Chapter 2 - Dragon
A long roar came from behind the tower and it startled him, as it was too close than he'd thought before. The sentry disappeared out of view, probably returning to his position, but just as sudden as the roar, the top of the tower was bathed in flames. As it happened, something glided past it, a black shape that didn't resemble anything Arvas had ever know. It flew out of view, past the entire courtyard with a frightening speed before the walls obscured it.
"Secure the prisoners," ordered General Tullius, "get the villagers to safety!" The legionaries scrambled, and the archers on top of the wall began to run towards the village. "Get the battlemages out here!" he ordered next, before turning to Arvas.
"You!" the general yelled, pointing at him, "Make sure the Jarl doesn't escape. Cut his throat if you have to!"
"Yes, sir!" Arvas replied, fist hitting his chest as General Tullius mounted his horse and unsheathed his sword. His guard did the same, mounting their red-draped horses to join the general as he raced towards the courtyard's gate to the village. Arvas turned and ran towards the captain at the block. Her heel was pressed firmly onto the Jarl's back, surely leaving a mark, but that wasn't on his mind right now, as he saw that the rebel leader still had his head in between his shoulders. The captain looked at him, and he nodded.
She turned towards the Headsman and shouted, "Cut him, now!" Arvas watched in anticipation as he lifted his axe above his head, just before an abrupt darkness settled over them. Bricks felled just beside the keep's entrance, and Arvas looked up, where the sentries had been incinerated, and stared. It was a large, winged creature that was perched at the top of the tower, with black scales, jagged horns, and blood-red eyes that stared them down, as if it was its right to do so.
It opened its maw and Arvas tried to protect himself with his shield, but he knew it was futile. As he closed his eyes and expected searing heat, a deafening thunder came, and something remarkably powerful pushed against his shield. It had been strong enough that his feet lost the ground and he was flung away, momentarily feeling weightlessness while his ears ringed something fierce. For a moment, he thought he'd died, but reality came crashing down onto him as his back hit the flagstones and he gave a cry of pain. He felt himself slide across the ground before rolling, losing his breath. He coughed, disoriented by the lack of sight and sound, his eyes pressed shut before he slowly opened them and stared at the sky, too stunned to move.
As he looked upwards to the sky, he saw the dragon fly away from the tower and shout a thunder into the clouds that began to swirl and turn into a haze of grey and red. From the center of the vortex, trailing balls of flame began to fall towards the fort, and the black shape of the dragon resurfaced from the hells themselves to continue its destruction. Arvas groaned once again, and pushed himself up with his elbows into a sitting position. Shouts, cries and thunders assaulted his ears as he looked towards the keep and the walls, seeing the columns of black smoke that were beginning to rise.
He heard the sound of multiple footsteps hitting flagstone, and Arvas looked downwards and towards the keep's entrance. A dozen or so battlemages in their armored brown cloaks were running out of the keep and onto the fray that was the middle of the courtyard and the walls. But Arvas saw something that made his shoulders go cold, as he found the dead legionaries that littered the ground with some prisoners, his task, the Jarl that was supposed to be at the block, was gone. In his stead lay the mangled corpses of the Headsman and Captain Scinon, both crushed to death by something.
Arvas stood up, wincing as pain found purchase in his left leg and lower back, but he soldiered on towards the wall that was closest to him to the right. He'd been flung from the bloody block in front of the keep's entrance to the ground near gate at the corner of the courtyard. He held his shield tight as he tried to protect himself from the falling flaming debris that struck the ground with such a speed that didn't seem normal at all, to the point that it left craters in their wake. Just then he realized he was looking at the scene through his shield, as the wood had been shattered with the steel frame almost left intact. He also didn't feel the weight on his head, and he soon also realized that he'd lost his helmet again.
Once more a shadow covered the courtyard, and the black dragon swooped in onto the ground. Men yelled as it landed, crushed by the beast that knew no mercy, and Arvas stumbled backwards onto the wall. Balls of flame from the mages struck the creature to no avail, and the arrows with their broadhead tips along with the javelins from the foot soldiers merely bounced off its scales, but there was something Arvas hadn't seen that did not work. He unsheathed his sword and dropped the useless shield, and charged. He was coming up on the dragon's rear, hoping to surprise it as it held a screaming battlemage in its maw, and struck its spiked hind-leg.
But the blade bounced off, and did nothing but alert the beast to his presence. It swung its tail, catching Arvas by surprise as he was struck to the side and left rolling onto the hard paved ground. He coughed once again, wheezing from the impact as he shakily got on his knees and planted a palm onto his left ribs. A rush of wind blew against him, and the dragon roared as it took off from the ground, not giving the men another chance at striking it. Arvas watched it, seething and cursing it as it burned and killed in its path. Every time he heard it roar, he could not help but imagine it burning the soldiers in the streets and the villagers in their homes, and so he closed his eyes to shake the images away. Not soon after, a horn blared twice in the distance, followed by a pause and then a third. Retreat.
A meteor struck the ground before him and he scrambled towards the wall, seeking shelter from the hell in the sky. The surviving soldiers and mages that were left in the courtyard began to retreat into the keep, and Arvas tried to do the same. But pain flared in his leg which made him stumble, and fall onto the ground, with only his arms saving him from smashing his head onto a piece of rubble. He heard someone approach him from behind, and suddenly his arm was taken and placed onto an armored shoulder, supporting Arvas as he was taken away. He groaned and limped as far and fast as he could, momentarily closing his eyes as the destruction around him was became too much to bear.
It seemed to have been an eternity, when everything was suddenly shut, or rather, muffled, as the brightness under his eyelids dimmed. He groaned again as he was taken deeper and he was seated on a whining chair. "I need a healer!" Arvas heard, a familiar voice which made him open his eyes. Hadvar was crouched beside him, dirty with soot and ash, as his helmet was missing. Another man, a battlemage, approached them and inspected him.
"Ribs and leg!" Arvas gasped out when the mage pressed his side with a hand, feeling an intense spike of pain. They could've been on the verge of being broken, but soon enough brightness appeared from the mage's hands and Arvas sighed as warmness filled him, relieving the pain. He'd grown to appreciate mages when they could turn life-threatening injuries and wounds into manageable ones, but there weren't that many to go around in the legions. A deep rumble came, and the dragon roared outside, bringing Arvas back to the present.
"Shut the gate!" Someone yelled, as more soldiers poured in from the courtyard and a thunder started outside. Flames ripped through a trio of men just as they crossed the gap between the closing the doors. Arvas could only watch as the Restoration spell held him down while Hadvar helped the others barricade the gate with a large and thick wooden plank. The burning men made it inside were screaming, flailing their arms and dropping onto the floor as the fires roared about them. Some of the soldiers started to suffocate them with rags, capes and furs, and Arvas cursed the fact that he was stuck.
The smell of burned skin filled the room, further souring their situation. Not soon after, a tremor rocked the keep, and the dragon kept roaring outside. Arvas looked upwards towards the arched ceiling, seeing the dust fall and fearing that the creature might bring the keep down on them.
"We have to leave," He heard Hadvar say, turning to the other legionaries huddled nearby, "General Tullius gave the order to retreat."
"And how in Oblivion can we do that?!" one of the legionaries near the reinforced door asked.
"There are emergency tunnels below the fort." A second mage spoke as he attended the burned man, and Arvas noticed that from the near dozen that battled the dragon, only two survived. "We can evacuate through them, but I can't guarantee that they're safe."
"We'll have to take it." Hadvar spoke, before another muffled roar appeared and a smaller tremor was felt, enough to once again shake the dust and grains from the ceiling. Arvas looked around, counting the men they had available to make their way through these tunnels the mage had mentioned. Some of them were wounded, burned so that their skin was either reddened, or with a black crust. They were being tended to by the second battlemage, but Arvas knew they were hardly healers. The extent of those wounds were far too grave to be able to heal by magic in a short amount of time, and he thanked Akatosh to the fact that the worst he'd get was harsh bruising and broken but mended ribs.
The light stopped shining from the mages hands, and Arvas brought a hand up to prod his ribs, feeling only a slight discomfort. He breathed deep, before he stood and put pressure on his leg, not feeling any of the pain he felt earlier outside. "I'm good to go, but what about them?" He spoke, nodding towards the wounded that had been set down near the entrance.
"I'll help where I can, but my abilities in Restoration can only go so far." The mage that tended him spoke, dreadfully confirming Arvas's suspicions.
"See what you can do, and tell your friend we'll need him ahead." When he finished, Arvas walked over to huddled legionaries. They were two dozen strong at best, if one counted the walking wounded, and Arvas feared the fate of those that fought the dragon. General Tullius had a small mobile force of two hundred and forty horsemen, which augmented the garrison in the fort which numbered close to a hundred and fifty. He can only hope that they managed to escape the beast and flee into the woods.
"Do you think the prisoners escaped?" A Breton legionary asked with a shaking tone.
"I don't think so. I hope the dragon took them to Oblivion." Another legionary, this one an Imperial, said.
"I have a plan." Arvas cut in, catching the attention of the legionaries. He didn't exactly have a plan, and he hadn't asked the others for any opinions, but he was still going for it nonetheless. "We'll go through these tunnels and I'm going to need able-bodied men to be the vanguard. Those that are injured will carry with the wounded and protect them."
"Are we expecting trouble down there?" the Imperial asked, and Hadvar came up from Arvas's side.
"We don't know if the tunnels are safe, but it's a whole lot better than going out there now." He said, and to make Hadvar's point clearer, the ground and keep shook, with the dragon's roar muffled by the stone.
"This way." Arvas heard behind him, making him turn to watch as the mage delved deeper into the keep. He followed, walking behind the robed man when they arrived at a wooden door in the main hall. "This door leads downstairs and into the dungeons. We'll find the tunnel there."
"Right, I'll tell the others. Hopefully there are others down there that can help us."
"Carolus will, although he isn't the kind of person that will be enthusiastic about it."
"Well, he can walk out and nicely ask the dragon to let us leave through the fort's main gate then." Arvas responded as he left the mage, turning towards the men that were being prepared for combat. He nodded towards them, who responded in turn, and then a distant roar could be heard outside. The men unsheathed their swords and replaced their helmets on their heads, which made Arvas remember something. He'd lost his sword.
That's when he noticed the weapon racks at the walls, bereft of any weaponry. Swords, spears, javelins and some of the shields were gone, which was strange, as the keep always kept a reserve in case the garrison needed to conscript the villagers or resupply passing legions. It was by luck that he'd found a sword that hadn't been taken, and once he had picked a shield, he set out with the others to rejoin the mage.
They regrouped in front of the door, where the mage opened the door, revealing a flight of stairs that led downwards. He went in first, while Arvas and the rest followed behind him closely. As they treaded down the flight of stairs, and Arvas could see the damage in the ceiling above. The keep cannot hold, and he could hear the dragon tearing its way into the castle. The steps soon ended in a ruined hallway that continued onwards to a dead end with a door. The arched ceiling had collapsed in a few places, leaving rubble, rock and dirt in the ground beneath it. They followed the mage, passing by doorways that looked like storage rooms meant for a siege, until they'd reached the wooden door at the end of the hallway.
The battlemage strode ahead towards it. "This is the way to the dungeons, Carolus will…" he stopped, before continuing, "The lock's broken."
Arvas approached and indeed someone had hacked their way in. He looked once at the mage, and then at the others, before crouching and peering through the splintered wood. There, on the stone floor, were the corpses of two Imperials that lay on a pool of their own blood. Arvas stood and backed away, realization dawning on him. The prisoners escaped through the keep!
"I have two dead Imperials inside." He announced in a hushed tone, turning towards them signaling them to form up to breach. Thankfully, every legionary in the Empire received similar training drills, as the men that were part of both the garrison and General Tullius's force positioned themselves in a file with shields and swords at the ready. Arvas stood as the first one in the file, ready to breach, where he nodded towards the mage. The robed man pushed open the door before kicking stepping out of the way as they charged in.
They were waiting for them on the other side. The men and women that hugged the walls shouted battle cries as they charged towards them while the legionaries repositioned to create a defensive line around the entrance, according to their training. His shield was kicked, forcing him to kneel before bashing forward and stabbed the offending Nord in the gut, but another took his place, forcing him to get back to the line.
The men shouted and traded blows, and soon enough, the traitors started to rout against the disciplined men of the Legion. Arvas saw as they broke off and retreated into the doorway that led to the dungeons, an escape for them and a dead end for the Stormcloaks. This was their moment, he couldn't let them get away.
"Advance, find Ulfric!" he ordered, rushing ahead towards the dungeons. He heard the footsteps of the men behind him, encouraging his bold move as he passed the doorway and entered the dark hallway. The hallway contained cells on each side and it ended about a yard away, opening up to another room where he heard metal clattering on the ground. He walked then, looking back once to ensure that the men were still with him, but as soon as he neared the end of the hallway, he heard more battle cries.
Battle cries from the cells.
"Ambush!" Someone yelled, and Arvas witnessed the Stormcloaks appearing from the shadows of the cells and striking their thin line from both sides. A Nord, bigger than anyone he'd ever seen, appeared from one of the cells closest to him with a battle axe that swung to the side. His shield barely caught the blow as he staggered backwards and his back struck the wall. The Nord was preparing himself for another swing, when a blade pierced his side and the thickly bearded man kneeled as he howled in pain. Arvas quickly kicked himself off the wall and pierced the man's throat with the tip of his blade, causing a rush of blood to pour out of the Nord's mouth.
He extracted his sword, leaving the Nord to slump on the ground and bleed, before Arvas nodded to the man who saved him, who just happened to be Hadvar. He clasped his shoulder as he turned towards the others, but they'd been cut off. He stepped forward, hoping to surprise the Stormcloaks and attack their backs, but three of them had turned to face him and Hadvar. Just above their heads he could see his own men retreating with shouts and cries, driving him into despair.
"What-do-we-do?" Hadvar asked quickly, and Arvas paused for a moment, but he couldn't decide on anything when the three rebels charged ahead. He himself yelled, blocking one's strike with his shield before he deftly used the hilt of his sword to give a blow on the man's face, sending him backwards with a stagger. Another one, a woman, tried to pry his shield off while yelling obscenities at him, but Arvas merely pushed his shield forward and sent the woman sprawling on the stone floor, which left him with the man he'd punched earlier. He was attempting a high strike with his sword, which was blocked by a parry and Arvas used the open opportunity to slice his throat with a broad stroke.
The woman had carried herself away towards the others, leaving Arvas to deal with Hadvar's assailant, but it wasn't necessary as the rebel lay dead on the floor. He turned back towards the others, who'd in turn faced them. They had no chance to regroup with the others, which left him one choice.
"Fall back." Arvas said in-between frantic breaths, slowly stepping back as he held his battered shield and bloodied sword at the ready. Hadvar did the same, and as soon as they made it past the doorway and into a wide hallway, he shut the iron gate. The six men plus the woman charged, leaving Arvas to scramble for the slim plank that lay idle in a wall to bar the door against them. It seemed to have been made specifically for that purpose, as the metal hooks that protruded from the gate held the plank in place and stopped the Nords from bashing open the gate.
"There!" Hadvar shouted, and Arvas turned to see the far wall that had collapsed, revealing a passageway into a cave. "That must be the escape route the mage mentioned, let's go!"
Arvas stood for a moment, conflicted at the prospect of abandoning the men he'd briefly led, but as the Stormcloaks bashed and hacked at the wooden plank, he'd had no choice but follow Hadvar towards the cave. Shame and defeat followed in his wake.