Knowing that there was no time to spare, I ripped one of the burning logs from the fire and began waving it into the sky, twisting it back and forth for the rest of our group waiting in the marsh and on the other side of the tiny strip of land. The shouts and questions from within the fort grew louder, more urgent before the realisation set in and surprise and anger began to take hold.
“You never seem to be able to do anything the easy way, can you mrannd’ssinss?” Little more than a shadow, Viconia seemed to appear from nowhere and joined me by the tiny fire and the trio of dead and dying bandits. In the darkness before us it was as though a nest of ants had been kicked as some of their number began rousing their closest companions.
A quick glance over my shoulder was all that I needed to tell me that the others were going to be some time before they could reach us. My vampirism allowed me to see Weebam-Na and Bejeen pushing their way up onto the banks but the others still had over fifty metres of waterlogged ground to cover in full armour. And that was before they could climb up the mound of rubble into the fort itself. “We’re going to need to buy time.” I said, trying not to feel fear or the building vampiric anticipation of bloodshed.
Without a further word, Viconia broke out into a jog across the ruined gatehouse as easily as it had been a grassy plain, Dragonbane already gripped in one hand and the tinge of magicka beginning to form in the palm of a hand. My dagger had found its way back into its sheath without conscious effort from myself and shedding my acquired cloak I drew Sunchild and began running towards the heart of the bandit infested ruins.
A dozen silhouettes were moving towards us, calling out and shouting their queries into the night as we charged them. Whether it was the last shreds of sleep releasing its grip from their minds or the instinctive hope that it was all a misunderstanding they were slow to react. The first who crossed my path died on Sunchild as I impaled them on the blade, twisting them to the side and launching myself at the next foe. Almost to a man they were barely dressed, their armours and even most of their clothing left behind in the sudden confusion that gripped the camp tightly. So used to not needing to fear or be concerned about anything more than the natural dangers of the swamps, they were unprepared for a direct assault upon their makeshift home in the dead of the night.
The tumbled stones of the gatehouse were treacherous and I was nearing the bottom when my boot skidded on a patch of moss made slippery with blood and I fell in front of the nearest foes. Only saved by my vampirism I somehow managed to roll tightly, feeling my shoulder groan in response even as I came up swinging. It was a clumsy movement, especially when compared to Viconia’s elven grace. Only a few meters ahead of me she pressed on, kicking over the nearest tent to add to the confusion even as she stabbed down on anything wriggling under the canvass.
More and more of the bandits were swarming, writhing out from their beds and sleeping arrangements in bleary eyed groups that struggled to understand what was happening. The tent I was near disgorged a pair of half-naked individuals and I blocked a clumsy slice of a dagger with one of my own that cut a hand away. Screaming in agony, the male bandit was granted a few more seconds of life as the woman with him swung a club studded with iron, before falling to the ground with a mortal wound in the chest from Sunchild. Another to my rear charged as I dispatched the bandit missing his hand with a single downwards stab, bellowing and swinging his quarterstaff with intention of braining me from behind.
Sailing out of the night like they had during the battle in the village, a spear as long as his staff punched into his chest, ripping him from his feet and throwing him backwards in a tumble of limbs. The first spear was joined by a second, and a third thudded into another bandit’s thigh near Viconia as Weebam-Na and Bejeen entered the fray. Unfortunately, as good as they were with their spears they could only carry four at a time and they were soon reduced to one after thinning the numbers arrayed before us. To a greater extent, they had to rely on their speed and surprise as their thin leather armour was barely any better than the men, women, mer and beastfolk that had made the fort their home.
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There were dozens of the Black Bows within the fort but our only real advantage other than our surprise assault was that these were even more poorly equipped and trained than those who we had fought in the village. Wearing little, and not just because of being caught unawares during the night they were limited to boiled leather and padded cloth to protect themselves. This may have been useful against villagers armed with primitive spears and clubs and fending off some of the marshes insect species but it was completely inadequate against the likes of weapons such as Sunchild and Dragonbane. Their weapons too were extremely crude, consisting of spears tipped with iron and steel, bows and crossbows affected by the damp and humidity and a collection that was mostly tools and farm implements instead of weapons. Polearms and poleaxes, scythes and billhooks, mason’s hammers and carpenters’ mallets and a varied collection of daggers were gripped in the clammy hands of cutthroats and thieves.
But whether they had been designed for war or not mattered very little as they were still more than capable of taking lives. A dagger could slip between armoured plates and penetrate chain link, poleaxes could hack through armour and wooden mallets could break bones through armour if struck correctly and with enough force. Spears could keep a swordsman at bay and against the numbers within the fort we quickly found ourselves being pushed back.
So I fought for space. I fought for time. I fought for enough seconds to allow the other half of our group to wade across a thin patch of sunken dirt covered in ankle deep water while wearing heavy armour. I cut legs and hacked at faces. I sliced Sunchild across at head height and forced the dozen or so untrained bandits facing me to shy away from my naked blade to instinctively protect their eyes. I kicked knees in and stove in chests with my boots and fists. I cut throats and tossed the spasming victim into the path of those fighting by his side to tangle and trip them in their attempts to close with me. I fought for Viconia only a few short paces by my side and…
I fought for the Nine.
The thought that entered my mind made me blink and almost miss the spear-thrust aiming for the thinner armour of my groin and I only barely managed to parry it away at the last second. The spearman blanched at the sight of me flicking the spear away, reaching forward and ripping him off his feet with my left hand while breaking out into a hideously loud laugh that I knew twisted my face into terrifying mask to those facing me. While I was still mostly hidden behind my mask, hood and coif there was enough of my ash blackened, mud covered face for them to see that I was laughing even if they were deaf to it.
For almost two decades I had fought for a number of things. I had fought for bets or in tavern brawls, served the Empire and received the Emperor’s Septim for crossing blades or loosing arrows into anyone or anything deigned to be a foe of Tamriel. There had been so many years and so many battles that I had fought which the meanings had long since drained from my mind but in the depths of the Blackwood I was fighting in service to the Gods that I had never really heeded. The fact that I was doing so to protect those within the world that needed protecting from the monsters of oblivion paled in my mind in comparison to the fact that I was doing so as a corrupted, accursed being. This reason and this reason alone left me laughing even as I fought for my life.
My laughter echoed over the cracks of metal on wood and metal on metal, and even over the screams of hatred, fear and pain. It was loud enough that it drew Viconia’s attention for the briefest of moments and she too began laughing in her own way and for her own reasons but it was drowned out as I kicked a foe away and bellowed on the top of my lungs.
“For the Nine!”
humbling to say the least.
Blood of Dragons once Writeathon finishes on the 6th Dec (as well as a bit of a bonus that will be released alongside it) so I hope everyone who has been following reading my stories so far are looking forward to seeing Kaius' shenanigans in Skyrim!
Bloodtide Rising's next chapter, but the placeholder is already up on my profile for anyone who wants to jump the gun!
