Chapter 39

Chapter 39

In the end, I decided to take a different horse. This one was a dappled gray, a color that I ordinarily considered boring, but in the gloom and mist that now seemed a permanent blanket over the land, hopefully it would be a difficult color to spot.

The soldier in charge of the horses gave me an odd look when I requested the dappled gray and shot a look at the hitching post where Gormlaith was standing, but he didn't offer any comments on my choice. I was rather surprised that he even knew which horse was mine; she was hardly the only black and white paint in the mix.

I mounted the dappled gray stallion and rode him through the gates, giving the netted rock trap a quick glance as I did so. The nets were holding well even with the constant barrage of stones and ever-increasing tremors, but that didn't mean I had to like being underneath it.

As I followed the path out of the city I caught sight of Ralof standing with a couple soldiers. His eyes met mine and he nodded, mouthing "Talos be with you" as I passed by.

Talos, I didn't actually need right now. Nocturnal's blessing would be nice, though.

Just two minutes after I left the city it became painfully clear that Nocturnal had about the same opinion of me as Brynjolf at the moment, because I managed to walk straight into a mounted Imperial patrol. And when I say I walked into them, I mean that the stallion's nose bumped into the hindquarters of one of their horses.

The raspy sounds of weapons being drawn filled the air as confusion broke out amongst the Imperial riders, and I didn't wait to see if I could somehow pass myself off as one of them. Instead, I urged the stallion around their little group and kicked him repeatedly until he was galloping flat out across the plains at a pace that could get both him and me killed at any second if he tripped.

Shouts broke out behind me as the Imperials took off in pursuit, the hooves of their own horses splashing audibly through the muddy plains. I ignored the sounds, leaning low over the dappled gray's neck. I had been hoping that I could sneak through the Imperial's scouting patrols and ride all the way to Redoran's Retreat, but I had devised a plan in case I was spotted.

Unfortunately, my plan involved leaping off a horse at full gallop in weather conditions that allowed me to see barely ten feet in front of my face.

Luckily, I managed to miss any rocks or other equally hard objects, but I didn't manage to avoid the various species of shrubs that dotted the plains. My right foot came down on one of these inconvenient bushes, throwing me off balance. I had never intended to land on my feet, but the bush threw off my intentional roll so badly that I ended up sprawled awkwardly on my back after rolling painfully over one shoulder. Still, after taking a split second to make sure I hadn't broken anything, I managed to roll more or less quickly behind a small stand of the bushes, wincing as I felt cold water seeping through the front of my armor.

As I had intended, the gray horse kept galloping, reins flopping uselessly on its neck until it passed from my view. A second later the Imperials raced by, following the sounds of my now-riderless horse.

Leaving me lying in the mud behind a couple scraggly bushes with a new variety of aches and pains caused by hitting the ground at a speed most people tried to avoid. There must have been a better plan than this, but if there had been, I still couldn't see it.

Slipping and sliding, I managed to get my legs back underneath myself with a minimum of wincing and grimacing. Mentally cursing bushes, I set out in a direction a little to the left of the one in which my horse had taken off, still sure of the direction I was headed in spite of this little setback.

Redoran's Retreat was less than half a day's trip on horseback, but now that I was on foot I would have to add a couple hours to that. If I pushed myself, I ought to be able to reach the place by nightfall. Going on that scouting mission, conversing with the captains and Jarl Vignar, and interrogating the Imperial general had taken up the greater part of the morning and afternoon. Ordinarily I would have preferred to start my trip to Redoran's Retreat when I had plenty of daylight (if this could be considered daylight) before me, but with an impending attack looming over Whiterun I didn't have the luxury of time.

After walking for about fifteen minutes I found another dead Imperial, her body marking the location of another curved swords symbol scratched into the rock. The discovery strengthened the conviction that the markings were left by the Redguard mercenaries, bolstering my spirits and adding some spring to my step. How many of these did they leave? I wondered. That makes two on this side of the city alone.

I was forced to take cover twice when I heard horses approaching and once when the thud of a flying dragon emanated from somewhere above me, but whether due to luck, skill, or divine interference, I managed to avoid being seen by any of these. In fact, I was starting to breathe a little easier and allow myself to look forward to actually reaching Redoran's Retreat when the ground beneath my feet changed and I looked down to see that I was on a road.

I cursed quietly and jumped backwards off the road. The route that I had planned out should have taken me through the countryside and avoided any roads, which the Imperials were sure to be watching for any more approaching Stormcloak troops.

They were watching the road, and quite efficiently too because I was spotted almost immediately by a pair of horsemen not twenty feet away. They gave a shout and spurred their mounts toward me, weapons held high.

Rather than giving in to my first instinct to curse again, instead I felt my face twitch in a slight smile. As soon as they spotted me the Imperials should have split apart and attacked me in a pincer movement, not ridden straight toward me on perfectly flat ground. I raised my left hand as the preliminary flames of a Spell of Fireball filled my palm. I let the spell charge, then loosed it at the ground just in front of the two horses.

Gormlaith wouldn't have startled, I thought with a sort of perverse satisfaction as the two horses slid to a stop, hopping around like frightened rabbits. One Imperial fell off with an audible thump and I incinerated him with another Spell of Fireball before he could pull his face out of the mud.

The other Imperial was apparently a better rider than his compatriot because he managed to stay in his saddle and keep ahold of both his shield and sword, although he was hugging the horse's neck like the animal was his long-lost adventuring wife. He managed to gather the reins together once more and raise his shield to cover himself as I approached, drawing both swords as I came.

The shield, thick, large, and banded in iron, would certainly have stopped both blades- if I had been intending to go for the man. Instead, I sliced the horse's left from leg out from under it, wincing as its pain-filled whinny grated at my ears. The horse crashed to the ground and lay there, thrashing its good legs wildly in desperate attempts to rise.

The Imperial once again showed an impressive ability to survive by throwing himself clear of the wounded animal and pushing himself to his feet to meet my attack, but he couldn't protect himself against his own horse's thrashing hooves. The beast caught him across the knee with a glancing blow that while not particularly injurious, nevertheless threw off his balance and left him wide open to attack. I exploited his inability to defend himself by removing his head from his shoulders.

I needed to get as far away from the scene of the fight as I could before other Imperials who must have heard the fighting made their way here, but I spared a moment to wait for an opening between the wounded horse's hooves and put my Daedric sword through its eye. It would have been nice to take one of the horses to ride to Redoran's Retreat, but the other had galloped away and this one was too badly injured to even be worth trying to save.

After this unfortunate incident, I was seen by no one else and made good time in spite of the rain. The light was on the cusp of fading when I slicked my soaked hair back away from my eyes, narrowing them in preparation to spot Redoran's Retreat through the gloom.

I had seen the cave once before, and if I remembered rightly, it appeared as little more than an outcropping of rock from the back. There were several outcroppings of rock around me, so if I wanted to spot the double doors that I knew rested in a rock face somewhere in this general area, I would have to do some circling.

Night had fallen before my aimless searching finally ended in me nearly slamming face first into the door to Redoran's Retreat. Drawing both of my swords, I carefully pushed open the doors, settling into a defensive stance just in case.

A single lantern hung from one of the wooden beams in the ceiling, its dim light revealing a single Redguard sitting on the ground and leaning against a wooden support. The man leapt to his feet as the two doors slammed shut behind me, drawing his own curved sword. "Who are you?" he asked, hefting the blade and holding it at eye level.

I lowered my swords slightly to show I didn't mean to fight, but I kept them ready. "Kisvar, Dragonborn and General of the Stormcloak army," I introduced myself, for once using all my titles. Well, all my commonly known titles, anyway.

The man didn't lower his own sword. "I've been waiting for you. I think you'll understand if I want confirmation of your identity."

I had expected this and already decided which Shout to use. I had a limited number of options to choose from, but the first word of Dragonrend would do nicely. "Joor!" I Shouted, taking care not to aim the Shout anywhere near the Redguard. I didn't know what Dragonrend would do to a person and I didn't want to find out right now.

The man didn't step back, but I got the distinct impression that he wanted to. He did, however, sheathe his sword. "It is an honor to meet you, Dragonborn. Tales of your accomplishments have reached the far corners of Hammerfell."

Flattering as that was, I didn't really have time for it. "Forgive me for being blunt, but we don't have much time. We're expecting an attack on Whiterun sometime this night or tomorrow morning."

"My men are ready for a fight," the Redguard stated, once more seating himself. "Let us discuss the situation immediately."

I hid my surprise at the words my men, instead sitting down across from the man that I now realized was the Redguard commander. I had expected to find just an ordinary soldier who would take me to the main Redguard force. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Of course, my apologies. My name is Captain Raiel."

I pushed my hood down around my shoulders, once more pushing my hair back out of my eyes. "Then, Captain Raiel, how many troops do you have under your command?"

"Sixty men, all horsed" was the response. I resisted the urge to rub my face with both hands. While sixty capable, horsed warriors was nothing to sneeze at, it still didn't improve our odds against the Imperials as much as I would like. Although still, perhaps I shouldn't be so hasty to wish for greater numbers. Whiterun was a large city, but while we could probably find room for sixty more warriors somewhere within the relative safety of the walls, we would never be able to house sixty more horses. There wasn't enough room, and even if there was, our stores of hay wouldn't be enough to feed them. Providing food for the Redguards would also be a strain on our resources, but we would be able to make do.

"You are aware of the dragon situation, correct?" I was fairly certain of what I had included in the letter that I now felt like I had sent years ago, but I needed to make sure.

"Dragons are fighting on the sides of both the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. Yes, I am aware," Raiel replied.

"It's a little more complicated than that. The Imperials also have a Dragonborn, and unlike the Stormcloak dragons, which are fighting for us of their own free will, the Imperial dragons are being forced to fight by the other Dragonborn. His name is Miraak, and he's the one that's really in control of the Imperial army. Also, we think he's planning something bigger," I stated, then explained about how the Imperials had attacked because we sent a dragon up to scout. Then I went on to outline how we had been able to feel tremors at first, then the catapults had started firing and the Imperials had taken over control of the plains outside the city.

"It does sound like there is something there that the Imperials don't want you to see," Raiel agreed. "You may be right to be wary."

"We can't do anything about it right now," I said heavily. "You just need to know that Miraak is the one who is really in charge. If we stop him, we stop this war." I waited for Raiel's nod, then continued. "As captain of your troops, do you believe they would be better employed in joining the Stormcloak forces in the city or remaining outside the walls as an independent force?"

"We would be of more use to you as a mounted unit outside the walls," Raiel responded with surety. "We are excellent horsemen to a man, and Redguards can ride longer and harder than many others."

I remembered hearing something of the sort, actually. Redguards were reputed to be natural-born warriors, their kind possessing an unusual and impressive ability in terms of weapons and stamina. In fact, as a province Hammerfell had twice repelled the Aldmeri Dominion with no outside assistance to speak of. "Then disregard the order I gave in the letter to attempt to break through the Imperial forces to join us inside the city. Instead, I want you to harass the Imperials' flanks. With the cover the rain will give you, you can ride in, strike quickly, then ride back out before the Imperials know what hit them."

"We will ride in many smaller units and confuse the Imperials into thinking our numbers are greater than they are," Raiel agreed. "That's how we prefer to fight anyway. We aren't used to riding in such large numbers."

"Don't even try to harass their main encampment," I warned. "They have at least nine dragons hidden in and around their main force, and without the Stormcloak dragons to keep them busy, your horsemen would be hunted down and killed before they could do any real damage. Your best opportunity to attack will be when the Imperials are focusing on Whiterun's walls. If they manage to break through the gates into the city, attack in earnest and draw their attention away from the front and to their flanks." I envisioned the course the battle would take, trying to cover all possible angles. "The Stormcloak dragons will try distract the Imperial dragons and keep them focused on the sky, but make sure your units keep moving. A standing target is just an invitation for a dragon to fly down and wipe an entire unit out with one Shout. Also, don't get yourselves surrounded," I added.

"We weren't planning to," Raiel said wryly.

"Few forces do, but if you do get surrounded, we probably won't be able to get forces outside the walls to help. If we can even see what's happening," I added, thinking of the impenetrable wall of rain.

"Point taken, but this isn't our first fight against an army. We won't allow ourselves to be surrounded."

"Good," I said for lack of anything better to say. "How far is your camp from the city?"

"Too far for a quick strike, but we will move closer tonight and remain hidden until the Imperials attack Whiterun." The Redguard Captain fingered the handle of his sword. "I think we have covered every possibility. I need to prepare my men to ride."

"And I need to get back to my city," I agreed, pushing myself to my feet and glaring with distaste at the muddy puddle my soaked clothes had left where I had been sitting.

"Will you not ride with us? Your city might be under attack by the time you reach it," Raiel pointed out as he stood too.

"There are... elements within the city that I don't exactly trust when it comes to making military decisions," I said carefully, not wanting to give out any names just in case this conversation somehow reached Vignar's ears. In the next phases of this war decisive action might be critical, and Vignar was the type who preferred to get his captains together and discuss everything thoroughly before making any decisions. He was also the type who liked for his opinion to be heard, and if I didn't return before the Imperials attacked Whiterun, he would certainly want to take charge of the defenses.

"I see." Captain Raiel drew his sword and raised it in a salute. "Then let the next time I see you be on the field of battle."

I nodded, and we exited the cave together. I turned left to walk around the outcropping of rock while Raiel walked straight away from Redoran's Retreat, and from that I guessed that his forces were hidden somewhere up in the mountains nearby.

Soon the sound of the Redguard Captain's boots faded into silence behind me, leaving me to slog through the muddy plains in silence. Now more than ever I wished I hadn't lost the dappled gray stallion, and belatedly it occurred to me that I might have been able to ask Raiel for a horse. But no, I decided. Walking all the way to the Redguard camp would have taken too much time.

Still, I felt small and vulnerable walking through this complete darkness with the knowledge that enemies on swift horses could loom up through the blackness at any moment. Three times my paranoia caused me to halt, staring into the night in search of an imaginary noise. I tried to walk quietly so I could hear better, but that was nearly impossible due to the uneven and soaked terrain.

The longer I walked without running into a scout, the jumpier and more confused I became. On my way to Redoran's Retreat scouts had been littering the plains like salmon in a stream, but now the expanse of soaked grass was devoid of sight, sound, or any other sign of Imperials.

I slid to a halt, nearly falling as my right foot slipped in a patch of mud. Far, far away, I could hear a sort of clinking. One moment I was convinced it was the sound of a shoed horse walking across cobblestones, and the next I thought it was the tinkle of raindrops striking armor.

A moment later I realized that it was neither of these things. Instead, it was the faraway sound of weapon striking weapon interspersed with faint shouts and cries.

Ignoring the weight of my sodden armor, the unsure footing of the slippery ground, and the various aches and pains my body had accrued over the last few days, I broke into a sprint, dashing toward the distant torchlight that marked the location of the besieged city.