The cold, brackish water soaked through my armour and left my flesh crawling with goosebumps as I felt it rise up to my chin. Despite the temperatures during the day the Blackwood rapidly cooled during the evenings and at such an hour mists were beginning to form. While heated by the sun during the day, as soon as you breached the upper layers it turned frigid from where the mud ensured that light never truly penetrated its depths. Every scrap of my clothing was immediately saturated, my armour waterlogged and heavy and yet it was the way that my boots filled with chilled water that truly left me uncomfortable.
It had not taken us long at all to prepare ourselves after the battle in the village, and with a haste brought about by the prospect of further fighting we began making our way in the footsteps of the Argonian guide. Barely old enough to be classified in her teens, the young villager had been chosen by the crippled shaman to lead us to what they called the ‘stone nest’. While relatively close by, the late hour and the all-consuming darkness from the encroaching vegetation combined with the soggy marsh soil in our path ensured that it was several hours before we came in sight of the ancient fortress.
Unlike the portion of land that we had been travelling across for the better part of three hours, the fortress was set off on its own tiny island that was barely larger than the walls themselves. It wasn’t as large as a legion fort, but it was still impressive in its own way with walls easily six metres in height, a handful of roofed towers at the corners and near what appeared to be the remains of a gatehouse and a central keep barely large enough to be a mess hall. It was small, unassuming and almost unexpected to be the home of one of Tamriel’s most holy of relics.
At a first glance it appeared to be nothing more than an ancient watch post or border station abandoned to the shifting politics and administrative morass that was the local area, but the more you studied it the more that you were able to discern. The walls were exceptionally well built, surviving two centuries of tides, floods and the very land itself being considered extremely poor for building upon. Only the collapsed gatehouse appeared to have been the only broken portion, which appeared to have sunk into the marsh just a little too neatly to have been the result of erosion.
There was a strip of land, barely wide enough for a cart to be pulled along that ran from the ‘mainland’ to the fort itself but it was waterlogged and soft despite the thick grasses growing on top of it. To make matters worse, this strip of land was easily watchable by the collection of bandits within the fort as what little moonlight penetrated through the surrounding canopies was more than enough to show anyone approaching.
This left only one option. One or more of us would have to brave the fetid waters surrounding the fortress, infiltrate it and clear the lookouts stationed on the rubble of the gatehouse or otherwise create a distraction to allow the others to cross without exposing themselves to fifty metres of open terrain. As most of our group were almost entirely incapable of stealth, let alone swimming across the swamp with their equipment it had fallen to Weebam-Na, Bejeen, Viconia and myself to make the crossing.
If I was being entirely honest with myself it was the idea of swimming through a swamp, especially a Blackmarsh one that was threatening my calm. Weebam-Na had helpfully declared that all the things that we needed to watch out for the in water slept through the night, but he certainly didn’t help when he quickly added “I hope” at the end of his sentence. If it wasn’t for my vampiric nature I wouldn’t had heard him at all which left me once again hating my curse.
Thankfully enough, the water wasn’t entirely deep and while it was slow going as we felt along the bottom for holes or submerged stones and logs it was better than trying to swim with all our additional equipment. Neither Viconia or myself had reduced our armour by much as once battle was joined we were going to need every link and plate. Unfortunately, this weight also ensured that with each step I sunk half way up my shins into the soft mud and I could feel it slithering into my boots and around my feet even before I made it more than a metre from the shore.
At least… I hoped it was mud.
The main dangers of the swamps; those that we all were hoping were asleep seemed to be entirely absent as I slowly and carefully made my way towards the towering walls. It was a darkened mass in the night, illuminated by the handful flickering lights of lanterns, braziers and torches arrayed along the walls. The whole fort was approximately seventy metres by fifty metres with the shorter edge facing the mainland, but at that point I was doing everything I could to take my mind off the situation I found myself in.
Leeches clustered around the tiniest scrap of flesh that they could access, which after wrapping my coif around my head, mask over my face and stuffing my hood in around my throat left only my forehead and fingers. Every few seconds I could feel something latching on somewhere only to release its hold due to my vampiric blood and I found myself not looking forward to Viconia’s mood over the coming days after this endeavour. Each foot needed to be dragged free from the silt and mud and I was simultaneously tensing my feet in the effort as well as ensuring that I didn’t stop in place as that would mean they would become stuck. After the effort it took to kill the minotaur titan whose hide had been turned into my clothing I certainly wasn’t going to let the marshes have my boots.
Slowly lifting myself out of the marsh on the thin strip of mud and grasses at the base of the wall I tried my best to ignore the slimy, squirming sensation of the various things that fell off me. In the back of my mind I tried to convince myself that it was all merely the collections of reeds and water plants that had clung to me during the swim but my subconscious had other ideas. It also wasn’t helping that the vampiric portion of my mind was shifting forward with each step, whispering promises of strength, power and the ability to completely ignore all the physical sensations that left my flesh crawling and stomach churning from my submersion. While I fought back my darker instincts, I still called upon the vampire as I looked through the darkness with my enhanced sight to find a suitable portion of the wall before beginning to climb.
Viconia was detectable only by her heartbeat and with my mask soaked with muddy water and every inch of me covered it was almost impossible to smell anything other than decay and grime. Before I had begun the crossing I had taken care to smear a layer of mud across my forehead to hide my pale skin from view and I had to continuously resist the urge to wipe the noxious sensation away. The effort of digging my fingers and toes into the ancient stonework of the walls assisted me greatly in ignoring all of my sensations, as did the growing strength of the vampire as it lent its aid.
Carefully sliding my way over the ramparts on a portion of wall that appeared utterly undefended and lacking even a single sentry I could sense Viconia’s presence several dozen metres away. Despite the fact that she had taken a longer way through the swamp to reach a separate portion of the fort, she had managed to beat me in scaling the wall and was already ghosting herself around the ramparts. By the way that a heartbeat suddenly stilled as she encountered it she was already well along the way of thinning the numbers of bandits within the fort and I began to follow her example.
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With Sunchild and the Light of Dawn clasped down my spine I instead moved about with only my dagger which had been covered in a considerable amount of ash and charcoal to dull its blade. I held it steadily in one hand, moving as quietly as I could with the fact that I was still dripping with moisture, covered head to toe in stinking mud and leaving a steady trail of footprints behind me. None of this I could really help besides ensuring that no one was left alive in the position to come across them. Along the entire length of wall towards its lone staircase to the interior I left two of the bandits cooling on the stonework after plunging my dagger under their ears.
The fort itself was spacious but it was more and more obvious that it hadn’t been designed for the same purpose as those I had seen or served at during my time in the Legion. It was built in a similar way but was lacking in many key features. There was no real space or building set aside for accommodation other than the tiny bunkhouse built against one of the walls, no smithy and no space for drill or any form of training. The central keep also sat in the direct centre rather than against a wall furthest from the gatehouse which also reduced the amount of available space, but there was no mistaking the fact that what space was available was being utilised.
Illuminated by a handful of slowly dying lanterns and campfires and the faint light of the moons it was far too easy to see that the bandits had claimed the fort in force. Tents, canvasses and tarpaulins had been strung out between the outer walls and the interior keep in haphazard attempts to provide cover from the daily rain and mists that soaked every available surface. Bedrolls and collections of cloths were scattered about with dozens of bandits sleeping on top of them. Some had some form of thin mesh arrangement set up over their sleeping arrangements, but for most the only true protection from the swarms of insects seeking a meal of flesh and blood was the burning of wet wood and the clouds of smoke that spread about as a result.
One bandit died quickly and while it would have appeared that I had cut their throat I used the opportunity to slake my growing thirst. While I tried to convince myself that I was doing so simply to state my appetite for blood it was also pragmatic because I would need all the strength I could muster for us to have a chance against the numbers within the fort.
With Viconia’s presence growing closer along her path of cooling corpses I could also faintly sense Weebam-Na and Bejeen lurking in the water a short distance from the ruined gatehouse. Even if any of the bandits on sentry duty had been keen eyed enough to be able to see them, there was very little that the top of their heads and eyes above the surface of the water. Like the rest of their kind, they could submerge and remain so indefinitely and would be waiting for our approach from the interior of the fort itself to launch their own attacks. It was up to Viconia and I to silence the sentries, and then up to the four of us to hold the breach while the others crossed fifty metres of boggy ground before assaulting the ruins. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that it was a good plan, but it was the only plan that I or the others had and so would have to do.
My heart was hammering away in my chest as I realised that the last dozen metres or so across the pile of broken masonry that was the fort’s original gate was completely lacking in cover. Only by calling upon my true nature would I have been able to cross the distance between the walls and the last handful of sentries but the risk of being uncovered by the others was too great. Alexi and the remainder of our group would be watching the tiny collection of lit torches at the top of the mound intently and I would have been too easy to spot appearing from the shadows if I used my vampiric nature. That was not even taking into account the way that Weebam-Na and Bejeen were much closer than the others.
Thinking quickly, a crumbling, moth eaten cloak was pulled around me from my latest victim and doing everything I could to steady myself I simply began walking casually in the direction of the remaining guards. My hood was pulled down, mask over my face and keeping it hidden in shadows and slowly and carefully and without the slightest hint of stealth I walked over to them.
One of the more alert ones heard the sounds of my boots on the moss and creeper covered stones and turned, eyes squinting and his head slightly moving from side to side as he tried to make out my shadowed figure in the gloom. “Who’s that?”
Not changing my speed of the way I was walking, I made some half-hearted gesture into the darkness and mumbled something that was inaudible and sounding name-like.
The trio sitting near the tiny campfire and sitting on blocks of stone repurposed into seats turned and looked my way, and all bar one did little more than shrug and turn back to the fire. While the night wasn’t cold, they too were rugged up under their cloaks in an attempt to ward off the hundreds of flying insects hovering around their patch of light. As a result, my cloaked and hooded figure wasn’t unusual to them and barely rated a mention from any of them.
“What the oblivion are you doing?” said the first, still squinting as I ambled my way casually over to them. “Shifts not swapping over for a while yet.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Fucking bugs.”
They all shared a collective chuckle that was dark and filled with understanding, especially when one slapped himself in the face loudly and grimaced as his hand came away with a spot of blood. “Fuck this place.” he growled, wiping the mangled bug that had been biting into his cheek onto the front of his gambeson and rubbing at the bite.
“You got that right.” Agreed the third of their group, a woman by her build and voice. She was so rugged up that there was barely any trace of her underneath the folds of the cloak and hood but the bitterness was obvious.
As I moved much closer, the bandit who had first spotted me twisted and spat into the darkness, idly scratching under the cuff of his armour at what was undoubtedly insect bites. His expression was also bitter and consumed with annoyance, but as I moved almost within arm’s reach of them it turned to confusion as he managed to get a better look at me.
The bushy eyebrows frowned in puzzlement as his cursory glance turned into a careful one and I knew that he had seen the way that my legs were covered in mud and still dripping with water. Covered by my acquired cloak all that was visible were my legs from the knees down and it was enough to make him suspicious. I could almost see the way that his brain was trying to understand what exactly he was seeing, his mouth falling open in surprise as his eyes reached my masked features and realised that I was not one of them.
In a flicker of movement my arms appeared from within the folds of my acquired cloak, gripping him by the shoulder tightly and plunging my dagger to the hilt in his temple. There was a fleshy thud and the slightest hint of bone crunching as I jammed the blade into the depths of his brain and the second before I twisted and ripped it free he was left convulsing.
The other two reacted with all the speed of tired men and women who had spent months within the depths of the Blackwood. There was shock, surprise and realisation as their comrade toppled over and even before their conscious minds had grasped the situation they were reacting. Through the curse pumping through my veins I saw their mouths beginning to open, their eyes widening in the darkness as they began reaching for their weapons and raising the alarm. I also saw in overwhelming clarity how my blade reappeared covered in blood to take away the throat of the female bandit before she could even draw in a breath. With the adrenaline in my veins and vampire rising to the surface I was much faster than I had any right to be, but it wasn’t fast enough to entirely stop the alarm being raised.
It was not from the sounds of fighting or dying or even a scream or shouted cry but from the way the third and last bandit flailed away from me as I hurled myself at him. With a half cut off cry he fell backwards off the chunk of stone he had been using as a seat and it was the metallic clatter of his equipment and armour on the ground that drew attention from the few not sleeping in the fort’s interior. It could have been something as simple as someone tripping over in the darkness but it was all too easy for the couple of bandits in the fort to see the way that I had practically tackled the last sentry. With one hand I cut off his cry in mid breath, and the other rammed the point of my dagger into his armpit as it sought out his heart. He died almost as quickly as the other two but by now my actions had been noticed and there was a couple of shouted queries from those who had witnessed it.
Bloodtide Rising has received almost seven times as many views, and has six times as many followers as what all 27 of my stories on Archive of Our Own have in soon to be 9 years.
