Chapter 24

Chapter 24

    

     I returned to the inn after the meeting in the Palace of the Kings, mulling everything over in my mind. 

     Needless to say, I had not expected to be granted command of Whiterun.  I sincerely doubted that Brunwulf had come up with that idea on his own.  More than likely Ulfric had contacted him during the time I had been north and passed on some of what I had revealed.  It was true that I knew more about dragons and defending cities from dragons than all the other officers and generals combined, but men?  I knew about as much of battle tactics as I knew of Restoration magic. 

     Restoration magic would actually be an extremely useful skill….  I had discovered it did nothing for the headaches, but I often got into scrapes on my adventures.  Potions worked to some degree, but a Spell of Healing could sew the worst wounds up in seconds.  With that ability I might even have been able to save Aetra….

     I shook my head of those thoughts.  I didn’t need, want, or have time for them right now.  One day, and one day soon I would have to deal with what had happened, but right now I needed to focus on the task at hand.

     I packed up the few belongings I had left around the room, then took out the pieces of my Daedric armor and laid them on the bed.  I stared into the empty eye holes of the helmet, imagined the chestplate dyed crimson with Miraak’s blood.

     Too bad the set wasn’t entirely complete any longer, not now that I had been forced to replace my lost Daedric sword with an ebony blade.  When I had a little time I would need to rectify that.

     It took me several minutes to get all the pieces of armor on and buckled securely, but by the time I did I felt like a warrior once again.  Glancing at myself in the slight reflection of the window, I had to admit that I looked impressive.

     I laughed at myself a little bit for looking in a mirror like a housewife. 

     Packing my Thieves’ Guild armor into my pockets, I adjusted one last buckle on the armor. 

     “Let’s go call a dragon,” I told myself.

     “You require what of me?” Odahviing asked again, sounding quite annoyed.  Annoyed dragons acquired a bass tone to their voice that set the ground thrumming as though it were angry as well.  It was quite intimidating, actually, and far more effective than any human voice.

     “I need you to first fly me to Whiterun, then run a scouting mission over Helgen,” I said for the third time.  “You don’t need to do much, just give me an estimate of numbers and look for a central command tent and try to identify the commander.”  I remembered from my own… adventure in Helgen that the keep had been destroyed too thoroughly for anyone to inhabit it.

     I glanced back at Windhelm, which was about a mile distant.  I knew Odahviing wasn’t hostile, but the people and guards of Windhelm would panic upon sight of him, so I had walked out a ways from the city to perform the Shout.

     “I am not a scout, Dovahkiin.  I carried you to Skuldafn, not because you requested it of me, but because I sensed that you had become the stronger in the fight against Alduin.”  He pronounced each syllable in the name, playing with the sounds and separating them into Al Doo Een.  “This does not mean that I shall assist you in your pointless squabbles.”

     I hadn’t expected him to just help me with no questions asked.  I could still use Bend Will on him, but I knew that then I would lose whatever respect he had for me.  Right now I could use less enemies and more friends, so I didn’t even consider that an option.  “This is no pointless squabble,” I said grimly.  “You might remember the name Miraak from the First Era?”

     Odahviing straightened his neck a bit and stopped swiping his tail across the snowy ground.  “That is not a name many know, nor one that those who do wish to remember.  The Dragon Killer perished long ago, killed by Vahlok, the Dragon Priest.”

     “No, he didn’t.  Miraak is alive and well and in control of the Imperial army, as well as whatever dragons he may have Shouted into submission in Skyrim.” 

     “Then tell me, Dovahkiin, where was Miraak all these years?  And why has he returned now, in this era?”  Nevertheless Odahviing scraped a talon along the ground, a sign I had come to interpret as thoughtfulness.  He was considering my words.

     “Miraak didn’t die in that final fight with Vahlok because Hermaeus Mora drew him into Apocrypha to save him.  He got out… well, he got out by using my dragon soul to escape when I stumbled into Apocrypha,” I admitted.

     “I thought I sensed something had changed within you, but I had not expected this,” Odahviing said, the bass in his tone quieting.  “How is it you were able to summon me with no soul?”

     “Shouts that pertain directly to dragons still work.  Paarthurnax was not sure why.”  My head was swimming from Shouting for Odahviing, so I sat down on a rock nearby.

     “Miraak has no love for dragons.  I know you have killed many of our kind, but you understand the Way of the Voice, although you do not follow it yourself.  If Miraak conquers Skyrim he will then seek to conquer all dragons, to eradicate our race from this world.”  The tail performed wider sweeps.

     I stared into his slitted reptilian eyes.  “Not if you help me stop him.”

     “I shall help you, Dovahkiin.  If Miraak is in Helgen, I will be able to sense the presence of someone who holds two dragon souls.” 

     Inwardly I cheered, but outwardly I maintained a calm demeanor.  I stood and bowed as gracefully as I could.  “Thank you,” I said sincerely.  Dragons liked these formalities.

     He crouched down close to the ground in an invitation for me to get on.  I stepped from the crook of his knee to his back and settled into the spineless joint between his shoulders and neck.

     Great wings beat the air around me into submission as the dragon jumped into the sky, neck bobbing back and forth to get more momentum going.  Soon the ground was falling away at a fantastic rate and I stared stoically at a scale on Odahviing’s neck, feeling slightly nauseous. 

     The dragon made short work of a distance that would have taken me a day and a half to cross, and we arrived at Whiterun a few hours after noon.  I asked him to land about a mile away from the city and slid off.

     “I shall wait for dusk to fly over Helgen,” Odahviing told me.  “You will have you estimate of numbers and your information on Miraak, then I will fly back to my mountain.”

     I nodded in return.  I expected no more than that, and I would take any help that Odahviing was willing to give.

     I walked the rest of the way to the city, fingering the missive I had been sent to give the Jarl with one hand.  I wasn’t sure how he would react to my instatement over Whiterun’s command.  He knew me as a good soldier and a competent commander in a fight, but he and I both knew that I had little experience defending cities.  Still, having conquered Whiterun during the Civil War I did know its weaknesses and strengths. 

     Well, I knew its weaknesses and strengths against and army of men, not an army of dragons.  How could soldiers protect anything from dragons?

     With that pleasant thought in mind I trudged the last mile along the road to Whiterun.  Several military tents already ranged about the city, marking the presence of a few dozen men at least. 

     I moved out of the way of a group of horses, looking for a command tent.  I spotted the larger tent in the center of the encampment on the other side of the road leading away from the gate into the city.  Steeling myself, I tried to assume an aura of command and pushed aside the flap, stepping inside.

     Jarl Vignar, Cerawyn, and several Stormcloak officers I had never seen before in my years with the Stormcloaks were standing around a table with a map on it, exactly the same setting as any other Stormcloak camp.  I paused in the doorway, wondering if I should just say “hello” or something similar, then Vignar spotted me.

     “General Kisvar, welcome!”  He waved me inside and I stepped up to the table, ignoring the stares the rest of the Stormcloaks were giving me.  “What brings you here?”

     I silently handed over the missive, studiously ignoring Cerawyn’s gaze.

     He read it, taking a tiny bit longer than necessary.  Still, I couldn’t blame him.  I could practically see his thought processes even though he carefully kept his expression under control, because they were the same as my own when I had been told.

     “I am relieved that such a capable general has been sent to take over command of the defense,” he said with a smile that was as fake as a draugr lying in a pile of entombed bodies.  “Let me give you a rundown of the defenses.”

     Despite his displeasure, Vignar gave me a concise and clear outline of the defenses and soldiers while I carefully memorized every detail.

     If the few scouts that had returned were correct, then the Imperials outnumbered us nearly four to one with the bandits that had joined them, and that didn’t include dragons.  If the Imperials had a dragon army that would have been the first thing he told me, so either Miraak had been unable to find any or they were just out of sight.  Odahviing would probably be able to find out.

     “I’ll have some more intelligence in a few hours,” I told the table at large, looking anywhere but at Cerawyn.  “My scout should be back sometime after dusk.”

     “One last thing,” one of the officers broke in.  “The Imperials have two of our scouts.  If they interrogate them they’ll learn everything there is to know about Whiterun’s weaknesses and what we know of them so far.”

     “I’ll keep that in mind and we’ll see how we stand when my scout comes back.  Until then you are all dismissed.  Harbinger Cerawyn, if you could stay for a moment?”  If she had a grudge against me I wanted to know now.

     She leaned against the table and we waited for the rest to file out of the tent.   

     I jumped bluntly into what I wanted to say.  “No, I wasn’t visiting family in Dawnstar.  My companion and I were traveling back from Solitude after receiving confidential orders from High King Ulfric.  You must understand that sometimes I need to have a cover story,” I said reasonably.

     Cerawyn was perfectly calm and collected.  “Of course.  A general has many enemies, and the business of the High King is no business of the Companions.”

     Slightly taken aback, I just nodded my thanks.

     “We will fight to defend Jorrvaskr as well as the people of Whiterun, and if you have been given command of Whiterun’s defenses, then we will follow you.”  Her voice held nothing but sincerity.

     I didn’t trust sincere people.  Sincere people changed their minds all the time.  Still, I could do nothing but take her words at face value, so I nodded once more.  “Prepare the Companions, then.”

     She gave me a small smile as she walked around the table and pushed aside the tent flaps.

     I stood with half my weight leaning against the table, digging my fingers into the wood.  What was I doing here?  I could be a leader in times of need, but I was no battle strategist. 

     You can be.  Think.  The Imperials had numbers four times that of our own.  They could send a probing attack against us to test the defenses, launch an all-out assault, or they could wait and allow their numbers to swell further.  Additionally, Miraak could throw all the soldiers he wanted at the walls, but with dragons he could take out the gates and walls in as little as a few minutes.  I desperately needed to know how many dragons he had before I could plan a defense for them. 

     And then there was still the problem of those scouts.  I stepped outside the tent and glanced around, seeing one of the captains I had noticed earlier walking away.  “Captain,” I called out, not knowing his name.

     The man turned.  “Fjoth,” he told me.  “Captain Fjoth.”

     “Yes, Captain Fjoth.  I need to speak with you.”  I held the flap aside as he entered.

     “What can I do for you, General?” he asked.

     I hated it when people called me by any title, but I let it go.  “When were these two scouts captured?”

     “About a day ago.  They were our best team,” he explained.

     “Just a day.  So there’s a good chance that they’re still alive, and even a chance the interrogation hasn’t begun if I remember Imperial procedure correctly,” I reflected thoughtfully.  “How much do they know?”

     “A good deal more than we would like the Imperials to know.”  He hesitated.

     “Speak up, Captain,” I urged him.

     “It’s just- Sir, you aren’t planning on attempting a rescue mission, are you?”

     “Of course not, that would be suicide,” I demurred easily.

     “Like Oblivion you aren’t,” Fjoth countered.  “The men you send in will never get out, Helgen is too heavily guarded.”

     “Captain, restrain yourself.  I know you’ve lost friends, we all have.”  I carefully avoided actually answering his question.

     “Frankly, Sir, now you’re stalling.  I know you’re planning some sort of rescue and I would strongly advise against it,” Fjoth said stiffly.

     By the gods, he’s persistent.  “Any rescue mission would not include any soldiers from the Stormcloak army,” I reassured him.

     “Excuse me for being incredulous, but how is that possible?”  He saw my answer in my face.  “You intend to go alone, don’t you?”  He continued without waiting for an answer.  “You have been given command of the entire defense of Whiterun and you would simply abandon it on a suicidal mission?”

     “There are circumstances that make me a more logical choice than any other person in Skyrim to handle this,” I answered, not wanting to give away the fact that I was Dragonborn just yet if he didn’t already know.  Even though I had known what I was for years, telling people still seemed kind of… boastful.  Gods, what was wrong with me?  Only a month ago I would have been offended when people did not know who I was.  “And I wouldn’t be going in alone.  Dismissed,” I cut off anything else he might have to say.  He turned heel and left the tent.

     The man did have a point.  If I was slain and Miraak survived, the world had no chance.  But what if Miraak was there, in the camp?  Maybe I could get in, kill him, and get out before all the planes of Oblivion broke loose.  It was a long shot, but for once since returning to Skyrim I had a lead on where he might be.  I didn’t know what he had done to get bandits and Imperials to work together, but maybe killing him would disrupt what must already be a tension-filled alliance.

     But how would I get in?  Actually I had no doubt I could get in, but I wouldn’t be able to rescue the scouts and look for Miraak alone.  No way in Oblivion would I take normal soldiers into a situation like that, either.  I had learned from unfortunate experience that most people were about as good at sneaking as mammoths, and none of them would have the skills I needed.

     Miraak I would have to handle alone, after I found out whether he was actually in Helgen or not, of course.  But for the scouts….  I would need someone with experience with that kind of job.  I would need a jail breaker, and one of the best at that. 

     Cynric.