Chapter 32

Chapter 32

I had fully expected for the Imperials to attack either when dawn came or the rain stopped, but I was very quickly proved incorrect on both counts. By the time dawn came around not only had the downpour not lessened even the slightest bit, but the Imperials hadn't even gathered on the plains beyond the farmhouses yet. They must have made camp near where the cavalry battle took place. Had we hurt their forces that much? Or were they still playing their waiting game?

I opened the door of Breezehome, then stood just inside the doorway, watching the water puddle up in the street, then turn into little rivulets and run off to meet the rushing water in the stream. Why did this scene feel familiar?

Because I've done this before, I realized suddenly, my vague memories solidifying. I had stood in this very position watching the rain splash down onto this very street with my mind in much the same gloom as it was in now.

Except then, all I had to worry about was the rain and how it would affect my journey to Riften to inform Delvin that I'd finished his job. Now, an army was poised outside the gates of Whiterun, waiting for some unknown signal to attack.

I tried to picture having nothing more on my mind than what ruin to explore or which job to take from Vex, but my present problems kept driving out any memory of a time without them.

For instance, what in the names of all the Divines were the Imperials doing? I just didn't understand what they were waiting for. I had anticipated an attack at dawn, or midmorning at the latest even with this downpour. It was now late afternoon. It was like the blasted Imperials were taking every chance they could to delay any attack on Whiterun, and the longer this dragged on the more I was convinced Miraak was planning something really, really bad.

It wasn't just me, either. The Stormcloaks passing the gates into Whiterun occasionally sent dark glances at the wall, sometimes turning to mutter something to a fellow soldier. The sentries atop the walls were nervous, stepping uncomfortably from foot to foot and watching the distant horizon keenly. Even the dragons appeared uneasy, occasionally kneading their claws on their chosen rooftops and dislodging bits of roofing.

Everyone hated this lull and just wanted for it to end, for the Imperials to attack so any thought could be lost in the madness of battle.

Speaking of the madness of battle, there was one aspect to this war I had managed to almost completely forget. I had handed the missives off to the couriers... two days ago, now, so the one heading to Riften with my acceptance of Maven's offer of mercenaries ought to reach her either today or tomorrow. Of course, after she received the letter she would still have to contact the Hammerfell mercenaries and give them the go-ahead, and that was assuming she had actually had them lined up to hire beforehand. If, on the other hand, she had decided to wait for me to accept before even finding a mercenary group to negotiate with, I could expect them to get here in maybe... eight to ten days. Eight would assume that Maven sent an offer to them that would take three days to get there, then they took a day to decide to accept, then started out the next day and only took three days to get to Whiterun. Ten days was more likely, but hopefully Maven had already set up the deal and had someone ready to ride for Hammerfell. If she did, I could expect the mercenaries to arrive in as little as six days, which, while better than eight, could still be too long.

I knew Maven would keep her deal, and whether the mercenaries got to Whiterun in time to help or not, we would just have to wait and see. What I could do was actually inform the captains, Cerawyn, and Jarl Vignar that they were coming, a little but rather important task that had completely slipped my mind.

Stepping out into the rain, I silently berated myself. First I had forgotten to mention the deal I had struck with Maven to my advisors, and then out on the battlefield I had failed to see the Imperial movements to form a defensive line until it was too late to stop their actions. As the commander of Whiterun's defense, I couldn't afford stupid mistakes like these.

Out on the plains, I had been lucky in that we had already struck the Imperials a sufficient blow and much more fighting would have only weakened our forces further rather than helping. Even if the Imperials hadn't formed their circle, I would have called the retreat very soon anyway.

With the Redguard mercenaries, there was no excuse. I hadn't been in the best shape when I had come back from Riften, true, but there were numerous times I could have at least mentioned it. The truth was that after I had left Riften, the deal had been settled in my mind and I hadn't even thought of my responsibility to share vital information like that with my advisors.

Although, perhaps it was best I hadn't mentioned it, because I wasn't sure who I would have mentioned it to, and now I had a more defined idea of what to do with the information.

"Mercenaries from Hammerfell? And Maven Black-Briar is paying for them?" one of the captains whom I didn't know by name demanded.

Of course, by the time I managed to have Cerawyn, the other Companion (who I had learned was named Skjor), Jarl Vignar, and all the captains who could possibly be spared hunted down and informed that there was a council meeting, all the people who had gotten there early had been forced to wait for the rest and thus were now in a rather unaccepting mood. My best guess was that this captain was one of these impatient people, and my withholding of information was only adding to the tension.

"Yes," I stated, keeping my voice calm. "Maven and I struck a deal. The Imperials are raiding her shipments, so she's lending us soldiers in return for a good word with the East Empire Company."

"And you settled this agreement while you were in Riften?" Vignar asked, raising in eyebrow in clear disapproval.

"Yes, I did," I agreed, suddenly thinking of a reason for this that made sense. "I wasn't sure until a day and a half ago, and we can't just put it out across the Stormcloaks. The mercenaries could take as many as ten days to get here, so we can't rely on them. That means we can't give our soldiers false hope." I looked around the table and saw several slight nods of agreement.

Not everyone saw the situation the same way, though. "Could such news not also bolster the soldiers' spirits and give them the strength to continue fighting?" Cerawyn pointed out.

"Maybe, but I know how hopes like that work. You fight, and you fight hard, but then, as the days drag along, you wonder if help really is ever going to come. It saps your energy because you feel like you're fighting the battle alone with no hope of winning because the help you expected never comes. But when you know from the start no help is coming-" I paused, dredging up the feelings from battles past. "-that's when you really fight like a sabercat, because it's just you and there's no one to depend on but yourself."

The table was silent for a moment, and Cerawyn sat back in her chair, giving me the faintest of nods. I waited, but no one else seemed willing to challenge my decision, so I spoke again. "It's settled, then. The mercenaries will arrive in six days at the earliest and ten at the latest. Captains, not a mention of this is to be made to your soldiers, and make sure any captains who weren't here for this meeting are told. Cerawyn-" I hesitated. "I'll leave it to your discretion to decide which Companions should know, if any."

"The dragons will need to know," Vignar stated, the tightness around his eyes belying his seeming acceptance of the beasts.

"I'll take care of that," I assured him. I didn't trust anyone else to keep their heads around the dragons.

"Then are we dismissed?" A man stood up, and I recognized him as being Fjoth, the captain I had spoken to about the scouts.

I dismissed them, then traveled the route back up the stairs to talk to the dragons up there, taking steps two at a time. The Imperials could attack at any time, and I didn't want to be all the way up here when they did.

After I finished telling the two dragons not to attack any Redguard force that appeared from the southwest, I started back down the stairs but stopped on the top stair. Had the tower just shaken? I stood stock still, staring at the stone steps below my feet as if they would answer me somehow.

The action didn't repeat itself, and when I glanced back at the dragons they were relaxing just as nonchalantly as they had been when I entered, but I would swear to Talos that the tower had shuddered just the tiniest bit under my feet.

I glanced outside. The distant trees swayed back and forth, their branches tossed about by the wind that had sprung up along with the rain. Could it have just been a particularly strong gust of wind? It didn't seem believable that wind could sway a stone tower that had weathered all sort of conditions and sieges for many, many years, but it couldn't be anything else.

After Odahviing and Silsivhir had been told about the Redguard force I had nothing to do, so I decided to make the rounds of the defenses and ensure everything was organized correctly.

Whiterun's walls were strong, but they did pose a question to the defenders that we had answered days ago. Unlike in Solitude or Windhelm, these walls were not meant to be walked upon, being merely a protective layer of stone with no place for soldiers to stand. To solve this problem, even before I had arrived in Whiterun the Stormcloaks had begun to build scaffolding all across the inside of the walls. The woodworking was high enough to allow the defenders to watch and shoot over the wall, but also low enough that one could duck below the safety of the stone.

It was onto this scaffolding that I used one of the speedily constructed ladders to climb up on, taking care not to slip on the wet wood. As I walked along the structure a few soldiers greeted me with a respectful "General", "Dragonborn", or an annoying combination of the two, but for the most part they remained hunched underneath their armor, the sound of footsteps awakening no interest in their waterlogged brains.

I reached the end of the scaffolding that ran along the northern walls and found Cerawyn standing there, watching the plains beyond the farms. Her brow was furrowed in thought, one hand fingering a short glass sword that I hadn't seen her wear before. Fairly sure that she was contemplating the very same thing that had left me scratching my head for days, I stated, "They're still waiting."

She moved her hand to the stone wall, her fidgeting fingers stilling as she replied. "So they are. The whole city is on edge."

Unsure of what else to say, I just leaned against the stone wall for a moment. "Cerawyn," I started questioningly, "did you happen to feel a sort of... tremor, a few minutes ago?"

Her steeply slanted eyebrows drew inward in a confused expression. "A tremor?"

She hadn't, then. Perhaps I had imagined it. "Never mind."

Cerawyn didn't pursue the subject further and I had nothing else to say, so I climbed down the nearest ladder. Kicking a small stone out of my path, I followed its progress with my eyes and watched as it bumped into the main gate. Numerous strong planks of wood were leaned against the walls near the gate, but the structure itself was as yet unbarred.

Whiterun, as I had discovered, was actually a rather inconvenient place to defend. Upon hearing that the city had a drawbridge, anyone who had never actually been there would most likely think that it would be a formidable obstacle to any attacker.

Well, they would be wrong. The guards of Whiterun had built wooden stairs and bridges into the hillside between Whiterun's main wall and the drawbridge wall, effectively creating a pathway by which the drawbridge could be passed by completely. I myself had made effective use of this design flaw a couple years ago by traversing this path and lowering the drawbridge so the main Stormcloak force could get through, and while it had been very useful at the time, now it was a constant thorn in my side.

I had ordered many of the wooden steps and bridges to be burned, deciding that even if we couldn't prevent the Imperials from exploiting that particular weakness we could at least make it a scratch in their armor to attempt.

Despite the relative ease with which the drawbridge could potentially be taken, I had opted to defend it as long as we could. When Jarl Vignar had given me that first rundown of the defenses, I had carefully paid attention to how many of each class of soldier we had. While there were a goodly number of bowmen amongst the Stormcloaks, most preferred to wield some sort of melee weapon. Many of these had been given a chance to put their skills to use yesterday, but I didn't want to wait until the Imperials started throwing hooks and ropes over our walls to use my superior number of swordsmen again. No, best to meet them as they were forced to concentrate their forces into the channel Whiterun's outer walls created and hold them off with hand to hand combat there for as long as possible.

This was why Whiterun's gate was unbarred and would stay unbarred until the forces I was committing to the defense of the drawbridge were forced to retreat. It was a risk, but there would also be two companies just inside the gate to repulse any Imperials who made it through the main forces long enough to be reinforced or close the gates if that became absolutely necessary.

After a bit of thought, I had put these two companies under the command of Captain Fjoth, moving Captain Hilrine to the wall to command a company of archers instead. Captain Fjoth had been one of the first captains to get his men together when I had called for a rally on the plains, and I needed someone with that kind of commanding ability and presence of mind to hold the gate. Hilrine had been pleased with the transfer as well, as she was more comfortable wielding a bow than a sword.

Ralof's company would be at the forefront of the action, fighting to hold the drawbridge along with several other companies. I would be joining him, despite that Jarl Vignar had counseled otherwise. It was true that I could assess the battle better if I was on top of the wall with the archers, but I was no bowman. I had ranged magical attacks, true, but I was most comfortable on the ground with two swords in hand.

Anyway, I would not act like the Imperial general and cower behind my men. The Stormcloaks admired strength and decisiveaction, qualities they had seen in Ulfric from the beginning, and as histrusted general I needed to uphold his values and inspire the same.   How could I do this? By leading from the front of the battle and fighting like a threatened mammoth, and by Talos, I would continue fighting that way until it killed me.

I stopped with my hand on the gate, pausing to stare at the rock I had kicked as an idea struck me like a Spell of Lightning Bolt. Spinning around, I pointed at a group of three Stormcloaks. You, you, and you, come with me." I turned and jogged up the main street, ignoring puddles and weaving in and out of soldiers, horses, and barricades. Slipping a bit on the wet cobblestones, I slid to a stop under the overhang of Belethor's general goods store. Testing the handle, I found that it was locked and let out a curse. Oh well. Fishing around in my pockets, I slipped out a lockpick and started maneuvering the bit of metal about in the door, searching for the sweet spot.

A cacophony of splashes sounded behind me as the three Stormcloaks came to a halt. I ignored them, carefully twisting the pick as I felt the lock give a little. "Um... Dragonborn General, are you supposed to be doing that?" one of them asked hesitantly.

I rolled my eyes as the lock gave a satisfying click and the door swung open. "If Belethor wasn't such a cheapskate he would have left his shop open like Arcadia did in case we needed something. Well, now we need something, and if he makes a fuss over it I'll write him a formal letter of apology." Stepping inside, I took a glance around the room. Many of the most valuable goods were gone, but what I needed wasn't valuable. "Look for nets," I ordered. "The kind the ETC uses to lash their cargo boxes together."

Two of the soldier's eyebrows drew together, but they started rustling through cabinets and shelves without question.

"General, here's some," came a voice from one of the back rooms.

I unceremoniously dropped the elegantly carved drum I was holding and joined the woman. There were indeed some nets, a whole pile of sturdy ones, in fact. "Perfect," I proclaimed. "I found some extra rope in the other room, which was another thing we needed." I gestured to her. "You carry these and follow me." Pointing at another soldier as I walked out of the shop, I ordered him to pick up the rope.

The three soldiers followed me into Arcadia's Cauldron, where I told them to set the rope and nets on the ground. "Now we're looking for Dwarven oil. It's an alchemy ingredient that ought to be in a small, circular bowl." Glancing around, I picked up an ordinary wooden bowl. "About the size of this, but made of Dwarven metal and with carvings on the sides."

The soldiers again gave me looks of confusion, but I turned away and started searching the shelves before they could question the order.

The same woman who had found the cargo nets found the Dwarven oil in a chest under the counter. There were five bowls, which was more than enough for what I had in mind.

I supposed I must have looked as conniving as I felt. The soldiers now looked more curious than anything else, and one put his thoughts into words. "What are we doing with these, Dragonborn General?"

Carefully preventing my eyes from rolling at the title, I said, "Just General is fine. Have any of you ever gone into a Nordic ruin?"

Two soldiers shook their heads, but one of the men nodded. "Once. Not that it's something I'd like to repeat," he stated fervently, his heavy accent enunciating the words.

For the benefit of the other two, I explained, "Well, they're full of traps. Falling spiked balls, enormous swinging blades, spears that stab out of the ground or walls...." Their faces showed that they'd gotten the point. "Well, we can set a trap or two for the Imperials. If you've ever taken the road from Solitude to Whiterun, you've probably heard of Robber's Gorge."

I glanced around and was rewarded with three nods. Anyone with half a brain avoided that bandit encampment, a wooden archway built over a bottleneck canyon that was manned throughout the day and night by bandits.

"Well, I've been there. The bandits' favorite tactic is to attack unwary travelers from behind, forcing them into the canyon and then dropping an avalanche of rocks onto them."

The three soldiers looked at me with awe. "How did you escape?" one asked.

I smiled wryly. "Most of their victims don't Shout fire from their mouths and burn half of their bridge down, but that's beside the point." My smile widened until it felt positively demonic. "That's what we're going to do. We don't have time to rig up something quite that elaborate, but what we can do is sling these nets up above the drawbridge and underneath the outer archway, coat them in Dwarven oil, and pile them as full of rocks as we can get them."

Watching the realization form on their faces only added to my own devilish delight.

We sat down on the floor of the shop, divvying out the oil amongst us and spreading out the nets and ropes. The rain would matter little to the flammability of Dwarven oil, but only if we spread it into the fibers before they were drenched.

When we had finished I took half of the heavy nets, leaving one soldier to carry the other half and the other two to carry the ropes. We lugged the supplies to the gate, which was opened for us, then set them down on the wet ground near the drawbridge.

I pointed at the woman. "You, go and find-" I hesitated, thinking. "Nine soldiers to help carry rocks. Make sure they're big enough to cause damage and not fall through the net but not so big that they'll break the ropes, and try to pick ones that don't have too many jagged edges. Put a goodly number down by the outer archway and the same number up here near the drawbridge."

She nodded and jogged off. I took a step back so I could look at the whole archway. The canal in the stone through which the small stream flowed was deep enough to make it quite difficult for anyone trying to climb down into it and then back out, although I had no doubt it was possible. The rocks would likely make it easier for someone to do just that, but I had a feeling that by the time we needed to use this trap it would be too late to hold the drawbridge.

That didn't mean I wanted to burn the drawbridge down, however. That was something else I need to be careful of. The wood was sopping wet, and from many years of experience trying to start campfires with wet wood I knew it would probably be harder to catch it on fire than not. Still, it would be a risk. Was it a risk I was willing to take?

Yes, I decided. Surely small pieces of burning rope would be nowhere near enough to catch the drawbridge on fire even if it was left down so that the Stormclock forces could retreat.

I cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted an order to lower the drawbridge. A soldier peered down at me, his eyes widening when he realized who it was that was giving the order, then jumped to obey. Seconds later the bridge was lowered and I absently picked at one of the murderous-looking shoulder spikes of my armor, wondering how best to do this.

Once I had puzzled out how this would work in my mind, the rock pile was beginning to grow and curious soldiers with nothing to do were standing around, watching the preparations.

I had all the help I needed and more, and I took full advantage of it. "Was anyone here a sailor?" I asked the crowd at large. Two soldiers stepped forward and made themselves known. "I need three of these nets lashed together with knots strong enough to hold them together under the weight of rocks," I informed them. "Take care of it. If the knots break, you will personally be held responsible for the deaths of whichever of your unlucky comrades happened to be underneath the nets at the time."

They swallowed, but stepped to do my bidding. When the nets were tied together to my satisfaction, I oversaw the two soldiers as they braided ropes into thick strands of three and tied them one each to the center net and corners of the two end nets. Together we dragged the net underneath the archway until it rested on the drawbridge directly below the stone. It was a little too wide for the bridge, causing the ends to hang off and touch the water below, but the next step to this operation would fix this problem.

Under my direction the soldiers threw the ends of the ropes up to those waiting on the walkway above the drawbridge, who caught them as they were thrown. These soldiers held the ropes as those of us below hauled, kicked, and rolled the rocks onto the net, spacing them out evenly.

The rocks finally loaded, we came to the most difficult part.

"Heave!" shouted one of the soldiers who had helped tie the ropes. The soldiers strained, muscles prominent in arms showcased by the sopping wet uniforms that were now thoroughly drenched and stuck to their skin. The net slowly rose into the air, dangling evenly form the six ropes as it neared the bottom of the archway.

I wiped water out of my eyes, watching it rise until I heard a telltale clack that announced the rocks' collisions with the underside of the archway. "Hold!" I shouted. "Tie it off!"

When the ropes were securely tied in place the soldiers relaxed, many letting out an audible breath. The nets held, no more than one small piece of stone falling through the gaps to the ground below.

"That's good work, soldiers," I complimented them, pleased with the results. This was exactly what I had envisioned, if not better. "I'd say we have enough material for one more, wouldn't you?" There were several nods and smiles and even a couple cheers from some of those who had helped lift the rocks into place, then the host of Stormcloaks gathered up the remaining nets and ropes and headed over the drawbridge down the path to the other archway, giving the net mistrustful but pleased looks as they passed beneath it.

I pulled the woman who had been helping me with this little project from the beginning aside, knowing she was one of the soldiers stationed at the drawbridge controls. "What's your name?"

"Erdii, General."

"Erdii, make sure at least four lit torches are kept next to the lever for the drawbridge, and for Talos' sake do not accidentally catch the ropes on fire. Make absolutely sure you repeat these orders to the rest of your company and the other company that guards the drawbridge," I ordered. "You are not to burn the ropes or raise the drawbridge except on my command, no one else's, unless I am slain."

She nodded dutifully, heading off toward the steps up to the top of the drawbridge.

"A good idea," Cerawyn's voice commented from behind me. "Not many would have thought of suck a trick."

I turned to face her, putting off for the moment going down to watch the preparations for the other net. "There are several places in Skyrim where I've seen traps similar to this. I'm merely putting my experience to use," I replied truthfully.

She took a strand of wet hair delicately in her fingers, removing it from its position over her eye and tucking it behind one ear. "That makes it no less a good plan. Do you expect to be slain in this battle?"

I blinked, caught rather off guard by her very abrupt change of subject. "No more than in any other battle, but a general must make preparations for every eventuality."

"So you do not fear death?"

What kind of question was that? "No. Skyrim is full of perils that are far worse than death, and I can say from personal experience with the place that Sovngarde is waiting." And I have a few friends there, I thought, thinking both of people I had lost here in Skyrim and also the heroes of old that had joined me in my fight against Alduin.

Cerawyn nodded in acceptance of my answer. "May you be granted many years before your journey there." With these words she turned and walked away.

I watched the gate swing shut behind her retreating form, then shook my head slightly as I followed the soldiers across the drawbridge. Cerawyn's graceful and insightful speech never failed to surprise me, from her unusual praise of my tactics to her abrupt changes of topic to deep thoughts. Not for the first time, I had the distinct feeling that there was much more to her than could be gleaned from a first, second, or even third impression.

Now that the soldiers had the idea of what to do, work on the second archway went by quickly and without mishap. The nets were quickly and efficiently tied together, loaded with rocks, and hoisted into place as the Stormcloaks worked. I only had to speak to direct the operation once, and that was just to tell off a soldier for almost dropping his rope.

The work finished, the soldiers dispersed back to their assigned positions. I remained at the bottom of the hill, standing outside the outer wall of the city and staring at the fortifications that would take the brunt of the Imperial attack.

Why couldn't the Imperials take their hooks and ladders and surround the city, attacking from all sides at once? I had asked myself this questions years ago before the Stormcloaks had taken Whiterun and very quickly had it answered. The farther along the sides of the wall you went from the main gate, the higher the walls towered and the steeper and rockier the ground around the city became. Where they met Dragonsreach the walls were a great deal taller than at the gate, and of course the keep itself had the highest walls of all. I doubted extremely that anyone could throw a hook that high or build a ladder that long, but just in case I was wrong I had stationed a small number of guards inside the keep to watch for that eventuality.

The Imperials might send a few soldiers to keep us occupied up and down the walls and prevent us from concentrating all our forces on the gate, but their heaviest assault would almost certainly come there. There had been nearly simultaneous agreement amongst the captains, Jarl Vignar, and the Companions on this matter.

Turning my attention back to the rock fall trap, I admired the result. The Stormcloak I had put in charge of the rock gathering had given her orders well, ensuring the rocks were large enough not to slip between the ropes of the nets but not too large to hoist into the air. Thus, only one small piece of stone had fallen to the ground below, and judging from the jagged edges it had probably been scraped off one of the larger rocks.

Too many times had I been travelling or searching through a ruin and had rocks rudely dropped far too close to me for comfort. This rock fall would slow the Imperials' advance and hopefully result in a fair number of casualties.

Besides, it would be great fun to drop rocks on someone else for a change.

I actually did a bit of homework for this chapter.  If you play the game and really look at the walls and watchtowers, Whiterun really is an inconvenient place to defend and every complaint Kisvar made about the drawbridge is true.  I get that the city doesn't often have to hold up to siege, but sheesh.  The drawbridge is like 95% pointless, honestly.

OMG AND GUYS.  I HIT 100,000 WORDS ON THIS STORY TODAY.  100,000 WORDS.  That's like.... a bajillion O_O  I never dreamed that I would ever manage to write that much of anything, and it's all due to the inspiration and kicks in the butt to write that I get from all of you awesome people on a regular basis.  Seriously, without all the readers who enjoy this book and ask for updates as soon as the new chapter is out I would never have gotten anywhere, and I thank you all from the bottom, top, and middle of my heart for that :)