14
Morndas, 15th of Frostfall, 4E 204
Hjaalmarch, Skyrim. 0830 hours.
Auxiliary Gannul Partus
Mist wafted over the ground near Fort Snowhawk. Auxiliary Gannul Partus didn't have to shield his eyes to keep watch on the wall. The sky was so cloudy that even now, at midday, the ambient vapor that was common in Hjaalmarch snaked over the swampy roots and stagnant ponds. Partus was atop one of the many squat turrets that lined the perimeter of the military stronghold.
The Imperial Legion had apparently seen the fort as a strategic place to watch over (or monitor) the nearby Hold capital of Hjaalmarch, which was Morthal. Partus shifted his weight against the battlements, gripping his imperial style bow loosely. The Legion had stationed thirty men at the fort, along with five Hjaalmarch guards who rotated shifts from the nearby guardhouse in Morthal. Partus was lucky (and skilled) enough to have been selected to train with The Vanguard, and had been stationed here along with two other Vanguard warriors.
It was his morning on guard duty, but after two weeks of staring out over the swamp, Partus had grown complacent. There was always the worry of a Stormcloak raid, but the remnant of Ulfric's army wouldn't dare attack a fort this size.
Besides, intelligence suggested that they had moved their camps farther away from Hold capitals, up into the mountain ranges. Another soldier, Vicarr, joined Partus up on his watch.
"How goes it, Partus?"
"Same as it's been," Partus replied. "I wish we had some action. I'd even take some bandits. Anything beats sitting around staring at fog."
"Yeah, I know. But this'll cheer you up! Old Rondes up on the main keep reckons he saw a chaurus yesterday!"
"A chaurus?" asked Partus incredulously. "What would a chaurus be doing around Morthal?"
"I dunno, but Rondes reported it to Praefect Andern, and she said we could look for sign of it later today. If we find any, she'll give us an order to hunt it! She has to. It's danger close to Morthal."
"I suppose so. I'd sure like to volunteer," said Partus, interested now.
"Of course you would, Gannul, you'd love to get some experience under your belt."
Partus scowled at Vicarr and retorted, "You're just jealous that I was selected for the Vanguard and you weren't. You're no veteran yourself."
Vicarr smirked and turned to go. Partus turned back to the wall. A gust of wind cooled his cheek. There was a thud behind him. Partus spun around to see Vicarr laying facedown, an arrow protruding from his back. Instincts took over, and the Auxiliary flattened himself on the battlements, already reaching for his horn. He blew a long blast that signaled an enemy attack.
He wondered why the other towers hadn't done the same, so he peeked over the stone to see the other sentries get the same treatment Vicarr had. They went down with almost no sound.
Partus crawled to Vicarr's prone form, repeating his alarm call. He heard Fort Snowhawk waking up. There was shouting, clanging, and jangling as the warriors struggled to put on their armor and weapons and run to the entryway. Partus turned over Vicarr so that he could see his face. It was pale, the eyes unseeing.
Cursing to himself, Partus ran back to the edge of the ramparts, nocking an arrow. What he saw in the swamps below almost made him tremble.
Men and women of various races were attacking Fort Snowhawk from the misty mires below. Partus saw that most were wearing dark robes, but there were also people with glazed looks in their eyes. One of the attackers gestured at a soldier behind the gate, and the poor man stiffened as a reddish mist of his life force was drawn towards the assailant.
Vampires. That's what they had to be. Partus loosed a few arrows at the creatures, managing to strike down two. Some of the vampires turned as invisible as the mist they were standing in and charged up the muddy hill.
Lightning and ice stuttered out of nowhere, and throats were slit by invisible blades. The spiky wooden barricades were being splintered by thralls, but the legionnaires dispatched them quickly.
Partus was taking aim at yet another vampire when a bolt of lightning hit his bow and snapped it in two. He fell back, feeling his singed face. The trapdoor to his tower burst open, and half a dozen archers ran to reinforce his position. Just then, a huge fireball exploded upon a tower on the other side, showering the men with rock fragments. A legionnaire toppled off the parapet, clutching what remained of his chest.
Partus descended his tower and fenced with an Orc thrall, allowing the green- skinned female to batter his guard before splintering her ribcage with his axe. A vampire ran at him with fangs extended and orange eyes glowing. Partus beheaded her in the nick of time.
Praefect Andern ran by, shouting orders to the men stationed on the walls. A frostbite spider leapt at her, poison dripping from its maw, and she fell with it on top of her.
Partus sunk his axe into the spider's fat abdomen, and the Praefect stuck her imperial blade up through its fangs. Partus pushed the corpse of her and helped his superior up.
"What in Oblivion are spiders doing here?!" Partus shouted.
"No idea, soldier. Just kill them all!" Andern headed for a nearby group of combatants. She flew to the ground for the second time after multiple ice spikes pierced her armor.
A thrall brought a mace down, but Andern held up an arm to block it. Partus could hear the bone shatter from where he stood. He sprinted for the injured Praefect, chopping the legs out from under a furious vampire on his way.
As the thrall raised its mace again for the killing blow, Partus barreled into it, knocking them both to the muddy ground. With a few blows, the warrior finished off the mindless slave. An ice spike sunk into the soft mud beside him.
Partus rolled away, hearing the hissing of more of the cold projectiles. He stood to see a powerful looking vampire advancing on him and Praefect Andern's bloody form. There was no choice. Partus had to protect her.
He and the master vampire circled one another. Andern moaned in the background. The vampire shot a miniature blizzard from its hands, which Partus dodged.
Immediately the undead woman extended her hand, calling forth dark magic. A reddish haze exited Partus' chest and was absorbed by the foul vampire. He staggered forward, suddenly feeling very tired… A savage roar burst from Partus' mouth, and he swung his axe, maiming the vampire's hand and ending her spell.
She bent over, cradling her fist, but Partus wasn't done. He swept the spike that adorned the back of his Nordic Axe into the bitch's stomach and raised it high as she stumbled back. Suddenly, lightning blasted from her good hand and Partus fetched up against the corner of the keep. His axe was gone. The woman bared her fangs at him as she approached.
Arrows hit the master vampire, finally ending her. A trio of Hjaalmarch guards rushed over and hoisted Partus up by his arms. "Get the Legate to safety!" Partus yelled at the Nords.
They nodded and let him stand on his own. He grabbed the mace that the thrall had dropped and covered the guards as they dragged Andern up two flights of stairs, where they lay her on the wall. "Medic! I need a medic!" Partus screamed.
One of the guards was dragged screaming from the wall by a gigantic Frostbite Spider, while another was engulfed by a torrent of fire from a pyromancer. Partus dashed forward and swept his mace upwards into the man's chin, killing him instantly.
He noticed that the dead pyromancer was not a vampire. What in Oblivion is going on here? Why are the vampires fighting alongside animals and uninfected mages?
He saw Fort Snowhawk's medic coming across the wall with magic exploding all around him. An ice spike shattered inches from his leg and a lightning bolt sent hot shrapnel into the back of his armor.
He slid to a stop next to Partus and the Legate, who was now breathing shallowly, her blood staining the rock beneath her. The medic instructed Partus to yank out the melting ice spikes, warning him that they would lower her body temperature and inflict frostbite on her body the longer they stayed in. Partus did so, wincing at the spray of blood that came with them.
The medic took out linen wraps to use as bandages, and his hands lit up with a golden glow. "Keep pressure on those wounds!" He ordered Partus, who pressed down on two of the three injuries with his hands. He could feel hot flesh squash against his hands.
Legate Andern gripped his forearm weakly and coughed blood in his face. He could tell that she didn't know what was happening. The golden glow intensified and Andern's wounds closed slightly. Partus took the linen wrap offered to him and bandaged up Andern's wounds as best he could through her armor.
"It's no good, she's lost too much blood!" said the healer frantically.
"Let's move her into the keep! We should fall back anyway," motioning to the Hjaalmarch guard, Partus ordered, "C'mon, we have to go! Into the keep!" The Nord grunted and picked up Legate Andern, who was much lighter now that her armor was mostly gone.
A hissing behind Partus made him spin. The huge Frostbite Spider was back, its fangs red with blood. It was perched on the outer wall with its forelegs raised aggressively.
With a roar, Partus smashed his iron mace into its fangs. It toppled backwards with a ghastly shriek of pain, grazing him with its barbed legs. He turned back to his comrades in time to see the medic being pressed back by a skeleton, another vampiric pet. Partus' mace hit it in the hip, which shattered.
The skeleton fell to its knees undaunted. Its ancient battleaxe didn't penetrate his souped- up Vanguard armor and he dispatched it with a kick to the head. The blue light faded from its eyes and its old bones rolled across the mud.
The medic had run off somewhere, yet the guardsman waited for him to lead the way to the keep, Andern slung across his back. They started across the grounds, avoiding the skirmishes and rabid animals. Auxiliary Gannul Partus didn't like what he saw.
Imperial soldiers lay in stiff death all around. Burns attested to the vampires' magic, while others had been ripped apart by animals. Partus saw old Rondes being devoured by a chaurus, perhaps the same one he'd seen the previous day.
It looked like there were only about a dozen legionnaires still fighting. Partus swallowed his fear. Fort Snowhawk would not be taken while he still lived. He and his comrades would fight. To their last breath, if need be.
They carried Andern up stone stairs slick with blood to the roof of the keep. Only the circular tower next to them on the roof was taller. They lay Andern down in some sort of decorative construct with little cover. It was essentially a skeletal tower with almost no walls.
Andern's gaze was distant now, but her chest still rose and fell with an unsteady cadence. Partus looked over the battlefield to see a pyromancer cradling a fireball in his painted hands. He was looking directly at the Auxiliary. Mammoth shit! He thought. The mage released the fireball. Partus leapt off the keep.
His arms and legs churned in midair. The explosive projectile passed inches under his feet to hit the edge of the roof, where it detonated. A red- hot fist smacked Partus farther than he had intended to go. It also relieved him of his breath.
He fell, smoking, into the back wall of the fort. Ribs cracked as he hit the edge, vainly grasping at the cobblestone to stay on. It was no good. He was too weak to get a grip without air in his lungs. He let go of the ledge.
It was well he did, for seconds after he landed, another fireball shot over his head and blew a crater into the wall. Partus got to his feet, swaying. The pyromancer, now livid at having missed all his shots, was standing on the other side of the courtyard, his clenched fists alive with embers. He put them together and a fat fireball filled the space. Partus saw movement above the mage and stared as the odd tower wobbled unsteadily.
The explosion had destroyed some of its base and made it unstable. Slowly, with pebbles raining on the courtyard like a hail storm, it and a large portion of the keep's roof leaned away from the rest of the building.
The mage must have seen something in Partus' eyes, for he started to turn as the tower came down on his head. There was a tremendous sound, like a mountain avalanche. Partus shut his eyes and covered his head.
When he opened them, gray dust drifted aimlessly in the air. Partus walked to one of the doors to the keep. He entered, feeling numb. He couldn't hear anything besides the roar of blood in his ears.
Thump, thump.
Past wounded men bleeding out on the stone floor.
Thump, thump.
Upstairs. Glimpses of a losing battle through arrow slits that were no longer occupied by archers.
Thump, thump.
Gannul Partus' mind just couldn't conceive how their base had fallen. Easily… Too easily. They were the soldiers of the Imperial Legion. Why was a bastard army of vampires, humans, and animals even possible? And why was it attacking them? No… The Fort had not fallen. Yet.
He crawled up the trapdoor to the roof. He was now at the highest point in Fort Snowhawk. Four archers were hastily firing at targets below. Even as Partus was grabbing a bow from a fallen warrior, one of the survivors was hit with magic and toppled off the keep, his cuirass melted and his torso turned to ash.
Partus loosed arrows as fast as he could, bringing down multiple enemies. A Morthal guard next to him took an arrow to the knee and fell backward, muttering something like, "Not again!" The soldiers knew as well as Partus that they couldn't help him. They had to fend off the attackers first and help the man afterwards.
More enemies fell to the archers' well placed shafts. Explosions blasted open a door on the first floor. Chaurus, vampires, giant spiders, mages, and thralls flooded through. Partus could already hear the screams of the defenseless, injured men downstairs. Partus and the surviving warriors looked at each other in horror.
Before they could decide to go and help, the trapdoor flew open and legionnaires clambered up. All of them were wounded, and most were helping a critically injured warrior. Only six legionnaires were battle- ready, and another five wounded had managed to escape the horrors below. The men closed the trapdoor just as the intruders reached the ladder.
With a small glimmer of hope, Partus noticed another set of elite armor like his; At least one other member of the Vanguard was still alive in Fort Snowhawk. The men nodded to each other, then jumped when the door detonated skyward in an orange inferno. Partus readied himself for a last stand.
He picked up a stray sword from the roof and readied it. He didn't have to wait long. Mages poked their heads up from holes in the roof and took potshots at the desperate soldiers, while frostbite spiders and chaurus climbed up the sides of the keep. Partus let a chaurus lunge and impale itself on his sword. Poisonous saliva foamed from its mouth as it struggled to bite him.
He kicked it away and turned to knock a vampire away from sinking its fangs into a comrade's neck. It hissed and directed a thrall to attack him. The mindless Nord met his end under multiple slashes from Partus' blade.
Blood flecks speckled Auxiliary Partus' face, and his teeth were bared in defiance of the forces that had come to claim him, that had come to claim them all.
The legionnaire Partus had just saved collapsed under the weight of a pack of writhing skeevers. Other warriors were being torched, stabbed, or bitten by the multitude of enemies that surrounded them. Partus dispatched a vampire with a brutal thrust and rolled away as blasts of lightning engulf half of the remaining legionnaires. Bodies went flying, sparks still dancing over their grimacing faces.
On the edge of the roof, a horrifying figure stood. No, not stood, floated, using magic more than the stubby wings affixed to its back. The skin was a sickly green, and it was taller than any mortal Partus had ever seen. Muscular limbs ended in clawed hands and feet, and on its back was some kind of cape.
Smoldering eyes stared out from under a cruel brow, and pointed canines as long as Partus' finger dripped blood at its mouth. A reeking stench blew forth, beaten by its wings. It was something Partus had only heard of in tales and rumors murmured by passing Dawnguard: a vampire lord!
The beast eyed the men cowering before it before raising its claws and unleashing a lightning storm. Bolts of pure blue electricity erupted into the defenders. The effect was instantaneous.
Some men stiffened and died on the spot, their hearts stopped by thousands of volts. Others thrashed about, screaming as their bodies seared and turned to ash inside scorched armor. Throughout it all, the same intense look remained on the vampire lord's face.
Finally it lowered its arms. There were three defenders still alive amidst the piles of cinders and metal. Partus, the other Vanguard trooper, and a pale- faced legionnaire all stared in horror at the monster before them.
The legionnaire turned and ran for the edge of the roof, either hoping to escape or end his own life. The vampire extended clenched fist, and just as the cowardly soldier leapt, he was jerked backwards across the roof. He screamed as fangs tore into his throat, ripping it out in a spray of red. The vampire dropped him and turned to the Vanguard. Partus and the other soldier exchanged a grim glance. Together, they charged.
Partus' legs churned, bringing him closer to the monster. By his side, his comrade bellowed a war cry, his sword held in front of him. The monster watched them come arrogantly. It opened its mouth and hissed.
"Fus…"
They raised their blades to strike.
"Ro Dah!"
The Auxiliary felt something slam into him, blowing him off his feet. Over and over he rolled, losing his grip on his sword. Finally, the force lessened. His legs dropped into thin air. The roof! He had to grab hold, get a grip on it or he'd fall—!
With a thump, Partus' body hit the side of the keep. For the second time that day, he found himself dangling. Partus gritted his teeth and began to haul himself up, keeping one eye on the duel fifteen meters away.
The vampire lord was easily avoiding all of the warrior's strikes. Even as Partus watched, his friend's sword was yanked out of his grip, causing him to stumble.
The green brute then pried off his helm, casting it aside with a hollow clunk. The man struggled under its grasp, but it was simply too strong. It forced his mouth open and grasped his jaws with both claws.
Partus flinched as the vampire pulled in opposite directions. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling bile rise in his throat. He leaned over the side of the keep and vomited. When he straightened, the vampire lord was hovering in front of him, bloody hands at its sides. Its minions were behind it, eagerly watching.
Partus met its eyes, his gaze a mixture of defiance, grief, and fear. Slowly he unsheathed his knife, feeling its familiar weight in his hands. He was lifted into the air by a telekinetic grip, and struggled against the unseen force. The vampire considered Partus for a moment, as if choosing how to kill him. Then Partus went flying. Again.
He plummeted over Fort Snowhawk's walls, above the misty swamps. He rammed his knife back into its sheath and saw that he would land in a shallow pond. As he braced himself for the impact, his last thought was for the Imperial Legion. Who'll warn the Chief and General-? Then he hit the water, and everything went black.
Did Partus survive? What was the intention of the that captured Fort Snowhawk? Who was the vampire lord? All of this answered next time on Rising Darkness. Please review if you can :)