Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Miraak was wearing his customary mask, so I couldn't see his face, but I was sure he was looking straight at me just as I was looking at him.

So he'd finally decided to show himself. After weeks of being an omnipresent but invisible threat, Miraak had finally openly joined the army that he had somehow managed to get together.

Suddenly I realized that a deathly quiet had fallen over the city, leaving no sound except that of wind and rain, which gave rise to a similar realization that the quiet should be filled with shouted orders and running feet. "Positions!" I shouted again, picking a soldier I knew was supposed to be stationed on the wall, not standing on the path beneath it and gawking and giving him a shove in the direction he was supposed to go.

My voice broke the veritable Spell of Paralysis Miraak had cast over the city and the Stormcloaks immediately burst into action, continuing their interrupted duties.

I shoved my way through a group of soldiers and past the rows of wooden spikes we had set up outside of the lower gate, trying to spot the Imperials while also carefully keeping an eye on Miraak. The thick rain hid their movements, at least from the ground.

Cursing, I turned and made a dash for the path to the top of the wall in the hopes that I'd be able to see better from up there. The ground shook as I cross the path, the tremor just enough to feel but not enough to cause me to stagger. Even so, I glanced once again at the rock trap. It held, but I had no time for relief or any more thought on the matter.

I reached a slippery rock wall that had been created when I had ordered most of the stairs burned. Shoving one armored boot into a fairly convenient foothold, I got a grip on the ledge and hauled myself up more or less quickly, then took off up the path until I found a decent enough vantage point.

The Imperials had finished mobilizing and were headed this way, the flickering of the few torches they had managed to keep lit slowly but steadily moving closer through the grayness. Thinking quickly, I estimated the time we had before they arrived and placed it at around two to three minutes.

Which, luckily for me, was just enough time to check on the archers on top of the walls. I jumped back down from my position and jogged back up the path, climbing the ladder just inside the gate. Captain Hilrine was standing in her position on the scaffolding, pointing her bow at different soldiers as she shouted orders, her strong voice carrying even through the multitude of noises. Her soldiers were nearly all in position, quivers on their backs and bows at the ready, watching the Imperials advance.

I didn't want to interrupt her flow of orders, but there was no other choice. Cutting her off in the middle of telling off a Stormcloak who had apparently somehow managed to forget his quiver next to his bed, I grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face me, hiding an amused look when she started as if to hit me with her bow but pulled back just in time, a horrified look on her face. "General," she gasped. "I'm sorry-"

I cut off that sentence too. "Tell your archers not to aim for the dragons. In this weather you'll more likely hit one of ours than one of theirs, and I don't need us to be firing arrows straight up, missing, then having them come straight back down into our ranks." I waited for her nod of understanding, then scurried back down the ladder after a quick "Talos be with you".

I glanced at the two companies I had stationed just inside the gate and caught sight of Captain Fjoth among them. He banged his waraxe against his shield in a salute and nodded as I passed between his companies' ranks, indicating that his men were ready.

Almost every company was ready, actually. The sound of boots plashing through puddles and pounding on stone had all but been silenced, my own footsteps suddenly seeming to echo gratingly in their absence.

For a moment, just a single, short moment, the lonely sound gave me a feeling of bitter aloneness as though I were the only one in the city or even the entire province, instilling a deep longing in my heart for times past.

The next instant the feeling had vanished as though it had never been in my mind as I passed through the lower gate and slid to a halt next to Ralof just in front of the stables. "Where are they?" I asked tensely.

Ralof just pointed and we both watched the front ranks of the first companies come into view.

I suddenly noticed Cerawyn standing beside Ralof, her customary bow replaced with a deadly looking glass dagger in her left hand and an equally dangerous sword of the same material in her right. "I thought you were with the archers," I commented.

"I reassigned myself," she stated calmly.

I didn't bother asking why and took my Daedric helmet out of my pockets, sparing a moment to once again look into the empty eyeholes. I could still remember the day I had gone to Eorlund Gray-Mane with an unusual request....

"Kisvar," Eorlund greeted me, pulling a mighty two-handed weapon from the forge with his muscular arms and transferring it to the anvil. The clanging of metal on metal made me wince, but the master smith seemed unaffected by the sound.

"Eorlund," I replied with a smile. "How goes your smithing?"

"Quite well, gods be praised." His skillful hands hammered out imperfections so small as to be invisible to my unskilled eyes, then he held it up before him. "Sharp as Fralia's tongue," he said with satisfaction. Setting the weapon down, he turned his full attention onto me. "You know I'm not one for conversation, so you came here for something. Spit it out."

"Observant as always. I want you to make me a set of armor."

He raised a bushy gray eyebrow. "Ulfric can't find a spare set of armor for his champion?"

"I want you to make me a set of Daedric armor."

Eorlund snorted, turning away. "Daedric armor is the stuff of legends and Oblivion, Kisvar. I have travelled far and wide in my day and hardly seen so much as a sword made of the stuff, let alone a full set of armor."

I deposited first thirteen ebony ingots, then nine leather strips, then, gently, four Daedra hearts onto the stone expanse next to the Skyforge. Eorlund watched in silence as each new material was revealed. "I'm serious, Eorlund. This is all you'll need to craft the armor, and I'm prepared to pay what you think the service is worth."

He looked at the materials for a long moment, then took one of the ebony ingots in his rough and calloused hands. "This is good ebony."

"Can you do it?" I asked.

Eorlund turned the ingot over in his hands, clearly thinking it over. "I made a Daedric sword once, a long time ago," he admitted. "Armor should require the same technique. Come back in three weeks and maybe you'll have your Daedric armor." He forestalled my attempt at speech. "We can talk price then."

Three weeks later I mounted the steps to the Skyforge to find Eorlund in almost the same position as when I had left, this time banging on a steel waraxe rather than a greatsword. "Prompt," Eorlund said approvingly. "I like that. Come with me." He placed the waraxe on the stone next to the Skyforge and led the way down the stairs and through the city to the Gray-Mane house. His wife Fralia greeted us with a cheerful word to which he replied with a preoccupied "hm", then led me up the stairs to a bedroom. "There," he said, pointing into a corner.

A full set of Daedric armor rested on a stand, the pieces every bit as intimidating and fearsome as I had seen in the book that had made me so badly desire the armor for myself.

The boots were the only even vaguely ordinary part of the armor, and even those were fit together so skillfully that I could tell without wearing them that they would be as comfortable as my leather Thieves' Guild boots. My eyes gave the boots only a passing glance, however, as they moved upward to what really made this armor different from any other.

The chestplate was incredibly intricate, the dark, slick surfaces of ebony forming long, overlapping plates that were wide and long over the chest and short and split across the stomach. From deep within the crevices created by these plates came an ominous red light, reminiscent of the flickering of flames, the crimson of spilled blood, and the glow in the eyes of some strange beast all in one. Rising to bathe the indomitable spires of the ferocious spines that adorned the shoulders of the armor and the ridged ebony of the gauntlets came that same red glow, but the eyes....

The eyes of the helmet were emotionless, abyssal holes. Not a speck of light could be seen within, not even in the warmth of the brightly lit room. The darkness inside was impenetrable, a haven of blackness that refused to be scattered.

Eorlund, too, looked into the grim, dark eyes as he spoke. "The warrior who wears this armor will be more fearsome than a dragon."

Today, more than ever before, I would need to be more fearsome than a dragon.

I placed the helmet over my head, knowing I now looked as unforgiving and emotionless as the armor had once looked on its stand. Somehow, knowing that made me feel detached, as though this battle were one I was watching from far, far away.

A strange, bitter mood came over me. My heartbeat, usually so fast and strong in preparation for a battle, slowed until I felt as calm as if I were sitting in front of a roaring fire in an inn on a cold winter's night. My muscles were still tense, my body still ready for anything, but my mind had finally managed to push away all the questions I had been pressing it to answer for the past weeks.

Later, the tremors would matter. Later, my issues as Guildmaster would return full force. Later, Miraak would become a problem I would have to solve.

But for now, as the Imperial force spread out just out of bow range in preparation for the assault, this battle was the only thing that mattered, so I drew both my Daedric and ebony swords in anticipation.

As the Imperials marched toward the city they started to spread out. Now that they were closer I could spot the grappling hooks many wore about their shoulders, and I could also tell that these formed the companies to the right and left sides of the Imperials force. The central and largest formation of soldiers bore no hooks, but had ranks of melee weaponists in the front and bowmen to the rear.

The course the battle would take was clear as a sunny day to my eyes. The outer ranks, the ones with grappling hooks, would attempt to climb the walls under cover of the archers behind them while the lines of melee soldiers would charge the gate and its defenses. A quick estimate told me that the force attacking Whiterun made up approximately three-fifths of the Imperial army overall, an observation from which I inferred that this, like the battle the Stormcloaks had initiated on the plains days before, was an exploratory attack to test our strength and seek out weaknesses.

A single horse and rider detached himself from the group, and I recognized the Imperial general. Well, I recognized his armor. The man himself still wore a helmet that hid his face.

I stood at the front of the force dedicated to protecting the lower gate, hands slowly tightening as the figure rode closer. The horse maneuvered around a fence, then a wheelbarrow, then its hooves clacked against the stones of the road in front of the stables. The one-two-three-four-one-two-three-four beat of the walking hooves stopped as the animal came to a halt about fifteen feet away.

"Surrender," the figure said commandingly, "and the citizens of Whiterun shall be allowed to return to the city without harm, the Stormcloak soldiers shall be treated with honor, the group known as the Companions shall be allowed to remain in Jorrvaskr, and the Jarl of Whiterun shall be allowed to retain the throne of Dragonsreach, so long as these parties swear their allegiance to the True Dragonborn, Miraak. All Stormcloak dragons, captains, and generals, including the False Dragonborn known as Kisvar, will be executed."

Despite my careful efforts to keep a calm demeanor, the word executed still sent a slight chill down my spine. I looked to my right, then to my left, then turned to look up at the soldiers on the walls.

Every single soldier to a man and woman looked outraged at such a brazen offer of surrender. Those who wore open-faced helmets wore indignant and angry expressions on their faces, and those whose faces were hidden behind their faceplates tightened fingers on weapons. They, like myself, were thinking something along the lines of "We attacked first on the plains of Whiterun. How in Oblivion did that not make our intentions clear?"

The general's speech, despite being rather ludicrous considering that even if the Stormcloaks had surrendered the dragons would never have just allowed themselves to be slaughtered like chickens, still contained carefully thought out and considered wording. He had probably sat in his tent, paper and pen in front of him on the table, scratching out different versions until finally he had settled upon this one.

Basically, his words had probably been the product of some amount of work, and he quite likely expected an equally flowery response, something worthy of a man above the common soldier.

"Go to Oblivion," I told him shortly.

If a helmet could look offended, his would have. As it was, he just said "so be it" and turned his horse around, riding back toward the waiting ranks of Imperials.

He came to a halt below Miraak's hovering dragon and turned around to face Whiterun, raising his sword high. There was a moment of silence broken only by the rain as the two armies faced each other across the plains, then the Imperial general slashed his weapon downward just as Miraak's dragon roared.

The Imperials surged forward, the battle cry "for the Empire!" rising from a multitude of throats.

"For Talos, for Ulfric, and for Skyrim!" I roared, not caring that my own voice bounced around my helmet and practically deafened me. My cry was taken up and shouted over and over again, the words becoming almost a chant as the Imperials drew closer.

The lines of archers slid to a halt behind the sea of swords, maces, and axes, drawing arrows from quivers and fitting them to strings. We were in range.

Which meant they were in range. "Draw!" came the shouted order, then-

"Fire!" Both sides loosed their arrows as one, the angry shafts hissing through the air like snakes and giving rise to the first screams.

A steel arrow struck my chestplate and fell to the ground, hardly even scratching the superior material. Many Stormcloaks around me were not so lucky and fell to the soaked earth, turning the rainwater a pale red. Some of the more fortunate ones, those with only minor injuries, managed to make it back up the path and into Whiterun.

The less fortunate, the ones who were left dying in the mud from severe wounds, found themselves trampled an instant later when the first wave of Imperials struck our front ranks.

An Imperial soldier dashed at me, his eyes betraying his fear but also his resolve. Striking me down would demoralize the Stormcloaks and doubtlessly make him a hero to his compatriots as well as a favorite of the Imperial general, so he was determined to try it, no matter the cost.

He quickly learned that the cost was death when I sliced off his head, my Daedric sword flinging a trail of blood and water along its length as it came free.

I managed to duck just in time as the soldier behind him, who had clearly anticipated his companion's untimely death, took a swing at my neck before the headless soldier even hit the ground. The axe whistled over my head and I blocked it with one sword when the soldier tried to swing it around for another try, simultaneously sheathing my other weapon in his chest. His mouth opened soundlessly, speaking words that I couldn't hear over the din of battle, then fell as I ripped my sword out of his body.

I fell back a few steps as I found that my maneuvers had put me a little in front of the other defenders, not wanting to put myself in a position that could get me surrounded. A Stormcloak soldier fell beside me and I raised my swords, but before I could charge the woman responsible Ralof was there, his warhammer putting a sizeable and rather bloody dent in her shoulder. Her cry was cut abruptly short as Ralof finished her off with another blow.

An Imperial wearing a sleeveless version of normal Imperial armor swung his own warhammer at me and I raised both swords to block it, gritting my teeth as the impact jarred my very bones. I pushed his weapon away with a grunt and leapt back as he took another swing at me, narrowly missing my stomach. He had clearly expected not to miss, so the momentum took the blade far wide and left him very vulnerable to attack.

I would have loved to exploit that vulnerability, but I found myself assaulted by a two-handed sword wielding Imperial on my left. Forced to abandon my target, I just managed to dodge the attack. Sweeping one sword in a wide arch that caused the soldier to commit to blocking the move, I brought the other one down with abrupt and violent force and buried it deep in the man's thigh. He screamed and dropped his weapon from the shock of it and I stabbed him through the eye to put him out of his misery.

That took care of that threat, but the warhammer wielder was back and rather angry if his bear-like roars were anything to judge from. I didn't have time to pull my ebony sword free of the downed soldier's face so I left it and rolled quickly away. Wait, wait, wait, I told myself as the man came at me again. Just as he swing I twitched away, not so much that it was a full dodge or put me off balance but just enough so that his weapon passed through empty space, then, when he started to slow his warhammer to bring it around for another swing, I grabbed hold of his arms. In a flash of movement I pushed them up and over my head, ducking under both limbs and weapon and managing to avoid his attempt at a kick as well, then sliced a rent in his side.

He managed not to drop his weapon, but even as he raised the warhammer once more and turned to face me, I could tell by the set of his jaw that he knew he was finished. And he was right. Despite my Daedric armor I had been faster than him before I got in a hit, and now that the loss of blood and omnipresent pain was weakening his muscles I managed to dispatch him with a well-aimed blow to the neck.

Slightly winded from the lengthy encounter and also anxious to know how the battle was going, I fell back behind the ranks of the defenders to safer ground. This put me almost underneath the lower gate and its deathtrap of rocks, but I decided to ignore that fact for the moment and just concentrate on the battle.

First and foremost, I scanned the skies, wonder and apprehension filling me at the sight that met my eyes. The sky seemed to be filled with ghostly dark shapes, the dragons little more than part of the clouds they fought amongst. Every once and a while a roar filled the air, Shouts streaking the misty skies with bursts of fire, ice, and the blue power of Unrelenting Force in a manner oddly similar to the aurora that could sometimes been seen in the night skies to the north. These lights were just as ethereal, just as beautiful, but filled with danger rather than peace in a sharp and terrifying contrast.

Trusting the Stormcloaks to watch my back, I kept my eyes on the sky until I counted eight dragons. The Imperials had only sent four to harry the defending dragons, which made sense and kept in with my conviction that this attack was little more than an offensive probe.

A quick look to ensure the lines holding the lower gate were holding, a just as speedy glance at the net above me to check that they weren't fraying, and I turned my attention to the walls.

The situation at the walls seemed to be tipping more in the favor of the Imperials than the Stormcloaks, which in retrospect should not have been a surprise. The Stormcloaks could take all the shots they wanted at the Imperials with grappling hooks before they reached the wall, but those who did make it there were safer than the archers in the rearguard. The archers on the walls couldn't see at its base to shoot the Imperials there, and if they leaned out too far they were easy pickings for the Imperial archers. The number of hooks and ropes hanging off various points on the walls were a testament to the number of soldiers who had managed to get at least partway up the obstacle under cover of their own archers.

Those lucky enough to lodge their hooks into a gap between the defenders and make it over the top were embroiled in a bitter and outnumbered struggle. While the situation seemed to be handled so far, every gap, every Imperial that made it over the walls to fight sword-to-sword took archers away from the important task of providing cover, and the Stormcloaks at the gate were paying for it as Imperial archers were consequently freed from the need to provide cover.

If the battle kept going at this rate, we would be forced to retreat behind the lower gate in order to gain some cover from the archers and force the Imperials through the bottleneck.

Cursing, I located Ralof and dashed back to the front lines, throwing myself into the fray by his side. "I need-" I cut myself off with a grunt as I blocked a sword thrust. "-you to take command here," I finished as the sword's owner found himself with two new holes in his chest. "It's bad on the walls."

He growled in consent, bashing a hole in an Imperial shield. Its owner stumbled back and Ralof jumped after him, but I didn't stay to watch the rest of the clearly one-sided battle. Slicing off the arm of a soldier who failed to keep his guard up properly, I left him for the other Stormcloaks to finish off and sprinted up the path and through the lower gate toward the main one.

Things weren't looking too great here, either. I hadn't anticipated Erdii and her company to need help holding the drawbridge because I had expected the companies outside the lower gate and the ones on the walls to take the brunt of the attack, but clearly some Imperials had decided to attempt the climb up the difficult steep and rocky terrain that these walls stood on and just as clearly some of them had made it. It didn't appear to be a problem, or at least not one that the company stationed just outside the main gate couldn't deal with. Whenever one of these wayward Imperials made it over the walls, that same Imperial was immediately set upon by half a dozen soldiers.

The drawbridge company was having similar encounters, and while the few Imperials that managed to gain the drawbridge wall weren't any more of a threat than those outside the main gate, I still gritted my teeth as the latest one that had made it over was killed. The last thing we needed was for a single Imperial to manage to get onto the drawbridge and either on purpose or accidentally in the fray knock one of the lit torches into the Dwarven oil-soaked ropes. The rock fall likely wouldn't kill any Stormcloaks except maybe the odd injured one that managed to make it back into the city, but it also wouldn't kill any Imperials if it was set off early and it could inhibit our retreat if it came to that.

Still, the company had dealt with all threats so far, so I would just have to keep trusting them to continue.

I quickly singled out Captain Fjoth waiting with his two companies just inside the gate and shoved soldiers out of my way to get to him. "I want half of the soldiers in one of your companies down at the lower gate now and another five to reinforce the drawbridge company."

He began to shout orders as I made a beeline for a ladder and started to climb, swords still in my hands. I looked up and let out a startled curse as a sword tip poked down at my face, its Imperial owner's gleeful look falling abruptly from his mien as I managed to avoid the thrust and grab his arm, throwing him to the ground. Rather than continue the climb up the ladder I jumped off of it, landing heavily on the Imperial and burying both swords in his torso with the momentum of my fall.

Let's try this again, I thought rather sarcastically and once more started up the ladder. A dead Imperial lay across the top and I pulled him unceremoniously over the edge of the scaffolding to fall to the ground with a rather sickening thud and crack, then pulled myself up onto the wood in his place.

Standing up straight and tall in full view of the archers, I cut a rope and smiled slightly behind my helmet as the woman fell with a shriek, landing on another Imperial. Sheathing my ebony sword, I called a Spell of Firebolt to my left hand and took aim at the distant archers, aiming at groups rather than individuals in the hopes that I would at least hit something.

Another arrow clacked off my side, eliciting an oomph from me as it knocked the breath out of my lungs but doing no other damage. Ignoring the slight bruise it had left I continued singling out targets until my Magicka ran out, then redrew my ebony blade, only then ducking down below the parapet.

It wasn't the best idea to stand in full view of the archers for so long, but it would take glass or ebony arrows to do any actual damage to my armor. These were rare enough to make me willing to take the chance, and anyway, someone had to do something to scatter the archers. I may not have managed to do that, but I had definitely given them some singed armor and maybe some burnt bowstrings to worry about.

A hook struck the wall next to me with a loud clink and held. I waited for the straining of the rope to tell me that a soldier was climbing up the wall, then drove my Daedric sword under the hook, briefly dropping my ebony sword so I could use both hands as leverage. The trick worked and I managed to pry the hook up until it lost its grip on the wall, causing both owner and tool to fall back down.

I recovered my ebony sword, sheathed it again, then stood up once more, this time deciding to use a Spell of Fireball. The Magicka cost of a Spell of Fireball was higher than that of a Spell of Firebolt, but they also caused a much larger explosion upon impact. With the way the archers were grouped together, Spells of Fireball would likely be more effective even if I could use less of them.

As the tightly packed ranks of archers scattered in panic as they were bombarded with fireballs, I decided I had made the right choice. I could only manage a couple more before my Magicka again ran out, but I made every single one count.

While I had been targeting the archers two soldiers had made it over the wall. A Stormcloak archer dispatched one before he could stand up fully, but the second kicked that same archer off the wall and then swung a sword at me. I dodged it easily and pulled my ebony sword back out of its sheath, thinking this would be an easy fight.

I reevaluated that thought when the soldier raised an empty hand at me, the palm glowing with crackling electricity.

Instead of backing away like the soldier probably figured any sane person would have, I leapt toward the man. I drove both swords into the gap between the soldier's armor and helmet, but I was too late to completely save myself from the stunning blast.

My legs gave out as the electricity coursed through my limbs and sent them into a violent twitching fit that carried me nearly off of the scaffolding. The feeling was gone as quickly as it had struck, leaving me slightly breathless and still twitching a bit.

I kicked the legs out from under an Imperial who seemed to think I was helpless, cutting her head off and standing up almost in the same motion.

Another hook latched onto the wall and I pried that one off as well, this time not bothering to wait until its thrower started climbing.

An enormous steel sword swung out of nowhere and bowled another Imperial right back over the wall just as his head came over the top of it, probably doing some very considerable damage to the man's face in the process. I looked at the owner and saw Vilkas, his dark face that was usually so serious sporting an almost feral grin that made even me shudder internally.

Every single person on the wall ducked as one as a hideous roaring screech came from directly overhead. I looked up from my position of kneeling behind the wall, trying to shield my eyes from the rain while also seeing what in the names of all the Divines was happening.

It took me a moment to actually make any sense of what I was seeing, since at first my mind was convinced a dragon with two heads and several more wings and legs than normal was barreling towards me. Then I managed to make out the Stormcloak blue banner that I had insisted all the friendly dragons wear and understood what was happening.

Yolzahkfron had an Imperial dragon by the back of the neck, his massive and powerful jaws ignoring the other beast's neck spikes to sink deep through the scales and into the flesh of the other dragon. His back legs clawed violently at the other's back, leaving rents that caused veritable waterfalls of blood to stain the roofs of the houses below and set the Imperial dragon squirming and roaring in its attempts to break Yolzahkfron's grip.

This split-second impression paled in comparison to the fact that if the conjoined dragons continued on this course of flight, they would slam straight into the wall exactly where I was standing.

I knelt, frozen, as the two warring dragons continued to lose altitude.

Yolzahkfron must have suddenly realized what was going to happen because he gave one mighty flap, powerful neck muscles roiling beneath his scales as he used his vicelike grip on the Imperial dragon to jerk both their bodies level.

The blast of wind and rain from Yolzahkfron's wings knocked over several soldiers and blinded the rest, but it gave the dragons just enough altitude to sweep just feet over the wall.

I rolled to my feet and peered over the wall just in time to watch the dragons spectacularly and utterly demolish the entire stable and house next to it, the strongly-built residence exploding into splinters of wood more suited to kindling than buildings.

For a moment the dragons rolled over and over in the wreckage, wings, limbs, and tails flailing with the massive effort and crushing many unlucky Imperial soldiers beneath their straining bodies. The struggling came to an abrupt and nausea-inducing end when Yolzahkfron tightened his grip on the other dragon's neck, planted his hind legs, and snapped his head violently to the side in a motion that probably gave him whiplash and broke the enemy dragon's neck cleanly in half with a horrifically audible snap that made my teeth grind together.

Yolzahkfron released the corpse, gave a roar of victory, and released a withering spray of fire into the ranks of Imperials in front of him. This action gave him sufficient room and time to take off, which he did after snatching up an Imperial in one claw. The man screamed and tried fruitlessly to break free, a desire which Yolzahkfron indulged seconds later from a height level with about the top of Dragonsreach.

A hand appeared over the top of the wall. I blinked a couple times to shake off the violent ferocity of the spectacle and leveled a swing at the grasping fingers, slicing off a couple and eliciting a strangled shriek from the unfortunate soldier. He didn't let go, so when his helmeted face appeared over the fall I bashed it in with a sword hilt to get the desired result of him falling back down.

A voice rose above the din of battle, shouting something I couldn't make out. Shortly the cry was taken up by many more throats, the words "Retreat! Fall back inside the lower gate!" echoed across the lines of defenders.

I looked down at the lower gate and cursed. Fireballs and even crashing dragons hadn't been enough to stop the Imperial archers from driving back the Stormcloaks, and as I watched a multitude of red-armored soldiers pushing those in blue armor back toward the gate, I knew Ralof had made the right decision. If something wasn't done to limit the flow of enemy soldiers the lower gate would be taken whether we retreated or not, and not on our terms.

Aiming a couple more fireballs over the top of the wall, I found the nearest ladder and scrambled down, missing a few rungs in my haste and the dim light of dusk. When had it gotten this dark? I hadn't even noticed the changing light.

Captain Fjoth was standing amongst his soldiers, still holding his position inside the gate. "Send that other half of the company down to the lower gate," I ordered.

"I already sent them up to help on the walls," he informed me tensely.

"Send half of your other company, then," I snapped. He saluted and waved the men forward, but I didn't wait to watch them obey. Intent on reaching the lower gate myself, I failed to notice a soldier who had managed to climb the wall next to the drawbridge and drop down directly in front of me.

Too late to stop my momentum, I smacked into him and we both fell in a tangle of armor and limbs. He landed on my left arm, knocking my ebony sword out of my hand and then catching the weapon with a flailing leg, sending the blade skittering away into the darkness near the base of the wall. I kicked him off of me and sent a wave of water splashing into his eyes with my now free left hand as he raised his own sword to strike, giving myself just enough time to roll out of the way. Unfortunately, the roll that saved my life also put my right arm underneath me, trapping my Daedric sword beneath my body.

He raised the sword for another swing, and with no other choice I raised my left arm and caught the blade on my gauntlet. Rather than catching the sword on one of the ridges, as I had intended, it slipped between two of them instead and managed to tear through the thinner metal there, through my undershirt, and then bury itself in my arm.

Ignoring the pain, I let the moment of the weapon take my arm with it, driving it toward the ground next to my head and rolling me onto my back, freeing my right arm. I buried my Daedric sword deep in the left side of the Imperial's face, wincing as a stream of blood poured from the gaping wound and onto my chestplate.

Pushing the body away to the side, I wrenched my arm free of the sword that had gotten firmly embedded and held in place between the ebony ridges. It hadn't struck bone, or at least I didn't think it had. Either way, the limb worked well enough despite the pain, so I shrugged it off in light of much larger problems.

I wasted precious seconds finding my ebony sword in the dim light, fished it out of a puddle, then continued my interrupted journey to the lower gate.

With the protection of the walls making the job of the Imperial archers far more difficult, the Stormcloaks were still successfully holding the gate, and the soldiers Fjoth had sent to reinforce the lower gate companies thickened the wall of blue facing down the wave of red.

I noticed Cerawyn in the thick of the fray, moving lightly on her feet despite her soaked armor and the mass of bodies around her. Pushing my way to the front of the lines, I joined her.

The two of us stood side by side, hacking away at the Imperials in grim silence as the light slowly faded.

My breaths grew short and fast as my arms grew heavy, muscles burning with the constant strain of wielding the swords, yet I refused to fall back behind the rows of Stormcloaks waiting their turn to fight and rest. My muscles may be pleading for rest, but my mind was still determined to see this through, and as long as it remained in control my body would obey.

When I could see little more than the glint of torchlight off of the weapons in front of me, another horn sounded in the distance. I impaled another soldier with a precise but jerky movement and raised my swords in preparation to block, but the next blow never came.

I let the two weapons slowly fall until their tips pointed at the ground, my foggy brain finally pierced with the realization that the Imperials had sounded the retreat.

Finally releasing the strict hold my mind had been imposing over my body in order to continue fighting, I practically fell against the wall, gasping for breath. I felt something soft under my boot and looked down to see a severed arm lying on the ground in a pool of blood. It took me several seconds to find the energy to move my foot off the grim object.

We had succeeded in holding Whiterun, but only dawn would reveal the cost.

This is ten pages, and, interestingly, 6666 words not including this author's note xD  I got really excited apparently and it ended up way longer than I expected.  Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for participating in the Second Battle for Whiterun!