Chapter 40 (Part I)

Chapter 40 (Part I)

I've nearly died more times than I can count. Every second in every fight was another brief, fleeting moment in which I could have, sometimes should have, been killed. Yet, somehow, here I still was, very much so alive.

Sometimes I wondered why that was. Why was I, of all the people I had fought and killed, the one who somehow survived? This question stemmed not from survivor's guilt, but mere curiosity. It was fascinating to me that so far, every time I had entered into a lethal confrontation with someone or something, that person or creature had been the one to go into the afterlife.

Now, as I darted from one rock to another, trying to avoid the diligent Stormcloak archer who had somehow spotted me even through the cover of rain and darkness, I wondered if I had survived all those altercations in the past just so that I could be here today, trying to avoid being killed by arrows from my own side.

So determined was I not to die here in such an ignominious and ridiculous fashion that I actually fished a shield that I hadn't used in nearly a decade out of my pocket, using it as a safeguard to cover any vital parts of my body. I reached the broken down stone structure without actually getting hit, but I was grateful for the protection all the same.

Shoving the shield back into my pocket, I swiped rainwater out of my eyes and glanced around the stony room. It was small, barely wide enough to lie down in, and on the far side there was a high stone wall with no obvious handholds. A few closed crates and burlap sacks were scattered around the little room, but none were big or sturdy enough to stand on.

Before I could become too perplexed or consumed with urgency, a face appeared atop the ledge and Aela the Huntress extended a hand to me. "It's about time," she said snappishly. "Warriors are meant to fight, not stand waiting for a knock at the door."

I took her hand and let her help me up the wall, managing not to almost pull her down with me as my wet boots slipped on the rock. "Let's go fight, then," I agreed, a thrill running through my body at my own words. Despite myself, I could feel my anticipation mounting as my fingers twitched slightly with the desire to hold a sword.

"This way." Aela led the way up a short corridor that led into a small, circular room. She circumvented a strange rock formation in the center of the room, hardly giving it a second glance, but I paused briefly to look at it. It appeared to be natural, for it had no fancy carvings or particular uniformity to it, but the enormous stone bowl that rested on top of the rock looked as though it was carved into the very rock itself.

I thought briefly about asking Aela what it was for, but she had already exited the room through one side and I had a battle to fight. Breaking into a jog, I followed Aela out into the dark city, wincing as the sounds of the battle abruptly increased in volume as I left the cave with its thick walls.

"Vignar should be somewhere near the market square. You should speak to him before you assume command." Aela darted away, her lithe hands removing her bow from her back as she ran.

I hesitated, torn between following her example and taking a few extra minutes to change into my Daedric armor. It didn't take me long to decide on the armor.

Every strap, every buckle seemed to take ten times longer than usual to fasten. Each extra second was an eternity, an eternity in which I knew good soldiers were fighting and dying on the walls while I was here changing my clothes like a noble heading to a party.

Except I wasn't heading to a party, I was heading into battle, and if I wore my Thieves' Guild armor into battle, not only would I be harder to recognize, but I would probably get myself badly injured or worse. I was accustomed to bulling my way through opponents, trusting my armor to keep me safe from stray arrows and poorly crafted steel weapons. Now was not the time to change my habits.

Finally, finally, the last strap was fastened, the last piece of armor firmly in place. I immediately took off and dashed for the market, spotting Jarl Vignar standing near a mostly destroyed market stall and talking to Captain Hilrine.

"What's the status?" I asked, directing the question to both parties in the hopes that one would answer me quickly.

"We can't see for sure, but we think the entire Imperial force is attacking this time even though they're still firing the catapults. The lower gate was nearly overwhelmed and we were forced to fall back momentarily, but we've retaken it since. Two of our reserve companies have already been sent in, and so far we've been able to mostly hold the walls." Hilrine gestured at a dead Imperial on the ground nearby. "Mostly. I don't think this is a test of our strength, General. They're here to win this battle."

"What of the dragons? Miraak?" I asked, mind racing.

"The dragons seem to mostly be keeping the sky and fighting each other, but again, we can't really see. Miraak's dragon was seen once just before the battle started, which was about two hours ago, but we couldn't tell if Miraak was actually on the beast and it hasn't been seen since."

"The Redguards?" Vignar interrupted. "Are they here?"

"They're sixty horsemen strong and they're coming, but they have to mobilize. They're going to harass the Imperial's flanks while they're occupied with our walls, and if the city looks like it's about to be overwhelmed they're going to attack in earnest." I glanced toward the walls. "Vignar, go back to Dragonsreach," I ordered. "I'll take it from here." He opened his mouth to argue, but I was already jogging toward the walls before he could reply.

Still firing the catapults? Not likely. They sure wanted us to think they were, though. Even as I dashed toward the melee at the gate, I felt a tremor rock the ground beneath me. This one was enough to make me stagger, but I could tell that the cause of this was no rock.

I reached the gate and passes through, crossing the slippery boards of the drawbridge in a dash for the lower gate. Pausing behind the ranks of Stormcloak soldiers waiting to fight, I assessed the situation with my own eyes. The Imperials had pushed the Stormcloaks back behind the gate, but movement was so limited by the outer wall and the natural rock wall that it didn't really matter. As long as the Imperials were held back from the drawbridge, there was no need to fall back.

Taking a deep breath and drawing both swords, I started toward the front lines, pushing my way through the lines of Stormcloaks. An archer spotted me and tried to take me down with an arrow, but the shaft bounced uselessly off my armor to land in the mud. I felt a slight smile lift the corners of my mouth as an Imperial who had been nervously holding his axe aloft in preparation to take me on first looked smug as he saw the arrow strike, then looked terrified when the hit had no effect. I disarmed him after a brief exchange of blows and ran both swords through his chest, almost lifting him off the ground.

The next few minutes were a confused flurry of blows and blocks, counters and dodges, slices and maneuvers as I furiously battled not only to kill Imperial soldiers, but also just to stay alive in the confusion of the battle. If a single swing of my sword was off by even the slightest fraction, I could miss a block, leaving myself wide open to my opponent's weapon. If I stepped on even the smallest rock or into a particularly slick patch of mud I could slip, putting my sword strike off and sending my blade awry. If I relaxed my muscles for a second, if I even blinked at the wrong time, I could miss the next move, making a fatal error.

My mind finally started to reemerge from the absolute concentration of battle, allowing little facts to come to my attention. The first was that I was already starting to get tired, something that wasn't a good sign. The long walk back from Redoran's Retreat, the battle of a few days before, and the general strain on my mind that this entire siege had presented had worn me down, leaving my stamina lower than usual.

The second fact was that subconsciously, as the press of Imperials kept coming in an unending wave, I had been falling back along with the rest of the front line. I would definitely have noticed sooner if we had been forced to fall back as far as the drawbridge, but we had given up a good ten to fifteen feet of ground since I had lost myself in the haze of battle.

Dispatching my last opponent, I leveled a quick glance behind me and made eye contact with the two soldiers watching my back. In unspoken consent they moved forward, filling the gap in the line that I left as I fell back to reassess the situation and also give my burning arms a break from the constant pounding to which I was subjecting them.

Squinting through the rain, I could just make out the torn edges and charred bits of what was left of the rock trap we had set up at the lower gate. I didn't know if the setting off of that trap had been ordered or if it had just happened over the course of the battle, but either way it was probably for the best. Any Stormcloak archers that had been stationed down near the lower gate had long since fallen back, so now setting off the trap manually would have been difficult as we no longer controlled the lower gate. A good archer might have been able to hit the net with a well-placed, flaming arrow, but setting up the shot would have been difficult with the poor visibility and drenching rain.

I glanced back at the other rock trap once again, checking that it was still intact. That one would be activated only if we lost the drawbridge, and even then we would have to be careful. The added weight of the rocks on the drawbridge shouldn't be enough to keep it from being drawn up, especially since most would probably roll off the bridge into the canal below, but we had to be prepared for every eventuality.

A sudden increase in the shouting and din of battle caused me to spin back around to face the fray, giving me just enough time to dive out of the way as a black horse appeared out of the darkness and just caught my arm as it galloped by. Its rider dragged on the beast's reins so hard that it nearly fell, hooves flailing as they searched for purchase on the smooth, wet cobblestones. As confusion broke out amongst the rear lines of Stormcloaks as they turned to face this threat that had suddenly appeared behind them, another few horses bulled their way through the lines of soldiers to join the black horse. Some quick-thinking warriors managed to down a horse or a rider as the animals passed by, but most were caught flatfooted, their weapons held loosely down at their sides.

"Front lines hold!" I shouted as utter chaos threatened to engulf the lines of soldiers. "Let any more of those blasted Imperials through and-" I didn't get to finish my threat because another horse appeared, the animal actually knocking over one of the Imperials as its rider spurred it forward. I sliced out wildly with both swords as it clattered by, and judging by the loud, animalistic scream and loud thud that sounded from behind me I must have hit something at least sort of vital. Leaving the soldiers behind me to deal with what was left of the horse and rider, I shouted, "Rear lines turn and face, deal with the horsemen!"

They were probably already doing that, but I was closer to the front lines than the rear, so my duty now was not to spend valuable seconds watching to ensure orders were fulfilled, but to fill the gaps left by the galloping horses and hold the Imperial foot soldiers off while the rear lines dealt with this sudden new threat. I could hear a horse whinnying and stamping somewhere close behind me but I ignored the sounds, trusting the soldiers at my back to deal with it.

To my acute relief I did not get stabbed in the back, and by the time I fell back momentarily, allowing a Stormcloak soldier to step up and take my place, and chanced a quick glance back toward Whiterun, the horsemen had been dealt with.

Well, that group of horsemen had been dealt with. I mean, it really was a clever tactic, sending horses to plow their way through our lines in an attempt both to get soldiers in behind us and sow enough mayhem to keep us from reforming properly, and it wouldn't make sense to only use a brilliant play like that once, so I should have expected the next wave.

Falling back again, I sent another quick glance behind me, racking my brain for a solution to this new assault. A slight smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I realized that Ralof had already done that. The lines of soldiers behind the front lines had fallen back and formed a gap between the two ranks, leaving a clear space in which they could more effectively engage the repeating waves of horsemen. Through the rain and suits of blue armor, I could see Ralof's mouth moving as he shouted orders and gestured men to positions.

I expected this new defense to mostly eliminate the horsemen as an issue, but it soon became clear that it wasn't as effective as I had hoped. Sending in the horses had clearly not been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Each time a new wave of horsemen rushed our ranks, the ranks of the Imperials parted slightly in four places for them to pass through. The ease with which the horsemen passed through the enemy ranks and poor visibility combined with limited vision due to us having lost the lower gate meant that the Stormcloaks had very little time to react even when we knew the horses were coming.

I turned my full attention to my opponent. He was a tall, grim-faced man, the bits of slightly graying hair I could see plastered to his brow below the rim of his open-faced helmet doing nothing to diminish his strength. His chestplate was splashed with blood and his greatsword was laced with the same liquid, rainwater turning red and running down the sharp steel in fragmented rivulets. He was clearly a veteran warrior, and from the set of his jaw I knew that he could tell I was one as well.

We faced each other, both of us holding our weapons with tense, eager hands, but neither of us wanting to be the one to strike without a clear gap in the other's defenses. Suddenly unable to contain my nervous energy anymore, I lunged forward, bringing both swords sweeping toward the Imperial in a vicious scissor attack. He blocked both blades and took a short step back, using his superior reach to level a swing at me that I could counter, but left me unable to reach him with my swords. Fortunately, I was more than familiar with this tactic and blocked his sword with more force than usual, forcing his greatsword far wide and using the opportunity to close the gap.

The move didn't work out quite as well as I had hoped. I did manage to close with him, but since I had used both swords for the block, the Imperial was left with a little time to react. He used this time to allow the momentum of his swing to carry his body around in a controlled spin, then he bashed me in the chest with the flat of his sword. The move threw me off balance, but not enough to prevent me from swinging one sword in an attack that prevented the Imperial from taking advantage of the opening.

In the end, the deciding factor of the battle was stamina. Both of us were tiring, but from the decreasing strength of the Imperial's blows I could tell he was slowing down faster than I. Wielding a greatsword took a massive amount of strength, and by the very nature of our weapons, his need to prevent me from closing with him meant that he had to constantly be on the offensive.

I remained on the defensive, waiting for him to make a mistake. He made a vicious swing at me, one which if it had landed would probably have gone right through my armor. As it was, my nimble leap backward caused the stroke to go so far wide that the man stumbled, pulled sideways by his own sword.

He dropped his sword, face showing his surprise as he clutched at the sudden deep rent in his throat. I watched him fall, chest heaving as I stepped back and the sounds of the battle suddenly came back to my ears.

For a moment, I had completely forgotten that our little battle was only a tiny part of this immense confrontation, and it sobered my exultation at winning that no matter how well I had fought or how impressive my sword skills had been in defeating that one opponent, hundreds more stood at the gates of Whiterun.

Shaking away these pointless thoughts and ignoring an arrow as it buried itself in the mud beside me, I plunged both swords in the back of an Imperial soldier who had been careless enough to turn his back to me as he engaged another Stormcloack soldier, then cursed as I had a chance to look around me.

The Stormcloak lines were slowly but steadily being driven back, their cohesive defensive formation slowly being torn apart through attrition and the divisive threat of the horsemen. Ralof's secondary defensive line practically had their heels on the drawbridge now, and even in just my extremely brief glance I saw a horseman make her way through the line and gallop up the road to the main gate. I knew she would be dealt with, but that didn't change the fact that this entire melee force was losing traction fast.

As soon as the fight would allow, I backed up, returning to the relative safety of the press of Stormcloaks, then looked for Ralof. I saw him fighting an unhorsed Imperial and started in that direction, smiling slightly in appreciation as Ralof maneuver the woman into backing close enough to her injured steed that the crazed beast broke her ankle with one flailing hoof.

"Ralof!" I shouted over the din. He finished the woman off and raised his axe to show he was listening, not taking his eyes off the other two horsemen, one which had retained control of his animal. "I need you to take command down here. We need to-"

The world shook like a ship in gale, sending me and half the other Stormcloak and Imperial soldiers in the vicinity to our knees. I fumbled for the sword I had dropped as I staggered to my feet, spinning stupidly as I searched for the source.

I had a confused impression of brown shapes interspersed with little white patches, loud thumping sounds that echoed even over the din of the battlefield, and hot, fetid air before I was abruptly hoisted off the ground. A dozen little spots of burning pain erupted across my body and I instinctively lashed out with one sword, my other arm being pinned firmly to my side by something warm and wet.

With a growl of anguish, the dragon dropped me directly on its own foot. Under another circumstance, such as one that didn't involve me nearly having been consumed and then stepped on, I might have thought the way the dragon snatched its foot back out from under the weight of my body in a very humanlike gesture to be amusing. As it was, I could only let out a muffled oomph as the force of a creature much larger than myself jerking its limb out from under me sent me rolling forcefully into the legs of the Stormcloaks in front of me.

The dragon showed its displeasure at having a sword shoved up its nose by first shaking its head so violently that it gouged several small shards out the stone side of the arch over the drawbridge, then loosing a wave of fire that lit the entire road up like the noonday sun.

A barrage of arrows from the walls forced the dragon to back out of the archway and take flight, but the damage had been done. At least a fifth of the forces designated to protect the gate had been wiped out with that single Shout, and a fair part of those who were left were nursing nasty burns.

I had only been partway to my feet when I had realized what the dragon was going to do, and throwing myself flat and shielding the front of my helmet with my hands had been enough to protect me from the withering attack. Snatching up the sword I had dropped once again, I took a brief second to consider whether this situation could be resolved.

I almost instantly realized that there was no way. Taking a deep breath that reeked of burnt flesh and smoke, I roared, "Fall back! Fall back to Whiterun!" The cry was taken up again and again, and the remaining survivors of the dragon attack managed to band into something that at least vaguely resembled a vanguard.

By the time the vanguard had been pushed back almost off the drawbridge, the last soldiers made it through the gates. "Up with the drawbridge!" I shouted, praying to Talos that there were still living soldiers up there to do that. "Break and run!" I ordered the vanguard formation.

They did so without hesitation, dashing for the safety of the main gate and the city. I spun around, facing the Imperials as the drawbridge started to rise slowly, ever so slowly.

"Joor Zah Frul!" I Shouted, the blue blast of energy that was Dragonrend swirling about the Imperials.

Many of them leapt back, covering their faces, but the Shout did nothing.

Or at least, the Imperials thought it did nothing until their sudden uncertainty was rewarded with a barrage of rocks that crushed several of them, forcing them to draw back until the drawbridge was too high for them to climb over.

I didn't wait to watch any longer, instead turning and dashing up the road and through the main gates, which were slammed shut behind me. I started for one of the ladders leading up to the scaffolding, but stopped with a surprise curse when the top of my right boot got caught underneath the lowest rung instead of resting atop it and propelling me upwards.

Exhaustion was the culprit, and I suddenly realized that I was gasping for breath, chest heaving in the wake of my extended efforts. Has the scaffolding always been this high? I wondered as I forced my foot to properly clear both the ground and the bottom rung before starting the climb.

Once at the top, I located Captain Hilrine and pulled her aside, crouching on the wood as an arrow zipped past. "We lost the drawbridge, so we need to make sure the Imperials don't take it down. Send any extra archers you have down to the archway above the drawbridge. Tell them not to risk their lives unnecessarily; we just want to give the Imperials something to think about so they can't focus their full attention on taking it down."

"They're trying to use grappling hooks to pull it back down," Captain Hilrine said grimly, gesturing at the number of soldiers wielding grappling hooks that were abandoning their efforts on the walls and hurrying toward the road into the city. "Also, we think the Redguards are here because the Imperials have been sending some of their soldiers to their rear ranks."

"Target the soldiers with grappling hooks," I ordered tightly, filing away the information about the Redguards. They might distract some of the soldiers, but their presence wouldn't affect the Stormcloak's defense of the city. Captain Hilrine saluted, and I scurried back down the ladder. Well, I mean to say that I clambered heavily down the ladder and almost fell when I decided to skip the last two rungs and jump the remaining distance to the ground.

Recovering myself, I leaned against the ladder and allowed myself a moment to get my breath back. When I was no longer panting like a thirsty dog I pushed myself away from the wood, heading back to the gate.

The muddy expanse just in front of the gate was teeming with activity, and my brow furrowed darkly as I realized just what this activity was doing. "What is going on here?" I demanded.

The two Stormcloak soldiers that were handing out bows and arrows to a line of the soldiers who had just been forced to retreat into the city halted, glancing uncertainly at each other. "We're handing out arms to these men, General."

I turned my glare to the man they had been in the process of handing a bow. "Have you ever shot a bow in your life, Soldier?"

"Twice, General" was the reply. I turned back to the soldiers handing out bows. "Who ordered you to issue bows to these men?"

"Jarl Vignar, General. Their orders are to reinforce the archers on the walls."

I reined in my annoyance. The Stormcloaks were just following orders, and this was not between me and them but me and Vignar. "Put those back with the other weapons immediately. Soldiers who were part of the defense of the lower gate are to stand by and wait for further orders." There was just the briefest hesitation, probably as the soldiers considered whether it would be worse to disobey me or Jarl Vignar, then they started gathering back the bows they had already passed out.

All tiredness forgotten, I strode up the path into the marketplace. As I had expected, I found Vignar standing near the steps up to the Cloud District, immersed in a discussion with a captain whose name I didn't know. "What part of "go back to Dragonsreach" did you not understand?" I demanded, completely dispensing with formality.

"I did, then Captain Fernold informed me that you lost the drawbridge," he replied icily, all traces of even the illusion of goodwill gone. "Clearly Whiterun is in peril with such an inexperienced commander handling its defense."

"I lost the drawbridge? Vignar, we were attacked by a dragon from behind and it took out a fifth of our forces with one attack. We couldn't wait and take the chance that we might not be able to regroup, not with so many soldiers outside the city." I lost the drawbridge? At least I was fighting to hold it, not cowering like a rat in its hole!

"Yet as the Dragonborn, it's your duty to deal with dragons, isn't it? You should have handled the situation, but instead you let one single attack push us back behind our last defense," Vignar pointed out haughtily.

"Second to last," I snapped angrily. "Even if the Imperials get across the drawbridge, they'll still have to deal with the main gates."

"Stop acting like a child that lost a toy. We were holding the drawbridge just fine until you took command back."

Acting like a- I was so angry that I felt like my body was on the verge of exploding, but I managed to keep some semblance of control in my voice. I snatched my helmet off my head, meeting Vignar's frigid green eyes with my blazing blue ones. "You talk, and you talk, but you give nothing to defend the city except useless orders that will do more harm than good. Handing out good bows and arrows to soldiers with no experience using the weapons? What in the names of all the divines did you think that would accomplish?"

"There is no need at the present for so many melee soldiers, so they should take up ranged weapons and join the defense of the walls," Vignar insisted.

"At present, no, there is no need for so many melee soldiers. What about when the Imperials break through the main gates? Or when their soldiers make it past our defenses on the walls and into the streets? Who's going to defend the main gate when they try to open it from the inside?" I demanded, my anger rising. "I picked many of those soldiers by hand. They're all fearsome warriors- with a close-combat weapon. You can't just take soldiers untrained with bows, throw them a weapon and valuable ammunition, and expect them to be effective in a fight."

"I have left more than enough soldiers to guard the gate, Kisvar. Those men are needed up on the walls, and by the divines, you will stop hindering the defense of my city." Vignar pushed past me, presumably to ensure that I hadn't upset his orders.

So it had come to this, the clash of wills that I had honestly expected would come sooner. I knew that Vignar had once been a Companion, but his time as a Jarl had changed his outlook on things. He believed that a commander's duty was not to lead the defense of the city, but oversee it and manage it from a safe distance. He believed that the more men that could be assigned to the walls, the stronger the defense of the city of would be, even if those men didn't necessarily know how to wield the weapons they would have to use to do that. He believed that just because the Companions were great fighters they should also be considered leaders, even though one did not necessarily imply the other.

I couldn't have any of these things right now. I needed to be solely in command because Vignar was wrong on all three accounts.

So, knowing that I would never be able to reason with the self-righteous man, instead I walked casually up behind him and struck him hard on the back of the head.

"Take him back to Dragonsreach," I ordered Captain Fernold. "I am in command of the defense of this city, not Jarl Vignar, and I am ordering you to disregard any orders he has given or may give you. Disobey me, and you will be charged with treason." I turned away, heading back toward the main gate and jamming my helmet back on my head.

Boom.

A single, hollow thud sounded from somewhere, the volume of it sufficient to cause a dusting of loose roofing from nearby buildings to flutter to the ground.

Boom.

Another shudder rocked the ground, this one harder and more insistent. I stared at the ground between my feet, somehow unable to force my leaden feet to move, eyes watching the sudden ripples that appeared in the amassed puddles of rainwater.

Boom.

The stony courtyard rocked so hard that what remained of the market stands collapsed, their structures already weakened by the catapults' relentless pounding. This I only noticed out of the corner of my eye, my mind captivated by the ripples that had suddenly turned into churning miniature waves.

Boom.

The entire courtyard exploded upward, stones, wood, and dirt blasted into the air by some immense force to lie scattered and broken at the edges of what had once been the marketplace. As one last boom shook the city, I pushed myself up on one arm where I had fallen with the rest of the debris and looked toward the center of the destruction.

Skeletons, I could handle. Draugr could be more difficult to fight, but even those weren't much of a challenge to someone with Daedric armor. Still, no matter how many undead things I had fought and slain, none of those battles could have ever prepared me for this.

Two skinless, fleshless creatures burst from the abyss that had once been a market, their eyeless sockets empty in skulls that dripped with rain, the water falling from bone to bone without obstruction. Sunbleached spines, legs, and tails moved without the use of muscle, every joint cracking and creaking in ominous discord as flightless wings waved in air they could never hope to feel. The nightmares roared, but the sounds were insubstantial, as if echoes remembered from a time long past. They were skeletons, the skeletons of dragons from long ago.

But dragon skeletons didn't move. They didn't Shout. They didn't kill. And they couldn't come to life in the center of a place that was no longer a safe haven.