Thousands of years later and, although the Dwemer and Chimer were long gone, one disappeared from existence, the other cursed by Azura for their leader's attempts to become gods themselves and transformed into the Dunmer, or Dark Elves, battle had once again come to Red Mountain.
But now it was a very different war, between the Empire of Men and the High Elf Aldmeri Dominion. After the First War between the two races, there had been a period of uneasy peace, until the crushing of the Nordic Stormcloak rebellion by the Imperial Legions, aided by the mysterious figure known as the Dragonborn, and the unexpected assault upon the Empire by the Thalmor rulers of the Dominion, upon learning of the power their new ally possessed.
Now, deep within a luxurious tent within the 8th Imperial Legion's main camp high up on the slopes of the volcano, the Dragonborn was casually catching a nap, seeming to care little that a High Elf army was even now marching upon the Imperial position.
That is until a gauntleted hand slapped him across his thin face. His handsome features and deep brown hair, a look common to natives of the Imperial province of Cyroddil, marked by a slight reddening as he awoke, finding himself staring into the pale face of Serana, former vampire, long-time companion and ,after almost a year of rejected proposals, ending with a successful one after a particularly hard fight against a pack of Frost Trolls led them to finding more than just warmth with one another in a small cave and a packed ceremony the week after in Riften- very much put-upon wife. However at the moment her long brown hair, elegantly styled, as always, framed a face set in a frown, her eyes almost glowing with frustration despite the fact she had been cured of her vampirism for months now.
"How can you sleep at a time like this Lucius?!" she demanded, manhandling him from beneath the collection of bear pelts and troll furs that formed their bed, to find him already fully dressed in his distinctive Dragon bone armour, an exact copy of the set she wore. Although, as he constantly reminded her, his armour was made from the bones of the mortal form of Alduin the World Eater, brought back from the heavenly Sovngarde,whilist her armour had been made from the bones of a dragon he had 'just happened to come across' whilst travelling to Markarth at night.
"Do you ever take that armour off?" she said with a raised eyebrow, her anger now changed to a slight sense of annoyance as he casually went over to the weapons rack on the wall, filled with all manner of weapons, from the first iron dagger he had forged in Riverwood after the destruction of Helgen, all the way to the Daedric artefacts and Skyforge steel blades that Lucius had acquired during his travels and his journey to becoming the Dragonborn.
"Only when you ask me nicely…" he replied with a flirtatious grin as he selected the Dawnbreaker, the glowing golden sword of the champion of Meridia, and the Spellbreaker, the strange Dwemer shield he and his housecarl Lydia had spent the best part of a month in a dwarven ruin trying to find, and tossed them across to his wife, who was trying not to grin at his almost ridiculously upbeat attitude to everything as he selected the glittering black curved forms of the Dragonbane and Bolor's Oathblade swords, both priceless relics of the military order of the Blades, Lucius personal bodyguard, as befitted the Dragonborn. Added to that he belted the ominous form of the Ebony Blade, a Daedric weapon he still bore, despite its evil origins, onto his back, red lettering flashing briefly on its black sheath.
Sliding the two dragon scale scabbards of the swords into his belt, Lucius then selected his favourite helmet, a formidable construction of ebony and dragon bone, from the armour rack to his left, grinning innocently at Serana as he slipped the heavy helmet over his head.
"If the Thalmor could only wait another hour or so before they start the battle I would be a lot happier…" he said with mock annoyance. "I was having the most wonderful dream."
"I don't want to know." Serena said with a laugh as she put on her own helmet. "I found the copies of the Lusty Argonian Maid underneath your bed yesterday whilst you were training with Legate Rikke outside."
Lucius's eyes widened.
"As if! Lydia and Hadvar must have…I don't know, sneaked in while we were out and left it here…."
And yet there was no more time for idle banter as they stepped out into the main area of the tent where the large map table was surrounded by a host of Imperial officers, at the opposite end General Tullius standing flanked by Legate Rikke and Delphine, Grandmaster of the Blades, all fully armoured and ready for battle.
"Ah Dragonborn. Took your time? "Tullius said with a slightly raised eyebrow, but Lucius knew the old soldier meant no offence. The two had a great respect for each other, if it seemed they hated each other at times.
"What's the situation out there?" Serena asked quickly, obviously trying to spare Lucius any embarrassment.
"The Dominion forces are still far enough away that we won't have to worry about them for at least a while…" Legate Rikke said simply, pointing at a collection of green flags on the map table, still some distant from the red flags of the Imperial lines. "However their scouting forces and some five hundred skirmishers, mostly Bosmer conscripts and Khajiit mercenaries, have advanced through our outer defence lines and are currently engaged with Legate Orsius' battalion of Orcish heavy infantry. Captain Hadvar stands ready to bring his own force around by this ridge here to flank the enemy units, but he doesn't know if he has the manpower to force them to retreat. We need them driven away before they can threaten our flanks"
"So you want me to lead an attack alongside Hadvar's men?" Lucius asked, his expression and voice deadly serious now that his comrades, and his old friend Hadvar, were about to perform such a risky manoeuvre.
"Only as far as this forest here, the Green Oasis, as the local Dunmer call it." Rikke replied, pointing at a crudely drawn collection of trees on the map. "These enemy soldiers are Khajiit and Bosmer. I trust you know of their…volatile, history. If you were to lead a group of fighters straight in to the heart of them, we may be able to break their morale enough that they either turn upon each other or the whole unit splits into two, one Khajiit and one of Wood Elves, which will be much easier to deal with before the main Thalmor force arrives."
Lucius nodded and, seeing a few encouraging nods from the assembled officers, turned to General Tullius before he said in a firm tone.
"Let's do this."
000000
As Lucius and his bodyguard of twenty Blades, amongst their number many of his former companions and long-time friends, including the burly form of Mjoll the Lioness and the young Nord Agmaer, on loan from the Dawnguard vampire hunters, currently checking over his crossbow as the small company of warriors dismounted their horses and looked out over the plain beyond.
A vast column of dust beyond the fast flowing River Ur was the only sign of the main Thalmor force, whilst the ridge they stood on stretched down to the baked earth beyond, where Hadvar's small unit of fifty Imperial soldiers formed a shieldwall, ready for whatever came at them, the forest around a mile away from them, leaving a large plain of dark earth. Behind Lucius and the others the ridge clambered up further, groups of Imperial archers with longbows and crossbows standing ready to pour fire upon the enemy.
For a second Lucius paused, looking around at the Blades around him, all standing in their elaborate heavy armour, acknowledging his warm smile with slight bows or nods.
Then he heard Agmaer shouting from where he sat crouched at the edge of the ridge, crossbow in hand.
"Sir, there's figures running towards Captain Hadvar's men!"
Instantly Lucius ran to the edge of the ridge and stared down.
As he watched in horror, a host of dark shapes ran out from the thick undergrowth of the Green Oasis forest, straight towards the Imperial soldiers.
In a flash Agmaer and five other Blades had drawn their crossbows and were ready to fire. When they came in range.
"No." Lucius ordered simply as he looked closer, his eyesight much better than the others due to his dragon blood, and the soldiers lowered their weapons. "Those are our boys."
But, as he watched the ragged remnants of Legate Orsius' troops rush across the hard ground towards Hadvar's men, he noticed how few there were of the hundred strong regiment he had seen only the day before leaving camp. The Legate and his men were the toughest Orcs he had ever fought alongside, and yet here they were running as if Alduin himself were chasing them. Something wasn't right.
Then the dozen strong remains of Orsius' men all collapsed simultaneously, glittering glass arrows in their backs.
"Take aim!" Lucius roared at his men, but already it was too late, as a group of black cloaked Thalmor on horseback burst out of the forest line, already stringing new arrows to their deadly bows of glass and moonstone.
"Shit… Those aren't skirmishers" he cursed and drew his swords.
"Blades! With me!" he roared, and no sooner had the words left his lips than he heard the clatter of twenty swords leaving their sheaths, and then, allowing himself a second to smile with satisfaction at his men, he ran down the hill.
"For the Emperor! For the Dovhakin!" came the shouts from both sides as Lucius ran down the ridge, dislodging loose stones and pebbles under his armoured feet, watching the Thalmor soldiers break on Hadvar's shield wall. But the cavalry were quick to retreat, as lines of Thalmor soldiers in black cloaks and hard glass armour, bearing the distinctive red eye emblem of Justicar Ondolemar, elite soldiers of the Dominion carrying lethal looking swords and axes, in amongst their numbers a few battered looking Bosmer and Khajiit.
But Lucius and his troops didn't so much as flinch as more Thalmor began rushing across the dusty plain towards them, flights of arrows flying overhead from the Imperial lines, and the resounding roar of countless Imperial troops echoed across the slopes of Red Mountain as the Legion lumbered in to battle.
The Blades slammed in to the front ranks of the Thalmor, cutting down the elite Mer as if they were undisciplined bandits not trained soldiers. Their ebony blades rose and fell as one, slashing through their fragile glass armours and painting the baked earth with elven blood.
But it was Lucius that cut the greatest swathe, as he brought the full power of the Dragonborn to bear upon the elves, his twin blades hacking and slashing their way through all challengers, splintering whole groups of the Thalmor with devastating shouts of power and his deadly swordsmanship.
Hacking through three screaming Thalmor, knocking aside their greatswords before slashing them across the chest with a lethal double bladed strike, he ran on, whirling his blades around himself, any that stood against him cut down or turned to ash by his Fire Breath.
"Dovhakin! Dovhakin!" came the resounding roar as, on both sides, lines of red armoured shapes and proud banners announced the arrival of the Imperial reinforcements, their tight shield formations and disciplined ranks clashing with the High Elves now pouring out in waves from the forest and the clouds of dust that had obviously been magically conjured to the east to hide their army's rapid movements.
But, as Lucius cut down a proud looking Thalmor officer bearing an ornate glass battle-axe, he saw that the High Elf lines were breaking, rushing back towards the dust cloud to the left of the forest.
"Take it to them!" He roared, sheathing his twin blades as he slowly brought the Ebony Blade from his back, balancing it in both hands as he looked left and right at the formidable steel shields and grim faces of the Imperial Legion, then, the shouts of the army behind spurring him on, rushing forward, the clatter of weapons the only sound he needed to hear to know he did not run alone.
Out of the dust clouds stepped another rank of Thalmor troops, hastily setting up their own wall of shields and wicked spears and, for a second, Lucius felt a slight sense of pleasure at seeing their terrified expressions as he pounded forward.
But then he noticed one of the officers, atop a horse armoured in glittering glass and moonstone, suddenly tumble from the saddle, his eyes rolling up in to the back of his head. He kept running, but already he could see a few others drop, their weapons clattering to the floor.
"Cowardly bastards!" he heard one of his Blades laugh, but then, he watched with a sense of horror as the entire Thalmor battle line suddenly collapsed silently, except for the slam of their armoured forms hitting the baked earth.
There were mere seconds left until the first of the Imperial troops hit the eerily empty Thalmor battle line, and Lucius gripped his blade tighter, ready to discover whatever foul sorcery had bewitched the Thalmor. If it could wipe out a whole army that quick, what would happen when the Imperials reached that dust cloud?
He leapt over the first of the Thalmor bodies, the high Elf motionless, his face set in an expression of pure pain and agony and leapt in to the dust cloud, just as the swirling particles of ash and dirt began to clear, the Thalmor mages evidently dead themselves for the enchantment to end so quickly. And, as Lucius looked out over the open plain that was revealed, he felt a sense of horror.
Beyond was literally a carpet of Thalmor corpses, all laid out in neat rows stretching of into the distance, dead where they had stood, countless scattered weapons and shields catching the blazing sunlight streaming down overhead.
Then there was a shimmering in the air only a hundred metres from the stalled Imperial line, as the soldiers had found the grisly discovery and had stalled, and Lucius peered closer.
"What foul sorcery is this?" Mjoll said, her voice choked up with fear, keeping her sword in an iron hard grip.
Then there was a flash of blinding blue light, sending many of the soldiers around them to their knees, and Lucius watched with a sense of equal parts awe and terror as a host of golden shapes began to appear out of the shimmering blue light and swirling dust, their armoured forms seeming to slowly meld in to reality from formless blobs of gold.
"Stand fast!" he heard Captain Hadvar holler, but he could sense the Imperial soldiers on all sides wavering as the golden figures began to advance, and he finally recognised them, feeling a chill go down his spine as he whispered to himself.
"Dwemer…"
Then there was no time to speak, as the sky was suddenly filled with golden arrows falling into the Imperial lines, and the thunk of metal on wood was drowned out by the screams of dying soldiers.
"Dovhakin!" came a voice from nearby, and then Hadvar was at Lucius' side, a sturdy wood and steel shield held above both of them as the whistling of arrows and shouts of men echoed from all around.
"What are these things?" the captain demanded, wincing as his shield arm began to waver from the weight of the strange arrows slamming into it.
"Bad news…" Lucius replied simply, trying not to watch as soldiers were scythed down on all sides.
"What do we do?!"
Lucius stepped out from under the cover of the shield, feeling the arrows slice down dangerously close to him, and shouted out.
"Lok vah koor!" he roared, the ancient words of the Thu'um, intended to clear the skies of weather effects, having a similar effect upon the Dwemer's attack ,the arrows sailing towards the Imperial lines clattering harmlessly to the ground.
"Surprised that worked.." he mused, but was snapped out of it when he saw the Dwemer forces advancing, their shields reflecting the sun as the light danced across their bronze and gold armour, an unbroken line of impassive faces holding their blades high.
"Men of the Empire!" he heard someone shouting and, turning to his right, saw General Tullius standing proud alongside his elite 'Firstborn' heavy cavalry further down the line, atop an armoured stallion, rallying the soldiers already turning to run. "Whoever these beings are, they will not stop unless we meet them with pure Imperial steel. Take it to them!"
And with that the Imperial army, with one deafening battle cry, rushed towards the Dwemer lines, Lucius running to stay at the front, determined to sweep aside these new enemies with the power of the Thu'um.
The Imperial army broke upon the Dwemer lines like water on rock, slamming into the golden shields and being pushed back under a wall of unnaturally sharp blades and superior discipline. The strong formations collapsed into a rabble as the dwarves drove forwards, fast spider-like automatons leaping over the Dwemer warriors and cutting through the Imperials with bladed legs and blast of bizarre blue lightning.
Lucius and the remnants of his bodyguard managed to hold fast in the face of the Dwemer advance, but, as he raked the Ebony Blade uselessly across the thick Dwemer shields, Lucius found their weapons and tactics, suited to fighting lightly armoured Thalmor, hopeless against the heavily armoured dwarves.
"Fus Roh Dah!" he bellowed, blasting a gap in the shield wall and sending Dwemer warriors slamming into the baked earth, but, as he and a host of Imperial foot soldiers attempted to rush forward, he heard a distinctive mechanical clanking fill the air, and felt his hope die.
The Dwemer Centurion emerged from a cloud of steam and dust ahead of them, its armoured form marching unstoppably forwards as the Dwemer warriors parted to let it and five identical automatons trudge past, red fletched Imperial arrows slamming weakly into it and bouncing off or sticking into its golden form.
"Form up! Form up!" Lucius shouted, but his orders were lost in the screams of dying men as the Centurions ploughed into the Imperials, sending dozens of men flying with sweeps of their huge axes and hammers.
"Sir, we need to fall back!" Mjoll screeched at him, her face splashed with her comrade's blood, her distinctive blue war paint lost in the crimson.
Lucius ran towards her, watching with horror as the Dwemer warriors cut through any opposition, but was too late as a blood stained brass axe came swinging down, cleaving the brave warrior woman in half and throwing her remains out over the melee of red and gold figures.
In desperation he looked in all directions, but all he saw was death and destruction. To his right General Tullius and a few battered Firstborn heavy cavalry duelled with elegant Dwemer warriors riding giant golden spiders, whilst a group of Orc and Nord soldiers ran screaming from a pack of Dwarven Spheres, many cut down by crossbow bolts as they fled. To his left a formidable looking unit of Dwemer warriors clad in deep blue cloaks and golden female masks charged through a hastily erected shield wall with evil looking brass spears, easily impaling any who dared stand and fight as the men's blood splashed across their golden armour.
Breathing heavily Lucius only just managed to block a strike from a Dwemer wielding a huge greatsword, ramming the tip of the Ebony Blade through the joint between the warriors helmet and neck armour, then staggering briefly the advancing Centurions rushing at them with a well-placed Unrelenting Force shout.
Realising the situation was hopeless, he looked up at the skies, now filled with Dwemer arrows and a few Imperial arrows being fired in retaliation, and, taking a deep breath, screamed to the skies.
"Od Ah Ving!"
For a second there was nothing except the clash of steel on all sides and screams of dying Imperials, but then he saw a dark shape appearing in the skies near the impassive form of Red Mountain, getting closer.
He sensed more Dwemer warriors approaching and turned to face them, finding himself up against at least a dozen heavily armoured soldiers, all armed with shields and swords or axes.
One of them shouted something incomprehensible in his own tongue, seconds before a deafening bestial roar filled the air and a gout of flame blasted down from above, melting the warrior's armour and causing every warrior, Imperial and Dwemer, on the battlefield, to look up with fear as a dark shape hovered above the blood soaked earth.
"Dovhakin!" The towering dragon boomed. "I am here!"
Letting off another blast of fire Odahviing, former right hand of Alduin, now ally of his former greatest foe, flew low overhead, tearing through a rampaging Centurion before landing in front of the Dragonborn, scattering Dwemer warriors with a single movement of his mighty wings.
"You must flee Dovhakin." The dragon said simply, pausing to send another jet of fire towards a brave but foolish group of Dwemer soldiers advancing upon them. "These Dwemer are an ancient and powerful race. Even you cannot stand against their full might. The Dragonborn is too important to the world to let yourself be cut down here!"
Lucius bowed his head, the sounds of battle still sounding out on all sides. He couldn't leave the Legion and his friends to die like this. Especially not Serana. But the dragon before him was insistent, and he knew that the Empire couldn't possibly win this battle.
"Don't worry sir. We'll hold them off!" Agmaer shouted to his left, as he battled against two battered looking Dwarven Spheres.
With a sigh Lucius quickly turned back to Odahviing, knowing there was no time to argue. He shouted over to Hadvar, who was just finishing off a spider automaton with a sword thrust to the body, and the brave captain ran over.
"Hadvar! We need to go!"
He knew he had not time left, but Lucius didn't care. He would at least save one of his friends.
The two men clambered up the armoured sides of Odahviing, gripping to his scaled back as Dwemer arrows sailed towards them, most clattering off the dragon's scaled hide, but a few burying themselves deep in him.
With one last roar of defiance and jet of flame directed at the Dwemer, Odahviing soared high up into the sky and away, until the battle below was little more than a jumble of red and gold shapes, and off into the clear skies beyond.