he did not mind. They needed the battle experience. Anske especially.
While wandering through the cold and mostly empty halls after defeating a few more groups of draugr, they came upon a collapsed wall. It was a large hole that opened up into a natural stone cave.
“This is how the trolls got in,” Lydia remarked as they stopped in front of it.
A strong draft blew cold air through the hole, and Kratos thought he heard the sound of distant growls similar to the noises the troll had made earlier.
“Should we go in?” Anske asked, turning her head to look at Kratos.
Uthgerd grinned. “I wouldn’t mind taking down a few more trolls.”
Lydia gestured towards a passageway ahead that led deeper into the ruins. “We should keep moving forward through the halls. Our objective is the Dragonstone, which is likely to be at the farthest end of the temple.” Then she looked at Kratos. “What are your orders, my Thane?”
“We keep moving forward,” Kratos said at last.
Lydia was right. There was no reason to explore an unknown cave that branched off from the hallways of the ruins when there was still a path ahead. Nobody disagreed, and they kept going. They fought another group of eight draugr, five swordsmen and three archers, before they ended up in front of a blocked passageway. The ceiling had caved in some time ago, and a thick mound of rubble lay before them.
“From the looks of things, this is the only way forward.” Lydia frowned as she reached out a hand to grasp some of the fallen rocks.
Kratos thought he could muscle his way through with some time and considerable effort, but he had a feeling that he might cause even more cave-ins and potentially endanger them all. Frowning, he glanced back in the direction they had come from. It seemed far too convenient for that cave opening to be so close to where the proper path had been blocked off. Almost as if it was deliberately planned by someone. Or something.
His hands clenched into fists. Was this the work of Akatosh? Or some other deity of this world?
A sigh off to the side caught Kratos’ attention. The bound thief had stayed quiet for most of the journey through the ruins thus far, though he could not keep all his emotions hidden. There was clearly a look of disappointment on his face. As well as… annoyance and disbelief? The thief likely realized that all his efforts and sacrifices would have been in vain even if he had succeeded in his fight against the spiders and gotten to this point before Kratos and company arrived.
“What do we do now?” Anske asked. She too looked disappointed.
“Well, we obviously can’t go through here…” Lydia mumbled. The disappointment in her voice was evident as well.
Uthgerd’s reaction to the current situation seemed neutral. If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it. She swung her warhammer around a few times and rolled her shoulders, looking at Kratos expectantly. As the most experienced of their group, besides Kratos, she already knew what they should do now that their main path was blocked off.
It could very well be a dead end, but exploring that cave appeared to be the only other viable option they had short of potentially bringing the whole mountain down upon them by digging their way through the rubble. After all, since there was an entrance into the caves here, there was a chance that the caves also somehow connected to other parts of the ruins further ahead.
Begrudgingly, Kratos had a feeling that this was exactly the case.
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They encountered two trolls not long after entering the caves. One of the two trolls charged at them almost immediately, growling in challenge while the other troll seemed to hesitate and stayed back.
With Lydia and Uthgerd engaging it in melee, Anske provided ranged support while standing next to Kratos. Taking careful aim, she managed to pierce the troll’s neck with one of her arrows.
Kratos nodded slightly with approval, though Anske was too focused on the troll to notice. The girl really did have some skill with the bow, though there was still much room for improvement in his eyes. Better speed and accuracy would come with time and experience, as well as improved battle instincts.
The troll died shortly after first contact, its head partially bashed in by Uthgerd’s warhammer as she caught it with a wide swing. Blood and brains splattered across the rocky floor as it fell heavily to the ground.
The other troll that had stayed back disappeared quickly even before the ultimate demise of its fellow troll. No doubt, it was running back to alert its brethren. Surprisingly enough, it seemed these trolls had some modicum of intelligence.
Lydia had wanted to chase it down, but Uthgerd held her back, shaking her head to indicate that they should not pursue it. While Uthgerd was certainly more hotheaded, she was still a veteran adventurer and had a wealth of experience in matters like this. Blindly chasing after retreating prey in this environment was rarely a good idea.
Lydia looked back at Kratos, but when he said nothing, she relented.
Anske retrieved her arrow from the troll’s corpse as Uthgerd and Lydia prepared to quickly harvest some materials from it. Such things were a part of the spoils when exploring dangerous places like this, and they were not going to pass up the chance to make this trip as rewarding as possible.
After several minutes of standing around, Kratos grew impatient and breathed loudly through his nose. Lydia stiffened up and glanced at him before wiping her hands and hurriedly getting back to her feet.
“We should keep going,” she said, taking her position at the front of the group with her shield and sword once more at the ready.
Uthgerd got the hint and quickly finished up as well, securing their spoils in her pack even though she seemed a little reluctant since there were more things that could be harvested from the now partially mutilated troll corpse. At least they had already taken the most valuable parts.
The cave was cold and damp, with a constant flow of icy air that indicated at least some connection to the outside somewhere, but other than occasional mushrooms and other fungi, they encountered no other living things. Kratos suspected that the trolls were most likely waiting to ambush them or were regrouping to hunt them.
Whenever they came upon diverging tunnels, they took the leftmost path. That was because it was the most likely to lead back to the ruins, which was somewhere to their left through the thick rock of the mountain. The cave system seemed to run almost parallel to the construction of the ancient temple ruins.
At some point, the cave walls around them suddenly disappeared as they emerged into the upper part of a massive cavern. Overhead, the lowest points of hundreds of stalactites that hung from the ceiling were only a few meters away. The path they had been following turned into a natural stone bridge that stretched over a dark chasm.
The rough, rocky bridge beneath their feet was a little under 200 meters in length and was narrow enough in some parts so that only two people could walk comfortably across shoulder-to-shoulder. On the far side, the natural stone bridge connected to a dark hole in the wall. This was the way forward.
Their torches barely provided enough light, and the only reason they could see more of the caverns features was because of great batches of glowing moss and mushrooms that lined the damp walls, providing soft bluish-green light, and a thin mist hung in the air. Some of the glowing moss and mushrooms even grew amidst the stalactites that hung above them, and at some angles it could even be said to resemble a crude replica of the stars in a night sky.
To their right, the cavern wall was close enough that Kratos could reach it if he jumped and put some strength into it, while to their left there was only darkness, the cavern wall too far for them to see.
From the darkness below, the distant sound of rushing water seemed to echo. Kratos did not think the chasm was overly deep, but any fall from such a height would still prove fatal to mere mortals.
“How did this bridge form here?” Anske asked quietly, looking puzzled as she cast her gaze around.
Only Kratos could hear her, but since he had no answer, he kept silent.
The party slowly made their way across the bridge. With every step, Kratos increasingly felt that they were being watched. He narrowed his eyes, staring into the many shadows and dark crevices above and to the right. Several times, he thought he saw movement in the darkness around them, but he could not say for certain whether he imagined it or not. His instincts, honed over too many years of battle and bloodshed, were telling him that they were not alone.
“Be ready for a fight,” he said in a low voice, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, causing everyone to look sharply back at him before they continued forward, more alert than before.
They only managed to make it a little over a third of the way across the bridge when the creatures hidden in the darkness finally revealed themselves.
One by one, dark humanoid shapes, a few as large or even larger than Kratos, leaped onto the bridge. They came from all over—some dropping down from the forest of stalactites above, others climbing up from the underside of the bridge, and a few emerged from the tunnel on the far side. Kratos recognized them quickly, his guess confirmed.
Trolls. At least a dozen of them. All of them looked like overgrown apes, but uglier and with three eyes instead of two.
Based on the trolls’ behavior, Kratos guessed that they could see fairly well in the dark. Although the glowing moss in this cavern provided some illumination, it was still quite dark.
The trolls were also apparently adept climbers, judging from how easily they moved across the cavern walls and between the hanging stalactites as if they were swinging from trees. Their dark fur and hide allowed them to blend in well with the dark rocky surfaces of the cavern, making them difficult to spot if they kept still even in the dim glow of the bioluminescent moss and mushrooms.
Sensing danger from behind as well, Kratos turned in time to see a few more trolls appear, snorting and growling as they blocked the way back. Not that Kratos had any thoughts of retreating. It did not matter how many trolls appeared before him. They would not stand in his way.
“Lydia. Uthgerd. To the rear. I will deal with the front,” he declared in a voice that brooked no argument. Then, to Anske, he said in a quieter but no less firm voice, “Choose your targets well, girl. Fire only when ready. And watch your footing.” Then he strode forward just as Lydia and Uthgerd moved to the rear as he commanded, squeezing past him without delay.
Arvel, the thief, stood still as a statue, as if he might turn invisible by doing so. His eyes darted around nervously at the trolls that surrounded them, and then stared at Kratos as he passed, but Kratos did not spare the elf a glance as he took his position at the front to face the larger group of trolls.
Having seen Lydia and Uthgerd fight, Kratos trusted them to handle the rear well enough without him. And with Anske providing support, they should win their battle without too much trouble, so long as nothing unexpected happens. With that in mind, Kratos focused his attention on the advancing trolls in front of him.
At the head of the group of trolls was one that was larger than the rest, emitting a formidable aura of strength. It was easily taller and bulkier than Kratos. Some of its fur was tinged white, marking it apart from the rest of its kin even more than its obvious size difference. Whether the white fur was because of age or some other reason, such as a cross-breed or mutation, Kratos did not know. Nor did he care. The strange troll was not long for this world after all now that it had made itself his enemy.
It roared at him in challenge and then rushed forward with obvious bloodlust, leaping high into the air. It clasped its large hands together over its head with the intention of bashing down on Kratos where he stood. But Kratos did not wait to meet its attack. Instead, he rushed forward, dipped his shoulder, and threw himself into the nearest regular troll, the troll leader passing harmlessly over him.
Kratos collided with a troll, sending it flying off into the chasm below just as a resounding thud shook the entire bridge. The troll leader landed heavily behind him amidst the distinct sounds of cracking and falling rock that echoed through the cavern.
Everyone on the bridge momentarily had to stop and maintain their balance. Kratos recovered the fastest, immediately swinging a fist around and clocking another troll so hard in the side that its ribs caved in even as it was sent flying away into the darkness. It roared in pain and surprise as it plummeted all the way to its death.
The other trolls came to their senses, overcoming the initial shock of how ruthlessly and easily Kratos had dispatched two of their fellow trolls. They all roared and surged towards Kratos, who did not hesitate to meet them.
Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω
Arvel stumbled backwards and fell on his ass, unable to keep on his feet due to the violent tremor that shook the whole bridge. He yelped, fear gripping him as a massive cave troll with partially white fur suddenly appeared before him. He tried to scramble back to his feet while also moving away, but he stumbled again, his constraints making it difficult for him.
This time, however, he accidentally stumbled into the legs of the young archer woman, causing her to cry out as she too fell over. Unfortunately for her, however, she tumbled close to the edge of the bridge, and her momentum and the moss and formation of the stones on this edge resulted in her beginning to slide off.
In a panic, she tried to grab for something, anything that could stop her from falling off. But she only used one hand, the other hand stubbornly gripping onto the bow that she was reluctant to let go off. She couldn’t find any purchase, her fingers failing to grasp any proper edge that might save her.
Arvel made a split-second decision right then, realizing what was about to happen. He was not sure if any of the others actually saw what had happened, but regardless he was certain that if this young lady died, he would be blamed for it. And he would therefore suffer an untimely death himself.
He mobilized all the strength he could muster and lunged forward with great speed. Even with his wrists still tightly bound, he reached forward with his hands open and ready as he tried to grab hold of the archer before it was too late.
At the last possible moment, he managed to grab her hand, and she also grabbed onto him. With a sudden jerk, she stopped falling off, though she dangled over the chasm below, with Arvel reaching over the edge at his chest to save her.
Success! He thought in a momentary triumph, but then realized there was a problem as he slowly slid forward himself. Arvel was not the heaviest of people, nor was he large. In fact, he was practically the same size as the young archer he was trying to save. And since he was still bound, he couldn’t really move his legs to create any leverage.
The stones were still slick. Gravity still pulled. And so they both began to slide off despite Arvel tensing his muscles and trying his best to stop them from falling.
A loud growling sound from behind him made his galloping heart go even faster as a cold realization dawned on him. The massive troll was still nearby. Despite the fear that was overflowing within him, he could not help but turn his head.
The troll had a big rock in one of its hands, seemingly from where it had broken part of the bridge where it had landed. And it was staring down at him with what appeared to be a mixture of anger and… amusem*nt?
It raised its hand, ready to strike Arvel with the large rock, which would no doubt flatten him and splatter his remains across the stones. Even as he was already slowly sliding to his death, and even more gruesome death now literally hung over his head.
But then a blur of motion caught Arvel’s eye, and something impacted hard and fast into the troll leader’s back, causing it to stumble and disrupting its finishing blow. Though Arvel was almost trampled beneath the giant troll’s feet, he could not help but notice that what had hit the troll leader was actually the body of another troll. His eyes went wide. He turned his head and saw the massive pale warrior rushing towards them.
We’re saved! He thought with joy, even as he strained with every fiber of his being to keep himself from falling.
The archer clung to him desperately as she dangled from his outstretched hands. They locked eyes, the fear evident in both their faces.
“Don’t let go!” she pleaded.
Arvel could only nod, unable to even speak as his whole body shook from the strain of trying to hold on to her while also keeping them both from falling. He really didn’t want to die here.
Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω
Spinning around on instinct, the troll leader slammed the big rock in its hand right into the oncoming Kratos, who could not dodge in time. The rock broke upon him, and the subsequent follow-through of the troll’s hand sent him flying back into the few remaining trolls that were still alive.
Kratos bowled some of them over, but the ones that managed to stay upright suddenly jumped on him, trying to use their weight to keep him down while they rained blows on him.
“Get. Off.” He ground out, getting annoyed. Channeling his strength, he let out a brief roar of his own as he lurched up and extended his arms out in a powerful explosive movement that sent the pile of trolls that were on top of him flying every which way. One of the trolls was unlucky enough to get sent hurtling upwards, and it got impaled onto one of the stalactites with a sickening squelching sound.
It was at that moment that Kratos noticed that it was already too late to pull Anske back up. By the time he arrived, even at his fastest speed, he could not bring her back up to the bridge. But that did not mean he could not save her. Narrowing his eyes, he charged at the troll leader again.
On the other side of the bridge, back where they had come from, it looked like Lydia was rushing back, noticing the precarious situation that Anske and the thief were in. Uthgerd was finishing up the remaining troll on that side. They had done well. Kratos focused his attention on the troll leader, who swung at him again, but Kratos sidestepped at the last second, raising his arm to deflect the glancing blow as he slipped through with most of his momentum intact.
With the sidestep, he was able to redirect his momentum off towards the side where Anske was dangling as he tackled the big hairy beast. The troll leader forcibly exhaled from the impact and they both went over the side just as Anske suddenly slipped from the thief’s grasp and started falling.
“NO!!” several voices seemed to scream all at once as Kratos, Anske, and the troll leader all fell into the dark chasm beneath the bridge.
