You know these author's notes are getting harder and harder to think of each time. Not pointing fingers at anyone for not reviewing at all...just saying.
In all honesty, I'd love to hear what you guys think: I'm happy to take anything on, if it'll make me better at writing.
On to the betas:
Thanks so much to The Stann, Golden Soldier and Lore-Master(Not his real user name, he's a little bit shy. Kind of like a little lost puppy. Who betas work. Now that is a picture I want to see!)
Okay my distraction aside, I do have an administrative note to touch on. (Haha to whose of you who thought this was all drivel. Only the majority is). I'm going in to my exams soon so writing is going to be harder. Don't get me wrong, this isn't an excuse, just a note.
Just remembered, for once I'm on time with my release.
"A siege is an act of war." Noam Chomsky
Chapter 12 – The Forsworn
Adrya
205 4th era.
Kharjo was the first to react. He leaped forward and struck the closest on the side of the head with his mace. There was a sickening crack and the savage flew a few strides before hitting the ground in a heap. Adrya quickly made a mental note to never get on Kharjo's bad side. The remaining Forsworns' charge didn't even falter: apparently watching a comrade being so efficiently and forcefully killed was nothing to them. Delphine and J'zargo were next to attack.
The khajiit spell caster quickly formed an ice spike in each hand, while the breton stepped forward and drew her blade in one fluid motion. By the time Kharjo had dropped back into a defensive stance, one savage was missing a head, while another had two icy holes in his chest. Adrya tried to pull against her restraints while her captors' focus was elsewhere, but she quickly discarded the idea when the binds didn't even move.
There was a moment of silence as the last four savages stopped mid stride. They quickly grouped together and two of them brought up hide shields. The other two were both equipped with bows, arrows knocked and half drawn. For a long few seconds there was an eerie calm as both sides stared at each other.
Suddenly, one of the savages threw down his sword and shield, to the exclamations of both his comrades and his enemies. At first Adrya though he was surrendering as began to walk forward towards the Blades, then…
"Look out he's got a knife!" She yelled when she saw his right hand twitch over flap of animal skins on his leg. The savage cast her a furious glare for being thwarted in his efforts, before drawing the dagger from his pocket. It looked like the same dagger the assassin had had: a stick with spikes. The wound on her arm stung slightly and the Forsworn dived at where she was sat.
In their haste to deal with the intruders, all five of the Blades had left her side and now the savage had a clear run to her. The world seemed to slow as his feet left the ground. The dagger was making its way steadily through the air, its owner clinging to it and adding his weight to its force. If he kept going it would pierce Adrya's chest just below her neck. A distant part of her mind knew that a wound like that would kill her in a matter of minutes, if not seconds. In pure panic she pulled as hard as she could against her binds, even though she knew it was useless.
She could see that Delphine was twisting to try and stop him, her entire contorting around her hip, her blade outstretched . But she would never make it, it was not possible.
In the corner of her eye she saw Esbern reaching with his right hand, a spell forming between his taught fingers. But he would never make it, it was not possible.
J'zargo's clawed hand was reaching out for the savage's leg, the tips of his fingers mere inches from the savage's hide boot. But he would never make it, it was not possible.
Kharjo's arm was twisting as he flung his dagger at the flying savage. But he would never make it, it was not possible.
Ghorbash's legs were bent at the knees as he prepared to dive and intercept the savage. But he would never make it, it was not possible.
There was no way out of the situation. Her mind reeled as it tried to find an answer, as the dagger came closer. There was nothing she could do. It was not for anyone. Not for a mortal.
One of the principles that had been ingrained in to her from years of training under the companions, was the ability to focus all her efforts and her entire mind on a single issue. It was not something anyone can learn, somehow though both Adrya and Colden had both been born with the ability to think at alarming speed during battle. Some called it 'Red-Mist' or 'Battle-Fury', but Adrya had always seen it as a result of years of brutal training. At the age of seven teen she had been able to boast of the ability to control her mind completely in the midst of battle and chaos. But she had never been more than any other warrior. She was not special. She didn't have gifts. She was just a mere mortal.
Deep, deep in the back of her mind Adrya heard a little whisper. 'But you're not a mere mortal any more, are you?' She knew that voice. That was the voice she had heard in High Hrothgar. That was the voice of her gifts. The voice of…
"FUS RO DAH!"
…The Thu'um.
The world returned back the way it should. The savage seemed to hang in mid-air for a moment before being flung in to the far wall, the wave of blue power left her mouth. The force of the shout banged her head into the back of her chair, making bright lights spark up for and instant at the edges of her vision. When he hit the wall; not much fell off. Every face, in unison, looked from Adrya to the blood splatter, then to Adrya again. The three remaining Forsworn all immediately decided that the outside of the cave was better than the inside. As they ran for their lives, Delphine shouted.
"J'zargo, Kharjo, with me. Ghorbash and Esbern, look after the … guest." She and the two khajiit then chased after the Forsworn through the corridor that they had just come from. As soon as they disappeared from view, the wave of thirst hit Adrya like a troll running into a tree: explosive and with a thousand shards.
She lurched forward, trying to grab her water skin, that was strapped round her chest, with her mouth. Her teeth glanced the edge but she lost hold of it before she could grip it tightly. Grey began to build up at the edge of her vision just as someone's hands wrapped round her water skin and the sides of her face. Her face was lifted skywards and there was a loud splash as the water was un-stoppered above her. Fortunately enough liquid managed to sliver down her burning throat to bring her back.
Her vision gradually swam back into focus and Adrya found herself face to face with her saviour. Looking down at her was the old man, Esbern. She saw that his wrinkled forehead was scrunched up in worry. As her sight returned she heard the sounds of battle: steel clashing and yells, which were dampened somewhat. His rough hand slid of the side of her face and her water skin was dropped back down to her chest.
"Are you okay now?" he asked, drying his hand on his robes. She had been expecting his voice to be more raspy. The man had to be at least seventy, the wrinkles lining his face showing that, but his voice was just…normal. Not in bad way, it was the kind of voice a grandfather would use to call his grandchildren with, the kind that calm a dispute between two warring brothers.
Adrya noticed that Ghorbash was stood by the door way that the others had just run down, peering down as a child who was separated from his friends would.
"Yeah, I'm fine now. Do you have some water I could fill my skin with?" Adrya said. Esbern nodded and walked to the long table behind Adrya. He picked up a ceramic jug and tested its weight before returning to Adrya. He picked up the water skin in his left hand and began pour the water in to it. He started to speak as he did, his calm voice trickling out like the water.
"This isn't the first time we've had some of those bandits attack us before. Those three will be back soon, don't you worry." Adrya got the feeling that the old man wasn't trying to reassure her.
Adrya tugged against the binds on her arms and found that they were no looser that before. Apparently the Thu'um had no applications when it came to releasing one's self from captivity.
"Could you release me from these?" She looked up at the old man as she spoke. He furrowed his brow slightly and paused. In the corner of her eye she saw Ghorbash walk away from the door way.
"I'm sorry but I couldn't allow that." He responded in his level and calm tone. Somehow she actually felt like she believed he was sincere.
"I just saved your lives, and you're still going to tie me up?"
"You saved yourself. And you did attack us first so you-."
"Help!" All three snapped up at the same time to see J'zargo stood in the door way. There was a thick red patch in the fur on the left side of his face. "There are more down there. More than even J'zargo could handle." Ghorbash moved to J'zargo side.
"How many are there? Fifthteen? Twenty?" Ghorbash asked as Esbern stoppered the skin and placed the jug back on the table.
"Many. Hundreds maybe. J'zargo is lucky to get away: Kharjo and Delphine are surrounded."
"I need to help." Ghorbash said looking to Esbern as the old man made his way to them.
Esbern shook his head, "No." He reached out with his hand to subdue Ghorbash' s ambitions.
"What?! Those are our friends and comrades out there. We need to help them." He moved towards the old man, towering over him. If Esbern was scared or intimidated, he didn't show it.
"With that injury, you'll help no one. Stay here, me and J'zargo will go fight them and try to get back those two stubborn fools back." Ghorbash tried to respond but the old man cut him short. "You need to wait here." With that, the nord turned and ran down the stairs, the khajiit close on his heels. There was a brief shout as they rounded the corner and disappeared from view.
'Hundreds. They don't stand a chance. Hundreds against four.' Even if those two managed, by some miracle, to get the others and get out. What then? Even the greatest fort will eventually fall as long as there are enough bodies to throw at it.
"Ghorbash?" The orc looked at her with irritation plain across his face.
"What do you want?"
"You need to set me free." The orc's face changed from irritated to indignant. He marched straight over to her chair and grabbed hold of her face with his good hand.
"No. I. Don't!" He spat the words straight in her face and pushed her head to the side savagely. Compared to Esbern, Ghorbash voice was like a blunt hammer: strong, but unrefined. The only use was to smash a problem with force until it was fixed or fixed itself.
He stormed off to the side the table and grabbed a goblet. He swallowed the contents in three gulps and sat down on top of the table, a pitcher falling over and smashing on the floor.
"You've seen what I can do. Release me and I can get the others back."
"They don't need help from a bitch like you."
Adrya gritted her teeth and tried to remain civil. Kicking and screaming would get her nowhere nearer to release. "If they fail, which is more than possible seeing as their outnumbered at least a hundred to one, we're both dead."
"I'm not letting you go, even if you are a Dragon Born. There's nothing left to do but drink my last drink." He grabbed a pitcher and poured the contents down his throat. His throat bobbed as he gulped it down.
Her temper snapped."Stop being so damn depressed!" She couldn't understand what was going through the orc's thick head. 'If he releases me then we have a better chance to survive.' But he was too damn stubborn. "Instead of brooding, cut me loose and you could live to see another drink."
"You broke my arm!" He yelled, his voice ringing throughout the hall as he stood tall, towering over her. Adrya was stunned. 'He's angry about that?' His voice lowered before he continued. "I was a smith and a soldier, I had a life and a purpose, but now I have nothing because of what you did. You need to learn that your actions have consequences."
"And you're going to do that by killing the both of us, let alone the others?!" The stubbornness and stupidity of this orc seemed endless.
"This isn't about me; this is about you and your damn brother thinking that nothing affects you!"
"What? How'd you know who my brother is?" Ghorbash froze. "How'd you know?"
"It's those weapons," he stammered, "they got the mark of Grey-Mane on them. And he said he had sister so I guessed."
"Whatever," she didn't care if he knew who she was, seeing as she might die if he continued as he did. "But if you don't let me go I can't show you that my brother and I are not as conceited as you think." Ghorbash began to retort, but then he stopped as though confused about what to say next. "Just let me go. Please."
The orc's face scrunched in thought before grunting and replying. "Fine." He picked a sword from the table and walked over. He sliced the binds on her arms and she stood up. He flipped the handle over and held out to her. "You'll need that, if you really want to commit suicide." She took it tentatively and nodded in appreciation.
She turned to the doorway and made a few steps forward. She swung the blade and found that, compared to what she was used to, it was surprisingly light and fast. And it was curved at the end, potentially giving it more cutting ability. When she reached the door way, she paused, looked over her shoulder at Ghorbash as he dropped back on to the table with a pitcher in his good hand, gripped the handle of her new blade tightly and ran down in to the battle.
As she descended the stairs the sounds of the battle became louder and louder until she rounded the corner and came face to face with the army. Maybe army wasn't the right description. Swarm: that's better.
The swarm of savages had to be at least two hundred strong. Maybe even three hundred. She could see, several metres away, was the four Blades. They were close together and were facing out, each fighting off several opponents at once, each covered in blood. Delphine was wielding her sword with deadly precision: each slash decapitating a savage or slicing off a limb. Esbern was fighting beside a huge giant made out of ice, which Adrya assumed was his atronach. The icy beast was crushing savage after savage, while the old man slashed at any one who got past, with a spectral sword. J'zargo was blasting bolts of lightning and fire indiscriminately into the swarm, while Kharjo caved in the head of anyone who stupidly came too close.
But for every one they slashed, crushed or burnt, even more stepped into their place. There were piles of bodies and limbs, but they looked like nothing compared to the masses surrounding them. They hadn't even made a dent, and they looked like they were wearing out. It wouldn't be long before J'zargo or Esbern ran out of magic and potions, allowing for the forsworn to easily take them down, leaving only two close range melee warriors.
But the savages hadn't spotted her yet, giving her an immediate advantage. She took her time and drew in a huge breath. She had to make this count. Her lungs filled with air, and she could feel its power bubbling inside her. This had to make an impact otherwise they were all dead. She leant back and as she did, a savage turned round saw her. He raised his dirt covered arm and made a shout at her. As more turned to see what he was pointing at, she Shouted.
"FUS RO DAH!"
Somehow this shout seemed so much more powerful than before. Instead of throwing one or two out of the way, it was if she had grabbed the closest ten savages with a huge hand and used them to drive through the rest. She watched in a mixture of awe and fear, as a huge path was carved through the swarm: at least seventy Forsworn were thrown out of the way and more were pushed down. As the Thu'um had left her mouth, she had been forced back, but instinctively she had reached for the side of the wall and her water skin. She drained it as fast as she could before her throat burnt up.
There was a resounding silence over the mass as the sound of her shout echoed into nothingness. Even the atronach had stopped still and was looking to where she was leaning against the wall. Just as she regained her breath, the Blades chose to begin their counter attack.
She rose to her feet as two savages ran towards her. She grabbed the handle of her sword with both hands and swung sideways at the closest's neck. The savage brought up her misshapen sword to block it. Adrya readied her herself for the lock, already leaning forwards, but instead the blade continued straight through the sword as if it wasn't there. Adrya grinned. 'I like this sword.'
The sword swung straight into the Forsworn's neck and came out the other side without slowing down. A huge spurt of blood shot out of the savage's now open neck, as Adrya's blade kept going. She hadn't been expecting this. The blade was so much lighter than her axe, much lighter than she had thought: meaning it kept sailing until clanged against to opposite wall.
The next savage was getting close, so she let go of the sword with her left hand thrust the point at the oncoming Forsworn. He pushed it aside with his blade and stepped forward. Straight in to Adrya's left hand. She grabbed his face and pushed forward, while hooking behind his legs with the back of her sword. As soon as he hit the floor, her blade cut through his neck and severed his throat.
She looked up just as another stepped forward to face her. The other savage's were either in fear of her or her opponent, because they had all collectively stepped back at least a few strides. Her opponent seemed to be of a different class to the others. He had an actual sword made out of steel, even though it was way too big to be a one handed weapon, in his left hand, while a icicle floated in his right hand. He was a behemoth of a man and she could see many tattoo's of monsters and beasts slithering their ways up his arms and across his bare torso. He opened his mouth and let out a roar, that seemed to strike deep in her chest, sparking a deep dread, and not just because she could see the stump were his tongue should be. His eyes seemed as dark as the deepest depths of death.
They started to pace around each other. Adrya could see he knew how to fight, by the way he walked: cautious but assertive. Just as the roar's effects began to wash away, the behemoth flicked his right hand and an ice spike shot out at a frightening speed straight at her. She jumped to the side, but somehow the savage had managed to move his huge body at such speed that he seemed to appear next to her. His sword swung at startling speed, straight at her head and Adrya barely managed to roll out of the way. She bolted to her feet and brought up her sword just in time for the savage's blade to smash into it. Her mind span furiously looking for a solution, an idea.
There was no way this savage could move at the speed he had. She may only be a warrior but she knew enough to know that he should not be able to move as fast as he did. There was something deeply wrong about the savage, and Adrya got the sense that it emanated from his eyes.
Her sword began to bend at an alarming rate so she leant back and lowered her blade so his sword sailed harmlessly past her. As his arm over extended, Adrya slashed across his open shoulder. A deep gash opened up along his bicep and blood began to spill out, but if the savage felt it he gave no indication. He didn't even roar like he had before, or lash out with more ferocity. He just stepped back and brought up his sword and spell hand.
This time it was Adrya's turn to strike first. She jumped forward and slashed down on his right side with both hands. He brought up his sword to defend, but, as she has predicted, his arm moved slower than before. Just before her blade was about to make contact with his, she switched and twisted the blade in her wrist so it was behind his blade and swinging for his wrist. He tried to pull away but it was too late when her blade dug into his flesh. She pushed through and the sword came out the other side, as his blade and his left hand fell to the floor.
Blood began to gush out of the wound as he stepped back. Some of the warm crimson liquid sprayed on to Adrya's face and in her hair. Deep inside she felt like retching, but right now she had to keep fighting if she wanted to keep living. The savage staggered back and grabbed his stump with his other hand. He looked up at her with numb shock as her blade slid in to his heart. She pulled out the sword and he fell backwards to the floor, dead.
She didn't even have one moment to breathe before the rest simply surged towards her. She brought up her blade and prepared herself to face the onslaught.
They never made it.
The first twenty seemed to fall to the floor one after the other, for no next line hesitated burt they all fell as well. Then Adrya saw it. Him. She saw him. Stood at least fifty metres away on top of the chest was a man dressed completely in dark grey, with a black cloak that fell to his ankles, holding up a bow. All the dead savages were littered with black feathered ebony arrows. As she watched more and more fell. Slowly a huge dent was forming in the swarm and Adrya was able to run to where the blades were.
When she arrived, all the savages were charging at the archer. Delphine was ordering J'zargo and Esbern to carry Kharjo back up when she saw Adrya.
"I assume that Ghorbash let you free, otherwise you shouldn't be so willing to get in my range." She said. She looked up at what remained of the swarm. It looked as if only fifty remained, majority of which were trying to escape. The other three Blades ran past Delphine and Adrya to the entrance back up.
"Do you know who that is?" Adrya asked.
Delphine raised her hand to her temples and began to massage them. She sighed. "Yes."
"Is he not on our side?" She tightened her grip on her sword, her head tilting to the side, ready to face another opponent even through the fatigue.
"No, nothing like that. I'm just worried about how much he's going to gloat about this."
"What?" But Delphine didn't respond. They waited until the rest of the savages either had escaped or were dead and then watched as the man stepped down from the chest and began to stroll towards them. As he came he swung his bow over his shoulder and pulled down the hood over his head. He also pulled a metallic mask off his face and Adrya could more easily see that he was an argonian. He had black scales with black irises. There was a red line that slithered across his snout, it looked like snake.
When he arrived at the two woman, he spoke with a slurred accent that she had always associated with his kind, but somehow it was different, more refined. "You can thank me later, Delphine. But first could you introduce me to this lovely lady?" He grinned showing his sharp teeth. The snake contorted and twisted.
"This is…" Delphine stopped. She turned to look at Adrya, her brows furrowed. "Who are you?"
"I'm Adrya Darkenstone," she responded. Both simultaneously sighed in understanding.
The argonian was the one to speak. "That makes me your uncle, Tio Darkenstone. Pleased to meet you and you know your hair is much…redder than your mother said." He tilted his head to the side. "No, wait, that's just blood."
