It had seemed like I had merely placed my head on my pack for an instant before I was awoken by a sharp series of kicks to my legs and feet. Waking groggily and mind numbed from the short hours of rest and dreams of blood and desire I looked up at Viconia as she stood above me, waiting for me to regain consciousness.

  The sky was still dark, not even the grey of predawn on the horizon but the fire had begun to burn into a dull red of hot coals. Viconia was fully dressed as she had been every morning she had awoken me to continue on our journey but this time there was an obvious tenseness about her.

  “Something’s wrong.” She stated simply, motioning towards the south.

  Rolling onto my side and looking about the camp I blinked the sleep from my eyes, still groggy and feeling exhausted from the intensity of my dreams. The thirst was growing worse and worse but as I looked out over the darkened landscape the urges suddenly vanished in a surge of unease.

  Rolling banks of clouds had rolled over us and blotted out the stars while I had slept, seemingly lowering the roof of the world to only a few hundred metres above our heads. With no Moons or stars to light the sight before us it appeared as a featureless expanse of nothingness except the glowing cluster of lights far off in the horizon.

  Throbbing a hateful red pulse into the sky, the far off sight of our destination glowed with an unusual intensity from its spire of rock. It pulsed and moved with the breeze, shifting and swaying slightly in the distant kilometres between it and our position on the edge of the Great Forest. For several minutes I stared, feeling the gnawing pit of worry open further within my guts and I found myself inexplicably donning my travelling clothes, shrugging on the thick gambeson and hurriedly dressing myself in my chainmail.

  “Looks like neither of us are getting a full night’s sleep.” Viconia muttered to herself as she began to place the last handful of items she had near the fire into her pack.

  “How long ago did you notice that?” I asked, throwing my cloak around my shoulders and wrapping a bandanna of cloth around my forehead.

  “About an hour ago. I thought it was a trick of the clouds but it’s steadily getting more noticeable.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, slicking it back before pulling the steel coif over my head where it rested against the bandanna. My cloak was soon wrapped around my shoulders, clasped to my throat and covering most of the chainmail from the morning dew. Soon I was covered and wearing every piece of armour and clothing I owned and Viconia noticed that obvious fact.

  “It looks to me that the city is on fire.” The gnawing fear in my belly was getting worse now as I mentally checked off all my equipment, ensuring that my belt, pouches and pack were all attached securely.

  “There is the taste of magicka on the wind.” Her eyes were glowing a cold yellow light now as she weaved her fingers through the air, tracing out intricate patterns out of nothing. “Unless some surface dwelling excuse for a mage exploded I doubt that it’s as simple as arson.”

  There was definitely magicka involved, while not as attuned or experienced as Viconia the pressure in the back of my skull told me more than what my eyes could. Something was terribly wrong and we set off hurriedly, kicking soil over the hot coals and not waiting for dawn before we set off.

  With undue haste we travelled in the darkness, witnessing the rising mists floating out of the ground as they consumed the world around us. For some time I grew concerned with the thought of travelling in the wrong direction but twilight announced the rising sun and allowed us to continue our path south. We marched in silence, our pace rapid as the kilometres were chewed through alarmingly quickly. Hooded and cloaked, the swirling mists stuck to us until we were both gleaming with moisture and I found myself licking my lips every dozen paces an overwhelming thirst. With every step that I placed in front I could feel the desire to drink liquids not of water or alcohol but before I realised it I had thankfully slipped into the strange trance that all Legionaries did while on the march. The desires of the body faded, all conscious thoughts removed until the hollow shell of flesh and bone was left to concern itself with nothing more than putting each foot before the other. In doing so the kilometres of the journey were left in the dust and soil behind and my mind seemed to slip away, including for the most part the desire for blood. I knew I was grimacing in concentration and beside me Viconia was in a similar state as she ignored the body’s desire for rest and comfort and moved with all the determination of a veteran legionary.

  Dawn broke and the sun rose slowly as we marched on through the swirling mists. The chill in the air was nothing compared to the frozen north but the faint traces of light that penetrated through the fog was enough to cause discomfort to me. So far gloves, cloak and hood were enough to ward off the sun’s vicious embrace but I was fast running out of time.

  As the early morning began to give way to midday the fog began to lift across the broken spires and plateaus that surrounded Kvatch. Ancient soil allowed bountiful harvests to be sewn into the hills, a soil that was thick, black and rich under the carpet of knee high grasses and shrubs. It would’ve been serene and calm if not for the shifting wind bringing the hints of death and destruction as it rolled over us in the direction of Hammerfell.

  The taste of death and fire caught in the back of my throat, with hints of sulphur and rot that went little towards scrubbing the taste of copper from my tongue. It was growing stronger now and soon Viconia and I found ourselves trading expressions of concern and confusion at what was occurring. She was testing the air every few minutes, eyes glowing as she felt out the rolling waves of magicka in the region that battered into my mind and threatened to develop into a headache.

  It was as the mist lifted that we finally laid eyes on the terrible sight before us, our destination rising out of the rolling cloudbanks and revealing its terrible beauty for all to see. Still over an hour’s travel to the south, billowing swirls of smoke and flame ejected themselves into the heavens and I found myself suddenly feeling as though I was standing before the awe-inspiring face of Vvardenfell’s Red Mountain again. The towering spire of rock, forty metres high and capped with the stone buttresses of the city walls reached high above us, almost appearing as though the ancient volcanic plug the city had been built upon had opened its throat and roared.

  Scattered about us the tiny hamlets and collections of farms were rapidly vacating. Their occupants had woken in the early hours of the morning to behold a scene of destruction and wished to be no part of it. We appeared to be the only individuals heading towards the city engulfed in flames as dozens of farmers and their families loaded wagons or simply gathered whatever they could carry before scattering to the winds. Even as we got closer and passed some of the groups they didn’t look in our direction, choosing to ignore the sight of the Drow and Imperial dressed and readied for conflict. Ash was floating on the breeze, bringing with it the feel of doom and destruction and soon we found ourselves almost jogging and moving steadily as we made our way to the southern wall and the only gates into the city.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Built on the plateau of basalt and granite Kvatch had long since been the site of an important trade hub and fortification between Counties Skingrad and Anvil. Its proximity not only to Valenwood but Hammerfell ensured that it had grown rich and prosperous. Its walls were thick and strong, its militia and Guard well equipped and markets packed with merchants and traders from cities such as Rihad to the north west and also caravans carrying the wares of an Empire thanks to the Port City of Anvilto the west. All this had proven to be worth naught however as we climbed the cobbled road up the slope towards the city’s entrance and found ourselves seeing with our own eyes the death and destruction that had befallen the city.

  Handfuls of people, soot staining their clothes and skin made their way along the road towards the east. While three days’ travel on foot the throngs seemed determined to reach the safety that County Skingrad seemed to offer, mostly ignoring Viconia and I as we moved the opposite direction with hands on our weapons. For the most part the crowds seemed to ignore us, heads bent under the weight of the events, eyes staring and framed in faces of terror and shock and clutching what few meagre possessions they had managed to take with them from the burning hell at their backs. Babes swaddled at their mothers’ chests cried relentlessly, their parents too shocked or insensible themselves to calm the infants. Children sobbed, family members cried in anguish of those that were not by their sides and not since I had taken part in counterinsurgency raids against ashlander tribes had I seen such devastation and loss. This was the sight of a city dying, but what worried me more than anything was that out of the thousands who lived within the walls, only this small collection of refugees staggered down the cobblestones away from what had been their home.

  “What in Shar’s name is happening here?” Viconia asked, stepping away from a small family group of argonians with distaste clear on her features. “I didn’t expect us to find ourselves in the middle of a war.”

  My bow was in my hands, knuckles creaking under the strain as I looked about for anyone willing to explain what was happening. Too often I saw nothing more than the wide open eyes of those in shock and most seemed to be too lost in their own worlds of misery to even acknowledge my presence.

  “The Empire is at peace.” I replied, moving from group to group and trying to get any of their attentions long enough to tell us more about what was happening. “There is nothing to even suggest an invasion or an attack like this.”

  “Except the death of your Emperor and his sons.”

  The thought did not sit quietly in my mind as I looked about at the devastation and the billowing clouds of smoke and ash rising into the storm clouds. This was a scene of conquest and destruction that the Empire had not experienced in centuries and I knew that this and the Emperor’s death was no coincidence. Soon I was almost jogging up the slope, trying to find someone, anyone who would give us an explanation as the crowds began to thin and only a handful of stragglers remained.

  I moved from person to person, asking and demanding answers that no one seemed willing or able to give. Descriptions of beasts and a monster of iron and flame were repeated in various ways but no one seemed to know anything of what was occurring. Not with any certainty anyway. It was only when we almost came within sight of the southern walls that a young Altmer, face covered in soot and suffering a fierce burn down his arm stopped before me with a now all-too-familiar expression of shock.

  “You need to run.” He said, rolling the words out of his mouth while staring at me blankly. “While there’s still time.”

  I gripped him by his unwounded shoulder, pulling him back slightly as he tried to continue past. “Run? From what? What is happening up there?”

  He looked at me, eyes finally focussing on me and not on whatever thoughts filled his mind. “Gods’ blood, you don’t know. Do you?”

  There was a pause and he swallowed, glancing back the way he had come and shuddering. “Daedra overran Kvatch in the night!”

  A lumpy ball of ice settled into my stomach and my eyes followed his up into smoke and ash spreading and corrupting the clouds. I gripped his arm tighter, holding him as I felt every muscle in his body scream to pull away from me and flee after the others. “Tell me everything.” I stated simply, seeing him nod in affirmation.

  “There were glowing portals outside the walls!” he began, suddenly rushing his words in an effort to have my grip on his shoulder released. “Gates to Oblivion itself!”

  Beside me Viconia had moved closer, listening intently and glancing between me, the Altmer and the flame wracked skies above us. “There was a huge creature… something out of a nightmare and it came right over the walls blasting fire. They swarmed around it… killing everything…”

  “Go and see for yourself!” The fear was threatening to overwhelm him as he gestured wildly in the vague direction of the city. “Kvatch is a smoking ruin! We’re all that’s left, do you understand me!? Everyone else is dead!”

  My disbelief was obvious on my face and both Viconia and I seemed to share the same opinion of the impossibility of his words. We had only passed a few hundred souls making their way to the east, and there would obviously be more heading the opposite direction towards Anvil as well as those scattering to the four winds. It was a terrifying thought that a city of over ninety thousand was now left as a couple of hundred terrified individuals huddling and fleeing as quickly as they could.

  I turned back to him and gave him a withering stare. “How did you manage to escape then?” My snarl seemed to strike some semblance of control back into his fragile sanity.

  Recoiling from me but failing to escape my grasp he stammered, almost whimpering at the cold expression on my face that matched Viconia’s own. “It was Savlian Matius, the Gate commander and some of the other guards… They helped us escape over the walls before cutting their way out through the Pilgrim’s Gate. Savlian says that they can hold the road until the Legion arrives but I don’t believe him. Nothing can stop them!”

  I let the elf go, releasing my grip on his shoulder and giving him a push on his way as his fear returned with brutal force. “If you’d seen it, you’d know! They’ll be here any minute I’m telling you! Run while you still can!”

  On unsteady legs he teetered for a moment before rushing off down the road after the others. It was then I knew that I was faced with another choice, whatever waited for us at the gates of Kvatch was unlike anything seen before. It was so easy to consider simply turning on my heel and following the streams of wounded and broken civilians to safety.

  Instead I turned and looked at Viconia, who stood by my side with her usual expressionless mask as she regarded the last handfuls of refugees flowing around us with disgust. The site of such tragedy didn’t affect her in the slightest but I could see the tenseness that had filled her muscles with latent energy.

  “What do you think?” I asked her softly, seeing surprise on her face briefly before she smothered it.

  A grin broke through, one that was vicious and terrible to behold on such a beautiful face. “I don’t run.” She said simply, drawing her sword carefully and completely ignoring the looks of alarm from those walking past.

  “I never thought you would.” Carefully I strung my bow, feeling the tension running through it mirroring that in my muscles. I may have deserted but I would not simply retreat in the face of enemies, no matter how outrageous or impossible they had been claimed to be. Without pause we both had turned and began to lightly jog up the hill, pouches slapping against our bodies and chainmail jingling with every step.