Their plan was not hard to keep up with, but what it lacked in complexity it made up for in being far-fetched. Thongvor Silver-Blood was to write and send a raven to his Thane, who would hopefully follow the clear cut instructions within. While the raven flew overhead, Commander Kottir Red-Shoal and Thorunn would lead their soldiers into battle with the hopes that it would distract and occupy the Dominion well enough to keep their eyes off the raven.
It wasn't necessary that they get into the city, but Thongvor was raising Oblivion when it came to the subject, loudly insisting that Markarth needed its Jarl. One could argue that they'd been doing fine with Vikkesia Hrethgir, but it would fall on deaf ears. So because of Thongvor's persistence, their goal had gone from securing the city to getting into it.
The Jarl himself was in the tent, sitting at a table and hastily scrawling on a piece of parchment. Thorunn was a ways from camp. She'd need a lot of open field for what she was about to do. Reaching out to the skies, past the mortal realm and into that which she drew her Voice from, she opened her mouth and tensed her body. "O-dah-viing!" she Shouted.
The ground rocked, but Thorunn held her balance. She intensely watched the clouded skies for a familiar winged silhouette... only it never came.
Confused, Thorunn cooled down for a moment, pacing the field in search of those jagged wings. She gathered her reserve again after some time without answer. "O-dah-viing!" she repeated.
She brought a hand to the Amulet of Talos stationed at her chest. "Do not fail me now, Talos," she whispered. Again, she drew forth her Voice and propelled into those agonizingly vacant skies over and over again. An hour had passed, and still no dragon appeared. Sighing irritably, Thorunn plopped down on a boulder, hugging her knees to her chest. Odahviing had never left her Call unanswered before. Was he in trouble? Was he angry with her for something? He was shrewd, but he wasn't disobedient, especially not over some petty squabble Thorunn wasn't even made aware of.
So he had to be in trouble. Why now? Thorunn couldn't abandon the war to embark on some impossible journey to save a dragon. "What's wrong?" inquired an accented voice from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, spotting the Bosmeri soldier Isha.
"Odahviing will not answer me," Thorunn responded, turning her head forward again. She heard Isha's nimble footfalls approaching until they stopped and the Bosmeri woman plopped down beside her on the boulder.
"Perhaps he grows tired of duty," pondered Isha. Dark circles hung under her arched brown eyes and her cheeks were even more hollow than that was typical of elven folk. "He is a dragon, no? They wish to fly and hunt and be free, not bow to the whim of mortals and fight human wars."
Thorunn's eyes passed to the ground beneath them. She sat in silence for a long moment, thinking, then glanced back up at the skies hopefully. Still, no dragon flew ahead. "What happened to your family, Isha?" she asked suddenly.
Surprisingly, a grin rose to Isha's lips. Her canines were sharp and longer than humans' were, something that did not escape Thorunn. "My family is like your Odahviing. They did not wish to fight wars and adhere to mortal squabbles, and so they took to the skies." Her grin faltered and some of the fire left her eyes at Thorunn's lack of laughter. "My parents played a big part in the resistance. I was only a girl of seven (that is almost a newborn in your human years). They tried to keep me and my four siblings hidden, but we all knew it was only a matter of time. I was hunting one day, something I was not allowed to do yet something my parents could not stop me from doing if they were not there, and saw the Dominion soldiers marching through the forest. I did not go home that night. I should have, to alarm my brothers and sister so that they could alarm my mother and father, yet... I did not. I went home a week later and found our trees burned to ashes. The corpses of my brethren were among them."
Thorunn blinked. It hadn't struck her just how far these soldiers' stories went until then. "What of your parents?" she asked, forgetting her manners. Once curiosity had taken her, there was no stopping it, not even the wetness in Isha's eyes.
"I do not know," she answered. "Nor do I care, if I am honest. I am of fifty years now. In the seven I knew my parents, I saw them perhaps a handful of times. Part of me relishes in the knowledge that they came home to nothing one day. A bit of revenge for their negligence." Her smile was honeyed this time.
Thorunn's eyes took to the sky again. Still, there was no shrouded silhouette to block the sun. "Perhaps they grew tired of duty, and left Valenwood to fly and hunt and be free." She cracked a snarky smile that Isha returned full-heartedly.
"Perhaps." she agreed. She got to her feet and dusted her hands off. "We-" No later than that, the war horns were blowing, loud and obnoxious over the wilderness.
Thorunn was to her feet in seconds. "Come on," she said, counting how many times the horn was blown. One, she counted as she rushed to the camp. Two. Three. They were marching. Why?
When she reached the camp, it was up in chaos. Soldiers were hurrying around everywhere, some of them clambering onto whichever horse was in their proximity and taking off while others were donning their armor. Servants were tossing food and tents into baskets and storing them elsewhere. Thorunn spotted Eriswe standing not far off, fiddling with her thumbs and looking dumbfounded on what to do. Thorunn pushed her way through the crowd in search of the commander.
But all she found was Thongvor. "What's going on?" she demanded, drawing her sword.
"Dominion soldiers are marching down the bank. That dragon of yours would really come in handy right now." Thongvor grunted as he hoisted an iron breastplate over his head, buckling it at his sides and shoulders.
"Talos damn it," Thorunn uttered. Their hopes of sparing the civilians of a battle was over now that the fight was knocking at their door. Thorunn did not have a dragon, but she did have more reliable Shouts up her sleeve.
"Well? Do you have a plan?" The Jarl had to raise his voice to be heard over all the clamoring.
Thorunn glanced around as if that would help her miraculously form a strategy. It was fight-or-flight, and Nords did not flee under any circumstance. "Fight," she concluded. "Keep pushing once we deal with these milk-drinkers. We may as well help out the men at the gates if we're already at it."
"I'd have it no other way." Thongvor grabbed his battleaxe and disappeared into the crowd.
"They've breached the city!" came another voice. This one Thorunn recognized as Altair. When she turned, he was rushing towards her, his daggers unsheathed. They weren't bloodied yet, Thorunn noted. "There's hundreds of them. We're outnumbered five to one. Our scouts just came back with word that they're already nearing the palace."
"Thongvor won't be happy with that," Thorunn commented. Years of battle had trained her to be eerily calm in these situations.
"Neither will the people of Markarth, I imagine."
She shrugged in agreement. "We need to get down there. I want you shielding the archers. You won't be at my side, but I'll be able to reach you if you're in a pinch. Where is the commander?"
"He's already at the bank."
Thorunn sighed irritably. "Naturally. Very well, we'll make do with what we have. Come on." She jerked her sword towards the pathway and began marching down and through the heaps of soldiers. War drums thumped at her ears, only slightly louder than the Stormcloak footfalls.
Thorunn halted at the edge of the ridge. It was all she could do to stop herself from gasping. Elves, hundreds of them, thousands, all dressed in gilded armor and hungry expressions, arrows notched and swords at their sides. And every point was trained directly at Thorunn.