(AN: Originally this was planned to be two chapters, but since that would push the chapter count over 56, which is half of the chapter count of The Dragonborn and the Lioness, i decided to mash the two chapters into one. I just hope my resilience keeps up and i don't just cop out on one chapter like in that story.)
(A lot of my reviewers keep saying that Nords aren't interesting, so it's therefore presumable that none of my readers care about Eirik or what happens to the Nords; they just want to see a mohawk-sporting Dunmer Dragonborn or a Thieves Guild Master/Dark Brotherhood Listener/Nightingale/Arch-mage of Winterhold/Imperial Legate Altmer who has a strange obsession with cheese.)
(I seem to be making a lot of long chapters lately, but oh well, at least i'm getting something out. A word of caution for this chapter, though, as there are some rather horrific depictions of Dominion atrocities from the Great War.)
Victory or Sovngarde
It took Eirik and Lydia most of the morning to pick their way through the swamps. To their credit, though, they were only two and so did not need to spend days upon end picking through a muddy quagmire. Nevertheless, the distance from the edge of the swamps and Dragon Bridge was still longer than they had anticipated and they were benighted by the time they reached the town. They rested and enjoyed a late meal at the Four Shields Tavern, which they had visited on their first trip to Dragon Bridge while searching for Dexion Evicus. Neither of them slept well, thinking about the horrible things happening in Solitude at that moment.
As night was falling, Eirik and Lydia sat outside the Four Shields Tavern, gazing southward and eastward into the night. Masser was hidden, but crimson Secunda dominated the night sky. The night was still and calm, with little more than the distant howl of wolves to indicate any danger.
"Feels like old times, doesn't it, my thane?" Lydia asked.
"Just about," Eirik returned. "You and me on the open road, a war all around us and beautiful Skyrim before us."
"By the way," Lydia pointed out. "I do hope you have some money in one of your dragon-bone gauntlets or whatever."
"Why?"
"We're broke," she added. "Our meal spent the last amount of septims I had in the money bag."
"Damn," Eirik groaned. After a while, he rubbed his face, then turned back to Lydia. "Okay, it's not the end of the world. We'll just have to run a few errands for the jarls once we're done here."
"You seem rather confident of our victory," Lydia stated.
"Three victories so far," Eirik reminded her, holding up three fingers. "And the army is halted because why? Because that bastard Crixus won't let me fight, that's why. I tell you, Lydia, with the army at my back and the Voice within me, I'll give us victory in only three days."
"It might take us three days to get the Sons of Skyrim here," Lydia replied.
"You know what I mean," Eirik groaned. "Still, this war will soon be over. Who knows, perhaps one day I will actually come to Solitude by design?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, the first time I came here," Eirik began. "I was spying on the Thalmor for Delphine. The second time was after we rescued Dexion and I was captured. The third time, well, I was captured again. Now I go to free Solitude from the Dominion. Must I always come to Solitude in a time of need and desperation, rather than peace?"
They both shared a laugh, after which Eirik suddenly halted and rose up onto his feet. Noticing this, Lydia rose up next to him.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I thought I saw something," Eirik returned. "Out there in the shadows." He pointed towards the empty town streets.
"What do you think it could be?" Lydia asked. "Could it be a Thalmor messenger?"
"If it was," Eirik replied. "Then Crixus' army has been annihilated. But from the brief glimpse I saw, the shape was running towards Solitude, not away from it."
"A messenger from our camp?" Lydia asked.
"I don't know," Eirik shook his head. "But I feel that we should go after it."
"I'd much rather camp out somewhere, since we're broke," Lydia returned. "But, if you want to walk through the night, then I guess I have no choice but to follow you, right?"
In the cool night, lit up by the dim pale-red of Secunda's light, Eirik and Lydia made their way steadily north-eastward, up the great road that led up to the cliffs around Solitude. They saw no sign of the shape that Eirik had seen, and it seemed to have evaded them, if there were such a thing to begin with. Strangely enough, as they passed on, they saw that there were no wolves about, though they could hear their howling in the woods to their left.
At length, as they were growing weary by reason of the long climb up the inclined hill at night, they saw a light bobbing towards them from down the mountain-side. It grew nearer and brighter until at last they could see a little of the ground before them in its light, as well as the figure of an Imperial soldier.
"Halt right there!" the soldier cried out.
"We're with the army," Eirik spoke up. "I'm Eirik the Dragonborn, chief captain of the Sons of Skyrim. This is my huscarl Lydia."
"Never heard of you," the soldier stated. "You two should go back the way you came."
"I must speak to Commander Crixus," Eirik added.
"I've received no word that emissaries or whatever you are would be up this way at this time of night or any other time," said the soldier. "I should alert the others about you right now."
"Did you see the other one?"
This caught the attention of the soldier. "What other one?"
"A figure all in black, coming up this way," Eirik stated. "We followed that figure here, see. We're with them."
The soldier paused for a moment, then Eirik heard a sword being drawn. Quietly he reached for the haft of Wuuthrad until the soldier spoke again.
"Come with me," he said. "But don't try anything or I'll introduce you to my sword."
The soldier led them up the rest of the way, until Eirik saw the lights of torches from the camp of the main army. So great was their camp that it consumed most of the heights up to the outer gate, though little of it could be seen at night. The soldier led both Eirik and Lydia up to a tent resting in a flattened knoll near the side of the cliff. Eirik could hear trees rustling in the cold wind blown off from the sea, unchecked by mountains at this height. The soldier kept them outside while voices were talking inside the camp. As they were waiting, Eirik leaned closer to the tent's fabric and listened in to what was being said.
"Don't they know what's at stake here?" he heard Crixus' voice.
"They know," replied another familiar voice: it was Serana. "But they've chosen not to fight. Nazir said to remind you of the Tenets."
Crixus groaned audibly, while Eirik wondered what the 'tenets' were. When Crixus spoke again, his voice was lowered to a whisper barely discernible over the howling of the wind. "What about the other thing?"
"I'm sorry, Crixus," Serana's voice returned. "You've been a worthy ally and a good friend, but..."
"But what?" Crixus asked. "You know the Tenets. 'Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a superior. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis.'"
"Then let Sithis take me," Serana retorted boldly. "I've already been fucked by a god, what more can they do to me?"
"I gave you an order!"
"And I refused it. What are you going to do about it, kill me? I'd be able to escape from here before your army surrounded me or found my weakness."
"But I know it," Crixus' voice replied.
"Then you kill Eirik yourself! But I won't do it!"
This was the straw that broke the horse's back. Angered, Eirik ran towards the tent's opening. The soldier and two guards tried to restrain him, but Eirik punched the soldier in the face and jabbed one of the guards in the face with his elbow. Lydia, meanwhile, struck the other guard as Eirik barged into the tent. Inside he saw Crixus and Serana standing over a table with a pale-blue figure dressed in white apparently asleep in the corner.
"Eirik!" Serana greeted.
"What the fuck is going on here?" Eirik asked angrily, turning to Crixus. "Kill me? You've asked your Dark Brotherhood cronies to kill me?"
"I should be asking you the same question, arse-hole," Crixus stated. "How did you get past my guards?"
"Don't avoid my question!" Eirik angrily stated. "I want answers and I want them now!"
"You're a Nord," Crixus scoffed. "And a subject of the Empire. You obey orders, plain and simple. You do not think."
"I am not part of your Empire," Eirik retorted. "I am only here because the Dominion threaten Skyrim and her people. But you've done nothing but treat me and my men like shit!"
"No more than you deserve," Crixus added with a smug smile.
"What a fool I was!" Eirik laughed grimly. "To think that you had actually changed!"
"Look, just shut the fuck up for once in your miserable life," Crixus stated. "You know nothing at all, but, like a typical idiot Nord, you come barging in here, face red like a beet and honor affronted, demanding reparations like some high and mighty Dunmer!"
"What I know," Eirik returned. "Is that you've thrown my men into a swamp while you've been up here, stealing battle and glory from us! And as if that were not bad enough, even on our own, you still gave Commander Maro instructions that we be kept away from the others in the host, the orcs and the battle-mages from High Rock."
"You're Nords, aren't you?" Crixus laughed. "You still believe the College of Winterhold blew up the city, right? Of course I knew you people would try something stupid, even though battle-mages are a worthy asset. See, normal people - like myself - would know better, but you and your little band of renegades are not normal people: you are Nords! You would do something that stupid just because of your affronted honor or whatever."
"I've had enough of your lies and your insults and your taunts!" Eirik barked through clenched teeth. "I'm going to bring the Sons of Skyrim up here and we are going to knock down those gates and slaughter every yellow bastard in Solitude. And then, because of this injustice we've faced under your command, we're coming after you!"
"Yes, growl at me!" Crixus retorted, a smile on his face. "Roar like the bear you are! Strut your power around, threaten to betray me. You know, you make it so damn easy to do things like this."
"Things like betrayal?"
"I'm protecting the interests of the people of the Empire," Crixus retorted.
"How is betraying your fellow Dragonborn in the best interest of the Empire?" Eirik asked.
"Because I know what you are," Crixus hissed, walking angrily towards Eirik and glaring him in the face. "I know what you're capable of! You dared to do it just now. After you've driven the elves out of Solitude, shown what a mighty, competent warrior you are, you'll turn on the Empire and betray us."
"What the..."
"And then you'll proclaim yourself the next Dragonborn Emperor," Crixus continued. "And lead an army of fanatical Nords - like Nords are anything but fanatical - into Cyrodiil and overthrow the Empire and make yourself king!"
"That's bullshit," Eirik retorted.
"Don't lie to me!"
"Like how you've constantly lied to me?"
"That's different, you're a Nord! You people are so dumb and gullible, it's fun lying to you, to see what you'll believe. But I have looked into your heart, Dragonborn, and I know what you want: you want to overthrow the Empire. Admit it! Even your name - 'eternal king' - bespeaks of what you want to do in your heart."
"Get out of my face," Eirik groaned.
"You don't fucking tell me what to do!" Crixus roared.
"Shut up, both of you!" Serana cried, suddenly stepping in between them and pulling them apart with her icy cold, iron-strong hands. "Look at you two, acting like two little children!"
"He's a menace to us all!" Crixus said, pointing at Eirik. "He'll be the downfall of the Empire yet."
"Do you know me so little?" Eirik asked. "How many times have I spoken of how I do not want kingship? I've never wanted it, I'm no leader. I've only ever stepped up to take the fight to the Dominion because I see that it is what must be done to safeguard the future of Skyrim. And for this you want to kill me?!"
An uneasy silence filled the tent. Outside the voices of those roused from sleep by the argument murmured quietly. Serana held them both in her glance, waiting to intervene if they fell to blows.
"Better safe than sorry," Crixus stated.
"If that's the way you want it," Eirik returned. "Then be rid of me. Send me away, or better yet, send me and the Sons of Skyrim against the city of Solitude."
"Ha! Do you want to die? I've already attempted to storm the gates twice and have been driven back."
"You haven't had me with you."
"If you use your Voice to summon dragons or whatever you do, I'll cut your throat," Crixus threatened, leveling a portentous finger at Eirik. "You might survive, like your little Talos did after he betrayed Cuhlecain, but then again you might not."
"The slave must fight!" a voice suddenly said.
All eyes turned towards the speaker, the pale-blue one in the corner. Slowly she rose up and Eirik saw the face of the Snow Elf Crixus had rescued from the Forgotten Vale. She walked towards Serana, Crixus and Eirik, her hands held upward with palms open in a gesture of receiving, with her blue eyes gazing upward as well.
"What did you say?" Crixus asked.
"A great tragedy will soon come to pass," Lethia announced hypnotically, as though in a trance. "The slave's natural anger and brutality will be unleashed against the High Ones and you, oh kind Emperor of the South, you will have victory."
"Do you mean me?" Eirik asked. "I am no man's slave, and you sure have a place to talk. Or do you not remember what I did for you? Has this one..." Eirik gestured to Crixus. "...been filling you with lies? Saying that I did nothing to save you, that it was all his doing?"
Lethia blinked and her hands fell gently to her sides as her head leaned down, as though tired. Crixus said nothing as he led her back to where she was resting, and kept his eyes down while he was walking back towards them.
"What just happened?" Serana asked.
"She's a prophetess or some bull-shite," Crixus said, shaking his head. "At least that's what Calcelmo told me. It doesn't make any damn sense, though!"
"What?" Eirik asked angrily.
"Why she would advise your death one minute," Crixus returned. "And then advise keeping you alive and having you fight the next?"
"I know not about prophets and visions," Eirik said, shaking his head.
"How do you know her first suggestion," Serana asked. "Was really a prophecy? I saw what happened when she prophesied about the Brass-god, and it was the same here." She turned to Crixus. "Did she appear this way when she suggested you kill Eirik?"
"No, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Wait a minute," Eirik interjected. "She wanted you to kill me?"
"That was my call and my decision," Crixus returned. "Don't bring Lethia into this, she's innocent...unlike you Nords."
"I will fight," Eirik said. "Not because of some elf-prophet, or because of your Empire, but because while we are speaking, those yellow-skinned bastards are killing my people in droves!"
Angrily, Eirik stormed out of the tent, followed by Lydia and Serana. They walked through the tents towards the farthest side of the cliff-side, up against a sheer granite wall that was part of the girth of the mountain. Here Eirik slumped down, eying angrily the tents of the main army. He had been betrayed once again and felt used, like a tool that was nearing the end of its purpose.
"Eirik?" Serana spoke up. "Listen, I know you heard quite a bit, but there's something else you need to know."
"You're with the Dark Brotherhood," Eirik stated.
"She is?" Lydia exclaimed.
"Don't publish it, though," Serana groaned. "I've already broken the second tenet just by talking about it after the siege of my father's castle. And now I've broken the third one by disobeying a direct order."
"Tell me the truth," Eirik asked. "Who ordered you to kill me?"
"Crixus did," Serana replied. "But I never told anyone about it. I kept his request to myself and kept silent in front of Crixus to make him think that I was carrying out his orders grudgingly."
"Why?" Eirik asked.
"Because you're my friend," Serana answered. It seemed strange coming from a vampire, but the words were spoken. Eirik looked at Serana in wonder: it was the first time in his memory that she had said those four words to him.
"What?" she asked. "If I were living, I'd be blushing now. What did I say?"
"Do you really mean that?"
"Of course," Serana returned. "You rescued me from Dimhollow Crypt, you helped me defeat my father and reconcile with my mother, and you never tried to kill me or have your Dawnguard friends kill me or rat me out to any of the towns or cities we've visited. I'd be quite a b*tch if I didn't realize what a good friend you've been, or if I didn't return that friendship."
"Thank you," Eirik groaned. "Now, please, let me sleep. I've come a long way today with little rest." He turned to Lydia. "You're welcome to sleep with me, since it's cold and windy up here."
"As you wish, my thane," Lydia replied. "But no funny business."
"Don't you trust me?" Eirik asked. "After all we've been through?"
"I was only kidding, my thane," Lydia returned, rolling her eyes. "Of course I trust you."
"What about me?" Serana asked. "Is there anything you'd like me to do?"
"Tell me about the other thing you two were talking about," Eirik asked. "I already know about your and Crixus' involvement with the...well, you know. So you might as well tell me, especially since..."
"Crixus wanted to use them to sneak into Solitude at night," Serana stated. "And weaken the defense. They refused."
Eirik nodded. "Okay, goodnight Serana. Enjoy hunting or whatever it is you do at night."
"I'll make sure Crixus doesn't try anything," she replied. "Although, if you ask me, you'd be careful to stay clear of Governor Rikke."
Eirik nodded wordlessly, then closed his eyes and, weary from the long travel, fell asleep almost instantly.
When morning came, Lydia left the camp to return to the Sons of Skyrim. Eirik, in the meanwhile, was left to sharpen Wuuthrad - since Lydia had taken the Great-sword of the Skaal with her - and spend time with Serana. The latter proved to be fruitless, since she had disappeared before dawn. The camp, meanwhile, mulled about on their business. A quiet readiness hung over them all, filling Eirik with anticipation: something was bound to happen.
About noon of the following day, before the afternoon meal, Delphine found Eirik and joined him momentarily. She told him a little of what had happened since they parted ways. Apparently, Crixus had led two attacks on the gates of Solitude: none of which were successful.
"And then," she stated grimly. "We saw the bodies on the walls. Crixus practically exploded, said that we wouldn't rest until we took the city. Bolstered our defenses, repaired the picket line he made once we took the outer gate, even set archers up on top of the gate to pick off any other assaults from the city."
"Have there been any more attacks?" Eirik asked.
"Not yet," Delphine shook her head.
"What about the bodies?" inquired Eirik. "I haven't been to the front of the camp."
"They're still there," Delphine stated, her face furrowed into a frown. "Though there haven't been any more hung up, as far as I can tell."
"Why haven't there been any more?"
"I don't know," she replied. "From as far as I can see, the walls are lined with bodies. There's no room anywhere in our sight for the dead to be hanged."
"Why are they doing this?" Eirik asked. "These people..."
"They did the same in the Great War," Delphine replied. "Just ask any of your Sons of Skyrim who've served in the Legion. The Dominion made the streets of the Imperial City run red with blood. Even high elves who hadn't left Cyrodiil before the war began were cut down."
But at that moment, a horn was blown and the soldiers nearby began scrambling to attention. Both Eirik and Delphine rose up at the sound and made their way towards the front of the camp. The camp was longer than it was thick, due to the position upon the cliff, but they made good time running through it as fast as they could. Once they neared the front-lines, they saw the cause of the alarm: a large cadre of Altmer officers, clad in malachite armor, were galloping down the hill-side towards the camp.
"Hold the line!" Eirik heard Crixus cry out.
The horsemen were now halfway down the hill and moving swiftly. Eirik drew out Wuuthrad as he now joined the ranks lined up to meet the charge of the Dominion. An order was given and arrows were fired out from the wall at the oncoming horsemen: some arrows found their mark and toppled down horse and rider, but the host was still very large. They were almost upon them.
"They won't make it," Eirik muttered to himself, looking at those around him. A wooden picket line stood between them and the horsemen and, though they had the momentum, it wouldn't be long before they overturned them or broke through and then the soldiers would be dead. Eirik pushed his way towards the very front, keeping his eye on the center horsemen. He had to wait until the very last minute.
"Fus...Ro Dah!" Eirik shouted, just as he saw the whites of the eyes of the horses.
The front column of horsemen were thrown back, some directly backwards, some to the sides, by the sheer force of Eirik's Thu'um. Men and horses went flying all around, knocking over dozens more and crushing the riders under falling horses and soldiers. Yet the assault force was still large and they were now only divided down the center. With a roar, Eirik pulled out Wuuthrad and struck at the nearest horseman. The ax-blade caught in the horse's side instead, yanking Eirik to the ground shoulders first.
All around him the soldiers broke out into fighting. The horses reared up before the picket line or smashed head-long into the stakes. Men with spears thrust them into the malachite-clad elves, lifting them off their horses. Some of the less civil ones merely cut down the horses as well. Bodies, heads and limbs - of men and of horses - began to fall down in thick droves around Eirik. He tried to rise but found, to his horror, that his left arm was in great pain but it could not move of its own.
Slowly but surely the cavalry charge was being turned back. Many had died in Eirik's Shout, many more had been wounded and were now hobbling back towards the gates of Solitude or being shot down by Imperial archers on the outer gate. The tide was changing. The assault had become a rout. The Thalmor horsemen were beating a hasty retreat back up the hill, the slowest among them cut down under a hail of arrows from the outer gate.
Suddenly a hand reached down and pulled Eirik to his feet. He saw Delphine standing there, her Akaviri long-sword held in one hand. The soldiers around them were charging after the elves, but as they were on their way up the hill, Eirik saw Crixus approach him, a stern countenance upon his face.
"I warned you," he said to Eirik. "That I would cut your throat if you used your Voice."
In one swift move, Delphine held the edge of her long-sword up to Crixus' throat.
"No one's throat is being slit," she said. "Especially not his."
"You threaten your own emperor?" Crixus asked.
Everyone within hearing distance turned towards Crixus. Even Eirik, who knew this, turned in surprise towards Crixus. He never expected him to openly acknowledge himself as such, especially in front of so many others.
"You're not the Emperor," Delphine replied. "Not yet."
"So now you people give a shite about him?" Crixus asked, gesturing to Eirik.
"We saved your ass in Riften," Delphine replied. "You should know by now that we can't afford to lose either of you, now stand down."
"So you're the Emperor now?" Eirik groaned.
"Fuck you," Crixus returned, shaking his head before walking back towards the camp, leaving the soldiers to murmur and rumor on what they had just heard.
"He knows how we see him," Delphine said to Eirik once Crixus was gone. "He's smart, he tried to use that to dissuade me. But if we're blessed with two Dragonborns, it's in everyone's best interest to keep both of you alive." Delphine turned towards Eirik and saw him groaning in pain. "What's wrong?"
"My arm," he groaned.
"It might be dislocated," Delphine retorted. "We have to set the bone back into place. You'll lose your arm if it's left hanging like that."
"Do it," Eirik replied.
Minutes later, inside Delphine's tent, Eirik was drinking heavily while Serana had one hand around Eirik's waist and the other on his chest. Delphine was kneeling nearby, rubbing her hands together while she tried to remember what to do next.
"Is this really necessary?" Eirik slurred.
"Do you want to lose your arm?" Delphine asked.
"I mean her," Eirik's head bobbed backwards, towards Serana, who moved her head out of the way.
"She said you might panic," Serana returned.
"I've stared down a dragon," Eirik slurred. "And I've had my hand broken by some damn spike! I'm not going to..."
While Eirik was yet speaking, Delphine thrust a rag between his lips, then seized his arm with both hands. In one swift move, she pushed it up with a sickening crack. Even through the rag, Eirik's roar could still be heard. His right arm flailed about, but Serana's cold, iron-strong hand swiftly caught and held it back. Eirik quickly spat the rag out of his mouth, roaring and cursing like Crixus in a loud voice.
"Just calm down," Serana said.
"Agh! Shit!" Eirik roared. "Fuck! Calm down? When was the last time you had your arm shoved back into place?"
"I had to do it," Delphine stated. "You should be grateful, you can still fight another day."
"My arm!" Eirik roared.
"I've had to set my own arm before," Delphine retorted. "I know it's damn painful, but you'll live. You'll have to rest up for a few days, though, until it's fully healed."
"I could have done it," Serana returned.
"No!" Eirik shouted. "You'd probably shatter my whole arm!"
"Will you be sure to rest for a while?" Delphine asked. "Your arm needs to heal...and you're drunk beyond belief. I've seen enough people in the Sleeping Giant to know that you're in no condition, wounded or not." She sighed. "Next time, don't try to strike a horse while its riding towards you."
"Yeah, leave that to me," Serana said with a grin, releasing Eirik from her grip.
"Where is Wuuthrad?" Eirik slurred.
"I brought it back," Delphine said. "That thing is heavy! Had to get Ragni to help me carry it, and even he found it to be a burden."
"It was made for Ysgramor," Eirik slurred, speaking to the tent wall with pride.
The next day, Eirik's arm was still aching, but he could move it with little pain. He remained in Serana's tent, since he had none of his own: at nights he was alone, while during the day, while he rested, he had the pleasure of her company. There was not great pleasure in such company, for she often complained about the light seeping in through the fabric of the tent, her inability to brew potions or practice spells, as well as having a headache from the amount of blood in and around the camp.
"Crixus let me clean up the battle-field of the fallen elves," Serana stated. "But even that isn't very appetizing. Dead blood is even worse than animal's blood."
So the day wore on, with Eirik eating what little rations Delphine could score for him throughout the day. They heard and saw no more of Crixus, and there were no assaults made on them from the city. Finally, around mid-afternoon, there was another horn being blown and shouts heard in the camp. As Eirik was stirring from where he lay, Delphine opened up the tent flap and peeped inside.
"Your friends are here," she said to Eirik.
Since Serana didn't go outside during the day - even cloaked she felt uncomfortable around so many living people in the camp with so much fresh blood - Delphine helped Eirik onto his feet and led him down the hill towards the rear of the camp. As they came nearer to the edge of the camp, they could see the Sons of Skyrim walking up the hill, weapons in their hand and shields at their sides. The Firstborn were leading the company, with Galmar Stone-Fist heaving his axe upon his shoulders. Presently, they approached the main army, and more than a few of them eyed the crimson-clad Imperial soldiers with distrust, anger and hatred. As they came to a halt and Eirik walked out to meet them, he saw Lydia standing at Galmar's left, a smile on her face.
"Galmar!" Eirik greeted. "Lydia! Gods above, you've made it!"
"It was difficult," Lydia replied. "But we knew the marshes now and didn't have wagons to drag after us."
"Is everyone here?" Eirik asked, turning to Galmar.
"Aye," Galmar answered proudly. "We're ready to bring the fight to those damn elves!"
"That's good," Eirik nodded. "But right now, I have a task for us to do. Since we'll be entering Solitude shortly, we need a ram to knock down the gates."
"There are plenty of trees here," Galmar chuckled. "We'll find you one suitable for a battering ram!"
Galmar began giving orders to find a tree they could cut down for the use of a ram. Eirik counted the number of the Firstborn as they passed by him, then called out for Ulli as she took up the rear.
"We're missing one," he said. "Where is your mother?"
"She stayed behind," Ulli replied. "She said your wife needed her."
"Is everything alright?"
"I think so," Ulli returned. "I didn't stay to hear what was going on with them in your carriage."
"I did," Lydia interjected.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing yet," Lydia replied. "Perla said that Mjoll was feeling uncomfortable, but was otherwise okay. She did tell me to tell you to hurry your ass up with your battle - her exact words - as your firstborn will be born soon."
Eirik smiled at the news. Both Lydia and Delphine gave their congratulations, but he shook his head.
"It's not over yet," he returned. "Both of them are in the hands of the Divines, as is the outcome of this battle."
"No, my friend," Galmar, who was still standing near at hand while giving out orders, stated. "It is in our hands! The gods are with us this day, especially mighty Talos!"
At that moment, a tenseness filled the air. A voice spoke and Eirik turned around. There limped Rikke at the head of three Blades and a sizable number of Imperial soldiers. The moment he saw her, he knew that sparks were about to fly.
"What have we here?" Rikke asked. "You disobeyed your orders, Stone-fister."
"We're not your puppets, Imperial lap dog!" Galmar retorted. "We fight for Skyrim, not for you."
"Skyrim belongs to the Empire," Rikke stated. "Therefore, you fight for us. And your orders were to remain in Hjaalmarch with the siege company."
"While you bastards steal all our glory?" Galmar angrily replied. "Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged!" Rikke retorted.
"I'd love to see you try it!"
"Are you challenging me, old man?"
"Did I stutter, traitor?"
"That's enough, both of you!" Eirik shouted, stepping in between them.
"You don't order me, b*tch!"
"What did you call him?" Ulli asked, drawing out her bow and reaching for an arrow.
"You heard me right, girl," Rikke retorted. "Your glorious leader is a b*tch, just like Ulfric Stormcloak."
At this, the nearest Sons of Skyrim drew their weapons, eying Rikke and the Imperials angrily. The Imperial soldiers drew their weapons as well as it seemed to Eirik that another blood-bath was about to break out. Just then Crixus walked into their midst, calling for order.
"Who started this?" he asked.
"They did!" Rikke shouted, pointing towards Eirik and Galmar. "They defied your orders and came here to cause trouble for us!"
"We came here to kill elves," Galmar retorted. "Then this b*tch opened her mouth and slandered our leader."
"Don't call me a b*tch, cock-sucker!"
"You call him one," Galmar said, pointing to Eirik. "You call us all that, traitor!"
"Traitor?" Rikke retorted. "I'll cut that lying tongue out of your mouth and fuck you in the ass with it!"
"Bold words from a milk-drinking coward," Galmar replied.
"Do something, Commander!" Rikke shouted, turning to Crixus. "They'll destroy us all!"
"Eirik," Crixus said. "Get your men in order or I'll have Rikke kill them."
"She was the one who started this!" Eirik said, pointing to Rikke.
"Rikke is a soldier," Crixus replied. "Unlike you thugs and bandits, she knows discipline and restraint. She knows better than to whine like you lot. Obviously, you and Master Stone-fister started this debacle. Now keep your men in line, that's an order!"
"You don't..."
"You're in my camp now," Crixus stated, pointing at Eirik. "You do as I say or I will have your head. Is that understood?" Eirik nodded, then Crixus smiled victoriously and went on his way. As he was leaving, Rikke turned to them, a smug grin on her face.
"Yes, bend your knees and bow your head," she returned. "All that bravado and you're just a cowardly little b*tch like the rest of you Stormcloaks."
"What the fuck is your problem, woman?" Eirik retorted, his fury rising up to strangle his words in his throat.
"You're my problem, traitor!" Rikke bit back. "You fight in Ulfric's name, you keep his deserters as your friends, you oppose the Empire and you make the Nordic people to stink in the nostrils of the people of the Empire!"
"Just leave us alone already."
"Or what? You'll Shout me down, just like your lover Ulfric did to High King Torygg? Go ahead then, b*tch."
"Do it!" Galmar added. "She's been nothing but trouble ever since High Hrothgar!"
"Do it, already! Do you think I'm afraid of you? You don't frighten me, little man! Go ahead, Shout me down! I dare you, I fucking dare you to do it!"
Eirik growled, but shook his head.
"What's the matter? Are you afraid?"
"You want me to do it, don't you?" Eirik asked. "Crixus is afraid that I'll turn against him once this siege is done."
"The commander fears nothing!"
"Then why did he send us to rot in the marshes?"
"To teach you respect!"
"He wants the glory for winning this war," Eirik stated. "He fears what I have because it makes me dangerous, dangerous to you and your Empire. If I Shout you down, it'll prove him right and he'll kill me." He shook his head. "Find yourself another scapegoat. I'm here for Skyrim, not for your Empire."
Rikke called after him, but Eirik ignored her. There would be no getting through to her, not this way at least. She believed whole-heartedly in the Empire and words would not change that: worse yet, yielding to his temptation to strike her would bring no good as well. He had to leave it be, or it would be the end of him.
Later that evening, Eirik sat with Galmar around the camp-fire the Firstborn had prepared after the long day of wood-cutting. They had made a usable ram out of one of the trees and were even now driving poles through its girth where there were no branches.
"Do you think we'll be ready tomorrow?" Eirik asked.
"We're ready right now," Galmar proudly replied. "To run up that hill and take this city back for Skyrim."
"Good," Eirik nodded. "Then we'll march before daybreak. It's a long way up that hill and if we strike before dawn, we may have the element of surprise on our side."
"You'll be a leader yet, Dragonborn," Galmar chuckled deeply.
"If you say so," Eirik sighed. For a while they sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire, the distant howling of wolves and the half-drunken singing of the Sons of Skyrim. Then, looking over his shoulder towards the castle, Eirik turned back to Galmar and asked him what had been on his mind since the Sons of Skyrim arrived.
"Did you see the bodies hanging on the walls of the city?"
"Aye," Galmar nodded. "Typical of the high elves, wanton slaughter of anyone in their way. Just like in the War."
"Tell me about it," Eirik asked. "Delphine told me about the Battle of the Red Ring, but she said to ask you lot who had served to tell me what happened."
Galmar shook his head, a grim, sorrowful expression on his face reflected in the light of the fire.
"If we break through those gates," Eirik said. "I need to know what we'll be up against inside the streets of Solitude."
"Only the Nine know all that the Thalmor have done to our people," Galmar began. "From the War to this moment. But I was there, at the Battle of the Red Ring, and I have seen a measure of what they do with my own eyes: and I curse my fate that I had to have seen it." He sighed, pushed back his bear-skin hood, revealing his head of long, graying hair, and then spoke again.
"It had been a year since the Dominion took the Imperial City," he continued, gazing into the fire. "We knew that they were ruthless from the reports of the sieges of Leyawiin and Bravil, and some of us had actually been there when the Emperor ran the blockade. But it was only when we returned to the capital and saw it with our own eyes that we knew the whole truth. The streets were painted black with old blood, with bodies lying all everywhere. Many had long since decayed into bones, but some of the others were new and we could see how they died. Some were strangled, others were stabbed, or beheaded. Others had been...tortured to death. They had their eyes gouged out or burn-marks on their bodies, scars on their backs from flails, others had been skinned and left to rot in the sun. Women had their breasts cut off, and...some of them had knife wounds in their stomachs, as though they had been carved open.
"Many buildings were burned down or looted and there were dead lying in the doorways, defending themselves. Even I, a soldier, could tell that not all of the bones and bodies lying in the streets belonged to humans. There were some elves with high-domed skulls or the beast-folk as well. It seemed to me then that the Dominion were not to be trusted: they wanted to destroy us and they wouldn't stop for anything if it stood in their way...not even their own kind." He cleared his throat and then turned back to Eirik.
"I know I've said some things about you in the past," he continued. "I've doubted your loyalty and questioned your devotion. You can see now why I have no love for the Empire, and why Ulfric had none either: when the White-Gold Concordant was signed, they left us at the mercy of those murderous elves. Treating with them is not an option. I'm not like these double-talking Colovians: I speak plainly, so that you know the truth and not be flattered."
"I know," Eirik nodded. "Get some sleep, Galmar. We fight ere the dawn."
While all of Skyrim was still blanketed in darkness, Eirik, who had remained awake that night, went to the tents of the Firstborn of the Sons of Skyrim, waking them up from their slumber as best he could and urging them to wake the rest of their host up and get them ready for battle. Today was the day; he was determined to take the city of Solitude.
Eirik allowed only one torch to light their path and one at the rear. His plan was to cross as much ground as he could to reach the gate before they were discovered and the elven archers upon the walls fired upon them. Lydia was at Eirik's right, holding up the front torch. Behind them walked the Firstborn of the Sons of Skyrim, carrying the battering ram made out of a whole pine-tree. Behind them in a tight cluster were the less than two hundred Sons of Skyrim that had joined since Eirik liberated Riften. At the very rear was the second torch. They had little light to go on, but Eirik knew that any greater light would alert the enemy on the walls to their presence.
Step by step they made their way, steel-faced and determined, up the hill towards the gates of Solitude. Darkness was their cover, but only for a while longer. Eirik refused to let this opportunity slip past him. He wanted to get as close as he could to the gates before dawn broke out upon the hill-side. In the deep darkness, many of those in the main army, were they now marching forward, would have quaked with fear, believing themselves to be marching on towards their death. The Sons of Skyrim welcomed the march with no fear: to them, Sovngarde awaited the brave and victorious dead. They would not shirk from the danger: to them, they had nothing to lose and all to gain. Victory meant the safety of Skyrim, death meant a swift and sure path to Sovngarde.
But they were going too slowly. The march up-hill, carrying the heavy wooden ram, was anything but easy. Foot by foot they pushed onward, up the hill a bit more and then some. The dark of night was fading to indigo over towards the Velothi Mountains far in the east. The great black shape, the silhouette of the walled city of Solitude, began to appear clearly in the early morning sky before them. Soon it would be bright enough for those on the walls to see them without torches. Maldor, Lalla, Inghild, Thorald and Calder lifted up their shields upon the heavy pine ram, while Lydia held hers as ther side.
Suddenly bells rang out from the city and tinny trumpets were being sounded. Someone on the walls had seen them. The jig was up and soon arrows would be raining down upon them.
"Shields up!" Eirik shouted.
Those around him lifted up their shields as they marched forward. Those who held the wooden ram marched on, fearing what would happen next. There were no shields for them. Step by step they neared the great iron-bound gate of Solitude. Eirik was now close enough to Shout at those above them. He could see the gold-clad soldiers in the dim light, their conjured arrows glistening blue in the darkness. From the three battles he had fought, he knew that their arrows could pierce through armor.
"Fus...Ro Dah!" he Shouted, aiming at the walls.
The bodies hung there flew back like chaff in the wind, while the elves on the top of the wall were thrown back, giving them a few precious moments of time.
"To the gate!" Eirik shouted again. "Break it down!"
The great ram swung towards the gate, striking it with a mighty blow. A great shiver went through bearer and gate at the might of the blow, but there was no dent made upon it. Again the Sons of Skyrim dragged the ram back and thrust it forward, slamming with full force into the gate. A small chip of shivered wood broke off of the gate from the blow and the gates shook, but they still held fast.
As his voice was recovering, Eirik stepped back to gaze up at the walls. He could see elves reforming on the top of the walls, under a single Thalmor justicar clad all in black.
"Ulli, Halldor!" Eirik shouted. "Get some archers up to give us cover!"
Whether the Divines were indeed on the side of the Sons of Skyrim, or whether Eirik's Thu'um had momentarily broken the concentration of the magically-inclined Altmer soldiers, neither fighter nor defender could rightly guess. What they knew was that the arrows that came down upon them were not conjured arrows, but the usual arrows of elvish make used by front-line soldiers of the Dominion. They bit hard and sundered through mail and leather armor, but the shields of the Sons of Skyrim kept most of them out. Especially useless were the arrows falling near the gate itself, for there the most shields were held up by the attackers and no arrows got through.
Suddenly there was a bright flash, like the sudden burst of the sunlight, and voices cried out in terror as though set on fire. Eirik turned about and saw seven soldiers aflame, flailing helplessly and trying in vain to put out the painful flames eating them away. A shower of conjured arrows were then fired down upon the Sons of Skyrim: few escaped their bite. Another bright flash and more soldiers burst into flames. Looking up, Eirik saw the Thalmor justicar, gazing contemptuously down upon the Nords below, and his heart suddenly stopped: in the elf's gloved hands, he saw the golden-white Bow of Auriel, a glowing white arrow fitted into the string, aimed down at the soldiers below.
A third fiery shot from the Bow of Auriel sped down towards them, sending more scorched and burned alive, running hither and yon for their lives. Bodies were now starting to pile up around the ram. Again and again it struck the gate, leaving little more than a shattered scar where the head of the tree, sharpened to a point, had struck. All around them, though, Eirik saw that his people were dying in great numbers. The victories he had won so easily over the past few weeks now seemed meaningless.
"Galmar!" Eirik cried out. "What do you think?"
"Damn those elves to Oblivion!" he roared, from where he stood at the great ram. "We'll have that gate down yet, don't you worry!"
Eirik nodded, but said nothing. He wanted to believe Galmar's words: he had not yet lost a battle and he refused to simply let this one go. They were at the very gates of Solitude, with a ram knocking upon it like a man on his wedding night. Victory was so close, at the very edge of his finger-tips. He couldn't give up, not now. They were so close!
"My thane!" Lydia shouted. "If we keep this up, we won't have an army left to fight again."
"No!" Eirik retorted. "We have to break through!"
"Look how many we've lost so far!" Lydia shouted, pointing to the piles of slain Nord warriors upon the field. "More are dying every minute! We have to pull back, before it's too late!"
Another wave of conjured arrows fell down upon them, the bright arrow of Auriel's Bow flashed upon its flight from the bowstring, and then suddenly, as the ram was being pulled back for another blow, it collapsed. Eirik turned about and saw the ram had been dropped: the arrow had caught it aflame. The front-bearers had leaped aside with the sudden explosion, but one was still trapped under the log. It was Galmar, the flaming white arrow struck in his flesh as it swiftly engulfed him. Throwing caution to the wind, Eirik searched in his mind, trying to remember words in the Dragon tongue, words he did not know but that he heard heard at the summit of Apocrypha. He had to put the fire out, both on Galmar as well as the ram.
"Fo!" he Shouted.
An icy gale, like a fresh breath of a winter morning's air, burst from his lips. The fires on the ram and on Galmar were extinguished, leaving only a golden elvish arrow sticking out of his chest.
"Fall back!" Lydia shouted. "Fall back!"
"Never!" Eirik retorted.
"We can't stay here, my thane!" Lydia shouted.
"The huscarl is right," Inghild, who had risen up from where she fell, said as she rose to take up the ram. "We won't last long in this!"
"Agh! This is nothing!" Galmar roared. "Just get this damn log off my leg and I'll have that gate down myself, if I have to!"
"Aye, hear hear!" Eirik nodded. "You see? There's still hope yet, we can win this! Here, help me get the ram off him!"
"Any more of this and we'll be dead!" Thorald added.
"No!" Eirik shook his head, looking into the eyes of the Firstborn in disbelief as they were coming back to the ram. In their eyes he saw grim disapproval: they wanted him to retreat. But why? That was not the Nordic way! He had brought them this far, to the gates of Solitude; victory was so close, why were they doing this to him? Desperately he looked towards hot-headed Falke for some support.
"Come on, Falke," he said. "We can do this. You, Galmar and I, we're not runners. We'll take down the gate."
"Aye," Falke said grimly. "But today we are."
"No! No!" Eirik shouted in disbelief. "Gods, no!"
"Can you at least," Galmar heaved. "Get this log off me already?"
Eirik smote the log with his fist in anger, feeling betrayed. He could have taken the gate down; he had never yet lost a fight, he knew that victory was there, and yet he was being forced to give up. Angrily he gave the order to fall back, and for those who could to bear away the bodies of the fallen. Yet this proved to be costly, as the elves continued raining volley upon volley of conjured arrows upon them as they retreated: yea, the loss of life grew so great just from trying to retrieve their slain that Eirik hardened his heart and ordered his men to leave them behind.
Crixus now watched as the Sons of Skyrim returned in defeat from their assault on the gates of Solitude. The ram they had finally forsaken and were now making their grim way back down towards the camp of the main army. There was no mocking in his eyes, for he had tasted the bitter cup of defeat many times in his life. In truth, there was only one thing on his mind as he saw Eirik and the Sons of Skyrim retreating from the battle: despair. Three times the army, including the Sons of Skyrim, had assaulted the gates of Solitude and three times they had been pushed back.
As he stood there and watched, Crixus noticed Rikke approaching him to see the rout of the Sons of Skyrim. Her face was unreadable, neither jubilant nor morose. At the front of the retreating army, he saw Eirik and Lydia carrying Galmar Stone-Fist, a shining white arrow stuck fast in his chest and blood pouring out of his mouth.
"Crixus!" Eirik shouted as he laid Galmar upon the ground. "Have you no healer or leech among you? Fetch one, quickly!"
"Dynthor!" Lydia called out.
The quartermaster ran from where he was examining wounds to where Lydia had called him. He knelt down by Galmar and examined the wound. Curiously, Crixus and Rikke walked over to hear what would be his conclusion.
"Gods," Dynthor exclaimed. "The arrow has not gone through. It is still lodged inside him and will cause him greater pain to remove it."
"Don't worry," Eirik said to Galmar, kneeling at his side. "We'll get it out, and you'll be fine, and then we'll regroup and-and go back there and..."
"Dragonborn," Galmar grumbled.
"There's no need to talk," Eirik assured his marshal. "You're going to be alri..."
"Shut up and listen to me!" Galmar roared.
"He must not talk," Dynthor said, turning to Eirik. "The arrow has punctured his lungs, it will only cause him great pain."
"You're going to be alright," Eirik assured Galmar. "The gods are with us."
"Eirik," Galmar gasped. But Eirik didn't listen.
"Look, I have a Thu'um," Eirik continued. "It will heal you. I learned it from the Greybeards. Just hold on, it won't be..."
"I'm finished," Galmar stated, then laughed grimly. "A good fate for an old Nord, eh?"
"No!" Eirik shook his head. "You can't die, you won't die! I won't let you!"
"Eirik..."
"No! We've never lost one of the Firstborn since Windhelm, I'm not going to lose you!"
"Keep on fighting," Galmar gasped. "I'll...look for Ulfric...in Sovngarde...tell him...tell..."
The old Nord's head fell back onto Eirik's arm. Crixus saw Rikke hanging her head, but otherwise still stone-faced. All the Sons of Skyrim, even some of the older Nords in the Imperial garrisons from Haafingar and the Reach hung their heads in respect. Whether Eirik was angry or sad, Crixus could not rightly tell.
(AN: I know this will probably go over as "well" as Ulfric's death did in this story [ie, all my reviewers going "nobody cares!" like that Spongebob meme], but i tried. I really did try to make Galmar less of a dick in this story as opposed to The Dragonborn and the Lioness. As for Rikke, i've always seen her as kind of a hypocrite, since she serves the Empire and yet is worshiping Talos behind the scenes. Also, her behavior will be explained once we get to Bruma in The Dragon of the South, which is coming soon.)
(Also, Eirik gets his first taste of defeat. Like actual, personal defeat when he is the one leading the forces. It will, of course, force him to become even harder, showing how war can change people. But sit tight people, the unthinkable is about to happen)
