Fire and smoke blanketed the ashy plains around Fort Reclusion. The walled town looked like an island in a sea of flame, its strong walls casting eerie shadows and strange shapes on the ground below as tongues of fire, both arcane and mundane, flashed and rippled across the sky from the baked earth below.
Hunkering low into the stone battlements, Serana clutched the heavy form of the crossbow to her chest, the cold iron pressing into her chest as her ears pounded with the deafening noise of battle all around. Around her other Imperial soldiers were crouched down, their shields held up, trying to stay out of the way of the storm of arrows and bolts slamming and ricocheting off the parapet. The soldier next to her, a Dunmer woman with wide eyes, only had a second to attempt to shout a warning before a crossbow bolt punched clean through her throat and out the other side.
Grabbing hold of the woman as she fell, the Elf's dark blood splattering over her steel gauntlets, Serana called upon her magical knowledge, willing a small orb of healing light into her hand. But, as she looked down, she could see it was useless. The Dunmer's red eyes were open but there was no life in them. Shoving the body off her, Serana stayed low, the unbearable heat from below starting to get to her.
It had been an hour since the Dwemer started their attack and, as she peered over the walls, hearing the dull twangs of Imperial archers letting off a return volley, she could see the seemingly countless regimented ranks of golden armoured troops laid out across the plains before her. At first, when she had stood up on the walls when the enemy were sighted, she had thought it hopeless. The majority of the Dwarven army had held back, staying within bow range but in unmoving shielded formations, while a lumbering host of gleaming Centurions, lit up in the gathering darkness by the arcane light of the soul gems in their armoured chests, thundered straight towards the main gate, hissing with steam.
Then the Dragons had come.
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"Hold fast!" Volendun bellowed from within the centre of the formation, holding his shield above his head, sweating freely underneath his armour in the claustrophic confines of the unit. He trusted his fellow soldiers next to him. The whole formation relied on every man and woman protecting the others around them. Their shields were locked together tight, and Volendun could only see the world through the tiniest gap between the bronze shields.
"Steady!" he called, clutching his crossbow in his right hand- feeling every groove and mark along its metal body through his gauntlets; fingers curling around the hard metal trigger.
Outside the roar of Dragons and crackle of arcane fire filled the air, and Volendun could barely see through the clouds of black smoke and floating embers. And yet the dark shape plunging through the sky was unmistakable, holding its wings low against its scaled body as it dived straight for them.
For a brief second Volendun was sure he heard the beast speaking in some strange language, and then there was no time for anything but action.
"Lock shields!" he ordered and his window onto the world was gone; the only thing he could see was the shadowy forms of his comrades.
Then the world lit up in a burst of orange flame. Closing his eyes against the blinding flash, he felt heat- unimaginable heat- burning straight against the side of his shield. He held fast, trusting in the magic-resistant properties of Dwarven metal. And yet, for a few painful seconds, he could feel his arm beginning to slip, hear the roar of the fire burning its way across his shield.
Then, as suddenly as it had hit them, the arcane fire was gone, and Volendun clutched his crossbow.
"Now!" the Dwemer bellowed, and, with the practiced skill of veterans, a hundred Dwemer lowered their shields and raised their crossbows, bracing them against the tops of their unscathed shields.
For a fraction of a second, Volendun locked eyes with the Dragon hovering above them, a savage looking creature with brown scales and leathery wings, looking almost confused at the entirely unharmed formation of Dwemer beneath it.
Then the sky was filled with crossbow bolts. Striking the beast in the wings, the golden tipped bolts tore right into it, shredding muscle and piercing into bone. The Dragon roared in fury and tipped its head back, about to let off another burst of magical fire. It never got the chance. From both sides came the dull thump of automaton ballistae firing, accompanying the arrival of a volley of bolts, each the length and thickness of a man's arm; punching through the Dragon's scaly hide and bringing it down to earth.
With a last roar of defiance the Dragon fell from the sky and plunged into the baked earth, throwing up dust and stone.
"Again!" the commander ordered, and the Dwemer, having taken time to slam a new bolt into their crossbows, let fly again, ripping apart the creature's natural armour in seconds, leaving its once proud form bloodied and torn covered with half buried bolts across its hide.
"Reload!" he added, but by then it wasn't necessary as, with a clanking of metal and hiss of steam, a Centurion came stomping over, bringing its bronze hammer up high over the Dragon's head, then slamming it down again. Volendun didn't see the beast's skull crack, but he heard it, along with the soft squelch that came after.
The Dragon may have been dead, but, as he took the few seconds to survey the battlefield beyond, Volendun could see it what was far from over.
All around them the massed legions of the Dwemer were under attack from the skies, the armoured monsters swooping down and letting forth torrents of flame, ice and other arcane magic. Although most formations were doing well- using General Bahrma's strategies to good effect, others were crumbling. To their left a whole hundred-man unit was torn apart as a trio of Dragons plunged down, letting off a torrent of arcane magic that collapsed the formation like leaves in the wind, hurling armoured soldiers aside with sweeps of their claws and teeth. The hiss of automatons filled the air as much as the growing flames that set fire to all in their path, squads of Centurions smashing through Dragonscale hide like it was paper while hordes of Spheres and Spiders hacked and slashed at the beasts when they were brought down by Ballista fire-bringing them down by sheer weight of numbers.
Up ahead Volendun saw a mighty orange scaled Dragon, sparks crackling across its scaled sides from lighting infused ballista bolts, plunge straight down to earth with a strangled roar, letting off a last desperate blast of flame as a horde of Spider automatons leapt atop it and began hacking it to pieces. With one last roar the Dragon met its unceremonious end as a Centurion plunged a sword the size of a man through its skull.
"Incoming!" screamed one of the men in his unit and Volendun was back in the present as another Dragon came screaming towards them, the reflections of the raging fires seeming to ripple across its white scales and Volendun shouted back ,as much at it as at his men.
"Form up! Take aim! Bring the monster down!"
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From the midst of a formation of two hundred crack Armiger Legion troops, General Bahrma surveyed the battlefield from behind his shield. He felt a smile come to his face underneath his face enclosing helm as he saw the Dragons breaking on the army of Dwemer around him. The tactics were not entirely his of course. Engineer Nasir's help had been invaluable, especially in the use of the automatons to deliver the final killer blows to the mighty beasts.
In the skies above them the remaining Dragons soared high, diving through the haze of smoke to deliver torrents of fire or attempt to scatter the Dwemer formations with sweeps of their wings and claws. And yet, as Bahrma looked on with a sense of pride, his men did not break. Most of the Dragons were driven off when the Dwarves opened up with volleys of crossbow fire, with those who didn't plunging to the ground and being finished off mercilessly. A few attacked those units that couldn't properly defend themselves, scattering them and tearing their shields apart. He watched helplessly as one formation was broken by a heavyset grey scaled Dragon, and the Dwemer ran in all directions, the few who held their ground burnt alive- cooked within their own armour. The rest were easy pickings for smaller Dragons, who came screeching down from above, their claws tearing through flesh and armour alike.
The glow of a lexicon filled the shadows around Bahrma and the voice of one of his messengers came shouting out,
"Sir! Commander Volendun wants to know if we are to hold positions or advance. He says the Dragons are going to break them soon!"
Bahrma thought for a second, looking out once more at the battlefield beyond wreathed in smoke and fire. He couldn't make a rash decision.
"We need to take the fight to the enemy!" he said after a minute, "Send out the order to the main cohorts. All units advance in formation. And tell Commander Cuolec to make for the gate. If we can take the town the Dragons will have no support. Plus those walls and towers will make for good vantage points for the crossbow companies and ballistae."
"It will be done my lord." The messenger answered quickly, and the bright blue glow of the lexicon became even brighter as Bahrma shouted orders at the formation around him.
"Lock shields! Advance forward at marching pace! Keep those crossbows ready!"
As soon as the words had left his mouth the Dwemer complied, and the marching sound of thousands of armoured boots filled the air around him, as the cohorts on all sides moved alongside them, into the battle beyond.
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In the cover of a nearby hill, in the reserve ranks, Cuolec the Red waited for his orders. Breathing heavily, as much in frustration as the effort of wearing his heavy armour and carrying a greatsword one handed, the veteran cavalryman however was also feeling something he always felt in those moments before battle.
Exhilaration.
Around him and behind him the massed ranks of his Riders of Dahaka, and another thousand automaton riders, were also preparing for battle, checking their armour and weapons or performing last minute adjustments to their steam powered mounts. Turning his head he could just see the expanse of gold armour and burnished metal that was his army, all lit up every so often by a far off blast of dragonfire.
He hated cowering here behind this hill, but he knew the power that the
Dragons circling overhead possessed. Why they hadn't attacked them he didn't know. Perhaps the arrogant creatures didn't see Cuolec and his riders as a threat.
"They will do soon…" he muttered to himself as he checked his helmet was secure, tapping it with one gauntleted hand to check the metal hadn't warped or weakened on the ride here.
"My lord Cuolec!" said the man next to him, a messenger clutching a glowing lexicon, whose name he hadn't bothered to learn.
"Go ahead." Cuolec snapped.
"My lord, General Bahrma wishes us to advance. The Centurions have almost broken through the city gate and he wants us to secure the town. Commander Akkadia's cohort and Commander Mahzda's pikemen will be moving in to support us once the main streets are cleared of resistance."
Cuolec grinned behind his helmet.
"Relay the message throughout the column," he ordered, then turned to face the massed ranks of Riders of Dahaka and other Dwemer cavalry, raising his greatsword high so it reflected the distant lights of arcane fire.
"We've had our orders brothers! We are to carve a path through the enemy positions by any means necessary! Let's go kill some Kar-din!"
With the resounding cheers and battle cries of his cavalry behind him, Cuolec spurred his mechanical mount up the hill, gripping his sword and shield to him. And, as they reached the top of the hill, Cuolec and the first rank of riders had a view of the hellish scene below.
On the plains below them came the seemingly endless ranks of the Dwemer, the shadowy winged forms of the Dragons circling and diving down to attack all around. And, less than a mile through the landscape of fire and gold, almost lost behind the clouds of smoke and hails of gold tipped arrows, was Fort Reclusion.
"To the gate!" Cuolec bellowed and kicked his mechanical mount harder, willing the steam powered machine to carry him even faster.
Clattering between the reserve units of Commander Akkadia's Clan Rourken infantry- bearing aloft blood red banners-all cheering from their tight formations as Cuolec rode past, Cuolec raised his blade in salute to the marching soldiers.
"Race you to the Kar-Din!" he shouted with a hoarse laugh, and the column rode on, swerving to avoid the embattled units of Dwemer on all sides.
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"Another volley! Now!" Serana bawled, leaping up alongside the battered remains of the troops around her, all simultaneously letting off a hail of crossbow bolts and arrows straight downwards.
Below them the Dwemer Centurions continuing battering at the gate, five of them, ignoring the hail of projectiles that merely clattered off their thick armour.
"Aim for the core!" a sergeant further down the wall shouted, seconds before a hail of Dwarven bolts struck him down.
"What he said!" Serana barked at the men and women around her, "In the centre of the chest! That's its weak spot!"
As she slammed another bolt into her weapon, Serana took a second to look all around her. The Legionnaires and conscripted Imperial Navy troops around her were barely holding together, as volley after volley of arrows and bolts flew at them from the Dwemer formations below, while the town itself was filled with the screams and shouts of civilians rushing for the harbour, as much afraid of the Dragons roaring overhead as the Dwemer army advancing on them.
"Hold it together! Form up!" she heard General Tullius shouting from the street below, reining in his mount behind a stout shield wall of heavy infantry in thick steel armour, spears and crossbows aimed outwards. "Auxiliary!" he shouted up at Serana as he clocked her leading the archers, "We need your men to protect the gate!"
'That's what we're already doing,' she thought in her head as the rest of her men looked confused, pausing from their cowering.
"You can't protect the gate from up there anymore! We have to take them from the ground!" Tullius shouted up and Serana nodded with a sigh.
"Cover us!" she ordered the other archers as she picked out whoever looked like the best fighters, "The rest of you, on me!"
Serana led her small company down the steep sided stairs two at a time, blocking out the sounds of battle beyond as they stepped out onto the broad cobblestone avenue and past empty storefronts and houses to Tullius' small but determined looking shield wall.
"Take up positions behind the wall!" Tullius barked, drawing his sword as the hammering on the gate became even more pronounced than before. Next to the gate a few terrified looking Dunmer troops in light armour braced the doors, planting wooden stakes and their own bodies against the thick wood and steel gates in a desperate attempt to keep them shut. But already Serana could see cracks appearing as she took up a half crouched position with her crossbow set to her shoulder.
"Load!" she ordered, and a few clatters of metal on wood showed how meagre their forces were.
"We're making a fighting retreat men!" Tullius shouted, coughing slightly as a cloud of embers and smoke floated over their heads. "Repel whatever comes through that door but be ready to fall back! This town isn't worth throwing away our lives for…" he added in a quieter tone that only Serana heard.
She had no time to think about the general's words as the two gates began to splinter and buckle.
Gripping her crossbow tightly, she tried to remember what Agmaer had taught her on the long ride here, and she slowed her breathing, keeping her body still and lined up at the gates. Agmaer was by the docks by now- Tullius had personally despatched him to help load up the Eagle for a quick escape.
As Serana set her eye to the sights, a golden axe blade smashed a deep gouge through the centre of the left gate and, as it was wrenched out, she saw the impassive bronze face of a Centurion. The Dunmer soldiers by the gate instantly fled, throwing down their weapons and running down a side street
"Cowards!" Tullius called after them, then bellowed at the remaining troops, "Prepare for-" The rest of his order was lost in a screech of metal and crack of wood and the two gates were ripped from their hinges and thrown either side, sending up yet another column of smoke into the blackened skies overhead.
With a clatter of metal, a single shape leapt through the smoke, a nightmarish figure in crimson armour atop a blood spattered spider automaton, and behind him came ten steam belching Centurions.
"Run or die Kar-Din!" the figure roared and, in the brief second it took her finger to tighten on the crossbow's trigger, Serana recognised the same Dwemer who had defeated Delphine.
Then she pulled the cold metal trigger and watched as her bolt flew out at the Dwemer cavalryman, along with ten others and a few arrows.
The Dwemer didn't even break stride. One of the Centurions lumbered in front of him and the projectiles clattered off its gold armour- the fires from the burning landscape beyond reflecting off its shining form.
"Fall back! Fall back!" Tullius ordered, seconds before his horse took a crossbow bolt and he tumbled from the saddle as the Dwemer rider clattered towards them, more of his comrades leaping through the trashed gate.
Throwing her crossbow aside Serana leapt into a side street and began running, seeing a bruised but alive Tullius and a few others following her example. Looking back with wide eyes as she dodged a collapsed market stand, Serana watched in horror as a few brave Legionaries stood their ground, jeering and insulting the approaching Dwemer moments before the Centurions came at them. Most were hacked apart and the few who escaped the automaton's earth shattering blows had only moments to run before the first of the Dwemer cavalry rode them down. Serana and the others watched in horror as one soldier, a hulking Orc wielding a steel greatsword, managed to cut down a Dwemer cavalryman with one sweep of his weapon, but then the crimson rider, Cuolec the Red, Serana remembered one of the Legionaries called him- rode towards him at full pelt.
For a second their two greatswords clashed, the Orc barely deflecting the Dwemer's deadly blade before Cuolec's mount kicked out, its metal leg slashing the Orc's arm. The Orc stumbled back, swinging his sword wildly and for a second Serana felt a glimmer of hope. Then Cuolec brought his sword around and hacked the brave Orc clean in two, then rode his mount over the Legionaries bisected remains.
One of the soldiers with her screamed and Cuolec's head turned, instantly seeing the sprinting mob of retreating Legion troops. Pointing his blood soaked blade squarely at Serana, he shouted at his men as they rode past.
"Some Kar-Din for you boys! Maybe we-"
As he said this there was an animalistic roar and a green scaled dragon, larger than any other Serana had seen, soared overhead, letting out a gout of flame that barely missed Cuolec, but incinerating the house next to him and an unlucky Dwemer in a blaze of arcane fire.
"You three! Ride down the Kar-Din! The rest of you, spread out and clear the streets! The dragon is mine!" he bellowed, and then rode away.
But Serana kept running as she turned away, already hearing the metal legs of the pursuing automatons on the ash strewn cobblestone street.
"Keep it up men!" Tullius encouraged, managing to take the lead despite his age. "Legate Helseth and the fort garrison will meet us at the Eagle!" he added, pointing over the rooftops to the distant forest of masts and sails that was the port- all of it surprisingly untouched by the inferno raging across the rest of the town.
"Come on lads!" shouted a nearby sergeant- a wiry Imperial with a thin beard, "When we get to Blacklight we can-"
He never spoke again. A golden spear tip exploded from his chest and Serana whipped her head back in time to see the lead Dwemer cavalryman, his helmet off to show off his mad grin and forked beard, grab another short shafted javelin from the back of his mount.
"In here!" she ordered, pointing at the door to a large inn that had surprisingly not been set ablaze.
Tullius nodded quickly and Serana summoned a ball of electricity, letting it fly at the door and blowing the cheap wood off its hinges.
Rushing inside, the small group of Imperials all breathed sighs of relief.
"No time to rest! Get that door barricaded!" Serana barked, noticing Tullius' approving look as he leapt the bar.
Running over to the door, she helped a few weary looking soldiers manhandle a long bench into place by the doorframe, while others piled chairs up and ripped planks off tables for the barricade.
Turning to Tullius she saw the old general behind the bar, not seeming to notice as his men ran up and down looking for supplies for the growing pile of furniture and wood by the far wall and over the windows.
"This is no time for a drink general!" she shouted as he appeared for a second behind the bar. The old man didn't respond and she angrily ran over.
"If you haven't'-"she began as the jeers of Dwemer soldiers echoed in the street outside.
"Quiet!" Tullius snapped, putting a hand to his ear as he lightly stepped over the floor behind the bar. "If you haven't noticed there is no way out. I've already checked the back and the only exit leads straight out into an inferno! This whole town is going to go up soon and we can't camp out in this tavern much longer…"
"What do you need?" Serana asked in a softer voice.
"There must be a wine cellar below here, and from there some kind of sewer access. Problem is finding the trapdoor."
As Tullius said this a chorus of harsh laughter came from outside, and the two soldiers watched in horror as tongues of orange flame began seeping in and over the crude barricade.
"Who's for a slice of roast Kar-Din!" shouted someone from outside, and instantly the soldiers began panicking, pushing and shoving past each other to the far end of the room.
"Keep it together!" one of the soldiers shouted and the others began to look desperately around for a way out.
"We haven't got time to find the trapdoor. Sergeant Orlov, your axe!" Serana shouted at a burly Nord sergeant, who nodded and threw over his heavy two handed iron battle-axe, "Now everyone calm down and let me listen." She added, before leaping the bar and standing, feet planted apart and axe at the ready. Moving down the length of the scuffed floorboards, she remained conscious of the growing flames her comrades were futilely attempting to keep back.
Tapping her booted feet across the rough planks, all Serana could hear was the resounding thump of wood on bare earth. Then the boards beneath her made a splintered hollow sound, and Serana muttered a faint 'yes' under her breath. Bringing the axe up and over her head, she heard Orlov saying in his deep Nordic accent.
"Are you sure you can break that, my lady?"
"I'm stronger than I look…" Serana replied with a slight grin then slammed the axe blade deep into the wood, the iron blade chewing up the weak wood and she kept at it. "If we can't find the trapdoor, we'll have to make our own!" she said, just as her last swing smashed straight through and she nearly fell. For a second she was falling forwards into the unlit cellar beyond, then she felt strong arms pull her back and she collapsed into her comrade's firm grasp, letting the axe drop from her hand.
"Good work Auxiliary!" Tullius said, slapping her on the shoulder before drawing his sword, "No time to lose!" he added as some of the roof support beams high above began to crack and the flames drew ever closer. Without a second thought the veteran commander leapt down into the hole, followed soon after by a grateful group of soldiers.
"Come on!" Orlov said to Serana, grabbing his axe and helping her to her feet.
Serana nodded then, checking her sword at her hip and that she hadn't hurt herself, took a running jump and dropped through the hole, Orlov right behind her.
She fell onto the rough earth floor and rolled, coming into a stand with barely a few scratches. Stepping away she felt herself move involuntarily as Orlov dropped down next to her. Muttering a few words of magic, she threw up a Magelight that stuck to the roof, lighting up the bare room that was filled with only a few caskets and barrels of wine and ale.
"Through here!" Tullius ordered, appearing from behind a large wooden pillar, "Sewer access is through here. Castus, Talwein, bring those iron bars by the barrels. Orlov and Shay, get as many torches as you can find. Falx, see if there's any strong alcohol in bottles. We may need it if anyone gets wounded along the way."
Serana quickly followed the general. It was only now that they had a brief moment of breathing room that she noticed how few their number actually was. Besides herself and the general, there were barely five men left. The rest must have tried the back entrance, she thought grimly, remembering the general's warning that only the open street and the flames awaited anyone who went that way.
However there was no more time to ruminate on the fate of the others, or the town above them. She followed Tullius down a short passageway, hearing the roar of the flames overhead and the faint screams of townspeople, as well as the savage cries of Dragon and Dwemer alike. Up ahead was a large sewer access, covered up by a few crudely nailed up wooden boards, leaving gaps to see the dim torchlight from the sewers beyond.
"Legate Helseth told me about this during our private strategy meeting last night," the general explained as he and Serana began pulling off some of the loose boards and prying nails out with their daggers. "It's an old safety measure from when the town was first built. The sewers were specially made to act as a way for civilians to get to the harbour as quickly and safely as possible. Hopefully the people of this town remember these routes."
"Did you know about the Dragons sir?" Serana asked as she tried to block out the muffled screams of terror and pain from above, focusing only on her own task and the slap of booted feet as the others ran over.
Tullius shook his head. "Not at all. I assume your husband may have put them up to it, but then I thought how little strategy those dumb lizards are actually using. I saw plenty of them getting shot down by the Dwemer because they got too arrogant and convinced of their own strength. We cannot underestimate the Dwemer at all. That's one thing I will make sure to tell General Gaius when we reach Blacklight."
"We're still going? After all this?"
The general nodded, a grim look on his sweat stained features, and "Hopefully the Dragons will put enough of a dent in the Dwemer that they think twice before following us to the mainland. Somehow I doubt that though…" he added grimly, "But the mission remains the same. Head to Blacklight. Maybe we can at least stop their advance. It's one of the best defended cities in the world. It's got a triple wall, hundreds of strong towers and is home to one of the finest fleets in the whole of Tamriel. If we can't defeat the Dwemer, at least they'll have to smash themselves to pieces on the defences before they cut us up with those golden swords."
"Sir, we have the tools." Legionary Castus, a fresh faced Breton- surpassingly tall and broad for his race- said as he ran over, the wiry Bosmer Talwein at his back with an armful of stout iron bars.
"Good. Let's get this door open before the whole building comes down on top of us." Tullius said firmly, and he and Serana moved aside while the two Legionaries began tearing whole chunks of wood and clumps of nails up.
"Sir, we managed to scavenge as many supplies as we could," Orlov stated as he and the others ran over, his deep voice echoing in the narrow passage, "Filled up mine and Shay's kitbags with as much food and water as we could find, just in case we can't reach the ship in time…"
"Or if the stocks on the Eagle are running low." Remarked Shay, a pale faced and pretty black-haired Nord woman with a soft accent, a hopeful smile on her face compared to Orlov's grim expression.
"Good work, all of you." Tullius said with a nod, then turned to Falx, a weary looking Imperial with a jagged scar across the left side of his face from the tip of a Dwemer blade, "Get some of those torches lit and passed amongst the men. I don't want to rely too much on Serana's magicka too much. The poor woman looks ready to drop…" he added with a concerned look and Serana shrugged.
"I'm fine sir. Let me at least get those torches for you…" she added as Falx finished passing out torches to the group, just as the last of the boards were stripped away. With a quick click of her fingers, she conjured up a bright flame from her index finger, then lit each of the proffered torches, before taking one for herself from Falx.
"Let's move out." Tullius snapped, keeping his sword at the ready as he stepped into the sewer beyond, his torch casting strange shadows across the slimy stone walls.
The soldiers quickly followed. Serana brought up the rear with Orlov, who had thrown his axe over his shoulder while he held his torch up, their feet splashing through the dank green water as they ran.
"I'm surprised the-" he began, but from behind them came a loud crash and dull thump of an explosion and everyone looked back to see a blaze or flame from the direction of the wine cellar, as well as a few tiny chinks of light from the surface.
"It's a good thing we got out quickly." Shay said from up ahead and Serana nodded, then felt her skin crawl as she heard the distinctive clatter of metal spider legs on the street above.
"By Talos I hate spiders," Orlov remarked with a look of disgust "Doesn't matter if they living or metal. I thought Frostbites were bad enough, then I meet those things. I remember when I was younger working down the Redbelly Mine in Shor's Stone, maybe five years ago or something, before I joined the Legion…"
He paused as the distant howls of Dragons and thunk of crossbows seeped down to them, as well as commands shouted in the Dwemer's harsh tongue.
"We had just hit a big vein of iron ore- thought there might have even been a bit of ebony if we were lucky. Then this fat hairy Frostbite Spider scuttles through the hole we just made. Damn near made me shit myself. We had broken into a nest of the things. I remember planting my pickaxe square in the thing's head- right by those awful little eyes, then running as fast as I could along with all my mates. Didn't manage to get the mine back open for over a week, until some skinny Imperial with a pair of curved swords was passing through and cleared the mine out in an hour. I remember him saying he was heading up to Windhelm to talk to someone at the East Empire Company. I talked to him and told him about how I had actually been pretty scared of the damn spiders- he said he was terrified the entire time he was in there, then he gave me this ring with a stone in it. Said he found it in a cave somewhere while searching for a gambling den or something… he said it was lucky. Didn't think much of it until my husband Odfel tells me that what I thought was some coloured glass was actually a ruby worth more than I made in a year! Was enough to pay off the debt on our house, get Odfel a new pickaxe from some wandering Khajiit that they said was unbreakable, and I got Filnjar to forge me this beauty here." He added with a grin and tapped his axe blade with one large palm.
Serana smiled as the burly Nord finished his story. She was still finding out all the things Lucius had done before she had met him, and even now she felt a little bit happier knowing her husband had been out there doing good all his time in Skyrim.
However that smile died as they turned a bend and the glimmer of moonlight seeped into the tunnel from an open grate leading outside.
She ran over to Tullius and the others, seeing their shocked faces lit up in the bright glow of fire- both magical and mundane.
For a second she couldn't see what they were looking at, then she pushed past them and felt all her hope and happiness from before simply melting away as she looked out.
Beyond, the entire harbour was ablaze. Tongues of smoke and fire leapt across the wooden store buildings and houses that crowded the dock, while at the far end of the port, where the wall sloped into the sea, the vast lighthouse was a pillar of flame and melted stone. With a sickening crash and crunch the ancient tower listed then fell into the harbour, throwing up waves of black water and smashed wood, tipping over boats packed with refugees and dragging them down into the dark sea. Closer to them, crowds of civilians hurled themselves onto the sides of already packed vessels as a few harried soldiers abandoned their defensive positions, deaf to the shouts of Legate Helseth who stood alone silhouetted atop his horse, shouting and waving his sword as he desperately tried to rally his men.
And at the centre of it all, like a vast column of flame and splintering wood, the Eagle was burning. Listing dangerously to one side and all three of its masts crumbling and on fire, the vast ship attempted to push off from the docks. Smashing two wooden piers to splinters as it went, the warship began to tip to the right, and Serana watched in horror as shadowy figures were hurled from its deck or dragged under by collapsing siege equipment and stacks of burning supplies. Others willingly hurled themselves into the water to escape the flames but were instead pulled down by the collapsing ship as it shed its overloaded cargo off.
At the very top the Imperial dragon flag flying at its mainmast fluttered proudly one last time then snapped off and flew into the skies overhead, moments before the once proud ship, with one last ditch attempt to make for open sea, began to fall to the right, crushing itself under its own weight. The Eagle began to sink like a stone, smashing apart under the unrelenting assault of the flames and the rolling seas before, with a crash of timbers and whoosh of flame it sank below the black waters.
Serana watched the ship sink to its watery grave and felt hot stinging tears spring to her eyes, as the last shreds of her hope finally died.
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Cuolec tore down the centre of the burning street, his mount skirting around charred corpses and piles of rubble. At his back were fifty Riders of Dahaka with bloodied blades, and behind them came a detachment of Commander Mahzda's pikemen, a hundred towering warriors in armour so thick it looked unbreakable. And in their hands as they marched in perfect lockstep were towering pikes five metres tall tipped with wicked spikes.
The pikemen couldn't keep up with Cuolec and his vanguard however, as they kept riding, tearing through the smoke, banners flying and cloaks whipping around them.
Looking up Cuolec caught a glimpse of the green scaled Dragon flying through the smoke cloud above and heard its deep throated bellow.
Cursing the creature for not coming within range of his men's crossbows, the cavalryman rode on, eyes glancing either side for any potential threat. He had already lost good men to unexpected ambushes by Imperial soldiers- luring his troops in with a few unarmed soldiers, then catching them in a crossfire of javelins and crossbow bolts.
Turning a corner past a large townhouse wreathed in flame, Cuolec drew up as he saw the large square ahead, an open expanse of dirt and cobblestone filled with tattered market stalls and overturned carts.
Bringing his mount slowly into the square, he held up his fist, still clutching his massive greatsword, and heard the clatter of his men coming to a halt.
"Wait for the pikes men," he snapped, "This is a perfect spot for an-"
He didn't manage to finish his sentence, as a dark shadow flew right towards them from above, tongues of flame building up in its jaws.
"Shields!" Cuolec bellowed, moments before a wave of bright orange fire leapt from the approaching Dragon's mouth and across the square- transforming the small market into a plain of fire and melted stone.
Kicking his spider mount in the sides Cuolec managed to get to one side just as the flames reached his formation, striking the front rank in a rolling storm of fire.
His men scattered, many with their cloaks burning and fire rolling over their magic resistant armour. Others however, weren't so lucky and Cuolec found his resolve hardening as he heard the screams of agony from some of his men, saw a few roll off their mounts with steam billowing out from the joints as their armour literally cooked them alive.
The Dragon soared upwards, hovering above a row of collapsed houses across the square, letting off a blast of flame at them and turning the wood to kindling.
"Hi fen pah mah Dilfahliil. You will all perish, Dwemer!" it roared, letting off another blast of flame before alighting on the burning houses with a crunch of claws on stone. Zu'u los Odahviing- I am Odahviing, he who turned your cities on the surface to ash in Eras past. It was I and my kin that drove you underground into dank holes. And this time I will bury you in fire!"
The Dragon leapt from the rooftops and crashed down into the centre of the market, smashing aside stalls and rubble with casual swipes of his tail and wings.
"Take the beast down!" Cuolec roared, holding his sword aloft before plunging forwards, guiding his mount through the tangle of burning wood and shattered brick whilst readying himself for the fight, bringing his sword up for a strike at the Dragon's armoured form.
As he clattered closer to the monster, he watched with anger as many of his comrades attempted the same thing, but were swept aside or roasted alive by the Dragon's ferocious tail sweeps and arcane fire blasts.
Seeing Cuolec advance, Odahviing drew himself up, planting his legs firmly into the ground and pushing himself up with his wings, bringing up his head and baring his sword-like teeth.
Cuolec kept coming, lowering himself into his mount and lowering his sword.
In one swift movement Odahviing leapt forward, opening his mouth wide to bite the veteran Dwemer in half and at that same moment Cuolec ducked low in the saddle, pushing his mount down hard into the ground while guiding it underneath the Dragon's attack, past its leathery wings and underneath its armoured belly.
With a roar Odahviing attempted to move himself to grab Cuolec or crush him under his bulk, but then the Dwemer let forth a savage cry and brought his sword up, plunging its razor sharp point directly into the Dragon's scaled hide.
Odahviing howled in equal parts pain and anger, but Cuolec ignored him, riding full pelt underneath the creature's vast bulk, ripping his sword in a bloody line across the Dragon's chest, coating his blade in streaming black blood as he drove it in even further.
Then he looked up to see the Dragon above him moving to crush him and he let go of his sword and hurled his shield to one side. Leaping from his automaton, Cuolec sprinted for the smoky inferno beyond the shadow of the Dragon, and rolled out seconds before Odahviing slammed his chest into the ground, the automaton giving out one last whine and blast of steam as it was flattened.
Breathing heavily and his face caked in sweat, Cuolec tore off his helmet and threw it aside as he skirted the Dragon, who was already howling in agony as his actions had only forced Cuolec's blade even further into his chest.
Odahviing futilely snapped at him but Cuolec only laughed as he came to the Dragon's head, which was set in a grimace of pain and fury.
"For all your might and arrogance, Dragon," Cuolec spat, "You really are stupid."
The Dragon looked about to lunge forward but then Cuolec heard the clatter of armoured feet and stepped back as ranks of pikemen ran in, their long spears lowered at the wounded Dragon- balancing the pikes on tower shields that glowed in the flames. Odahviing futilely let off gouts of fire but the Dwemer merely locked shields and hunkered down, while ramming the wicked points of their weapons into him as he tried to move. Cuolec felt a smile come to his face as he saw the mighty Dragon brought low, its leathery wings cut apart by thrusts of pikes and hurled javelins and it howled as the cage of spikes and shields closed in on it.
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Serana and the others rushed out onto the quayside, past dozens of ships and piers covered in fire and charred corpses, pushing past screaming crowds of civilians and wounded soldiers.
"Spread out and search for any kind of transport!" Tullius ordered, his voice almost lost in the chorus of screams and cries from the men and women around them, along with the sounds of battle beyond and roar of flames.
Serana looked up to see Dragons circling the city, diving down to attack Dwemer positions outside the walls. Most didn't reappear. She shoved aside a group of Dunmer noblewomen in once fine silks now streaked with blood and ash, past two shell shocked Imperial sailors to the half collapsed form of one of the main piers. To her left she could just see where the Eagle had sank, its mainmast just poking out of the rolling waves, while all the sea beyond was packed with countless boats, many on fire or sinking, others so packed with refugees they could barely move.
But there was nothing. All the remaining boats, a loose collection of fishing boats and pleasure yachts, were either beached in the shallows and filled with rubble, or had become bloodbaths as mobs of desperate refugees fought tooth and nail for any chance of escape.
She felt a hand grip her arm and turned to see the hysterical faces of two Imperial soldiers, their clothes streaked with blood and their unshaven faces and wild eyes giving them a frenzied look. One was missing an ear and was bleeding profusely from the stump of where it had once been- the other had a painful looking gouge right across his forehead.
"You! You're a soldier!" one of them shrieked, "What are our orders! Give us orders!"
Serana pushed the two men away but they grabbed her, the other grinning.
"Hmm she's too pretty to be a soldier. Maybe she's one of the girls who visits the barracks every week- even got herself a pretty little uniform…"
He grinned even more as he stroked Serana's arm with two outstretched fingers.
Instantly the young Nord called up a bolt of electricity and blasted the two of them with it, not enough to kill them but enough to throw them aside.
The two men began to get up, groaning, before two other soldiers ran up and quickly kicked them down, levelling them with a flurry of punches.
Serana felt a hand on her shoulder, but she felt at ease, instantly recognising her rescuers as Castus and Falx, and the man with his hand on her shoulder as Orlov, whose eyes blazed with fury as he saw the two men lying on the floor.
"Leave them boys! Let the fires take them!" he snapped at Castus and Falx, who quickly ran to join them as Orlov turned to Serana, "We've found ourselves some transport. It ain't pretty and it ain't going to be a comfy ride, but it should get us to the mainland."
"Take me to it." Serana said simply, rubbing her arm where the crazed soldier had touched her, trying to rub away the awful feeling she had felt when he had laid a hand on her ;the flashbacks to her offering to Molog Bal…
She looked up as Orlov and the others made a path through the crowd, Orlov using the end of his axe handle as a club while the others shoved aside anyone who came near. Serana felt guilty as she saw the countless civilians on all sides but she had already seen the horrific fate that Dwemer like Cuolec gave to captured soldiers. She guessed that whoever was leading the Dwemer valued civilians more, or at least used them for something else besides target practice.
They came to the end of a pier, past a few trampled bodies, and Serana looked down into the foaming sea and felt her eyes widen as she saw the 'boat' her comrades had got- a small fishing raft a metre wide and five metres long made of logs lashed together with rope, Shay standing at the end with a tall oar in hand.
"Well it is the only way…" Serana muttered under her breath as she clambered down, and made it to the unstable 'deck' of the raft just as the others did and Shay quickly pushed off.
"Draw your weapons men," Tullius barked from the head of the raft, "This thing will barely take us lot. We can't afford any other passengers."
Serana sighed but drew her sword regardless, closing her eyes and trying to block out the screams for help from the hundreds of civilians, both on the quayside and in the water.
"Divines above," she cursed as she opened her eyes and looked out at the burning town beyond, the shoreline beyond the walls packed with formations of Dwemer troops in rigid formations, a few remaining Dragons banking and diving down on them.
And, as she watched, she could already see the last few Dragons begin to plummet from the skies, or be smashed apart by Centurion's hammers, and she turned away from the horror behind her, to the mainland beyond, and the uncertain future that awaited her.
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Odahviing let out a howl of agony as the pikes continued to tear into him, not letting him find anywhere in his new prison that was safe from their barbed points and piercing strikes.
With a clatter of metal Cuolec's squire (and occasional sleeping partner), Daena, came over, her helmet off and her thin face and short black hair streaked in sweat and ash.
"My lord Cuolec!" she said, straightening up in the saddle and saluting, not seeming concerned at all about the raging Dragon barely a few metres away, "Shall I give the order to destroy the beast?"
Cuolec shook his head, a cruel smile playing across his scarred features as he looked over at the weakening Odahviing.
"No… The men need something impressive to raise their morale. I'll need the Bane of Romulus. My other sword is currently in the belly of that monster there."
Daena nodded and reached for a large, thin object wrapped in fur and leather strapped to her automaton. Leaping off the spider with the heavy object in hand, she struggled under the weight as she threw the wrappings off to reveal a huge sword that nearly came up to her shoulder, in a sheath made from the black fur carcass of a werewolf, with its snarling head forming the point where the sword handle emerged.
Holding the heavy weapon out Daena struggled to lift the sword as Cuolec easily slid the blade out with a clatter of Dwarven metal- revealing the sword as he held it in both hands- the fires all around reflecting off its polished form.
"One day I'm going to use this sword to take the head of Romulus Fenrir, not just runt werewolves like this one was," Cuolec stated as he began walking towards the ranks of pikemen and the wounded Dragon, "Until then I'll just have to settle with putting it through the face of this other monster…"
And with that he was shoving his way through the pikemen, and emerged in the middle of the circle of lowered pikes as Odahviing let out another howl of pain and defiance.
"Calm yourself monster," Cuolec said as he stalked closer, the Bane of Romulus clenched tightly in hand, "It will all be over soon…"
As he said this another Dragon came screaming in from the north but Cuolec didn't break stride, and saw out of the corner of his eye as crossbowmen atop the city walls and nearby rooftops brought it down in a hail of bolts and gold tipped arrows, and the mighty creature smashed into a nearby building with a crash of timbers and whoosh of flame.
"You…will die…Dilfahliil!" Odahviing rumbled, still remaining defiant despite the dozens of wounds across his body and the countless barbed Dwemer arrows riddling his scaled hide. With a roar he swung his tail, which Cuolec easily avoided, before adding in a lower tone, "The Dovhakin will shout you to pieces and crush your…armies, like dry kindling before a flame, he will tear you apart." He added with one last defiant bellow as Cuolec clambered over his head and stood atop his skull, his wide eyes looking up at the armoured Dwemer standing atop him with sword in hand.
Cuolec rammed the Bane of Romulus into Odavhing's skull, and the mighty Dragon shuddered and roared one last time before falling still. Cuolec looked down at his defeated enemy and laughed.
"Let him try…"