Another hail of gold tipped arrows came flying down towards the Imperial shield wall, glinting in the bright sunlight like miniature stars before burying themselves in the thick wood of the Legionnaires shields.
"Hold!" Serana shouted, crouched behind the stout form of the Spellbreaker, the polished white metal seeming to shimmer and crackle with magical energy as the Dwemer arrows clattered off its smooth surface. Gripping the glowing form of the Dawnbreaker sword, its blade the colour of sunlight, she breathed deeply as the weight of the shield pressed down on her arm, glad she was wearing her tough Dragonbone armour, but also feeling guilt compared to all the soldiers beside her in light armour.
On all sides of the small Imperial formation the former vampire was leading, the plains around Red Mountain were playing host to a massacre. Line after line of gleaming gold Dwemer infantry carved their way through the Imperial lines, their swords rising and falling in unison, as machinelike as the automatons that fought alongside them.
"What should we do my lady?!" demanded the Legionnaire to her right, his face caked in dried blood and beads of sweat. "What can we do against these metal men?"
Suddenly a crossbow bolt punched through the soldier's shield and straight through his chest and, as he fell back and began choking and spewing blood, Serana had a glimpse of the horrors playing out across the battlefield.
All around scattered groups of Legionnaires ran and cowered, screaming in terror and pain as the emotionless golden forms of the Dwemer soldiers advanced upon them, not breaking formation even as a few lucky Imperial arrows and sword thrusts took down their comrades. Some Legionnaires stood and fought, but were cut to pieces by hails of arrows and crossbow bolts, painting the baked earth crimson. And amongst it all came the infernal bronze forms of the Dwarven automatons, groups of Spheres rolling across the battlefield, firing their crossbows in all directions as they hacked down fleeing Imperials with their mechanical swords. And, with a scraping of metal on earth, a unit of five Spheres changed course and charged towards
The clattering of hooves caused her and the other terrified soldiers in her formation to look away from the oncoming automatons, as a group of Imperial cavalry, their steel swords in hand, charged the machine-soldiers, at their head Legate Rikke, her helmet off and her dark brown hair hanging wildly around her sweat stained face as she rammed her blade through the metal face of one of the Spheres.
For a second Serana felt her thumping heart, a sensation she was still getting used to after centuries of being a vampire, begin to slow from its mad rate at the sight of the Imperial cavalry saving them from certain death. Then she saw another Sphere rush at the Legate, hacking down a cavalryman and his horse with one sweep of its weapon and, as Rikke raised her sword to defend herself, hack straight through the steel sword, knocking Rikke from her horse.
Just as the Sphere raised its blade to finish the brave Legate off, Serana leapt to her feet, throwing the Spellbreaker aside and letting forth a bolt of lightning from her left hand, which slammed straight into the automaton. The Sphere seemed unaffected, the magic energy simply crackling around its golden form for a second before disappearing, but by then the Legate was up, drawing her dagger and plunging the blade straight into the automatons back, the Sphere instantly falling to the baked earth with a whir of broken machinery.
Breathing heavily Serana ran over to the Legate, the sounds of clashing blades and scream of terrified Imperials seeming to fade into the background as the Legate shouted a quick order at her.
"Auxiliary! General Tullius has called for a full retreat. Take your men and get them out of here! We'll rendezvous at Balmora! Move it! The cavalry will cover the retreat." she added for emphasis as she leapt atop her horse once more.
Serana nodded and, as she turned to go, offered the Dawnbreaker to the Legate, whose eyes widened for a second at the glowing sword, before quickly taking it, nodding stiffly by way of thanks.
"You'll need it more than I will." Serana explained simply as she readied two fireball spells in her hands.
The Legate nodded and charged off into the battle beyond, and Serana ran, trying to block out the screams and sounds of her comrades being slaughtered on all sides.
"Auxiliary!" shouted a gruff voice, and Serana shook herself awake, the gentle swaying motion of the horse below her bringing her out of her nightmares of the massacre at Red Mountain.
Blinking a few times to clear her vision, the former vampire looked out over the column of battered looking Imperial soldiers riding on the road in front of and behind her, the skies above a deep brown streaked with grey ash clouds.
"Auxiliary!" came the voice again, and instantly Serana turned to see the unsmiling face of General Tullius. The old soldier had escaped the battle with the Dwemer alongside her all those days ago, surprising for someone she had seen battling with the Dwemer's elite spider riding cavalry almost singlehanded after his Firstborn division were slaughtered. Although his ornate armour was dented and his gaunt face was covered in bruises and the odd half healed scar, he still remained calm and composed, as always.
Brushing her hair away from her eyes, Serana took a moment to compose herself. The memories of that battle would haunt her for a long time yet. And though the Dawnbreaker sword and Dragonbone armour were gone- the latter thrown aside in her haste to escape the battlefield, she still felt slightly naked without them.
'At least this armours more comfortable," she thought to herself. The light red Legion armour was much less cumbersome, while the steel Imperial sword at her hip was much lighter than the strange bronze of the Dawnbreaker.
"Sorry General," She said with a sigh. "I was…still thinking about what happened at Red Mountain.
Tullius nodded, his grim frown seeming to soften slightly, which seemed to be the general's version of smiling. She remembered Lucius once telling her that he had never seen the old general smile, except during the raucous night of celebrating the end of the Stormcloak rebellion in Solitude.
"Of course." He said, his voice not as grating as he spoke again. "I don't think I could ever reprimand a soldier for showing emotion. I wouldn't want some army of emotionless automatons like those gods forsaken Dwemer do anyway…"
For a second the general paused, and Serana followed his gaze to the view on either side of the wide cobblestone Imperial road, at the rolling ash plains covered in a patchwork of fields and ruined farmhouses.
"The Dwemer?" she asked as her keen eyes picked out a few scattered Dunmer corpses lying amongst the trampled crops.
Tullius nodded. "I still remember when we first came down this road and this was lush farmland. The Dwemer must have sent out raiding parties to burn the countryside, force our men out."
"Or to send a message." Serana added darkly as they passed by a row of blood-stained spikes, atop each one the pale head of a Legionnaire, only recognisable by the battered steel and leather helmets they wore. She pointed a steel gauntleted hand out over the fields beyond. "Do you think the Dwemer left any troops to ambush us?"
Tullius shook his head. "I doubt those golden bastards even know the meaning of the word. From the little I've read about them, and from what I can remember from fighting them on the battlefield, subtle is not exactly something they do…"
Despite the general's encouraging words, as the column of men on horseback and carts filled with wounded and what few supplies they had managed to scavenge clattered past the row of soldier's heads, Serana felt a cold feeling in her stomach. It wasn't necessarily at the brutality, she had seen far worse during her time as a vampire and it was actually almost tame by the standards of the Volkhair Clan, but it was the meanings behind it. This wanton brutality just didn't seem to be the same as the almost machinelike and clinical Dwemer soldiers on the battlefield. Whoever had done this was a very different beast to the calm and emotionless Dwarves she had seen. And, in her experience, rogue mavericks like this Dwemer raider were always much more dangerous than the more organised commanders and comrades they fought for.
As she thought about this, she noticed that the spikes with heads on them continued further up the road, carrying on for what seemed like miles, all at regular intervals, not just Legionnaires now but House Redoran troops in bonemold helmets.
"Has there been any word from Balmora?" Serana asked as the column marched on, the low mutter of hushed conversations and creak of men readying bows and crossbows for action filling the air, along with the distant squawk of the messenger hawks in the cart up ahead, and the muffled moaning of the wounded as a few harried healers attempted to patch them up with a mixture of spells and herbal remedies.
Tullius shook his head. "I sent a detachment of five riders out about a day ago when we pitched camp for the night. Haven't heard anything since. They're probably dead." He added and sighed. "Sometimes I just wish I could retire, live out my days in Solitude or Whiterun with my wife. Maybe fish out on Lake Innilata. I always did have a bit of a soft spot for Skyrim weather and Cyroddil just seems a bit…plain…after all I've seen."
He almost looked about to smile, when he looked closely at one of the heads they passed, and turned to Serana.
"How many heads do you estimate there are here, Auxiliary?"
Serana thought about it for a second, then replied. "At least five hundred."
The general nodded. "I would say about five hundred and fifty, the same as the garrison we left in Balmora. We will be receiving no help from them." He added simply, and sighed. "We'll have to head to the port at Fort Reclusion if we want to have any chance of getting off this rock and to any kind of reinforcements."
As he said this a Legionnaire came clattering down the column, saluting quickly.
"General Tullius sir! Grandmaster Delphine and the scouts have returned and wish to give their report."
Tullius nodded before saying. "Understood soldier. I'll be there right away. And don't salute while we're in a warzone! Do you want any ambushers knowing exactly who's in charge?"
As the general followed the messenger further up the column, Serana suppressed a smile. Tullius hadn't changed a bit. Even though, in his ornate armour, he stuck out amongst the drab reds of the other Legion troops, he still kept to protocol.
She sighed. That sounded like something Lucius would say. She wished he was here. The last she had seen of him was him fighting in the very heart of the battle as elite Blades and Legion soldiers alike were hacked down by the Dwemer, he had somehow managed to fight on. She didn't blame him for running. From her position higher up the foothills of Red Mountain, she had seen how Lucius' position was being overrun by a seemingly endless line of automatons and armoured Dwarven warriors. Lucius was a lot of things- a skilled warrior, expert blacksmith and total lightweight drinker who could pass out from barely two meads- but he was not a coward. Odahviing must have said something to him that convinced him to leave, she was sure of it. In the three years she had known him, he had never backed down from a fight, even when it may have resulted in his death.
She was brought out of her thoughts by a shrill young voice shouting her name.
"Lady Serana! Lady Serana!"
She didn't even need to turn towards the sound of hooves getting closer to know exactly who it was. Agmaer was flustered and red faced when she turned to look at him. The young former farmhand, now member of the Dawnguard, had never been a great rider, and he had the habit of calling literally everyone 'Lord' or 'Lady'.
However he looked every inch the warrior in his heavy Blades armour, katana at his hip. Technically Agmaer had only meant to be an observer of the Blades tactics for the Dawnguard- learning their techniques and how they might be used against vampires- but now it seemed he was an unofficial member until they reached safety.
"What is it Agmaer?" she said kindly, trying not to let her own doubts and fears make her lash out at the poor man, who still looked shaken from the horrors of the battle against the Dwemer.
"It's Lydia." He replied simply. "She's awake. But that's all the good news I have about her…"
000000
They rode quickly back down the column, and Serana saw the state of the few hundred survivors that Tullius had led from that hellish battlefield. A dozen battered wooden carts were piled high with the few supplies that had been foraged from the devastated land beyond, or else filled instead with the groaning and howling forms of the wounded, a few harried healers and priests in blood-spattered robes moving amongst them, attempting to stop the soldiers' pain with what little potions and healing magic they had left. She could see that most of the healers were ready to drop themselves, the toll of trying to use so much magic over such a long period really taking their toll on them. The rest of the men were all on horseback- the one advantage of having such a small force- but many of them were worse for wear too, their armour battered and their faces set in expressions of sorrow or just blankly staring ahead, many of them draped in bandages around the stumps of limbs or wounds upon their chests. Some were muttering prayers to the Divines, the others trying to talk amongst themselves or just ignore the devastated plains on all sides, or the smoke rising from behind them in the distance.
Lydia was laid out on the back of one of the last carts, along with a few wounded men still able to heft a bow, watching for any enemy movement. The brave housecarl's heavy Imperial armour was laid out beside her along with her weapons, and the white cloth short and ragged brown trousers made her look frail and thin, a direct contrast to the proud warrior Serana knew her to be. But it was the state of Lydia's right arm that made Serana wince. The entire forearm was gone, cleanly sliced off by a Dwemer blade, the wad of stained bandages around it hiding what was most likely a grisly sight.
"Gods…" Serana cursed softly, wishing that Lucius was here now to support one of his oldest friends. The Nord housecarl's eyes fluttered open slowly as Serana climbed onto the back of the cart and sat by her, Agmaer taking hold of her horse and keeping pace with the cart atop his own mount.
"Oh, hey Serana…" Lydia said groggily, a gormless smile on her face. 'Those calm spells the healers are using must be working…' Serana thought to herself as the housecarl clumsily shifted herself up and looked out.
"W-where's Hadvar?" she asked, her voice beginning to return to normal, her eyes widening. "Where is he? Last time I saw him he was with Lucius. Where is he?! Where are they?!" she said, her voice getting more panicked and louder. Serana knew that Lydia was in a bad state now. The housecarl would never have been this weak and screechy normally.
"Shhh... it's going to be fine." Serana said soothingly, noticing other Legionnaires around them looking at them nervously. "You just need to…"
"Enemies incoming!" came a shout, as a Blade in battered armour came riding down the convoy, his sword out as he bellowed. "Form up!"
"Shit…" Serana cursed as she saw a dust cloud on the road behind, getting steadily closer. Glancing left and right, she saw two more dust clouds either side, as the Legionnaires still battle-ready drew their swords and reined in their mounts.
"What's happening? What are we…?" Lydia demanded, and Serana sighed quickly as she drew her own sword, the unfamiliar Imperial steel feeling strange and off balance in her hands.
"I'm sorry Lydia…" she said simply, before punching her in the jaw, the housecarl falling back to the floor of the wagon. Serana threw a blanket over the top of the prone Nord. Lydia was no help to them while she was still delirious, and now any attackers would think of putting a sword through the still-traumatised housecarl.
"Lady Serana! We need to reinforce the back of the column!"
Standing up in the cart Serana accepted the offered hand from Agmaer as he pulled her atop his horse. She looked out over the column as the carts sped up, their drivers spurring the horses on while those wounded still able to fight clutched bows and spears to themselves, ready to repel any attackers even though they weren't fit to fight. Agmaer brought them around to the last cart in the line, this one already filled with three wounded Legionnaire's clutching bows, and a few stacks of arrows.
From up ahead she could hear shouted orders and Legionnaires calling out to one another, and above it all the dull bellow of Legate Tacitus- the general's second in command, echoing over the clatter of steel and rumble of carts beyond.
"Get the carts out of here! All riders form up on your commanders! The general wants every messenger hawk out of here! To Skyrim, to Cyroddil, to High Rock! Get them sent or you'll be running there yourself!"
Looking out over the plain Serana focused on the dust cloud directly behind them, already the dim sunlight illuminating on golden metal as the riders came into focus.
"How many do you reckon there are?" she asked the Legionnaire to her left, a wide eyed Breton, who shrugged and replied in between chattering teeth.
"At least a hundred from all sides. We can't fight them! We're all dead!"
Serana roughly thrust a bow into the Breton's trembling hands. "We will be if we don't fight back. Now bring down those golden bastards!"
By the time she had shifted her weight, quickly throwing a quiver full of arrows to the nearest archer, a slim Redguard man with a bandage across one eye, the Dwemer cavalry were now visible.
A column of armoured golden warriors atop shining bronze spider automatons, long bronze spears and heavy shields in hand, came charging straight towards the column, a few stray Imperial arrows burying into the road around them. And, at the very head of the spearhead was a huge Dwemer warrior, a greatsword held in one hand as if it weighed nothing, the other holding an equally large shield with a single huge ruby set into the boss at the centre, and his armour was a deep crimson- the colour of blood- while the helmet bore a nightmarish snarling face across its visor.
"It is the Crimson Reaper!" shouted the one eyed Redguard archer next to Serana. "The Day of Red Sands is happening again! The old stories were true!"
"Keep it together soldier!" Serana snapped. "Agmaer! Throw me your crossbow!"
The young Dawnguard member instantly threw across the powerful weapon, drawing his sword with a clatter of metal as he rode alongside the cart, flinching as Imperial red fletched arrows flew overhead and the Riders of Dahaka drew ever closer.
Quickly dropping her sword Serana pushed the stock of the crossbow into her shoulder, steadying the weapon and taking a deep breath, just as Lucius had taught her-whilst he had at the same time been shamefully but ineffectually flirting with her. She knew Agmaer was a better shot- had seen him nail a gargoyle between the eyes at a hundred paces, but he was a terrible horse archer.
She fired quickly, the recoil slamming into her shoulder, but the red armoured Dwemer contemptuously knocked the bolt from the air with his shield, so close now she could see the steam hissing from his automatons joints and the brown cloak billowing out from his shoulders like a battle flag. More arrows flew towards the rider and his men, but their thick armour easily deflected the arrows, and already Serana could hear the sounds of battle from all sides, the other two Dwemer forces evidently already at the Imperial convoy.
Agmaer tossed over a steel bolt and she grabbed it from the air, attempting to slide it into place.
"Shit! The damn things jammed!" she cursed, watching in horror as the red armoured rider came ever closer.
"It's Cuolec the Red! The Crimson Reaper!" the Redguard Legionnaire shrieked in fear, falling to the floor of the cart and dropping his bow, covering his face with his hands. The other two Legionnaires, the wide eyed Breton and a tough looking Nord woman with a jagged scar across her forehead, grimly drew their swords, willing but unready to face the Dwemer warriors in battle.
Serana still struggled with the crossbow, until she felt the cart drop slightly and a firm but gentle hand took the crossbow from her, effortlessly clearing the jam and aiming the weapon.
"Agmaer?" she said in slight disbelief, as the farm boy stood up in the cart, the sunlight shining off his Blades armour and the determined look on his face seeming to transform him from a foolish young man to a proud warrior- a true Nord.
Without another word Agmaer fired, and Serana watched as the bolt flew out, punching straight through the front of Cuolec's mount and out the other side. For a second the Dwemer bore down on them regardless until, with a shudder and whir of broken machinery, the automaton sputtered and began smoking, then fell straight towards the baked earth.
If he was surprised in any way, the huge Dwemer warrior didn't show it, as he instantly threw aside his shield and greatsword, leaping through the air, drawing a golden shortsword from his belt in mid-air, and landing in a crouch atop the back of the cart.
Serana and Agmaer took a step back in shock at the Dwemer's actions. Losing his mount had barely slowed him down.
The Nord and Breton soldiers rushed forward, slashing at him simultaneously. In one swift movement Cuolec parried one attack and dodged the other, slitting the throat of the Nord with a sweep of his blade and shoving the Breton aside with one moment of his armoured right shoulder, the Breton tumbling over the side of the cart and the whole wagon jumping up slightly as it rolled over his body.
He advanced slowly, the Redguard soldier still crouched in the middle of the wagon, mumbling to himself.
As Cuolec walked forward casually, the other Dwemer riders came alongside, readying their spears and swords, but he waved them away with a casual flick of his hand as he unclasped the ornate brooch tha held his cloak in place, letting it fall from his shoulders to the floor of the cart.
"Leave them." He snapped in a low tone, dripping with menace. "The Nord bitch and the little man are mine."
"Just like the stories!" the Redguard gibbered and Cuolec paused, turning his head to look down at the man through his visor.
"Not even worth the effort." He said with a hint of laughter, yet still took the soldier's head from his shoulders with one clean sweep anyway.
"We have to take him down!" Serana shouted over the clatter of blades and screams of men and Dwemer alike from all around, and Agmaer nodded grimly. In front of them the cart driver attempted to bring them around a group of Legionnaires and Riders of Dahaka trading blows from atop their mounts, and, just as he brought them past, a glittering spear punched through his throat and he fell off the side, his killer carrying on as the horse in front madly charged through the melee, the cart rocking and bucking underneath its occupants.
Cuolec seemed unsure on the uneven surface, but his heavy armour kept him centred as he advanced on the two Nords, his bloody sword held to the side as he walked forward on steady but slow footsteps.
"A shame really." He said simply. Cuolec didn't seem to be one for long speeches. "I was hoping for a fair fight."
Suddenly from the left came the thunder of hooves and a single figure, clad in Blades armour inlaid with gold and a single dragon in bright green emerald on the breastplate, leapt from their horse onto the centre of the cart.
"Maybe I can even things up a bit." Delphine, Grandmaster of the Blades, replied with a slight smile as she straightened up, her helmet off to reveal her drawn and slightly wrinkled features, but her eyes were bright and filled with a fiery determination as she drew her two katanas, the twin Akavari swords seeming to sing as they left their sheathes.
"Go now." She said firmly to Agmaer and Serana as she adopted a fighting stance, her left sword above her head and the other held directly in front of her.
The two Nords didn't need any more encouragement as they both clumsily leapt atop Agmaer's horse, which was somehow still alive and keeping pace with the cart, and clattered along the battle torn column and away.
"Foolish Kar-Din." Cuolec mocked as the two expert warriors circled one another. "I have killed dozens just like you in my life. I have faced Daedra and Dunmer, monsters and heroes, and have never shown any mercy or given any quarter."
Delphine smiled slightly. "I remember Esbern telling me once about you Dwemer. Arrogant, foolish and as full of shit as a tavern outhouse. I have studied the battle arts of Akavir and Cyroddil, the sword singers of Hammerfell and the ice fencing of the Snow Elves. You are nothing but a lesson on Dwemer fighting styles…" she added confidently.
Cuolec laughed. "Scholars talk. Warriors act."
And with that Delphine leapt forward, bringing both blades up towards her chest and slashing in a reverse scissor motion which Cuolec parried with a swing of his blade, the two warriors grunting with the effort as he pushed back, freeing his own blade as Delphine jumped backwards and instantly counter attacking, the Blade dodging his strike and slashing back, bringing one sword down then the other, keeping up a flurry of blows which either glanced off the Dwemer's armour or he fended off with rough but strong movements of his own sword.
For a second the two warriors circled one another once more, searching for any opening s the cart continued to madly thunder down the road.
Then Cuolec started forward, both hands gripping the handle of his blade as he slashed straight at Delphine, the elderly warrior easily sidestepping the blow and slashing for the Dwemer's face.
Her sword clattered off the crest of Cuolec's helm, but not before she brought her other blade around and, in one swift but precise movement, tore the helmet from the Dwemer's head before he even had a chance to react.
For a second Cuolec blinked in the bright sun, his jagged scars seeming to almost pulse red with rage as he thrust at Delphine, the rubies in his beard tinkling and jangling softly in time with his grunts and muffled curses.
"Don't worry." Delphine said breathlessly in-between attacks as she drove the Dwemer towards the back of the cart. "Let me add a few extra scars to your collection."
Cuolec snarled in rage, bringing his elbow up and ramming it into the Blade's face, grinning slightly as the crack of her nose breaking came in time with the thump of his armour on her cheek and he kicked out at her knee, the Blade's thick armour the only thing saving her from a shattered leg. Bringing the pommel of his blade up as he had no room to bring the sword itself up, he smashed it into Delphine's forehead, stunning her momentarily and opening up an ugly gash across her tanned skin, blood pumping out freely and down her face.
But the veteran Blade wasn't out yet. Rolling to one side she scooped up Agmaer's crossbow from where it lay on the cart floor, throwing it at Cuolec's face. The Dwemer easily knocked it aside, but it was all the openings she needed to leap forward, bringing her sword down on the warrior's face.
A slight movement of the cart as it passed over a rock saved the Dwemer from having his head sliced in two, merely slicing a few strands from his beard before clattering off his neck armour. Cuolec wasted no time though, driving Delphine back with a flurry of wide sweeps of his blade, the sword a golden blur as he swept it back and forth in a seemingly mad but actually expert series of quick attacks and slashes.
Delphine dodged his sweeps before leaping over his sword and elbowing him back, bringing her swords around in a powerful slash which Cuolec only just dodged, then, bringing her right sword up, switched her grip on it in mid-air, holding the sword in a backhand motion like a dagger, then bringing the weapon down on Cuolec's left hand side, cutting through the bronze chainmail underneath his shoulder pad and biting deep into his arm.
The Dwemer hissed in pain but showed little other sign of being affected as he stepped further back towards the back edge of the cart.
"Wish I'd poisoned that sword." Delphine muttered to herself as the burly Dwemer fell back, then, sensing an opportunity, attacked him head on; bringing her left sword straight down towards his neck, ready to finish this fight once and for all.
Cuolec brought his arm back, gripping his sword tighter as he swung. But, instead of deflecting the blow, he swung even harder and the two swords slammed into each other.
For a millisecond the two blades met with a clash of steel on golden Dwarven metal before, with a sharp crack and clatter, the Dwemer forged blade cut straight through Delphine's sword, the ancient Akavir steel no match for the Dwemer's advanced metalwork, and the sword swung at the Blade's shoulder and straight through her armour, biting deep into the flesh and muscle beneath, blood pumping out over the steel armour.
Instead of throwing aside the broken sword, Delphine, gritting her teeth and breathing heavily, managed to dodge the Dwemer's next blow as he tore the sword from her shoulder in a fountain of blood and pieces of flesh. Then, with one last defiant cry, she swung the blade, taking a chunk of flesh from his unscarred cheek before both swords fell from her fast weakening grip and she fell hard on the wooden floor of the cart, the uneven movements jolting her body back and forth like a ragdoll.
His face set in an expression of pure rage, Cuolec wiped a smear of blood from the hole in his cheek and, through a combination of sheer will and pure adrenaline, drew back his fist and punched downwards, being rewarded with the snap of bone and the wet smack of blood as his fist caved in her entire left cheek.
Looking down at the bloodied from of the Grandmaster, a smile crossed Cuolec's face. He didn't care about the battle out there, ignored the screech of horses and clatter of automatons, the howls of the dead and dying. This one victory was enough for him.
He brought his fist up again, the gauntlets caked in hot wet blood, and drove it down again, Delphine screaming in agony as he brought his fist down again and again upon her face before driving a punch into her breastplate and winding her, her own armour pressing deep into her chest and knocking the breath from her body.
Spitting on her prone form, Cuolec roughly pulled her to her feet, the Blade feebly punching him in the side before he head-butted her directly in the face and she went limp. He dragged her to the edge of the cart, the road behind littered with dead horses and Imperial and Dwemer corpses alike.
"Aren't you going to finish it?" Delphine spluttered, still defiant as blood bubbled up and out of her mouth.
Cuolec shook his head and grinned. "No…you were much too fun to fight to let you die now. I'm not worried. If you're good enough you'll survive. Then, you come find me. I'll be knee deep in the ashes of your cities and the corpses of your kinsmen, but I'll still be waiting. Waiting for a rematch, and another chance to have more fun than I've had in centuries. I hope this lesson on Dwemer combat has been informative…" he added before, with another laugh, he hurled Delphine from the cart, her body bucking and rolling across the hard stone before slamming into a downed automaton and lying there.
"Commander Cuolec!" called out a voice, and he turned to see one of his lieutenants, Nakhada, draw up and keep pace with the still moving cart atop his automaton, his eyes wide with glee behind his helmet visor and his spear painted crimson in Kar-Din blood. Behind him could be heard the screams as the last few Imperial soldiers were cut to pieces or ridden down as they ran away. "We have routed the Kar-Din and recovered the Spellbreaker from the baggage cart."
Cuolec only nodded as Nakhada continued. "A few Kar-Din dogs have managed to fight their way through our outriders. Shall I take some men and pursue?
The Dwemer commander shook his head. "Let them run. Let them tell their friends and allies exactly what they face. I like to give my prey warning before I run it into the ground."
Nakhada saluted and rode away. For a second Cuolec watched the defeated form of the Blade on the road behind lie motionless before he went to retrieve his sword from where he had dropped it and, as he looked back over his shoulder, he could just see Delphine beginning to, agonisingly slowly but surely, crawl away.
000000
Serana spurred the horse on, both hands on the reins, the strong warhorse carrying her and Agmaer fast across the plains of Vvardenfell. Beside them was General Tullius, his armour bent and split by Dwemer sword strokes but still going, his expression unreadable, and a handful of remaining Imperial soldiers. She was glad to see Lydia, draped over the back of a large draft horse, with a pale faced Nord priest of Kynareth keeping the horse steady as she rode it onward.
Behind them the column was a slaughter as the last few Imperial troops who hadn't been quick enough, or able, to run, were hacked to pieces.
"General, what can we do?!" demanded a terrified looking Nord Legionnaire. "I saw one of those riders cut Legate Tacitus in half like he was a piece of meat on a butchers slab!"
The general was silent for a second then replied, his voice as hard and uncompromising as the earth their horses pounded over on their mad retreat. "Now we run. We get back to our own lines. And when we do, we're going to bring back a whole army of men braver and stronger than those gold plated bastards could ever hope to be. Then…we beat them so bad they'll wish they had really been wiped from existence all those years ago…"
As the men around them cheered feebly, Serana took one last look at the horizon beyond the devastated column and she saw, in the distance, stretching out for miles upon miles, countless columns of smoke and tongues of flame, along with the tiny golden specks of more Dwemer cavalry as, beyond, Vvardenfell began to burn.