To simonstormcloak: Don't worry, Galmar really was just going to sleep. He's not dying right now. To BDLG: Yay! I'm glad you liked Galmar's POV, it was actually a bit challenging to write due to writing someone with a completely different mind (okay, maybe now completely different). To hylian: Thanks! I'm glad you like this chapter, and the story! To echo: Thanks, it really means a lot to me! I'm not completely sure how many chapters there are going to be, but I'm hoping for somewhere between forty and fifty.
Commander Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm
I sit down near a campfire somewhat close to my tent. The cold breeze that sometimes accompanies the evening has decided to be present tonight, and I shiver as the wind flows past me, rustling my robes and making the slightest howling sound, similar to that of quiet wolf.
The fire quickly restores warmth throughout my body. Three other Stormcloaks are gathered around it, and give me brief greetings such as "Aye, Commander Stormcloak" when I sit down on the small, sideways oak log that serves as a seat. They seem to be staring down the soup that's cooking eagerly. Next to the campfire are a variety of vegetables, and I don't want to know where the men got them from. Many are diced up, such as some leek, while a few non-vegetable ingredients are boiling in the pot. Above it, a chop of venison is roasting, and the pink hue of the meat is starting to become replaced with a more reddish color, signaling it is almost done.
"Men, where did you get all these ingredients from? I know the rations aren't this large."
A young man, with just a bit of a brown beard emerging from what used to be stubble, sitting on another oak log, to the my adjacent left side, quickly replies- "We combined our rations."
Although I also don't remember giving out ingredients for soup as rations, I can see these men are a bit skinnier then they ought to be. So I go along with it, tell them to chow down, and then I get up. Come to think of it, I'm not sure why I ever sat down in the first place. Was it the smell of the stew cooking? The protection from the wind?
My sword rests in its leather sheath at my right hip as I go to grab my dinner. I try to eat the same amount and kinds of food that my men eat, so that I know how they're probably holding up. I see the disappearing sun on the horizon, getting ready to gather up its energy for the next day. At least, that's what I've always believed. Some say that when it's night here in Tamriel, it's morning on the continent of Akavir. But how could that be? There would have to be two suns for that to be possible, and Nirn, of course, only has one sun. Maybe it's some illogical mystery that's true- weird things always seem to come from Akavir- but it's probably just a falsity spoken by bored travelers looking for a story to tell.
My tent, also known as the Command Tent due to its other use as a strategy-planner-thing, invites me in with a flap blown partially open by the wind. Inside, my dinner, some preserved beef and half a loaf of bread, along with a set of flint and steel rest on the table where a large map of Skyrim also rests. As I pick up the food and flint & steel, and walk back outside of my tent, I look at the sky again. The sun has dipped down further into the sky since the last time I saw it. I see my own little campfire, unlit, a ways from my tent, so as not to catch fire to it. Branches from trees surrounded by damp grass and collected stones. A small pot rests overhead, on those things you use to hold pots over campfires- I never could remember what they were called. I approach the future fire, lay my lunch aside on a nearby stump of a tree, and strike the steel against the flint a few times over the branches. After a minute or two, my efforts pay off. A spark flies from the flint and steel, landing in the mass of branches, and the fire starts. After a minute or two, the fire is large enough for me to cook the beef over.
I quickly set the beef in the pot, and take my half-loaf of bread. I sit down, and start to munch on it. I wonder about my scout that I sent out. I sent him out two days ago to try and find a hidden entrance to Markarth from outside the walls. He still hasn't returned, and I'm starting to get a bit worried, though I'd rather find out he was dead than have no news at all. Then, at least, I could send in another scout.
The bread is a bit stale, due to me leaving it exposed to air for a while. It's crunchy, but I don't really notice. When I'm done with my bread, I check on the beef. There's still a while to go on that. So I stand up, looking off in the distance, clinging to a slight hope I might see the scout again. I have no such luck. All I see through the darkness that's starting to spread throughout the air are the walls of Markarth, which are giant, even from here, the mountains around the city, and a few clusters of trees dotting the landscape.
The scout was also supposed to report how the blockade was going. This information was vital; I want to attack soon, but I won't feel safe doing so unless I know my… er, Tymvir's plan works. My memory can be a bit shabby sometimes.
After a few minutes contemplating various scenarios involving the scout and the future battle itself, I realize my beef is done. I realize I forgot to bring anything to take out the meat. Instead, I just stick my hands in there and grab the beef as quick as possible. The searing heat causes me to drop the beef out of shock, but not before I can quickly whirl around. Luckily, it lands on the stump, so I still consider it okay to eat.
I pick up the beef, and begin to slowly eat it. It's not a very large piece of meat, and not extremely juicy, but hey, I'm in war after all, what should I expect? Luxury?
I nearly jump off of the stump when I suddenly hear shouts of "Commander Stormcloak! Commander Stormcloak!" I look at the shouter, and a realization strikes me- it's the scout! I recognize his short, black hair along with his hazel, excited eyes. I put down my half-eaten beef on a relatively smooth part of the stump, and meet up with the scout, a few yards from my campfire. I notice it is night by now; the moon is rising, but still very low in the sky.
"What's the news?" I ask.
"The blockade's going well, sir, I saw the army wasn't doing as well as they normally do. There have been strikes in the city, though, Commander- and not just in the army. People all over town are quitting their jobs, and most of the vendors in town have been murdered and their food stolen.
I also found a secret tunnel, just as you asked me to find! On the other side of Markarth, I saw a bunch of trees- sort of like a miniature forest. Right in the middle is a tiny clearing, and there's a tunnel that leads right into Understone Keep! Even though I couldn't quite locate where they keep their arsenal of weapons, if we can take Understone Keep, we'll have a great spot to defend from any guards or soldiers that try to take it back."
"Thank you. I'll need you to gather up a few warriors- I'll write down their names and the location of their tents here in just a second, and tell them to meet me back here at dawn. " I jot down some names on a slip of paper I had in my pocket, then hand the paper to him.
"Yes, sir!" The scout says, and runs off.
These warriors I speak of are some of the stealthiest Stormcloaks I know. These are- Solding Grim-Blood, a soldier that proved himself at Whiterun for his stealth in assassinating guards before the battle started, and killing the Housecarl near the end of the battle- I remember she was a dark elf, and her name was Irileth, I think. Second is a man named Aenar Gold-Steel. He was another of our assassins near the beginning of the Battle for Whiterun. The last man is a man who calls himself Hodlin of Bruma, but most of us just call him Bruma, including me.
I walk back to the stump and grab the beef again. I start to eat it, and walk back to my tent as I do. I don't worry about the campfire; although it's still going, it's bound to burn itself out all on its own.
By the time I'm back at my tent, I have finished the beef. I am inexplicably tired, so I crawl into my bedroll, without bothering to slip out of my clothes, and drift off to sleep.
The next day I wake to the sound of chattering voices outside of my tent. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes, and stretch a bit before getting out of my bedroll. The first thing I notice is that it's chilly outside- I can feel the coolness inside my tent, so I quickly slip my armor on for some additional warmth, even though it doesn't help much, and the metal feels cool as well. I grab my sword and sheath from the same table where the map is kept, and strap them to my hip.
I walk outside my tent, and see the men and the scout standing in a circle, talking. I slept in a bit- I can see the first rays of sunlight poking through the darkness, but I don't mind it, as I'm not too late. I walk towards everyone, and announce my presence.
"Alright, men!" I say. "We are sneaking into Understone Keep via a secret tunnel outside the walls. Our scout here will guide us through. Is everybody ready?" I hear a unanimous "Yes, Sir!" from this small crowd. This is only stage two in the Siege of Markarth, as I've come to calling it (the first was the blockade). After that, there's the actual invasion. Oh, did I mention that we're all carrying torches? Sorry, I'm more of a get-to-the-action as quick as possible sort of person, so my detailing can be a bit vague at times.
The scout leads the way. Bruma stands next to me, and Gold-Steel and Grim-Blood stand behind us. "So, Bruma, what brought you to Skyrim?"
His face is creased with stress; it always is, even though I don't believe he's even twenty and five yet. His eyes, dark blue and deep, seem to be hiding some sort of sorrow- this too, is constant. He's a man of few words, but he still replies when spoken to, although his answers are usually short. "The war," he says in a moderately deep voice. "Don't like those Imperials."
We continue on. Luckily, the wind today is fairly mild, so our torches don't blow out of control. I have the set of flint and steel in my right pocket, ready to ignite another fire should our current ones go out. I can hear Gold-Steel conversing with Grim-Blood behind me.
"So, Grim-Blood, how many did you actually kill at Whiterun?" Aenar asks, and I can imagine the smug smile on his face as he imagines how many more kills he has than Solding, although I do not know who has more kills myself.
"Twenty-six. What about you?"
"Thirty-four."
I hear a grunt that must have come from Grim-Blood, and imagine Gold-Steel, smiling brighter than ever. I've never liked Aenar- as I've said, he's smug. He's the youngest of us, at 19, but he's old enough to be more mature than he is. He can't find any humor in anything that isn't cruel or demeaning, but Solding is, as he said, thirty and four years old, and if Aenar is already racking up more kills then the elder man, we can't afford to get on his bad side; what if he were to join the Imperials?
We walk for long, drawn-out minutes that end up feeling like hours, with the occasional conversation springing up. I even have one with Gold-Steel, where he openly announces his superiority over all other Stormcloaks. By the end of it, my hand is resting along my sword's sheath, and I'm just hoping I'll get the opportunity to whip it out and get rid of the pest. I end up not doing so, thanks to a bit of reason and my ability to control my temper (to an extent).
"And here we are!" cries the scout, a few minutes after my conversation and near-attempted-murder with Gold-Steel. We're in a thick crowd of trees, and a slanted tunnel is dug into the ground. I can see the high stone walls of Markarth off beyond all these trees. The sun has risen in the sky some more, and I'd say it's somewhere between eight and nine in the morning. "Now watch out, it's going to be dark and a bit slippery," reports the scout.
The entrance is fairly steep. The scout goes in first- he's the only one here who knows the way, after all- and Bruma enters next. I follow him. Gold-Steel enters after me, still wearing that half-crazy smile. Grim-Blood is last, but he trips on his way down and starts sliding down, almost as if this were a children's playground. When he gets up, he brushes dirt off his face and quickly runs a hand through his hair.
The floor below us is made of cobblestone, although the entrance was just dirt. The pathway is narrow, so we have to walk in a single-file line, in the order that we entered. It is utterly silent, except for the sound of our feet tapping against the cobbled ground below us.
"Watch out," the scout says quietly, as we start to descend. "The ceiling is low here, and it's very narrow."
Sure enough, we all end up crouching to get through the tunnel, which is barely five feet tall here, and there's not much shoulder space, either. This must have been a tunnel dug by the Dwemer in ages long past.
We walk for about ten minutes, which are torturous and hurt my neck. After this time period, we can into an octagonal room, with a ceiling about twenty feet above us, and the room takes up at least as much space from side to side. The stone on the walls and ceiling are covered by tiles, depicting various paintings. The whole ceiling consists of one painting. It appears to be a map of the stars; it is very detailed, and tiny white specks made to represent stars are labeled with runes.
Looking ahead, I see that there are exactly seven different paths from here, not counting the path we just entered through. Near each one is a painting. It seems they were designed to detail what each path led to, but the illustrations have either worn over time or they have been wiped out for Markarth, and the Jarl's, protection.
"Where do we go now?" I ask the scout. "And, also, what's your name? I feel like I've heard your name before, but I don't remember it."
"My name's Hulgar. And… er, I sort of, well, completely forgot which way to go here. I think it's either the fourth, fifth, or sixth path."
Really? Really? You forgot the path? Is what goes through my mind at that moment. Instead of saying that, I tell him- "Well, let's try the fourth path first then."
Hulgar replies- "I'll lead the way, the path is probably trapped."
Lovely.
Although I sort of wish I could stay here for a bit and admire the star map a little while longer, I know we must go on.
The painting near the fourth tunnel (or what remains of it, anyways) shows part of a male Dwemer's head, and something wooden on the lower left side. That doesn't look reassuring.
"Watch out, tripwire," says Hulgar, and he leaps over a thin tripwire at the entrance. I do the same. Our order got a bit rearranged while in the octagonal room. Hulgar's first, I'm second, Gold-Steel's third, Grim-Blood's fourth, and last but not least is Bruma.
"So, Hulgar, you are at least sure there is an arsenal in Understone Keep, right?"
"Fairly sure."
"What do you mean, fairly sure?" I ask as I leap over a well-hidden pressure plate.
"I mean, there is a shadow of a doubt, but it's just that- a faint shadow. I think the arsenal is in Understone Keep, but I don't know that it is."
"Why didn't you find out for sure?"
"A guard found me. I slit his throat and hid his body, but then I got worried and left- another tripwire! Jump!"
I almost activate the tripwire, but I am barely able to jump over it. When I land, I look ahead. I'm not comforted by what I see. I see a pit, about thirty feet wide and the same length long not too far ahead of us. The area on the other side of the pit is not illuminated at all, and thus it is impossible for me to see what is on the other side.
"Scout Hulgar, have you been down this way before?" I ask.
"Most definitely, but I cannot be so sure this is the way to Understone Keep. All the paths that I've been down are similar in layout, and the only difference besides a few minor changes in design are the destinations that the paths lead to. One leads to Understone Keep. Some lead to other places. Some lead nowhere at all."
We reach the edge of the pit. I stand side by side with Hulgar, which is barely possible. I see on the other edge the ruins of what must have been a bridge. The pit below is deep. In fact, it is so deep I cannot see the bottom. This pit would be impossible to leap across.
"Well, I guess this isn't the way," I tell Hulgar.
"Guess not- wait, what's that noise?"
I hear it a split second later- a slight whirring noise, like machines in action. Machines… oh gods, no. Someone's activated a trap! I look towards Hulgar, and then towards his feet. "Hulgar, pressure plate! You're stepping on a pressure plate!"
His eyes widen. "Run, run, run, run, run! Don't look back!" he cries.
We're dashing at full speed, away from the pit. I hear the sound of something being launched. I don't pay attention. Instead I keep running, Gold-Steel and Grim-Blood in front of me, Bruma behind me. Then, suddenly, I hear-
"Help! Help me! Help me, damn you!" I turn around, and see Hulgar. A gigantic harpoon, one of dwarven craft, has lodged itself in his lower stomach, and it is anchored to a point in the wall, dragging the scout towards the pit- quickly.
Without thinking, I run towards his position. Everything seems slowed- the cries of agony he screams, his inevitable death- he's suffered a fatal blow- and the sound of my feet striking the hard ground below me. I see his dark red blood staining the floor, and a trail, made of his blood, is being created.
He is a few yards away from the black pit where a bridge stood long ago. I draw my sword, ready to cut the wire that is dragging Hulgar to an early death. He reaches the very edge, and I leap, reaching out for his hand. As he falls off the edge, he grabs on as well. I pull with all my strength, plus a little given to me by an adrenaline rush. I pull, and pull, and pull. Solding, Aenar, and Hodlin are rushing to my aid. I'm barely holding on- the wire is strong. Then, I realize the wire comes from the other side of the pit. I see a way to get to the other side- but it would be extremely risky, as well as immoral. I would have to let Hulgar die, and lodge the harpoon in the stone. Then, I would have to grab on to the wire, and go across to the other side.
I won't kill Hulgar to do this, but I resolve that, if he does die, I will use that strategy.
With a great amount of effort, we pull Hulgar over the side. "Grim-Blood! Gold-Steel! Bruma! Hold on, tight as you can! I'm cutting the wire!" They do as I say, and I let go. The scout nearly falls over the side again, almost dragging Gold-Steel and Grim-Blood along with him, although Bruma is not as affected. I go around to his side, and sweep downward with my sword. I make a cut that reaches about halfway through the wire, and, lifting my sword up again, I swipe downward again, and this time the wire disconnects from the harpoon. I quickly grab onto the wire- I don't want it to be lost forever, as we might need it in a minute or two.
Aenar, Solding, and Hodlin now easily drag Hulgar over from the side. Looking at the four of them, I notice Hodlin is breathing in short, shallow breaths. Although I can only see his backside, his chest movements make that evident. A stream of blood is gushing from his back lower stomach. The man is going to die, there's no escaping that.
"Rip the harpoon from his body!" I order.
"But, sir, that would kill Hulgar!" Solding replies.
"Face the truth, he's already as good as dead! Take the harpoon! Take the fucking harpoon!"
"No… you… you can't… do this!" Hulgar says in between pants.
"DO IT!"
With a look comprised of a mix of remorse, despise, and reluctance, Solding forcefully rips the harpoon from Hulgar's body. It is only now I realize that this wire is still anchored to that one point, and my adrenaline has kept me from using effort to keep from being pulled over the side. Without looking at the scout, I call to Solding, "Stick the harpoon in the ground! NOW!"
He plunges it in, close to me, the head implanted in the ground, the pole mostly visible. With effort- lots of it- I take the wire, and wrap it around the harpoon. Sweat races down my forehead, down my cheeks, even reaching down to my neck. My muscles are burning, feeling as if they had just been incinerated. I'm dehydrated, that much I know. A migraine is present behind my eyes, creating agonizing pain for me. My knees buckle. I fall to the ground. The pain is unnoticeable when compared to all the other pain within me right now. With sweat drenching me, I slowly get up again. I reach for a flask at my side containing water, and, with what little strength I have left, I lift it to my mouth. The liquid is gone from the flask in around ten seconds at the most.
Solding, Hodlin, and Aenar are all covered in sweat as well, but they're not doing as bad as I am. They also haven't done as much as me in this situation. I see Hulgar, on the ground, panting even faster now. It seems every breath is a struggle for him. I kneel down beside him.
"Hodlin, you have to know! Which path do we take?"
His last words are- "Not… telling… you… traitor."
The life fades from his eyes, and his head lolls to the side. I close his eyes for him, and his breathing has stopped, his chest still. His stomach is invisible beneath a thick coat of a dark red mess that is wholly comprised of his blood.
I'd love to say it didn't happen, but at that moment, a tear leaves my eye and runs down my cheek alongside the sweat. If I'm lucky, it is unnoticeable with my probably red-rimmed eyes. I hate to leave Hulgar's body here, but we really don't have much choice.
I force myself to stand up again, and face the wire that stretches all the way across the pit, and through to the other, dark side. I realize that I have idiotically left my torch lying on its side near me. Luckily, the fire is still going strong but has not spread to the ground (then again, I guess the ground is nonflammable). I pick it up, and then I know how I'm going to do this. I reach both hands above the wire and I stand below it. Both hands grasp the torch. I jump off the side, and the wire slides me to the other side. About halfway through, my hands nearly slide off the wire and almost cause me to fall off, but luckily, I managed to get them in the right position at the last second.
I reach the other side. Next, Grim-Blood slides across without orders. Before Gold-Steel can slide across, though, I call across- "Dump Hulgar's corpse over the side! We can't risk Imperials finding out our location!"
Aenar does this without question, and as he slides across, I hear a faint plop, which signifies that a few hundred feet below us is water. Gold-Steel makes it across, and Solding is already standing near me. Bruma slides across without incident.
Before we can start moving again, Solding walks towards me and throws a punch at my face. He takes me by surprise, and I stagger back, nearly falling into the watery pit.
"You let that man die! We could have avoided this! He was my friend, you know! If you had given me a minute more-"
"It was unavoidable, no matter what you'd like to believe. I'll let you off with that one punch, seeing as how Hulgar was apparently your friend, but if you make another move, expect retaliation."
Grim-Blood realizes this, and he does not complain anymore, although, when we start moving again, he sulks along instead of walking normally.
We make it to the point where the harpoon was anchored, and we see a mechanism that looks like a Dwemeri ballista. I'd read about their machines, along with many other things, during my stay at High Hrothgar over a decade ago.
"Sir, do you see that?" Gold-Steel asks, pointing ahead. Off in the distance, I see a giant stone structure with a bronze roof. What worries me, though, is that there is no sunlight visible.
Almost immediately, I realize these are the Dwemer ruins of the city of Nchuand-Zel. Although I've never been there before, or even extensively studied it, I know there is only one ruined Dwemer city beneath Markarth. And this is it.
We walk towards a bridge near the entrance. "Tripwire!" I say. I leap over it, then Grim-Blood does, then Gold-Steel. When it is Bruma's turn to leap… he trips, and activates the tripwire. Below us, a cascade of rocks fall behind us, blocking our way back. An arrow lodges itself in the stone bridge we're standing on. I rip it out of the ground.
"These arrows… they're Falmer made…" I realize.
"Damn it, men, let's fight!" I cry, and we charge towards a ruined stone structure.
Hope you liked it! Sorry I haven't uploaded a chapter in a while, I've been really obsessed with Fallout 3 lately.