The cohort marched forward into Kvatch’s surviving gate and past the scorched cobblestones had been turned to glass by the energies of the Oblivion portal. The legionaries advanced in disciplined silence, only the sound of steel clad boots crushing broken stone underfoot and roars of burning buildings echoing around us in the darkness of the tunnel. The murder holes lurking above us were empty, clear of threats and we pushed on past them, only providing them with the briefest of glances. The files on the sides compressed inwards to form a U shaped barricade of shields and armour to protect the archers, commander and standard in the core of the formation and within metres of exiting the gatehouse my view was suddenly blocked by the second rank raising its shields above chest height.
Advancing into a city or through a breach was the most hazardous of duties, and those in front were always guaranteed to be the first to face the enemies’ wrath. As such only the strongest, bravest and most heavily armoured made up the first rank to absorb the first blows and allow the rest entry of the legion’s forces to follow. The strength of the Legion however was in its formations, and as we exited the gatehouse the files that had compressed into the sides moved forward smoothly. Suddenly the ten-man wide formation had doubled in length and the shieldwall strengthened perceptibly as we stepped into a vison matching that found in Oblivion.
The front rank hunched low behind their shields, allowing the thick towers of wood and metal that usually covered everyone from ankle to throat to cover their entire body’s and overlap with that of the legionary’s beside them. The second rank stepped in close, raising their own shields over the front ranks heads and resting the bottom of their shields against the those of their brother’s in front. Held on a 45 degree angle it suddenly created a wall of metal two metres in height, covering all in the formation from most conventional attacks while the legionaries in the first rank gazed between the gap formed by the curved tower shields for enemies. This allowed the formation to advance relatively quickly under heavy fire while protecting all within long enough to get close and do some real damage.
Solid impacts echoed out from the shields causing the soldiers to hold them to grunt with effort at holding them aloft and steady against the sudden onslaught. The wash of heat that emanated from the gaps between the shields was enough to cause most of those in the front rank to duck their heads away to protect their eyes and from years of training I instinctively knew what was about to occur.
“Archers! Ready!” Centurion Mede roared over the slapping sounds against the shield wall. An arrow was already nocked and held in my fingertips but at his word of command I raised my arms, drawing back on the bow with surprising ease and holding it level to the ground. In the current formation the wickedly sharp point of the bodkin was held only a handful of centimetres from the back of the head of the legionary in front of me.
A single whistle blast echoed, sharp and succinct and immediately the front ranks dropped down low; the front rank placing their shields directly on the ground while the second rank hunched down and angled their shields down as low as they could manage. Suddenly the shield wall had turned into a shield fence, no taller than sternum height and clearing the view for the handful of archers in the centre of the formation.
Dozens of scamps, and a handful of Dremora had surrounded the formation as we entered into the courtyard beyond the gatehouse. The impish creatures had been scampering about throwing fireballs that did little but peel paint from the fronts of the thickened tower shields of the front rank, and most of the Dremora seemed to be holding back at the sight of the dozens of heavily armoured warriors that had marched into their midst.
Timed to the second from years of practice on the parade ground and against flesh-and-blood foes the archers and myself instinctively flexed, made minute changes to our aim and fired a volley of arrows that plucked the daedra from their feet. In less than a second after our bows twanged the front ranks had stood up again, lifting the shields back into place before any retaliation could be made.
We advanced in step, stopping every few paces to the sounds of specific whistle blasts and repeating the same tactics that annihilated our foes with barely even a graze to show for it. The thick shields and full plate armour proving to be more than a match for the oblivion-spawn that cavorted about us.
Even the Dremora present in the courtyard fell easily. Some dropping with their chests protruding several feathers shafts as though they had spontaneously grown. Others, mostly those in some form of armour that was similar in make but not in quality to those Viconia and I had faced within the portal rushed the shield wall en-masse. While heavily outnumbered they showed no fear at the encroaching formation, instead charging with blood curdling cries that hurt the ears.
Slamming bodily into the shields of the front ranks the dozen Dremora hacked and slashed at whoever they could reach. There was a rippling of motion in the seconds before they struck the line, as the second rank dropped back and lowered their shields, allowing the soldiers in the front to brace their own shields into the oncoming charge. To the daedra it must’ve felt as though they had run into a wall, both figuratively and literally as the legionaries merely grunted, took whatever blows on their shields before stabbing back with short, sharp and concise killing blows.
Eyes, mouth, throat, groin; these were the places that every legionary was taught to strike through hundreds of hours of gruelling practice that left arms leaden and limp. But now, against a flesh and blood foe, albeit a demonic one the mind simply shut down and allowed the body to take over the motions long since engrained into them.
Several of the Dremora dropped, blood spraying from horrific wounds as the points of the legionary swords cut smiles in their black flesh. Eyes were speared, throats gouged and each blow was terribly effective even against such enemies. Only a few managed to strike back against the legionaries but most of their blows were simply sent ringing off helmets and the thick padding underneath. One legionary involuntarily screamed as a black spear of obsidian slammed into his shield, the strange material allowing the daedric weapon to punch clean through it, his armoured forearm and pin the limb to his chest. His two comrades, hearing the cry of pain from their shield brother retaliated instantly, both simultaneously stabbing forward with their blades and almost shearing its head and jaw clean off with the power behind their thrusts. A quick cut and a large portion of the spear fell away, leaving only a few centimetres jutting from the embossed front of the shield and the rest still trapped within metal and meat.
A pair of whistle blasts this time, and the entire formation suddenly shuddered before the daedra could reform and take advantage of the minor chink in its defences. Without conscious thought, those in the front rank suddenly took a half pace to the right turning in the same direction as they did so that their shields still faced the front. As they moved the second rank took two sharp paces forward and slammed their shields together. Barely two seconds had passed and now the second rank was in the front, those who had led the way into the city now shuffling slightly between the closely packed ranks and allowing the handful of wounded to move behind myself and the other archers. Faced with another unbroken wall of steel and embossed dragon emblems the remaining daedra hesitated, suddenly unsure for the first time in their existence. They never got the chance to react however as another sharp whistle blast echoed and my bow and the handful of others lifted arrows to experienced eyes. The front ranks knelt, a twang of released tension echoed and another blistering volley snapped out into chests and bellies.
The battle for the gate was over in almost less time it took to casually walk through the gatehouse and the courtyard beyond. Other than a handful of injuries, including the orc who would need a spear tip removed from his forearm and chest before some bones could be set there were no casualties. Several dozen minor daedra were scattered dead and dying around us, littering the courtyard with their bodies. For several moments it appeared though there might be a resurgence of activity as a minor horde of the creatures began to gather and bay at our incursion but behind us the heavy armoured footfalls of the following cohorts dissuaded the beasts of that idea.
Stolen novel; please report.
Fanning out the five cohorts of the 8th Casta took up their positions and began the advance through the burning and corpse strewn streets of Kvatch. Barely a single building was left unmarked, most having lost their roofs to the inferno that had started during the opening phase of the city’s destruction. Others were broken, their windows shattered and left like the broken teeth of a beggar, doors hanging on hinges secured with stubbornness more than anything else. Everywhere there were bodies, young, old, wives, fathers, grandparents, nobles and commoners. It was indiscriminate carnage and even for some of the veteran soldiers of the 2nd Legion it was enough for stomachs to rebel and bowels to turn to water. Corpses hung from windows, were impaled on street signs and lampposts and all in various stages of dismemberment or wearing expressions of excruciating pain. Some building had collapsed in on themselves as their flame weakened bricks cracked and mortar crumbed into dust. The sickening smell of burning flesh as we passed one such building was enough for a handful of the legionaries in the rank to lose control of their stomachs and vomit down their breastplates. None however I saw stopped or paused or to wipe away the bile that dripped down the front of their black breastplates and over their chins, their discipline ensuring that the formation would not weaken even for a second
Here and there however survivors were found, appearing from the ruins like frightened rabbits being coaxed out of their burrows. Pockets of individuals and families, groups of strangers huddling in the dark and destruction for mutual protection and sole survivors came out as the tramping of feet revealed the presence of the legion. As it took back the city one street at a time, every corner or darkened window seemed to hide some daedric threat, and the handful of archers soon earned their salary. Plucking at bowstrings and sending shafts into anything that revealed itself, the hordes were thinned and several times the formation simply marched over the recently dead foes, booted feet stamping down on any trace of life. Several times larger groups of daedra would rush forward but the shield wall that would simply stiffen with resistance and punish anything that came within the range of a sword arm.
Deeper we made our way into the city and following along parallel streets and paths legionaries would make their way with a growing collection of gore coating their bodies. Buildings would be cleared by squads of five, paths and back alleys by detachments of 25 and main arterial routes through the heart of the city were filled with the black armoured forms of full strength cohorts. Fighting around the central marketplace and plaza at the cathedral of Akatosh soon resulted in the sizeable daedric horde besieging the barred doors of the temple being assaulted themselves on two sides by two entire cohorts. The ground was left drenched in demonic gore, bodies layered two or three deep in places. With every double blast of a whistle handfuls of legionaries would shuffle through the closed ranks, retire to the rear for quick bursts of restoration magicka before returning to the line unless their injuries were more significant.
It was late afternoon by the time the 17th cohort came to a halt in the shadow of the broken belltower of the cathedral. Two of the other cohorts were continuing their advance through the city and the sounds of fighting and dying still echoed from the direction of the castle. The city had been mostly liberated after several hours of solid fighting and while fatigued I was concerned how my muscles weren’t burning from the effort of drawing and firing my bow dozens of times throughout the day. The throbbing potency of the curse within my veins was making itself felt in the gathering twilight as I looked over the remaining legionaries I had fought alongside and noted how they all seemed so much more exhausted that me.
Sweat dripped down over faces, clearing tiny trails in the layers of ash and gore that clung to the metal plates encasing their bodies. Heads were bowed, lungs dragging in deep breaths as they slowly began to regain their strength and not a single one of them was not coated to the elbows in daedric blood. Shields were battered, swords nicked and needing hours of repairs and resharpening and many had pieces of their armour that would need to be melted down and reforged before they would be of any use again. Chainmail hung limply in places, mortal blood seeping through where those who had suffered the injuries hadn’t realised it while they had fought. At the order to do so the cohort broke ranks in the middle of the courtyard, many choosing to collapse where they stood, others moving any in groups as they began to gulp mouthfuls of tepid water from water skins or sharing rations. The cloth-wrapped supplies of hard tack, dried meat and fruit was eagerly pulled from the pouches and bags that had spent the battle attached to their belts on their lower backs. Some of the more experienced pulled their rations of salted and dried meat from the space between their arm bindings and the inside of their shields. Here the tough leathery chunks of meat had been tenderised and softened by the repeated impacts they had sustained during the fighting and took a lot less effort to chew.
The fighting continued sporadically throughout the night, although the lack of visible sun and the twilight of smoke, ash and burning buildings ensured that it seemed to drag on for an eternity. Under the commanding gaze and watchful eye of the Legate, the Cohorts rotated in and out of the battle, reinforcing and replacing each other as they ground the daedric foes into the dirt and crushed the resistance street by street. Everywhere the city was broken and destroyed, buildings in most places little more than tumbled ruins and smouldering piles of wood and rock and flesh butstill the Legion ground on. Even as the daedra were cornered in the far reaches of the city the Legion killed. As the castle gatehouse was sundered by the legion’s trio of Battlemages and allowing the might of two cohorts to force the entrance, the Legion killed. Only when the body of the Count was discovered; a flayed and mutilated remnant of what was once one of the most powerful men in the Empire did the legion finally cease its grinding advance and take stock of their actions. Corpses lay strewn throughout the streets, crushed and broken underfoot where the legionaries cut, stabbed and hacked the daedric foes down, but for every dozen or more daedra killed there had been casualties.
Even the tactics and armoured might of the legion had not been enough to ensure that every man would make it alive or whole. There were injuries ranging from the mild and inconsequential to the crippling and fatal almost in spite of the most experienced of Legion healers. Several dozen corpses of legionaries soon found their way to the central plaza in front of the cathedral of Akatosh, arrayed in neat rows still dressed in their armour and their weapons placed reverently by their sides. The cost had been light in comparison to the difficulties of the reclamation and the sheer weight of daedra that had been crushed but each man was a friend and comrade whose presence would be missed in the shield wall.
By what I had supposed was midnight the cohort I was attached to had been finally stood down for good. The battle for the castle still raged on the far side of the city as the full might of two cohorts rooted out the last of the daedra who had dared to claim it but for myself and the others our part was over. Most of the Legionaries simply found a spot and collapsed in a heap of gore and metal, allowing their fatigue and exhaustion to snatch them away for a handful of hours’ rest. Others found one of the few handful of fountains that still remained useful, sometimes tipping themselves right into the flowing waters that turned a crimson-black with the gore and ash that coated them. Like most major cities within the Empire the fountains were the lifeblood of the populations, using a combination of aqueducts, wells, pumps, windmills and enchantments to ensure that even under siege they would be able to supply fresh water and sluice away the inevitable nightsoil and muck of several thousands.
I simply found myself a bucket, upending it over my head several times from a nearby well and drinking the mixture of blood, ash, dirt and sweat as it ran down my face. Too exhausted to care, my fatigue was total but unfortunately it still wasn’t enough to remove the sick pleasure of the taste of blood that mingled with the brackish, soiled water as it washed it off my flesh. I knew that I should be surrendering myself to the authorities to be put down like the daedra-spawn that I was but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The tormenting pull between the man seeking atonement and destruction and the creature with its desire to survive wracked me painfully as I found a mostly quiet spot near the steps of the cathedral and laid my head on my pack.
The dreams that assailed my tortured mind were even worse than those the weeks previous. Now that my blood ran with the corrupted substance from a creature of Oblivion my thoughts seemed to be never ending images of death and destruction. In my mind I slew countless blood-robed assassins and drank of their flesh, twisting necks and snapping at bones to greedily suckle at the marrow. Fingers tore, teeth shredded and blows shattered, each image and thought more depraved and cruel than the last.
