Blanco had a wonderful role in this episode. I remember how he reacted when Julian retrieved that cuirass, so his actions here made beautiful sense.

“This is it, Julian,” his voice drifted quietly with his breath.

Burd said it perfectly, and now the stage is truly set.

@Olen: You are absolutely right. Julian still considers the arcane realm to be beyond her understanding that she still regards battlemages as being other than herself. She is beginning to understand that they’re mortal, with emotions and nerves, just like herself.

@SubRosa: Here is some information about Mo Gu, which is actually a form of mounted archery competition: (read the section about Korean mounted archery). I thought it was a good enough name for these Legion archers. I am thinking that here is where Blanco really shows us what a Witchhorse is capable of. What better way to do it than carry the last Septim into battle?

@Acadian: Sometimes I think Blanco is very aware of the effect a mounted Emperor has on both the allies and on the Oblivion forces. And I strongly suspect that while he is very much a stallion, he also understands, on some basic level, the importance of keeping Martin Septim alive. We will soon see how he, in his own horsey way, intends to accomplish just that.

@Grits: After Blanco introduced himself to Martin Septim in such a dramatic manner, it was high time the damn horse lived up to his unspoken demonstration! Yes, he can spot magic, and as Acadian said, smell the dragonblood.

Now that we are getting down to the action, I want to take a moment for a few shout-outs.

Thanks to SubRosa for showing me that it is possible to add to the scale of this battle. I always felt that the forces facing Oblivion in the game were kind of puny, especially if the PC is at higher levels. While I didn’t quite reach the massive scale SubRosa accomplished in the TF, I did expand on the forces quite a bit. I hope that it makes the battle feel a bit more balanced.

Also thanks to Acadian and his depiction of the Battle of Kvatch for the inspiration I found to develop some of the tactics here. While I had the general outline in my head, details were lacking until I started reading Buffy’s impressions of a battle that happened long ago for Julian.

And many, many, many thanks to Dee Foxy for some of the specific ideas he shared with me. I’ve been able to use quite a few of his suggestions in the upcoming battle to add more realism to the events Julian witnesses.

The story so far: The Bruma allies have taken the field, and it is time to face the source of the jitters.

**********************

Chapter 30.7 Before One Gate

At the bottom of the slope Blanco reared above the heads of the guardsmen around me. My heart in my mouth, I watched as he spun sideways, Martin’s head turned toward the Gate ahead of us. “We stand here!” Martin shouted as the soldiers reformed along the base of the rocky slope, behind hastily assembled stone ramparts. “Let them come to us!”

Both horse and rider looked whole, so I swallowed my heart back into my chest and took my position beside Burd. Mentally I reviewed what we had discussed just a few hours ago.

“The smaller Gates will open roughly equidistant from each other,” Vonius set three votive candles around the rim of the altar, dividing the circle into three equal arcs. “Once all three are open, the Great Gate will appear,” he indicated the everlasting flame of Talos, then swept the unlit votives into his hands. “Then the smaller ones close.”

“Best time to use cavalry, if we had it, is early on,” Camillus loomed over Vonius’s shoulder, his gaze moving over the shallow terrain of the altar’s bowl. “While there is still room to maneuver.”

Martin nodded. “I was thinking the same thing, Inspector General,” he agreed, collecting the votives from Vonius. He set one down, then waved his hand over the expanse of the bowl, his fingers passing through the arcane flame unharmed. “If we stay back along one edge,” he swept his hand along a quarter of the rim, “that should give you and your cavalry a clear field.”

“Aye, I noticed the southeastern slope is relatively gentle with few boulders,” Camillus tapped the adjacent portion of the altar rim. “T’would be a good place for a cavalry contingent.”

“Archers would be nice,” Lerus remarked. Her icy glance flashed at Camillus. “Was it my imagination, sir, or did I see a contingent of Mo Gu riders among the cavalry that isn’t supposed to be here?”

He smiled that feral grin I remembered too well. “What Mo Gu riders?” he rubbed his left forefinger alongside his nose in the universal gesture of dissemblance. “Your imagination is quite vivid, Captain, as well as those of everyone else here.”

Lerus smiled back, her eyes hard. “That’s too bad, sir. They would come in very useful for some time after the regular cavalry runs out of room.”

Vonius considered both Legion officers thoughtfully. “Yes, if such a contingent existed, they could sweep the field between the Gates until the center one opens.” He grinned maliciously. “So would artillery.”

Camillus matched Vonius’s feral grin. “Speaking of which, how is that coming along, Burd?”

“Quite well, sir,” Satisfaction brimmed in the Nord captain’s voice. “We have four trebuchets parked on the eastern walls. Jantus Brolus will have them sighted to the center of the Plain of Caribou before sundown. And the good citizens of Bruma are hard at work assembling the missiles.” He met Camillus’s gaze. “As long as your battlemages have good aim . . .”

“They do!” Camillus averred heartily. “And they know to strike each projectile with Jend’s latest spell.”

Burd caught the bemused expressions on the other captains’ faces. “We are limited in artillery materials,” he explained with a nod at Camillus. “But we have plenty of snow and rocks here. At the core of each missile is a ball of snow about so big -” he held his hands shoulder-width apart, “spiked with nails and broken spear points. The outer shell is composed of pebbles held together with netting.”

Camillus rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “And when they are lobbed at the enemy, our mages will fire Jend’s spell at each missile. The heat from the spell will cause the snow to instantly vaporize into steam, forcing the iron fragments and rocks apart at high velocities.” His blue eyes drifted around the altar, meeting the gaze of each captain in turn. “I don’t have to warn you to stay well off that field while the artillery is firing!”

“If we have enough warning,” Lerus nodded thoughtfully, “we can duck behind our shields to avoid the shrapnel.”

“We’ll use the starlight spells as signals,” Camillus nodded at me. “Not only will it signal the crews on the walls, but also warn us to take cover.” He ran a finger around the rim of the altar. “I’ve got our support troops building stone ramparts here that you can drop behind. They’re only waist-high, but that’s as far as we can get on short notice.”

“Then that’s decided,” Martin Septim leaned forward over the flame. For one second, I saw again the bones of his skull emerging in the light from Talos’s fire. “First we’ll have Hallstein’s contingent on the left flank, Kvatch in the center, and Lerus’s people on the right flank. The rest will stay back as reserves. We stay back along the edge of the bottom, behind these stone ramparts of Camillus’s, and let these infernal Daedra come to us. We’ll let the artillery fly first. Then our imaginary cavalry and Mo Gu riders will attack those in the center as long as they have room to run. We will close with the enemy only after the Great Gate opens and the other three close. No point in stumbling into one of these Gates and getting sucked into the Deadlands.”

Martin Septim met my gaze across the altar. “Julian will remain back with the reserves,” he shook his head when I drew breath to protest. “I need you to keep an eye on the melee and send guards and soldiers where they are needed most. You are also our liaison with our artillery and the imaginary cavalry. And most importantly of all, we need you alive and whole to run into that Great Gate.”

Camillus nodded his agreement. “Aye, Julian knows our battle signals and can coordinate the forces best.” He looked at me. “Starlight spells for artillery, that small healing spell for the cavalry. It shouldn’t impact your magicka too much, Julian.”

I filled my lungs with the chill air. Frost is falling already. Well, we’ll be warm enough soon enough. I looked ahead to see dark shapes swirling in front of the Gate as the scamps and clannfear turned en masse toward us. Flashes of purple flickered among the simian creatures as the reptilian beasts began their charge toward us. Then flares began flying toward us, splashing across shields and mailed armor.

Martin turned his face in my direction and lifted his greatsword vertically, catching the glow from the Gate in a scarlet glimmer. In response, I sent the green flame skyward, arcing it over the center of the Plain.

For a long breath nothing interrupted the clannfear’s charge toward us. Then massive fireballs soared through the darkening sky toward dark forms hurtling overhead. Below me I saw the front lines crouched behind the wall. Suddenly I realized that Martin, on Blanco’s back, sat well above the shelter of the rampart. No, we can’t lose Martin to shrapnel! But it was too late. The dark projectiles, struck by potent flames, dissolved violently into clouds of steam speckled by black spots just above the heads of the daedra.

To my surprise, Blanco spun in place so that he faced the field. They’re making themselves as small as possible. Maybe it will work. His white coat gleamed in the bloody gloom below as the missiles exploded over the field. Fist-sized rocks and glowing red iron fragments, propelled by white clouds of steam stained by the red glow of Oblivion, scattered over the Plain, almost too fast to see.

A swath of carnage opened across the charging daedra like wheat falling before the scythe. Clannfear and scamps crumpled alike before the deadly onslaught of flying debris. Above their cries of pain and fear, I could hear the clatter of the furthest-reaching shrapnel striking the breastworks below.

Somehow Blanco and Martin stood unscathed. I couldn’t be certain, but it almost seemed as if the missiles bent around the pair before landing harmlessly behind the front ranks. Then Martin twisted around in the saddle and signaled again with his greatsword.

I glanced toward the line of cavalry, still stationed above us on the rim to the southeast, and tossed a small healing flare skyward into the red haze above us.

A horn rang out. Its clear note sank into a storm of twanging bowstrings and whistling fletches as a mass of arrows rose high above us. They dropped like stooping falcons toward the mass of lesser daedra before us.

High-pitched screeches and bass bellowing told us of the accuracy of the Mo Gu’s fire. Several clannfear staggered, but kept coming, some of them shaking their heads furiously. The scamps did not fare so well. Nearly as many scamps were hit, and more of them fell, never to move again.

I heard the familiar command to mount up in Camillus’s stentorian bellow, followed by “Ready arms!” from Martin. Then the remaining daedra contacted the front line, held by Lerus and Vonius on the right, and the decanus from Skingrad, Andor Hallstein, on the left. Blanco belled as the creatures fought to get past the front line toward him, and I could hear the challenge in his voice. Come and get me if you can! Ha! But he kept all four feet on the ground and trotted behind the guards, Martin watching for a break in the line. Around him the Blades had spread into a winged formation, ready to move forward should any daedra approach their sacred charge. I could catch intermittent glimpses of a white-tipped brown shadow at Blanco’s left knee.

Three clannfear slipped past the right flank of the front line and beelined toward Burd and I. His warning brought my attention from the melee ahead to the more immediate threat as Akatosh’s Touch darted toward one of the scaled beasts. I felt, rather than heard, the line to my left give slightly as the guards and Blades were pushed back beneath the press of clannfear.

The other two already dispatched beneath his immense blade, Burd finished off the creature I had wounded, giving me the space I needed to send another healing flare skyward. This time, I sent a second one immediately after the first.

Thunder rolled over the daedra as the Mo Gu riders, already mounted, kneed their brave mounts down the relatively clear southeast slope of the bowl. Once they reached the bottom, the horses spread out in a single column parallel to our front and a few lengths away. Their riders loosed arrows into scamps and clannfear on the far side. As they swept across the bowl, the Mo Gu riders twisted around in their saddles and shot backwards, downing even more of the enemy.

Their numbers significantly thinned, the remaining daedra were easily flung back and I felt the front line return to its original position. Once again, Martin’s sword flashed at me, still pristine. How much longer before that blade gets its first drink? I didn’t pause to consider the answer, but instead sent three healing flares toward the blooming stars. Once more the horn sounded, and the regular cavalry spilled in a dark mass over the edge of the bowl, sweeping down on the remaining daedra staggering across the field.

Across the bowl, the Mo Gu riders had gathered at the bottom of the rocky slope and were turning around. They arched northwards and swept back along the right flank of the regular cavalry, once again shooting in the direction of the Gate.

Few daedra remained after the cavalry’s devastating charge. I looked out in the wake of the horses as they, too, returned to the southeastern lip to resume their positions. Broken bodies lay scattered across the bowl, its pristine snow cover now blemished by dark pools and trampled dirt clods. Some of them moved, and moaning reached us on the light northern breeze. My heart sank when my eye fell on a larger form here and there. Two horses down. Already we have casualties. A quick scan of the front line showed a few holes as well, where unfortunate guards had fallen.

“Hey!” Burd pointed his claymore at a moving silhouette at the base of the Gate. A scamp, one arm missing at the shoulder, staggered toward the oblate lens of fire. “We can’t let him warn the others!”

But at least one of the Mo Gu riders also had the same thought. A few bowstrings twanged above us, and the scamp fell just short of its goal, the remaining hand nearly touching the edge of the Deadlands.

“That was easy,” Burd remarked softly out the side of his mouth to me. “Too easy, feels like.”

“There’ll be more,” I answered. “But now we get a little respite.”

Martin Septim set Blanco trotting along the front, stopping to speak with each leader. Then the white stallion was bounding toward me.

“Vonius needs to pull back,” Martin said quietly. “Lerus, too. Let’s replace them with Anvil. We have wounded and dead to pull off the field.”

“How many?” I dreaded the answer.

“One dead each from Lerus’s and Vonius’s contingent, and three wounded in the Bravil line, one more from Kvatch.” Martin’s hazel eyes glimmered in the twilight. “Three of the riders are down, too, as well as two of their horses.” He lifted his gaze to the rim above us. “But it looks like we have help.”

I turned to look in the same direction. Two big-boned black-and-white spotted horses stood at the rim, tossing their heads and stamping their massive feet against the cold. A smile crept across my face as I recognized the Skyrim Paints from my years of service in the North. A wagon creaked behind them. Beside them stood several two-legged forms, their silhouettes showing no sign of armor.

“Talk to them, and report back to me,” Martin’s tone held unmistakable command. I recognized the glamour of the Dragonblood and bowed my head to him.

As I did in my Legion days, I ran up the side of the bowl and approached the farm cart first. Nonius stood at the head of the two draft horses. Their massive heads swung towards me in unison, then they snorted at the smell of clannfear blood and scamp sulfur on the breeze that followed me. However, they held their ground.

“I am here to remove wounded and dead as needed,” Nonius said. “Petrine will be down with the other team soon. We will bring the most severely wounded to the Chapel for healing.”

“Thank you, Nonius,” I clasped his shoulder. I knew he felt the same fear that Red and Jasmine had so ably demonstrated. However something of the Skyrim Paints’ phlegmatic nature seemed to rub off on him, for he nodded and smooched at them. They started down the hill, the wooden wheels rattling over the smaller stones.

Cirroc stepped forward out of the gloom. “I can do field healing here,” he said. “If any men are able to head back into battle right away -” his voice trailed off, and I knew he was thinking of long-ago combat. Silently I thanked Talos for this former Legion immunes. “Your skills will be most appreciated here, but what of the Chapel?” I asked.

“I have excellent students there, and Selena will supervise them,” he answered with a nod. “Her guildmates are already preparing potions for her.”

I hope she doesn’t have Frasoric in charge of that! I kept silent. Orania’s judgment could be trusted, I knew by now.

“One other thing, Julian,” Cirroc nodded toward the dark cluster of armed figures approaching us. “Please let Emperor Martin know that the Bruma Chapter of the Fighter’s Guild is ready to fight, as well.”

“Aye, that’s right!” A lean Orsimer woman stopped beside us. “We’re not many in number, but we have plenty of skills and experience!” She slapped her gauntleted hand against her iron cuirass for emphasis. “Bumph gra-Gash, Chapter Head, at your service!” Her fangs gleamed in the dusk. “We just got the go-ahead from Modryn Oreyn to join in the fight!”

I scanned the small group. “How many of you are there?”

“Eight,” gra-Gash answered stoutly.

I nodded to myself. They may not have the cohort tactics down flat, but they sure can fight. Maybe when we resort to close quarter combat, they can be useful then. “Then I’m certain the Emperor will be glad of your assistance, gra-Gash,” I said. “Let me take you to him.”

No no, I meant that I started this story, Chapter 1.3a is where I'm at now. It ain't boring!

p5

Ah, so Mo Gu is the moving target competition in Korean horse archery. A very clever use of the name for OHDH.

I see the troops are digging in behind the low stone wall, the cavalry has found a place to sweep in, and we even have trebuchets! W00T. In wonder what highly flammable material they might be using for ammo, to be Enemies Exploded in Delphinic fashion? Greek fire perhaps? Oh, even more clever, giant fragmentation grenades!

For one second, I saw again the bones of his skull emerging in the light from Talos’s light.
Uh oh, another bad premonition. Since I am mentioning that line, you used the word light twice in it.

The Emperor also has a very wise plan for Julian's role here as well. Forward Observer, reserve, and overall coordinator of the entire battle. That is quite the big step from being a simple centurion in the cohort for newbies!

Now the Daedra charge! I am intensely reminded of Pickett's Charge as the artillery rips their ranks to shreds, to be followed by the volleys of arrows. With Martin sitting calmly upon his horse through it all, just like General Hancock. Quite a battle you are treating us to haute!

The first clash went rather well. But I am reminded that was only the beginning. Now the Daedra will know that they have a fight on their hands, and will start putting it all in. It will only get harder from here on out.

Yay, the Fighters Guild has arrived! So nice to see them, and the Mages Guild, making a contribution here. It always felt rather lame how the game left them out of things.

Wonderful! You have so very much going on here, yet you managed it expertly. You clearly conveyed the fear, sights and even the sounds of first blood on the Plain of Caribou.

You honor me with the kind words in your pre-story comments. I was instantly reminded of them when the heavy horses arrived drawing a wagon to move casualties. Similarly, I love how you have the farmers, mages and priests all involved in the healing effort. And lastly, I smiled in agreement with the hope that Jeanne Frasoric had perhaps found ‘appropriate’ duties to suit her particular. . . talents. I’m sure her 15 second scamp can be put to use somehow.

Although OHDH, TF and BF each tell the story of the crisis in their own way, my heart fills with pride to see the guild of mages so involved here. I’m sure also, that having the heroes of the Fighters Guild take part brings more than a faint smile to SubRosa.

This stage of your story is nothing short of epic. There are two OHDH aspects that really stand out. First, is how you’ve brought those in Julian’s ‘guild’ (the Blades) so fully to life (in four cases, back to life). Secondly is how you so gently weave in the fact that Akatosh’s divine hand is everpresent. I have no doubt it is He who deflected shrapnel from Martin and his beautiful, brave and borrowed steed.

This is at least the second time that a vision possibly foreshadowing Martin's demise has appeared to Julian - a powerfully poignant reminder of his destiny.

Another one I read and forgot to comment on... ...Sorry...

Loved the whole of the previous episode...Espescially the speech...Definately had the ring of Boromir's speech in the Two Towers to it... ...Was definately waiting for the "For Gondor!"...*Nods*...I joke, but it was definately a brilliant piece of writing...And I definately applaud it...*Applauds*...See?!...

As for this last one, loved the way you had the earlier section in italics...Loved the planning full-stop...Brilliant tactical stuff...Something else I can't get enough of...Thinking!!...One day, I may start that meself... ...

Aaaamywho...

Very intense battle...Definately loving the scale of it...And the way you're using the...Um...extra units...Um...

...

Absolutely fantastic stuff, made even fantasticerer by Cirroc and Fighters Guild turning up...Oh yes!!...Loves me Fighters Guild does I... ...And as I've previously said, Cirroc just rocks!... ...

See, full of love is I...*Nods*...

Excellent stuff...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

It was so interesting to read Julian’s mental review of the planning session. Her Legion experience really pays off here as she coordinates the various forces. I am enjoying Julian’s clear and well-informed vision of this battle!

@LadySaga: Why, thanks for telling me Julian's story isn't boring!

@SageRosa: Though it doesn't appear in Julian's story, I imagine Camillus arriving at Bruma, surveying the field in some dismay, then putting his support troops to work putting up breastworks and defensive emplacements around the one area his cavalry can run! Likewise Burd, Gan Luseph, and Vonius putting their heads together and developing this. I have to credit Dee Foxy for putting me on the path that led to the idea of trebuchets and frag grenades. I asked him what could be made with readily available materials, and what does Bruma have a lot of? Snow and stone! So, yes, a bit of steampunk in there too! And yes, Pickett's Charge as well as the sands at Omaha Beach and Iwo Jima are exactly what I was thinking of when I wrote this battle. Unfortunately, we won't get to see much of the Fighter's Guild in action, as Julian is needed elsewhere and this tale is from her viewpoint.

@Acadian: Thanks for your kind words! That you smiled upon reading of our brave and steady Skyrim Paints and of our little Bruma chapter of the Mages Guild helping out behind the scenes is reward enough for both Julian and I. I knew that Sage Rose would love the military planning and the trebuchets! And I'm glad that the Blades came more alive for you. Now we get to see them in battle as they should be, and sadly, aren't in the game. We will see more of this later on in the tale. As for Akatosh's hand, let's just say that Blanco is a Witchhorse for a reason, and we are beginning to see it in play here. So as far as Akatosh's hand is concerned, it could be all he did was pair Blanco with Julian. But yes, we will see more divine (and spiritual) intervention very soon.

@McBadgere: As always, your comments make me smile. It's ironic that Martin's speech should make you think of Boromir's speech, considering that both are played by the same actor (Sean Bean, ). It looks like I hit the balance I was seeking - something bigger than the puny stuff in the game, yet not so big that Julian can't see all of it. I've always loved trying to make do with what one has, rather than relying on sheer numbers.

@Grits: I'm not sure how much longer Julian will keep a clear and well-informed vision! But here is where her Legion experience really, really pays off. She knows what to disregard and what to focus on. It's not easy, as we will see later in the chapter, but it means that it is much harder to rattle our old pilus.

The story so far: On the Plain of Caribou before Bruma, the allies have repelled the first Daedric attack from the one gate so far. It has gone rather well, as the daedra are apparently not expecting this level of resistance from the Nirn folk. Now we get a breather, but they'll be baaaack with greater power and forces.

***********************
Chapter 30.8 A Brief Respite

Once the Legion cavalry recovered their fallen riders from the field, they borrowed Nonius’s team to drag the two dead horses from the field. As I walked between the lines, settling Varus’s men in the place formerly occupied by Bravil and Kvatch, Leland’s voice drifted down to me.

“Why waste time on those dead nags?” he asked his second, none other than Amminus Gregori. “They were too slow and worthless!”

Gregori opened his mouth to reply, but caught the look on my face as my feet turned toward the Cheydinhal leader. Instead, the lieutenant nodded at me.

“Even boot-pounders in the Legion fully understand the value of those nags,” I stopped before the broad-shouldered Breton captain. He glared up his nose at me and tossed his chest out. “Horses would prefer to run from danger. But these horses ran into it. Why? Not for the sake of the Empire, or for some notion of noble cause. But because their riders asked them to. And when they fall, they are accorded the same honors as any of us Legion soldiers.” I waved up toward the cavalry. “Many’s the time I’ve been glad for those brave horses. They’ve saved many a boot-pounder before, and will do so again, for as long as the Imperial Legion shall exist!” I took advantage of my greater height and stepped toe-to-toe with him. “Or have you forgotten your Legion experience already?”

Muscles rippled along his jaw as Leland returned my stare levelly. I had to give him credit for self-control. Now I knew for certain that Leland had never served in the Legion. The only question remained was how did Indarys end up with him?

When Leland kept stubborn silence, I stepped back. “When it’s your turn to take the front, Captain Leland,” I kept my voice even, “see to it that you earn those honors should you fall.” I turned and stalked back to the Anvilians.

“I’ll never fall,” Leland sneered at my back. “Honors are no good if you’re dead.”

I halted and turned around. “Do you intend to fight at all, Captain Leland?”

“I intend to stay alive!” Leland shot back.

“We all intend to stay alive,” I pitched my voice so that Gregori and the entire Cheydinhal contingent could hear me. “But this is war, and war has the final word, not us. Do well to remember that, Captain, and think hard on how you want to go if today is your day to die. Do you want to be mortally wounded in the front? Or the back?”

Without waiting for a response from the arrogant captain, I spun on my heel and headed back to the front line. My track carried me past the Leyawiin contingent, and I caught the pensive look on Cordelia’s face. She heard what I just said. Looks ready to wet her greaves, that one. I wished I could give her some liquid courage, but I needed her to keep her wits about her. At least her men know to look to Apsice for her orders.

Cordelia caught my look and squared her shoulders. Her lips firmed, and she gave me a slight nod. Good, she’s finding something in those shaking knees of hers.

I made my way along the line to where Martin and Camillus sat their mounts just behind the center. Both of them watched the field, with Jauffre, Baurus, Steffan, Hallstein and Varus gathered around the two horses.

Camillus saw my approach and waved for me to join them. “I saw you with the Cheydinhal captain,” he remarked casually - for him - when I stopped between the two mounts. I spared a glance at Blanco and rubbed his shoulder. “Is he going to be trouble, Julian?”

Blanco seems to be in good spirits, I noted as I thought of my response. Warm but not lathered. Not blowing hard, either. At the white horse’s right knee, Sai nuzzled my hand in greeting. Absently I rubbed his ears. “Well, he needed a lesson in Legion honor, sir,” I said finally. “But I think he’ll fight.” More to avoid being seen a coward than anything else. “I just question his motives for being here.”

Martin’s eyes fell on me. “You can’t worry about Cheydinhal, Julian,” he said after a moment. “I need you to coordinate our forces and rotate them as best as you can. If Leland won’t fight, I trust you will think of something else.”

“We can’t afford to lose that century, Sire,” I responded grimly. “But I think Amminus Gregori, his second, will do the right thing.”

“And I think you’ll back him up if it comes to it!” Camillus growled softly. “As I recall it, I never doubted the loyalty of the Ninth as long as you were in command of it. I’ve no doubt ye’ll do the same here, Julian.” He shifted his gaze to Martin. “I hope you appreciate the champion you have, Sire!”

Martin’s smile did nothing to ease my embarrassment at Camillus’s praise. “Oh, I doubt you have any idea how much I do, Inspector General.” He turned his face back to me. “And Julian, remember Vonius said the interval between the second and third Gates was shorter, so we may not get another break before the Great one opens.”

“Yes, Sire,” I assured him. “I’ll be ready.”

Martin leaned down to me. “And trust in your Witchhorse to keep me safe. I already do.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m beginning to understand what such horses are capable of. I shall tell you of it afterwards.”

“I look forward to it, Sire,” I nodded, giving Blanco one last stroke along his arched crest. The stallion swung his head around and nibbled briefly at my mailed arm. “May Akatosh and Talos bless and keep you, Sire.”

“And you, Julian,” Martin nodded. “Remember the Dragon.”

I stepped back as he kneed Blanco along the line, stopping here and there to speak to the guardsmen preparing for the next onslaught. Remember the Dragon? He was speaking of Akatosh, but not in the way these Legion soldiers speak of Akatosh. I recalled our conversation so long ago, after my near-death experience. Only he and Baurus knows of it. And Baurus is not talking. Camillus may think Martin Septim is reminding me of the Red Dragon I once followed.

I became aware of Camillus’s steady regard as the Blades followed after Martin. and looked back up at the mountain. He leaned forward, crossing his arms casually over the pommel of his Legion saddle.

“Julian, do you remember how you served me in Skyrim?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” I answered.

“I need you to know that it wasn’t my decision to invalidate you out of the Legion like that,” his blue gaze turned to the mane of his horse. He flipped an errant lock of black hair to the right side of the bay’s neck and smoothed it down with his palm. “But by the time I learned of it, you were already gone, disappeared into Cyrodiil.”

“It wasn’t your fault, sir,” I knew the truth. The order for my discharge had not come from Camillus, but rather from the immunes in charge of my recovery. The legion healer had determined me physically and mentally unfit for further service and signed the medical discharge without much discussion, with me or anyone else.

Camillus sighed and lifted his gaze to the red sky above us. It was now full dark, but the red glow washed everything the color of blood. “I thought to tell you to serve this Martin Septim as you have served me,” he said finally. “But I see that you have developed skills and abilities beyond my comprehension. You are truly the new Emperor’s champion.” He straightened up in the saddle. “Everything happens for a reason, I suppose. Did Akatosh foretell this coming and pull you out of the Legion to serve an unknown heir?” His gaze dropped back to me. “Because if you were still in the Legion, Julian, you and I wouldn’t be here.”

I gazed at him, my mind whirling with his words. If I had been in the Legion, I would never have met Uriel Septim. If I still served Camillus, who would be in my place here? “Maybe,” I said finally. “Or perhaps it is only Akatosh working with what He has, sir. After all, that is what Tiber Septim did four hundred years ago, and we honor him as Talos.”

Camillus drew breath to respond, but a sudden booming crack stopped his words. The bay horse staggered as the red light intensified, the air sizzled, and I was forced to my knees. I threw a glance over my left shoulder, and saw the tip of a second Gate flaring above the bowed backs of the guardsmen to the west side of the bowl. Several strides away, Blanco reared, screaming defiance at the dark forms spilling out of the new Gate.

I struggled to my feet as the bay snorted and tossed his head. Automatically I laid a hand on his nose and settled him, before I cast my gaze around. More daedra spilled out of the first Gate as well, and this time they weren’t scamps and clannfear, but different.

“Get back to your cavalry, General!” I shouted, pushing the horse’s head toward the southeastern rim. Camillus gave me a hurried Legion salute before kicking his terrified mount into a gallop. As the bay bolted away, I looked for Martin. He was already trotting Blanco away from me, westward behind the line. I could hear him shouting encouragement to the guards as they struggled to their feet.

I ran in the opposite direction, pulling guards upwards as I moved. “On your feet!” My pilus voice crackled beneath the escalated volume of the screaming souls and spurred the guards to obey my command. “Ready arms! Be strong, be steady!” Once I was certain the line would hold, I fell back to my place beside Burd.

“No matter how many times I’ve seen these damned things open,” the Bruma captain shouted at me above the growing din, “I can’t get used to them.” His eyes widened in the red gloom. “What on Nirn are those things?”

A quick study of the daedra turned my blood icy cold in spite of the heat emanating from the two Gates. Flaming women danced toward the front line, pausing to send fireballs in the direction of the guardsmen. Behind the flame atronaches moved immense bulky forms that, like the clannfear, were reptilian in form. Their elongated heads balanced massive tails above short-legged bodies. Pointed, jagged teeth glimmered in the beasts’ gaping maws.

“The hot ladies are flame atronachs, I know,” Burd said, pulling his claymore out of its back sheath. “But what are those other things?”

“I’ve heard of them,” I answered. “I think they’re daedroth.” Now I knew why daedroth teeth were even rarer than daedra hearts in alchemical collections. “Pass the word, Burd - they’re fast, and those tails are deadly!” I turned for the southwestern rim, but one of the two battlemages stopped me.

“We know what they are!” he shouted. “Leave them to the archers and us!”

“What are they vulnerable to?” I wanted to know.

“Shock spells - either cast or enchanted!” Already the mage was shaping a sizzling charge in his hands. I thought of Akatosh’s Touch. But already white lightning was streaking toward the monsters below.

“Julian, the signal!” Burd grabbed my shoulder. I turned back to see Martin’s sword catching red fire above Blanco’s white head. Some corner of my mind realized that the white stallion, unlike the rest of us, was not washed in blood-red but remained as pristine white as new-fallen snow. What is that? No, more important things to think about. I sent the starlight spell toward the roiling thunderclouds above.

And does he get the choice of now or later?

Overall, I like the way you have a contrast between military discipline and Dagon's chaos in these battle scenes. But I'm expecting the unexpected, because that's the enemy's strength.

A modern trebuchet. That was neat! I remember seeing a little half-hour or hour long show about ten years ago where some folks built one with the same materials they had a thousand years ago, and actually tried it out on a section of castle wall. It was most impressive.

So it is another run-in with Leland (I keep thinking Charles Leland, but I don't think the Cheydinhal Captain ever wrote any neo-pagan books ). Yep, that one is definitely not from the Legion. It really does beg the question of how he got his job. Methinks there was plenty of bribery and forgeries involved... On the other hand, since he is marked as essential, he comes in really handy during this battle!

Did Akatosh foretell this coming and pull you out of the Legion to serve an unknown heir?
Now there is an intriguing question. But a life takes so many strange twists and turns, even without the benefit of divine intervention.

Flame Astronauts and Daedroth! Yikes, they have upped the ante.

Some corner of my mind realized that the white stallion, unlike the rest of us, was not washed in blood-red but remained as pristine white as new-fallen snow.
Blanco lives up to his name. Another very neat little touch here haute, that shows us there is more to this horse than meets the eye.

Leland is definitely a burr under Julian’s saddle – and one I expect she’ll learn more about. But she’s a leeeetle busy right now!

And the fight with the second gate is joined – with the baddies getting bigger.

Again, we see evidence of Akatosh’s hand at work in setting some of the players on the field.

It was a nice touch having that battlemage instruct the weaknesses of Daedroth.

Noting that Blanco was retaining his pristine whiteness was a mystical/neat observation, and the way Julian processed it served to display that she was properly focused on bigger priorities at the moment.

Um, I may have missed the memo...And I have absolutely no problem going along with it so it's not a complaint, merely an observation...Um...*Twiddles fingers nervously*...Isn't Leland an Imperial?...From what I remember my Imperial had to look up at him...And his voice is that Imperial one that's everywhere isn't it?...Like I said, not a complaint or a "Change this!!", just an...Erm?...Y'know?... ...

Oh and...



Oh look, another one...(The wife loves him too. ...Still, between him and Katy Perry's choice in men, it gives hope to all us uncouth bits of rough everywhere... ...)

Aaaamywho...Brilliant pause in the storms...Excellently done...I'm loving the way you're starting the Leland quest thing in the middle of all this...Brilliant stuff...

Love the quiet talk with Camillus, although it does sound worryingly like an "If we never meet again, I'll see you on the other side" speech... ...

There's so much coolness in the hints about the past that the "Reading older parts of stories" list has collapsed into a black hole due to its having reached critical mass... ...Sorry everyone, the world is doomed!!...

What? *Looks at wife*...Oh, I could have just put it in the fire?...Why didn't you say that before woman?!...

*Sigh*...

Aaaamywho...

Loved your chapter...Massively brilliant and amazing...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...




EDIIITTT!!! - Balls...My bad...Steeeuuuuuppiiiid man...Yes, I can hear it now...Breton voice..."I don't know you and I don't want to know you..."...Still think he was taller than me though... ...

I wondered if Camillus would get around to the subject of Julian’s discharge. He knows not to assume he can say it tomorrow. An interesting thought that Akatosh’s, er, talon could have been at work even then.

The blood red sword and the gleaming white stallion made quite an image! Woo hoo!

@ghastley: Yes, we will soon get to see how Leland fights. Already in this post we begin to see the sort of fighter he is. I hope there will be plenty of unexpected to come in the next week or so (our time)!

@SubRosa: You and I might have watched the same show! Those siege engines are cool stuff, amazing they were able to engineer to that level without the benefits of AutoCAD! Clearly Leland is not Legion material, and I wanted to set up what is one of my favorite quests in Cheydinhal for a future story/post. The mystery of his origins will certainly stay with Julian now! And as for the chain of events that led to Julian becoming the Son's Companion, it is all purely coincidental, but I wanted to play up the human (and maybe mer) tendency to see divine intervention in everything. Certain elements of the battle to come are certainly due to divine intervention! I may have said this already, but this battle is where we really begin to understand just what a Witchhorse is. Blanco shines in this entire chapter as does Martin, Camillus, and all the other brave soldiers on the Plain of Caribou.

@Acadian: Apt metaphor for Leland's status where Julian is concerned! She won't stop until she gets to the bottom of the mystery! And yes, Julian is too focused on the battle (old habits, indeed!) to stop and wonder why Blanco won't reflect the same red color as everyone else.

@McB: I'm glad that you are enjoying how I'm bringing up the Leland quest in the midst of the Battle of Bruma. It won't see its logical conclusion until well after the MQ ends, so we'll have to wait to see how Julian gets to the bottom of the mystery! I hope my PM to you about character heights clarified things a bit for you.

@Grits: I wanted to make it obvious that though it wasn't Camillus's fault, he still can't help feeling guilty over the way Julian was booted out of the Legion. I'm glad you liked the image of the blood red sword above the white stallion!

The story so far: After a brief respite, during which the allies had just enough time to pull their dead and wounded off the field, the second gate opened and our friends found themselves facing bigger enemies. Just how devastating these enemies are will become clear here.


*******************************
Chapter 30.9 And Then There Are Two

Once again as the front troops took cover behind the rough ramparts, the Legion battlemages sent those powerful fireballs arching over our heads. Again the collision of spells and rock-covered snowballs sent a devastating shower propelled by white steam over the daedra. Again entire groups of the enemy were cut down by shrapnel. And again, Blanco and Martin remained unscathed.

Once again I sent the healing spell skyward. Bowstrings twanged in unison. Again a volley of arrows, sparking with the same atmospheric energy as the mages’ shock bolts, soared upward before stooping downward into the mass of flame atronaches and daedroth. As with the scamps and clannfear, the remaining reptilian beasts staggered from the strikes and kept on, while the atronaches collapsed and went out like dying fires.

Once again the Mo Gu mounted up, and again they swept down from the heights. Several of the remaining atronaches and some of the daedroth fell before their arrows as the horses bolted through their disorganized ranks between our front line and the Gates.

Now Skingrad, on the left wing, bore the brunt of the attack from the second Gate. The Anvilians held their own against those from the eastern Gate. I sent the triple restoration spell skyward just as Martin turned his face in my direction. The draco horn blew, and the regular cavalry charged, hot on the heels of the Mo Gu.

Like a river of thunder, horses and riders flowed across the southern half of the bowl, the Mo Gu loosing arrows as quickly as they could acquire targets, and the spears of the regular cavalry smashing through scaled skin in bursts of blood. Yet I saw several riders unhorsed, and many brave mounts went down before the lashing tails of the immense daedroths. Now clannfear appeared from the Gates, darting out among their larger brethren to slash and bite at downed soldiers. Horses screamed as daedroth tore their bellies open. Those of the cavalry that turned behind the western Gate and crossed back to the southwestern rim were much fewer in number.

This time the daedra were not so easily repulsed from our front lines. Hallstein’s left flank began to curve back under the blunt assault from the daedroth. As the last of the cavalry still running cleared the field, Varus’s guards began to feel the pressure as well. I saw the line begin to waver and turned to Burd.

“It’s time,” I said to him. “You know what to do.”

He nodded and stabbed his claymore skyward. “BRUMA!” his voice nearly matched Camillus’s battle cry for volume and bass. “With me!” As the yellow surcoats surged forward to reinforce Varus’s line, I moved to stand beside Ashcroft.

“Take the center, back up Anvil’s left flank,” I advised him. He nodded and spat curt orders to the blue-clad Chorrolians. They moved forward with Legion precision, arms and shields ready.

I ran westward to where the green livery of Leyawiin still waited. Apsice and Cordelia met my gaze, the former legionary with resolute steadiness, the inexperienced decanus with dismay. I stopped beside them and leaned forward. “It’s your turn, too,” I said. “Bolster Hallstein’s line, do not let those daedroth break through! Don’t worry about the fire ladies,” Mazoga’s term for the voluptuous atronaches dropped easily from my mouth, “they like to stand back and shoot flares. Focus on the big beasties, and watch out for those tails! Move!”

Apsice waited until Cordelia nodded her understanding, then turned to the waiting Leyawiin guards. “Leyawiin!” His voice carried well beneath the chaos before us. “To the front! Let’s go!”

To her credit, Cordelia moved forward with her guards and kept up with them as they closed the short distance between them and the back of Skingrad’s line. I turned and looked up the hill. Cheydinhal is next. That’s a full century, I’d like to reserve them for the third gate. But if Anvil and Skingrad don’t hold, I may have no choice.

I searched for Blanco and Martin amid the melee that now stretched along the southern rim of the bowl. Again I noticed how Blanco’s coat gave off none of that red wash that covered the rest of the world. As if he was a Great Welkynd Stone in himself, the white stallion shimmered with a pure white light as if defying the corrupting power of Mehrunes Dagon himself. For all I know about such things, that is exactly what Blanco is doing. Is he capable of shielding his rider as well as himself?

That white-tipped brown shadow still darted alongside Blanco. He seemed to be ducking between the fighting men and women to snap at the smaller daedra before returning to Blanco’s side. Don’t you get hit by one of our blades, silly dog, I thought at him. But he seemed to time his attacks as each fighter sought to recover. That’s the way the Legio Ten dogs fought - attacking on their partners’ recovery, retreating as weapons swept forward. Thank you, Cimber, for your training.

Blanco charged a daedroth that had broken through Hallstein’s line and now approached the green surcoats of Cordelia’s vanguard. My heart in my mouth, I half-expected Blanco to execute one of the combat maneuvers we had practiced. But instead he slipped to the left side of the reptile, giving Martin the opportunity to slice his greatsword across the beast’s side. The long blade bit deep into the daedroth. The creature staggered and fell writhing as dark fluid gushed from the wound.

Blade armor flowed around the dead beast as they surged after Martin and Blanco. They moved with surprising speed and agility, keeping up with the pair and deflecting fireballs with their shields. Here and there one of Steffan’s contingent would pause to bolster the front line.

As Blanco spun around to charge back, I realized that Martin held the greatsword with both hands. The reins flopped loosely on Blanco’s neck. How in ‘Blivion do they know what to do? Briefly I envied the coordination between horse and rider. That should be me down there!

Blanco neatly leaped the flailing tail of the downed beast and again ran past it. Martin stabbed downward with the tip of his sword into the daedroth’s chest. The reptile gave one last roar, then fell still.

Where is the levade, the courbette we practiced? Does Blanco understand that Martin may not know how to ride those maneuvers? Is he being careful not to unseat Martin Septim?

Blanco kept cantering behind the front, heading for another spot where the line buckled backward from another daedroth. His white coat cast a pure gleam on the mail and surcoats of those he passed, briefly bleaching away the red wash. Here and there I saw persistent splashes of scarlet and knew that several of our soldiers were already well blooded. I could no longer see Sai in the melee, but I trusted he still remained close to Blanco. Likewise, the Blades followed after Martin like a blue and gold comet’s tail.

A movement from upslope caught my attention, and I glanced upward to see mages, traveling in pairs, redeploying just below the rim behind Cheydinhal. Then one appeared next to me. “Julian,” he gasped. “The Inspector General sent me to tell you there’s no more room for the regulars, and both them and the Mo Gu have taken considerable casualties. What are the Emperor’s orders?”

I glanced down at the front line again to see Martin strike down the second daedroth. No time to ask. “Hold the cavalry for now. We can still use the Mo Gu’s arrows, though.”

The mage nodded his understanding. “The Inspector General advises you to clear those Gates so his cavalry can save the day!”

The laugh that escaped my lips held little humor, but I acknowledged the point. “Agreed! We will do our best, then!” With a swirl of homespun blue and glitter of polished plate, the mage was gone.

Leland approached me, his gaze on the battle. In the red glare, I could see only resoluteness in his brown eyes. “When do we jump in?” His tone was neutral, his interest clearly in the battle below. He may be lacking Legion experience, but it seems he is a professional soldier regardless.

“You’ve got the largest contingent outside the Legion right here, Captain,” I answered. “I’d like to keep you for when the third Gate opens - you might be the only one holding the line then.”

The expression that flitted over Leland’s rugged face could be a grin, or a grimace, I wasn’t certain which. “Good, more glory for us.” Now he met my gaze, and there was none of the arrogance I had seen earlier. “We’ll be ready for the signal.”

“Good.” I watched him slouch his way back to his guard. Their line was not as ruler-straight as Ashcroft’s or as crisp as Lerus’s, but I still hoped they would fight as well as those two contingents.

Another reassessment of the field showed the front line still intact, and considerably fewer daedroth still roaming the field. With the redeployment of the Legion battlemages, shock bolts flew from a wider arc around the rim to strike even those few remaining monsters down.

With the last of them down, I took a deep breath and started down to catch up with Martin. But once again the air before us cracked and sizzled, and red fire surged up at the north edge of the Plain of Caribou. Once again all were forced to their knees by the wash of energy and magic from the far side.

Here they come again! It started out well enough. I especially liked the description of the dying atronach's winking out like fires. But I can see the Daedra are getting more serious this time. Julian had to put much of the reserve in. Even Martin is seeing action! I see Martin is not using his hands to guide Blanco either. WooT. Even better than John Wayne taking the reins in his teeth!

As you said in your comments, Blanco is really shining here. Literally in fact. That is a very neat touch. It looks like there might be more Witch in him than Horse.



nits:
Your first three paragraphs all start with 'Once again'. I am not sure if that was on purpose, but you might want to revisit that to cut down on the redundancy.

More epic goodness! A grand scale indeed, but rendered personal and easy to identify with by such details as daedroth tearing open the bellies of downed horses. Speaking of horses, a bittersweet touch of jealousy was understandably evident as Julian noted how smoothly Martin and her stallion worked together. I can see that Blanco still has more to teach his mistress. And while still on the theme of animals, it sure looks like Lucky Puppy Sai knows how to survive the chaos that you capture so well.

As Julian’s eyes traveled down the line, you delighted me with the creative variety you used to describe the various city’s contingents. Anvilians and green liveried soldiers from Leyawiin indeed!

And gate number three has just crackled and sizzled its way to fiery life!!!

I love the image of Martin and his shining white steed with their tail of Blades. This episode had a cinematic feeling with the cavalry charge. Very exciting! And now the third Gate is opening. It’s Leland’s turn!

An excellent continuation there...As it's all part of the same battle, the consistency is brilliant...Kinda as if you've written it all and then chopped it up into little bite sized chunks!!... ...

Yep, cheers for the size pimm...*Cough*...As it were... ...

That horse is something else!!...Love it...And whoa to that doggie there!!...Bless it..

An amazing battle scene that I'm loving every minute of...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

@SubRosa: Yes, I wanted to make this go around more serious. I thought you (or ghastley or Olen) would pick up on the repetition of "Once again." I did that quite on purpose, because I wanted to establish a rhythm (remember Julian fighting Rielus in Sancre Tor?) to the combat in the beginning before I nudged it in a different direction than before. I did consider your point, but decided to leave it as it is for now.

@Acadian: It is a challenge writing an epic scene like this from the viewpoint of one small player, isn't it? One of the reasons I had Martin make Julian his battle coordinator (so to speak) is so that she would see more of what is going on than if she stayed at Martin's side the whole time. Halfway up the slope to the rim, she can tell us what happened out there and give us an idea of the scale of the thing. I remember Sage Rose taking the perspective of Raven to describe this same scene - it was very effectively done without having to try to explain how her Teresa ended up there.

@Grits: Yes, now it's Leland's turn! Unfortunately, Julian won't get to see much of his fighting style as she will soon be off the battlefield. I do hope you continue to enjoy Blanco and Martin's partnership throughout this battle.

@McB: Well, I did write much of it in one day . . . I tend to write in small chunks and if the inspiration is coming hot and fast I can crank out up to 10,000 words in one day (did that during Nanowrimo). I use Growl to let me know when I'm approaching my target word count for the segment and I then start looking for a natural break. Works great, and I don't spend time watching my numbers, which would spoil my inspiration! I'm glad you're enjoying Blanco and Sai's performance here. The two of them are really shining here, aren't they?

And thanks to input from Dee Foxy, I've made a few minor adjustments to segments 30.7 and 30.9. It shouldn't disrupt too much of the flow of the story, so it's up to you if you want to re-read them. Once again, I'd like to thank SubRosa, Acadian and Dee Foxy for helping me (each in unique ways) write this most difficult chapter in Julian's story.

The story so far: On the Plain of Caribou before Bruma, a third Oblivion Gate has just opened. It is now time for Cheydinhal's century, led by our arrogant Ulrich Leland, to step up to the ramparts. Can Julian resist the urge to take her proper place alongside these brave guards and wait instead for the Great Gate to open before she takes the field?

*****************************
Chapter 30.10 Oblivion Times Three

Leland met my gaze as we struggled to our feet. I nodded at him. “Get down there, take the front.”

The Cheydinhal captain went into action with an economy of movement that impressed me both with its speed and efficiency. Before daedra began spilling out of all three Gates, he had his guards running forward to take their places. They stepped between the other guards and set their shields on top of the rampart just as the Plain of Caribou filled once more.

This time I saw a wide cross section of daedric creatures - scamp, clannfear, flame atronaches and daedroth, as well as a new form - gigantic red-and-black spiders with lithe torsos and flowing hair suggestive of depraved nymphs. These scattered quickly across the field, scuttling sideways like mud crabs but with much greater speed. They sent green flames toward us. Several of Leland’s guards crumpled limply to the ground before white magic flared over the line. The shield magic from the Legion battlemages blocked more of the paralyzing spells, as well as the fireballs from the scamps and fire ladies.

Blanco screamed and reared, and I saw Martin’s sword sweep skywards. White light flowed up from the stallion’s body to surround the Emperor and wash over the surrounding Blades. That’s shield magic! Finally I realized the reason for Blanco’s arcane glow. Is that what Witchhorses do? Cast shield magic?

Then I was running down the slope, slipping between the weary contingents as they fell back to take up the rearguard. I kept Blanco’s glow always before me, and soon I reached the Emperor’s side. Blanco stood still as I touched him with wondering fingertips. He blew through fluttering nostrils as the magicka flowed up my arm to mingle with the enchantment on my mail.

Beside him, Sai yipped excitedly at me, his tongue lolling from the exertions of keeping up with the white horse. I could see dark blood on his brown coat, but he seemed free of pain, as did Blanco. Both seemed to be in good spirits. “Hush Sai,” I held my hand out to him in the stay signal. “Keep an eye on Blanco, hear?”

“Good work, Julian!” Martin grinned down at me, blood and gore streaked across his face. “Be ready, it won’t be long now!” He glanced back up at the rim, where the Fighter’s Guild, and the Bravil and Kvatch guards waited. “One last command for you to relay,” his hazel eyes turned back to me. “Tell them to come down when the Great Gate opens. You won’t have time to relay it then.”

Shouting from the Cheydinhal soldiers drew our attention outwards. I spotted the towering forms of dremora - from the lowly churls all the way up to the kynmarcher rank. These were distinguishable by their red armor trimmed with molten gold that flared and glowed in the gloom and helmets crowned with blood-tipped spikes.

“Hold your ground!” Martin shouted at Cheydinhal. “Let them come to you!” Blanco spun on his hocks as I skipped back out of the way. “Artillery and archers!”

In response, I spiked the starlight spell upwards, followed by a single restoration spell. From the rim above, the Mo Gu archers fired their missiles. This time I heard the distinctive whine of crossbow bolts mingled with the sound of arrows. The darts, fired with more speed and power, not only had the range to cross to the farther side of the Plain, but also had the strength to punch through plate armor. Most of the arrows carried the distinctive sparkle of shock enchantment, but the plain black bolts were just as deadly.

Again clannfear and daedroth proved resistant to much of the volley. Fortunately, the spider nymphs were as vulnerable to arrowheads as the atronaches and scamps. Several collapsed under the onslaught.

Then the homespun missiles’ arrival was announced by trails of fireballs which ended in bright explosions above the center of the Plain. The more resilient daedra and dremora proved to be quite vulnerable to these.

This time, the trebuchets and archers kept firing. With three Gates open in such a small area, the daedra were massed together and made easy targets. Unfortunately, there was now little room for cavalry to maneuver, so we couldn’t bring them to bear without unnecessary casualties. But just because the horses couldn’t run didn’t mean we were without marksmen. And because the cavalry wasn’t running the field, the artillery could keep firing until the Great Gate opened or they ran out of projectiles, which ever came first.

Magicka flashed around the field as our battlemages alternated between offensive shock bolts and protective shield spells. Daedroth and clannfear managed to reach our lines, but soon fell before the sharp blades of Leland’s people. I caught a glimpse of the arrogant Breton clearing his section of the wall with an immense silver battle axe that sliced through daedroth tails and clannfear ribs with deadly ease. Well, at least he can fight.

Then Martin and Blanco were gone, darting westward to bolster the left flank. I turned and saw the right flank also beginning to waver. “Kvatch!” I shouted over the din. “To the left! Bravil, go right!” As the two contingents, now somewhat recovered from their earlier exertions, moved down the bank, I held my hand up to the Fighter’s Guild. Then Hallstein and Varus appeared at my side.

“We have lost a fifth of our guards.” Behind the blood and gore streaking his visage, Hallstein’s gaze held grim determination. “The rest are all wounded, but can fight again with some field healing.”

“The same here, more or less,” Varus added, wiping his eyes with a mailed forearm. “We can go back in if we have to.”

“It’s not over yet,” I answered. “As long as Vonius and Lerus can hold the flanks, I’d like the both of you to wait until the Great Gate opens. It’ll be close combat then, and you’ll have room to maneuver without running into the Deadlands by accident.”

“Aye,” Hallstein nodded. “Wouldn’t want to be caught in there when those itty-bitty ones close.” His eyes flickered at me from the mask of battle. “I heard about Goneld at Kvatch.”

Varus agreed noncommittally. Apparently the guards have had plenty of time to swap war stories around the campfires during their month-long vigil here. “Good,” I clapped their shoulders. “You understand. I’ve got to run.”

“Akatosh go with you,” Varus shouted after me as I turned and ran for the rim and the Fighter’s Guild.

gra-Gash met me at the very edge, red anticipation shining in her black eyes. “Now?” she asked.

“When the Great Gate opens,” I answered, pointing toward the center of the Plain. “I won’t have time to come back for you, so be alert!”

“Aye, we will!” gra-Gash nodded curtly and hefted her huge steel axe. “But hurry up and open the damn thing already!” Her fangs bared in a bloodthirsty grin, and I was briefly glad she was on our side.

A smile that I felt mirrored hers widened my lips. “I’ll do my best, ma’am!” Then I was running back down the slope to the front line.

Now a gap opened in the wall near the center of Cheydinhal’s line. I saw several of the dremora head toward the breach as if drawn to it. Touch flickered in the red gloom as it leaped out of its sheath. I followed its tip straight into that gap and shoved a drain health spell into the cuirass of a kynreeve. Lightning mingled with pale miasma as the dremora groaned and dropped his wave-edged longsword. Another dremora stabbed at me over the first’s falling carcass, and I barely managed to deflect the blow. The black blade sparked as it skittered across Matius’s mail on my wrist, and the kynval staggered as he attempted to recover his balance. I swept Touch downward in a vicious slash at his unprotected knee. More lightning flickered over him before he, too, fell back.

I looked up to see others hanging back, not quite so eager to attack me. One of them growled something at me in that avalanche voice. Two of Cheydinhal’s finest sidled until they closed the gap with me between them. I held the dremora’s gaze and gestured with Touch for him to come closer. He hefted his red and black tower shield before him and raised his mace above his right shoulder.

I flung a shock bolt toward the eye slits in the thorned helm. At this close range, he did not have time to duck or raise his shield, and that high-pitched screaming broke loose from behind the armored visage as he staggered back. His gauntlets pawed at the sizzling helm, and I slid Touch beneath the tower shield into his thigh. Again the shock enchantment of Valdemar’s katana finished the job for me. The other dremora drew back a little more.

Beyond him, something passed between the northern Gate and the two nearer ones. A dark wave swept over the smaller Daedra from the northwest. Cavalry? But there’s no room for them to run? I squinted against the glare.

“What in ‘Blivion?” the guard on my left shouted. “What is a herd of elk doing here?”

Now I saw the horns tossing above the surging backs. Mostly bulls, not yet lost their horns. It’s early yet in the season. I could see some broken antlers here and there. No cows. In the red gleam from the Gates, I could see rolling eyes and foaming saliva streaking back from panicked mouths. The bulls stampeded across the field, attempting to swerve around the Gates and the larger daedra. Some of the animals actually lowered their heads and stabbed at the dremora. Several of the smaller daedra and dremora fell beneath their pounding hooves.

As the remnants of the herd disappeared among the boulders of the eastern rim, I saw many elk were down, and the remaining daedra still standing were swarming the hapless animals. Screams rafted across the bowl as clannfear and daedroth, scamps and spider daedra tore into crippled bulls. How did they end up here? Frenzy? Command creature spells?

Grey bodies ghosted through the carnage, leaping over the downed elk and snapping at anything that still moved after that stampede. Wolves! Someone is commanding the wild creatures here? Who has that kind of power? But I didn’t have time to wonder. The two dremora who had hesitated before us returned to the attack. I shifted my attention from the wild wolves back to more immediate concerns as I deflected a falling mace with Touch.

My awareness of the battle shrank down to the cluster of dremora before me and the Cheydinhal guards on my left and right hands. They fought as valiantly as I, relying on unenchanted weapons and shields to deliver harm. Yet for every dremora that fell before us, it seemed as if three more took his place.

A lull came in the noise and chaos of the combat, and I looked up from my last dremora carcass to see few daedra still on the field. Dark corpses littered the Plain between the front line and the Gates. The occasional wolf swirled among the dead, still snapping and attacking any dremora that still moved. I stepped forward to cast my glance along the front. The Cheydinhal line was considerably thinner, and bodies lay slumped at the feet of those still standing.

Near the center of the bowl, I spotted a huge furry brown form shake off a daedroth attack. The big grizzly reared to his hind feet, immense black claws shimmering in the red light as he swiped the big reptile to the ground. Again, as with the wolves and the elk, I saw something in the bear’s face that told me he was here on another’s command. A few wolves still remained, clustering around a spider daedra that bled from a bulbous abdomen. As I watched, two of the wolves leaped in and tore the terrifying creature apart before succumbing to her paralyzing spell.

For the fourth and final time, an earsplitting crack divided the air as a tremendous arc of fire shed corpses from its shoulders and soared to the red and black clouds above. The surge of energy knocked friend and foe alike from their feet into a jumble of bodies.

My body complaining from the recent abuse it had taken, I staggered to my feet and lifted my eyes to the Great Gate that rose from the center of the Plain. As the surge of fire came to rest at its final height, the three smaller Gates winked out suddenly, as if the central portal had sucked all of the energy of the other three into itself.

This is it.

Well, at least Leland and his people are doing their job. So far at least. I see we have Spider Daedra now too. Ugh. I hate that paralysis.

Blanco is a Witchhorse indeed! Most knights would give their left, erm, flail head, for a horse that could Shield them.

Now we have Dremora too. This should be just about it then I imagine. And the field is packed with Daedra too. A wonderful killing box for the Imperial missiles.

Some very clever use of misdirection and magic on Julian's part in dealing with the Dremora with the tower shield and mace.

A stampede? Now that is a brilliant idea! You must have been watching Chisum. I loved when they stampeded the cattle through town in the final battle. Like Julian, I wonder who bid the wolves to stampede the elk? It sounds like not only a Witchhorse fights on the Field of Caribou, but a Witch as well. Grizzy vs. Daedroth? Now there is a battle of titans! I am rooting for Team Nirn.

Now this is it. The Great Gate itself!

More goodness on a grand scale! Ugh, spider wenches!

Nice touch of full circling to mention poor Menien’s fate inside the Kvatch gate.

Hee! Blanco is quite the spell caster!

‘How did they end up here? Frenzy? Command creature spells?’
The first thing that comes to mind is an assist from Our Lady Kynareth.

Powerful description of the great gate opening. This is it indeed!

Nits?
‘Behind the blood and gore streaking his visage, Hallstein’s visage held grim determination.’
Repetition of the distinctive word ‘visage’ in close proximity. Might I suggest: ‘Behind the blood and gore streaking Hallstein’s visage was grim determination.’

‘gra-Gash met me at the very edge, red anticipation shining in her black eyes. “Now?” she asked.’
I know that 'gra' is not capitalized normally, but you might reconsider when beginning a sentence with it?

What's striking me at the moment is how the military tactics are working as they should. Artillery against massed infantry, using shrapnel. Confining the enemy to make that work better. Etc.

The only thing at the back of my mind is that it's the exact opposite what is needed next. Julian needs plenty of space to get through to the Great Gate and enter it, not a tight-packed mob. It will be interesting to see the transition.

Of course I reread those sections! WOW! This battle that brings all of Cyrodiil together is a magnificent setting for Martin to reveal himself as the (Witchhorse-approved) heir.

I particularly enjoyed the Legion Battlemages working together in this part. Also Leland showing his worth was fun to read. He was just conserving his energy!

“Good,” I clapped their shoulders. “You understand. I’ve got to run.”

I love this line!

Even the wildlife gets in this battle, though it was not their idea. A mystery! The grizzly vs. daedroth was chilling. Nirn’s creatures can hold their own!

And now it’s time for Julian to run. I like the way you show how the Gates are working together. I’m very interested to see what the daedra do next, and how Julian and the home team might use it to their advantage. Exciting stuff!

@SubRosa: Yes, the Cheydinhal people are finally earning their keep. We get just that brief glimpse of Leland at work, but unfortunately that's all we will see of his good qualities. Speaking of earning his keep, I'm glad you approve of the way Blanco is earning his. I knew you would love that little stampede, the wolves and finally Mr. Grumpy himself.

@Acadian: Spider wenches indeed! I typed out Spider nymphs a few times myself before I realized my "mistake," then decided that spider nymph sounds so much better than spider daedra, so I made myself leave that alone. I wanted to keep the memory of Goneld's fate alive in my readers' minds, especially with these three Gates open so close together. Since Sage Rose has her money on a Witch, I take it you want to place your bet on Lady Kyne herself? It will be some time before we know who wins! Thanks for catching that nit with the double visage. I meant to change that phrase and missed it! Fixed! As for gra-Gash, I did a little quick online peek at reviews of k.d. lang and e.e. cummings, and found that they were not always capitalized as sentence starters, either. I decided to leave this grey area of grammar alone at the moment.

@ghastley: Good summation of the military tactics. Julian will need a path cleared for her, and we will soon see how it happens. I'm grateful to Dee Foxy for all the ideas he's given me, including the stampede that SubRosa likes so much, the trebuchet, and what follows next. However, the killing zone is thanks to Acadian.

@Grits: Witchhorse-approved heir is right! If only Blanco had the last word in who gets to be Emperor!

The story so far: Three Gates have opened and created the potential for a Great Gate. Now that the Big One has opened, it is time for Julian to stop shilly-shallying about, entrust Martin wholly to Blanco, Sai and the Blades, and make a run for it. But she's got to cross the carnage first. Note: The use of 'hell' in TES fiction has been discussed before, and for the most part, I use Oblivion to express the common European notion of it. But in this case, I wanted to set the battlefield apart in its own plane, so to speak - the plane of war. Hence the use of the word 'hell' in the title.

**************************

Chapter 30.11 Crossing the Fields of Hell

Off to the left, white streaked through the front and onto the field. I glanced in that direction to see Martin, his sword held high, as Blanco raced toward the Great Gate. Sai trailed after him, with the Blades on their heels. Blanco’s greater speed left the others behind, and my heart sank.

Don’t go out there by yourself! I clapped the shoulder of the guard next to me and leaped over the dremora corpses piled in front of us. A daedroth staggered to its feet and blocked my view of Martin Septim. I ran Touch into its abdomen. The creature screamed at the surge of energy that sizzled through its body before it slid off my blade. I managed to keep my feet and my weapon and ran after the white horse.

He still gleamed defiantly in that red night, the white shimmering over Martin’s darker form. I noticed a white mist trailing behind Blanco and wondered again at the Witchhorse’s magical abilities.

Dremora mages stepped through the Great Gate and braced themselves to begin spell casting. Though arrows and spells whistled and sparkled toward these new enemies, they managed to get several bolts off in Martin’s direction. But the daedric magic fizzled harmlessly against the white mist that now swept up to surround Blanco.

The stallion curved around, still racing at breakneck speed and galloped toward the right wing. Sai and the Blades cut across the field to try and catch up. I looked back toward that mist. It’s not coming from Blanco. That mist, something familiar about the way it’s moving. A certain sparkle, and the mist clarified into four figures. Armed, ghostly figures. One towered over the others and wielded a mace. My fingers clenched on Touch.

Then Blanco slid to a stiff-legged slithering stop before me. “It’s time, Julian!” Martin shouted at me as the Blades surrounded us. “Go now!” He turned to Jauffre. “See to it she gets there whole!”

“Steffan!” Jauffre passed the command along. As I turned to follow the taller Imperial, Roliand and Ferrum fell in on either side of me. Their katanas arced dark fluid as they fought off the daedra that spilled out of the Great Gate and ran toward Martin. I caught another glimpse of the misty forms, and the tallest one swung his transparent mace up in a Blades salute.

Valdemar? You’re supposed to be drinking mead in Sovngarde! It could have been my imagination, but something glimmered in the region of the ghost’s face that might be a grin.

“Let’s go!” Now Vonius and Inian ran ahead. “We’ll clear the way!”

I turned away from the ghosts of Sancre Tor and raced after the three Blades, now surrounded by six Kvatch guards. They tore through the oncoming daedra and dremora with a fury I had not seen since my Legion days. I knew memories drove them, as they drove me. Memories of Kvatch as it once was, of its horrifying demise. Memories of Uriel Septim and the terrible night that killed him. Memories of his sadness, his grief, of the grief of the survivors of Kvatch.

Ahead, blue-skinned creatures stepped through the fire that was the Great Gate. Tall, muscular, shaped like men but with blue-grey horns and writhing black tendrils instead of hair, they spread across the face of the Gate, hefting great war hammers and battle axes single-handedly. Unlike the other daedra and dremora, the xivilai remained together as a single, coherent unit. Behind them loomed the massive armored figure of a markynaz.

We drew up, my escort moving forward to form a line in front of me. Hastily, I cast a shield spell over them, then followed it with Domina Incendia. She darted forward between the lines and began flinging flares at the blue-skinned creatures. Fire flashed around their figures before fading away without any visible effect.

“They absorb magic, Julian!” Ferrum shouted over his shoulder. “Don’t give them any more than they already have!” He shook his shield before him and braced his feet.

A brown form rose up before us, shaking bodies off. He roared with the same rage we felt. The grizzly, miraculously enough, still lived, still had the strength to fight on. He ignored us and bellowed at the xivilai which approached us. Some of them veered away, while two more were swept aside by the violence of his front paws.

The bear charged into the rank of xivilai, beelining straight for the markynaz behind. Somehow he managed to avoid the blows of the xivilai weapons and bodily slammed into the markynaz. Magicka flared around the big animal as he dropped his jaws toward the dremora’s face. We heard metallic crunching, then the xivilai squad lost all cohesion and charged us with screams that caused the hair on my nape to rise.

A shout behind drew my attention back as Blanco, Martin yelling obscenities, flew past us. The stallion curved away, back toward the edge of the bowl. The xivilai ran past us after the Septim. I caught a sensation of a river of bloodied, battered daedra and dremora chasing after the horse and rider through a gauntlet of guards, Legion soldiers and cavalry riders. Only those four ghosts could keep up with Blanco.

A hard grip seized my shoulder. “Julian, let’s go!” Steffan shouted into my ear, dragging me toward the bear and the Gate beyond.

As we passed him, the grizzly swung his head toward us. I caught the glint of white fire in his eyes. His teeth flashed as black blood and ropy saliva flew from his open jaws. His front feet slammed the ground, then he spun away from us to attack a spider nymph that tried to sneak past him.

Two dremora, one a kynreeve and the other a kynmarcher, converged on our small group. They bowled Vonius aside and sent Inian flying in the opposite direction. Roliand and Steffan moved side by side to confront the pair, while Ferrum slid around their right side. I veered left, two of the Kvatch guards still with me, and ran behind them.

A quick glance showed a clear way to the Great Gate, only about ten strides or so. I spun back toward the two dremora and swung Touch against the nearer one. The hamstrung kynreeve dropped to the ground, struggling to defend himself against Steffan and Roliand. He fell before the two Blades, his tower shield clattering at their feet.

The kynmarcher turned toward me, that great black claymore reaching for my face. I managed to duck beneath his swing and lunged forward. The tip of Touch slid into the joint of his hip, between the segmented panels of the cuirass skirt. Once again shock energy sizzled through the dremora’s body, causing him to scream. That claymore swept away from me, back toward Steffan and Roliand.

The two Blades tried to duck back, but the dead kynreeve and his shield fouled their feet. As Roliand fell to one knee, Steffan raised his sword arm over the other’s head in a desperate attempt to deflect the dremora’s claymore from the Nord.

The familiar feeling of tunnel vision returned as I watched that immense blade slice into Steffan’s right wrist. His katana, gauntlet still clutching its hilt, spun away past Roliand’s shoulder. The captain spun away from the blow with a scream of fury and pain.

As the kynmarcher’s claymore dropped in a twisting arc, it struck Roliand’s helm and remained buried in the shattered armor. The big Nord crashed to the ground and lay still.

All thoughts of the Great Gate and the Sigil Stone fled my mind as I reached for Steffan with my left hand. He turned back to me, his blue eyes full of agony. My fingertips brushed his shoulder, and tremendous pain caused me to stagger and blink. Then his left hand shoved me away while the right arm jabbed the air in the direction of the Great Gate, hot blood splashing my cheek.

“Get your keister in there, Julian!” Steffan’s voice, hoarse with tormented agony, brought me back to myself like a slap across the face. Shamed at myself for showing a moment of weakness, I spun around and bolted for the immense portal.

Hot tears sizzled from my cheeks as I approached the Great Gate. A dark form materialized through the flames just as I reached for it. My left fingers grasped the black cloth as I pulled the dremora mage off balance through pure reflex. Touch stabbed into his back before my momentum carried me through the portal.

Familiar scorching heat and the smell of lava enveloped me as I staggered to my knees. I looked up to see immense war gates before me. Damn! They’re closed! But a high-pitched screeching vibrated through my hands and knees and warned me of their opening. I barely had time to stumble to one side of the broad causeway before a kynmarcher stepped forward between their panels. I made myself as small as I could from force of habit, then froze at what I saw beyond the huge dremora.

As the war gates banged against their hinges and came to rest, a swirling ball of fire appeared through the red haze typical of the Deadlands. It floated, surrounded by glowing spikes, far above the ground. I became aware of a rhythmic booming shaking my bones where they contacted the pavement. That round object moved forward with a ponderous movement that warned me of an immense bulk beyond its visible portion. That has to be the siege engine. Has to be. Then I began to apprehend the sheer gigantic size of it.

That ball of fire was just the head - the head of a tremendous centipede. Numerous skeletal legs moved forward in rippling waves. I couldn’t see the end of those legs in the turbulent atmosphere, but I could feel them stepping onto the causeway.

Akatosh! That thing is huge! We’ll never be able to stop it! Despair washed over me as I felt my heart hammer to a stop. Once again tears burned my eyes and I sobbed shakily. There is no way I can get past it and reach the Sigil Keep in time - no way . . .

Oh ho! That mist is who I think it is! Very cool to once again see the Fab Four of Sancre Tor!

So now it is Xivilai. The Daedra really are throwing everything they have into this. But I see Ursus Badassurus is still there as well! My money is on the bear!

How perfect for Blanco (with a quite surprised Martin I am sure) to lure away the Daedra from the gate so that Julian could enter. It reminds me of a scene in one of the Young Guns movies where the gang is trapped at the edge of a cliff, and finally Lou Diamond Phillips rides his horse over the edge and down the side, yelling all the way. The others followed him down, and at the bottom someone asked what he was yelling. A dazed Lou says "Stop..."

Oh my, poor Steffan. Trying to protect Roliand, and losing his hand for it. And failing to save Roliand in the bargain. He certainly has true grit though, even then pointing his bloody stump to the gate and exhorting Julian to continue onward.

Now Julian is in the Deadlands once more, the Siege Crawler before her. Her doubt is quite natural, given the awesome sight before her. But I am confident that she will indeed find a way past it even yet.

In the beginning of this breathless scene, it made me smile to see that Valdemar was using his beloved mace again. How wonderful that the four ghostly Blades joined the battle! The Blades and Kvatch groups were an excellent choice to escort Julian.

I loved seeing Julian engage in some battlemagery, casting a shield over her crew. Argh, Roliand goes to Sovngarde, and Captain Steffan loses his sword hand!

That was a great moment as the siege crawler emerged from the war gates. Julian will have to start her run from her knees, shaky with despair. She’s picked herself up before, so I have confidence in her. What a gripping episode!

'Their katanas arced dark fluid as they fought off the daedra that spilled out of the Great Gate and ran toward Martin. I caught another glimpse of the misty forms, and the tallest one swung his transparent mace up in a Blades salute.'
The image of the current Blades’ katanas and their ancient ethereal brethren was so wonderfully worded here! How simply perfect to bring back the ghostly four! You really captured the power of painful memories and righteous vengeance.

Woot! And Ursus Badassurus indeed!

'The hamstrung kynreeve dropped to the ground,'
Thanks to one of Julian’s signature moves.

The scene with Steffan was brilliant. Not only did he show selfless courage and perseverance, but also the leadership and presence to refocus Julian into the gate, even in the face of both his hand and Roliand. That she needed a bit of refocusing from Steffan at that moment was another wise writing choice, for in the middle of this tragic carnage, you reminded us of the effect Steffan has on Julian. If our blue-eyed captain has not already stolen Julian's heart, I suspect his actions this day surely did - I know he stole mine in that scene.

Now the heart stopping siege engine of badassedness. I could sense Julian’s sense of helplessness that bordered on despair.

@SubRosa: I remember that scene from Young Guns! I have loved LDP ever since that movie. And yes, that is exactly what is going on with Martin and Blanco - the horse calls the shots and the rider just tries to hang on for dear life. Though Martin manages to make it seem more the other way around.

@Grits: Since Valdemar gifted his katana to Julian, and it is his katana that has been enchanted into Akatosh's Touch, it is only fitting that he return to his beloved mace. It makes me happy that you spotted the connection between the two of them. It does look bad for Roliand, doesn't it?

@Acadian: I rather thought you and SubRosa would love to see the return of the Fab Four of Sancre Tor. After Destri's fitting homage during that chapter, I knew they had to come back to help Julian keep Martin Septim safe. And when she couldn't be at his side, who better . . . ? That the writer who made Savlian Matius into the true Hero of Kvatch with the heart of a lion picked up on the nature of the relationship between Julian and Captain Steffan in that little scene makes me almost giddy with glee. That is just the impact I wanted to achieve.

The story so far: The Great Gate has finally opened at Bruma, but not before several of Julian's friends and allies have paid some kind of price. And Julian feels a moment of self-doubt once she encompasses the true badassness that is the dreaded siege engine.

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Chapter 30.12 The Final Gate

Something twisted in my belly and stilled my gasping breaths. No. It can be done. My work isn’t done yet. I swallowed the biggest walnut to ever choke my throat and glanced around. Bulky silhouettes, spiked and thorned with armor, emerged from the shadows of the engine. The ground boomed and quivered with each step that huge machine took. Through the haze swirling about the siege crawler, I began to see other features. There’s the gate towers, just like at Kvatch.

Stay with me, Akatosh. I need you now. Again that coiling in my gut steadied my nerves. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I will keep the promise I made Uriel Septim. I will carry out his instruction to close shut the jaws of Oblivion. Akatosh, I will not let you or Martin Septim down! I rose to my feet and scanned my surroundings once more.

Just like Vonius said, two sets of war gates anchored by four towers. And I see the sky bridges he told me about. The spidery thin catwalks leaped from the first pair of gate towers toward the second, barely visible in the swirling smoke and soot. I lowered my gaze to the bases of the towers. Small doors, each marked by peaked arches, let into each structure.

I glanced back at the siege engine. It moved slowly, inexorably, toward the portal behind me. Around its feet marched more of the massive dremora. If I try to run straight down the causeway, I’ll have to fight my way through those dremora. Too much time. But if I were to go around them . . . My gaze returned to the door at the base of the left-hand tower, mere paces away.

Now that I knew what to do, I closed my eyes once more. Ki’ire! My feet moved of their own volition toward the tower base. Touch glimmered with its own white light as my legs gained speed. My heartbeat slowed down, and my awareness expanded around me until I felt that I could see - no, feel - the entire complex, including the Sigil Keep with its heart of tortured souls.

The door banged open at my touch, and I found myself at the bottom of a winding ramp. Shouting behind me told me that at least a few of the dremora had seen my approach. In front of me, a clannfear screeched and charged. I held my ground for just a fraction of a breath longer, the skin on my back crawling with anticipation of a strike from behind.

At the last possible instant, I leaped to my right, toward the base of the ramp. The clannfear, unable to change its momentum, crashed into the dremora already entering the tower. I slammed the door shut after the tumbling beast and dremora and sprinted up the ramp.

My breaths came long and hard, full of scorching heat and fire, my heartbeat kept its slow pace, and I seemed to float between footfalls. Yet some part of me knew it was only false perception, that I actually moved very rapidly along the dizzying climb to the top of the tower. I kept my eyes upward, using the struts of the roof above to stay oriented with the Deadlands outside the walls. With about a turn and a half left to go, I reached a door that opened outward. The pattern of the struts above me, however, told me this door faced its partner on the other side of the war gates. I wanted to access the rear tower, not the one across the causeway.

Fortunately, another door at the top of the ramp faced in the correct direction. Unfortunately, a kynreeve charged me, mace raised high. I ducked beneath his strike and rammed my shoulder into his armored abdomen. He staggered back toward the rim of the glass floor where it overlooked a very long, long way down. I kept pushing until he fell over the edge.

Once again Akatosh rode on my shoulder, for the smaller door here was unlocked as well. They must not lock them until after the assault is complete - they need freedom of movement to protect this world until that siege engine finishes its task. I burst through to find myself on the catwalk, its surface barely wider than one of my boots. It’s like the balance beam back in recruit training. You can run this, Julian.

As I darted toward the second pair of towers at the rear of the enclosure, fireballs began soaring up towards me from the siege crawler below. Now I could comprehend the frightening size of the thing. Its head was nearly to the first set of war gates, and its tail lashed the ground beyond the second pair of gates, the pavement breaking under its impacts.

Beyond the second set of towers I could just make out a pair of raised bridges that leaped across a chasm of lava toward another pair of keeps. Between them stood an even bigger one. A glance up showed the yellow liquid fire that marked the Sigil Keep. I looked back at the bridges. As I watched, the span opposite me shuddered and collapsed into the lava. I hope the one on this side is still intact!

Thanks to the heightened awareness from my adrenaline, I easily ducked the fireballs without losing my balance on the catwalk and soon reached the other tower. Once again I burst through an unlocked door, once again I used my momentum to charge another startled dremora and send him over the edge of the glass floor.

I spun down the ramp and skidded to a stop beside the second door from the top. I had passed the first one since it apparently led out onto the catwalk cutting over the causeway. This second door faced the bridge I wanted to use.

The door was no obstacle to my headlong run. I still felt considerable energy in spite of the draining heat. My skin burned in the sulfurous haze while my feet kept moving forward. Ahead, I could see a daedroth turn toward me. It alerted to my approach and darted forward, its head lowering and jaws opening wide.

The bridge trembled under my feet, and the creature disappeared downward with a crash of tumbling stone. I gasped at the size of the gap that now yawned before me, lit from below by bubbling lava. Unable to stop my headlong rush, I pushed off with my leading foot from the crumbling edge and leaped. Akatosh! I didn’t have time to complete the prayer before the other side came rushing toward my feet.

I landed hard on the stone and rolled to spread as much of the impact over my body as I could. No sense breaking bones right now. Somehow Touch remained in my right hand as I resumed my footing. The next stride or two showed that I was still whole. Thank you, Akatosh!

Another wide bridge connected the two flanking keeps above the rough sloped terrain that dropped down to the causeway below. Each end of the bridge was closed off by more of those high war gates. Dremora milled before the stairway that led up from the center of the bridge to the Sigil Keep beyond.

I remembered seeing switches at the top of similar towers at Kvatch and realized that these gates must be opened from the tops of the flanking towers. But the only entrance to the nearer one lay on top of the bridge. I would have to clamber through the tumbled rocks beneath the bridge and approach it from the other side, where the higher ground gave easier access to the pavement.

Fortunately my adrenaline rush carried me forward and upward with barely a slowing of my speed. A kynmarcher ran toward me, his claymore lifting high for the killing blow. I ducked beneath his arm and sent a drain health spell surging into his armor, then followed it with a blow from Touch. He staggered away from me, and I bolted for the door.

Within, two flame atronaches leaped toward me. I called on my own Domina Incendia and left her to tussle with the others while I ran up the ramp. Fireballs lit up the lower floor and cast crazy shadows around the walls while I wound my way upwards. As with the other towers, I encountered a kynreeve at the top of the tower. By now I had perfected the push-and-shove maneuver that allowed me to tip the dremora over the edge without stopping.

As at Kvatch, this tower had a massive roller lever. I grabbed it with both hands and swung my weight downward. The lever groaned toward me with a clattering of gears. I didn’t wait for it to stop moving but ran back to the ramp instead. I had no idea how long I had been running, or how much longer the adrenaline power would last. All I knew was that this was taking too long. How many more men and women have to die out there? How many more brave horses? What of Baurus and Jauffre? The Leyawiin contingent. My friends from Kvatch? Lerus? Ashcroft? . . . Faces blurred through my memory as I skittered toward the bottom of the ramp, ready for anything I might meet there. Stubbornly I refused to let myself think of Steffan, of his lost hand. Instead I replaced his tortured visage with the ghostly grin of Valdemar, the white glow of Blanco, the gleam in the grizzly’s eye.

At the bottom, Domina Incendia stood over one of the two flame atronaches, the other crushed beneath the bulk of the kynreeve, dark fluid pooling around their forms. As my summons turned toward me, she flamed out of existence. Without sparing another glance at them, I bolted through the door out to the bridge.

The kynreeve I had left staggering earlier charged me again. Behind him the war gates slowly opened with grinding gears that sent vibrations through the stone bridge. I ducked under his arm once again and lifted Touch above my shoulder to slice through his flesh just beneath the shoulder joint. The smell of sizzling meat followed me as I ran toward the stairs at the center of the bridge.

Three dremora - two kynreeves and a kynmarcher, charged me as I passed the war gates. “Ta’vias pa’toluku!” I shouted. Magicka surged within me and spat from my left fingers. I threw a lightning bolt toward the nearest one. The kynreeve spun away, knocking down the second one before he could dodge the spell. I slipped past the kynmarcher and reached the bottom of the stairs.

I could hear the kynmarcher’s booted footsteps pounding the stone behind me as I slammed the doors open. I paused just inside and grabbed one of the panels as they rebounded off the inside walls. Putting my shoulder to its interior surface, I shoved it hard into the kynmarcher’s face.

I spun back to the ground floor of the Sigil Keep. The too-familiar screeching of souls and the yellow column of fire rising through the center of the tower greeted my vision. Memory guided my feet toward the door in the wall at the far side of the round chamber. Another kynmarcher appeared from beyond the flaming column. Again I ducked him and broke through the portal.

I found myself running up a curved corridor. As it straightened out and became level, I spotted the small yellow claw that controlled a trap protruding from the rock to one side. I glanced up in time to see one of three guillotine blades begin its drop toward me.

As it slammed into the floor behind me, I managed to stop in time to avoid being sliced in half by the second blade. It just barely missed my toes as the third one dropped. Looking ahead, I spotted a markynaz appear from the left side of a chamber beyond. He unshouldered his black claymore and braced his feet for an attack. I shot him a lightning bolt as the blades returned to the ceiling above, then avoided his charge and ran out of the trap.

The chamber showed me three doors. I chose the left one since that had been the direction the markynaz had appeared from. Behind me, I heard armor clashing, and glanced back in time to see the kynmarcher and the markynaz disentangling from each other. They managed to turn toward me in time for the blade trap to catch them. I turned my back on the carnage and ran for the passageway beyond the open door.

I found myself back into the center of the Sigil Keep, climbing the long stone ramp that wound around the structure. Another markynaz, this one a mage, met me just before the top. I summoned Domina Incendia, and followed it with a drain health spell aimed at the mage’s chest. He hissed as Domina’s fire engulfed him, and his hands began shaping green magicka. I flung a shock bolt at him and he crumpled to the floor.

I looked around. This is the Sigillium Sanguis. It’s bound to be locked. As my atronach summons stood guard over me, I knelt beside the mage and searched his robes. The key was attached to his belt by a cord which broke easily. I ran to the door and tried the key. It slid in easily.

I paused before opening the door. Three more at least, if not more. Any dremora up there is going to be markynaz or higher. My heartbeat still felt slow, and I still felt preternaturally aware of my surroundings, including Domina’s growing impatience at my hesitation. The white flame that formed my magicka still burned high. “Right,” I said to myself as much as to her, “let’s get this done.” Before everything runs out.

Once again I found the winding passage to the Sigillum Sanguis free of enemies. None waited me on the ground floor of the round chamber at the top. I ran up the spiked ramp, searching for enemies. Two daedroth ran at me, one from either side. Simultaneously I flung a shock bolt at one and ran deosil at the second. Before the reptile could dive its head at me, I spiked its abdomen with Touch. As before, I kept running. This time I was not interested in killing them, only in getting to that stone as soon as I possibly could.

As I neared the foot of the second set of ramps, I looked up to see the hugest dremora ever leap down the right hand ramp toward me. Damn, a valkynaz! The highest rank in the dremora army, valkynaz towered over the other dremora and possessed tremendous strength, cunning and fighting ability. I might be able to beat one of those - maybe. But if I stand to fight this one, the siege crawler would pass through the portal. If it hasn’t already done so and all is lost. I found an extra surge of energy and bolted for the opposite ramp, calling on Domina Incendia once again.

My summons barely slowed the valkynaz with her fireballs before he dispelled her with a flick of his fingers. But she gave me just enough lead time to reach the Great Sigil Stone. The ramp vibrated beneath my feet as I reached for the stone. The valkynaz growled furiously at me as my fingers snatched the stone out of the column of fire.

My heart pounded rapidly in my ears and hammered in the side of my neck just as the Deadlands disintegrated around me in a flash of white. Trapped on the dais, I looked up at the valkynaz as he lifted his blade high above me. That dremora claymore began its descent . . .

As I knew, Julian found her nerve again, somewhere down in that Akatoshian coiling in her guts. I just love that she had that moment of doubt. It shows us that she is not a cardboard cutout heroine, but rather a real flesh and blood person. The fact that she overcomes her fears and doubts in order to do what she must is the real proof of her heroism.

Wonderful timing of Julian at that first door! Mr. Clannfear, meet Mr. Dremora! Then a wonderful trip to the pavement for the Kynreeve.

Julian's mad dash across the towers and their bridges - even as they sank into the lava - was heart-pounding! Thank goodness she had that knee fixed up. She never would have made that leap to safety on that bum leg of hers. You keep up the frenetic pace of Julian's race to the sigil tower and up its length. Then finally to the stone itself, and the falling sword of the valkynaz...

Fantastic!

Julian’s ‘self-coaching’ was very inspirational as memories and promises converged to give her courage and strength into that terrifying opening description of the siege crawler.

You did a great job of maintaining a heartpoundingly quick pace throughout as Julian raced to the stone. Her style was pure Julian, using every skill except her bow. I’m so glad that she learned how to dump those damn Daedra over the side of the ramps!

Conjuring a flamie to battle those other fire ladies (like summoning a ghost to fight etherials) is a great delaying tactic since their primary attack is harmless among themselves and they can occupy each other for quite some time. Good thinking, Julian!

Right when I was getting paranoid about the time, Julian clearly was as well, and gave us a poignant reminder of those still battling outside the gate and relying on her speed. I felt for her as she pushed thoughts of Steffan’s wound from her mind and forced herself to draw inspiration from other images that smelled more like righteous vengeance.

‘The too-familiar screeching of souls and the yellow column of fire rising through the center of the tower greeted my vision.’
A hauntingly terrifying description.

‘They managed to turn toward me in time for the blade trap to catch them. I turned my back on the carnage and ran for the passageway beyond the open door.’
Sometimes it’s good that those traps are equal opportunity carnage creators. Clever use of them here.

A powerful ending. I’m confident that her final foe’s descending claymore will be frozen in time and never touch a white hair on Julian’s head. Snatching that sigil stone is always the best way to stop those pesky sanctum keepers. Whew!

Nits:

‘No. It can be done. My work isn’t done yet.’
Repetition of ‘done’ in close proximity detracts a tiny bit from this powerful scene. Might you consider ‘finished’ or ‘completed’ in lieu of the second ‘done’?

‘Within, two flame atronaches leaped toward me.’
Pluralizing these unique words is certainly open to style choices. Not sure if your spelling is intentional, so I thought I would simply mention that UESP favors ‘atronachs’.

What a run! Julian’s heightened awareness and speed made for an exhilarating ride with her to and through the Sigil Tower!

As I darted toward the second pair of towers at the rear of the enclosure, fireballs began soaring up towards me from the siege crawler below. Now I could comprehend the frightening size of the thing. Its head was nearly to the first set of war gates, and its tail lashed the ground beyond the second pair of gates, the pavement breaking under its impacts.

I love the size and weird animal-like tail lashing of the siege crawler. I can believe that this thing is capable of smashing through a city wall.

As at Kvatch, this tower had a massive roller lever. I grabbed it with both hands and swung my weight downward. The lever groaned toward me with a clattering of gears. I didn’t wait for it to stop moving but ran back to the ramp instead.

Julian’s athletic feats were so easy to visualize throughout the whole episode. It was great fun to read her dash for the stone. As Acadian pointed out, almost all of her skills were on display here. A heart pounding read!

Now I wonder what will greet her back on the Plain of Caribou...

The whole thing is just one big bit of freneticly paced excellence...

Loving the whole thing...

Wish I could narrow the stuff I would quote down to something managable... ...

Sadly I can't so you'll just have to manage with...

Nice one!!..

*Applauds heartily*... ...

Sorry yet again for the long absence. As you know from my recent post in the coffee house, I've been dealing with health issues. Still working through the diagnostics, but so far things are going okay.

Additionally, the story after the closing of the Great Gate of Bruma has been driving me absolutely crazy. After four complete rewrites, I decided the heck with it and move on already. But it's tough following what for me is the real climax of this story - the battle of Bruma with all the allies and excitement. Now we are winding down to the inevitable ending.

@SubRosa: Yes, that great leap across the broken bridge was actually foretold, as I'm sure you recall, by that leap down from the upper bridge into the lower sewer chamber back in Chapter 7.2 Meeting the Sponsor. It's remarkable to see how far Julian has come since those hobbling days. And if not for Cirroc's skill in Chapter 15, no, she couldn't have done this.

@Acadian: I'm glad that you pointed out that Julian used every one of her skills except the bow. At this point, she'll never be able to draw and shoot as fast as Teresa of the Faint Smile, nor follow the arrows with spells like Buffy the Blond Bravilian Bowgirl. Her strengths lie elsewhere, as you point out so well. As for your nits, the duplication of the word 'done' was her thoughts, so I left it alone, as we are all guilty of duplication from time to time. As I have been pluralizing 'atronaches' all along, for style consistency I left that spelling alone, but I appreciate your input! As for those dremora getting caught in that blade trap, that actually happened once in-game. I actually stopped and watched those fools get cut down, it was so surprising and funny!

@Grits: I pretty much wrote that segment as it plays in the game - heart-pounding, breath-holding, flat-out running from beginning to end. Barely any time to think, just move! I'm glad it came through so well.

@McBadgere: Frenetically paced is just the impression I was going for. Thanks for the confirmation that I was successful!

The story so far: Julian has just completed her run through the Great Gate at Bruma and now has the Great Sigil stone in her possession.

*********************
Chapter 31.1 The Aftermath

When the white disappeared, a xivilai, not the valkynaz, towered over me. Beyond him, I could see the immense bulk of the siege engine shuddering toward us. Beyond that, normal clouds obscured the night sky, and blessed darkness relieved only by falling snow lit Nirn.

My limbs turned suddenly to jelly and I landed on my rump as the fiery head of the massive construct sputtered and flickered out. The xivilai, his gore-splattered mace raised high, hesitated and glanced over his shoulder at the falling siege engine. Then strong hands gripped my right arm and dragged me back from the doomed daedra. My heels flailed for a grip on the slippery ground as the thorned head of the siege engine crashed to the mud, the hapless xivilai crumpling like so much parchment.

The sounds of combat paused around me, replaced by the silence of falling snow. The light flakes sizzled on my overheated leathers and left pinpricks of frost on my burned cheeks. My breaths came hard and fast, but clean, cold air replaced the sulfurous fumes in my lungs.

"Get up, Julian!" Ferrum's voice reached my ear just as I realized that I lay exposed on the Plain of Caribou. The blessed silence faded into the sounds of unholy screeching as the daedra and dremora still standing realized they had been cut off from the Deadlands.

Still lacking control of my limbs, I lifted my head and looked around. Chaos of flesh and armor, of blood and gore greeted my blurred vision. For a moment I could only stare in bemusement at the scene while I struggled for breath against the hammering in my chest. The buzzing and vibrating of the Great Sigil Stone sent unpleasant yet familiar sensations up the bones of my left forearm. Then the other effects of the adrenaline crash kicked in.

Convulsively, though my mind screamed at me that I yet remained in danger, I flopped onto my left elbow and retched nothing onto the cold mud next to me. I was dimly aware of Ferrum standing over me, his weapon clanging with others as he defended me.

My shaking fingers did not release the stone when I wiped the back of my hand across my dry mouth. A kynreeve splashed into the mud beside me, his dead eyes glaring at me, his last breath scattering dark fluid across my face. I recoiled away and managed to sit up. The sounds of combat faded away into the falling snow. In the gloom of the wintry sky, I could no longer see the white glow of Blanco's shield magic.

With no more foes to fight, Ferrum collapsed to his knees beside me. "Julian!" His breath came in hoarse gasps. "Are you all right?"

Finally I recovered my voice. "It's just the crash," I whispered. "It's what kills you when the adrenaline runs out."

His eyes widened. "You used the adrenaline rush in there?" His flushed skin turned pale. "Good thing I grabbed you when I did!" His brown eyes flickered over his shoulder toward the dull glow of the siege engine. "That thing would have landed on top of you!"

The snow whirled thicker around us and began to accumulate on top of the blood-stained mud. I met Ferrum's gaze. "Where is Martin Septim?"

"Still on that horse the last I saw of him," Ferrum replied, his gaze scanning our surroundings restlessly. I realized I still held Touch clenched in my right fist. Awkwardly, for I did not want to release the Great Sigil stone until Martin showed up, I sheathed the katana.

A cavalryman clattered up to us, his horse slipping and sliding to a halt. His dark face gazed at us from beneath the leather cap of a Mo Gu archer. "You did it!" he shouted at me, his voice as hoarse as ours. "The fight is over!" His horse tossed her head, foam flying from her mouth as she spun on her hocks. "Long live the Sixth!" the archer tossed over his shoulder as they disappeared into the thickening snow.

"He'll be spreading the word now," Ferrum remarked, sheathing his own weapon. "As if the closing of that Gate," he jerked his chin over his shoulder at the ruin behind us, "isn't news enough."

I realized that no other Blades stood nearby. "Where are our brothers and sisters?"

"Scattered far and wide," Ferrum replied. "Captain Steffan ordered us to stay close by the Gate to cover you when you came back out, but the daedra -" His voice trailed off.

My limbs now responded to my still screaming inner voice. Ferrum regained his feet first, and turned to lend me his hand. Grateful for his support, I looked around the Plain. Between the overcast night sky above and the falling snow, it was difficult to see further than ten paces in all directions.

My gaze snagged on a brown furry mass not more than three paces away. I stepped warily toward it, noting the daedra corpses piled around it. The grizzly slumped on top of others. Burned flesh showed where the fur had been scorched away. One bloodied paw covered its head, as if the bear felt shame. I knelt unsteadily beside it and touched the foot warily. Dead. Unexpected tears surged behind my eyes as I pulled the bear's paw away from its face and regarded its unseeing gaze.

"That bear was amazing," Ferrum's hushed tone reached me. "He kept fighting alongside us until that siege engine poked through. It killed him with a fireball. I don't know where he came from, but thank Talos for him."

"Maybe you should be thanking Kyne," I cast my gaze around us. Regaining my feet remained a struggle, but again Ferrum was there to help me. I met his gaze and saw the exhaustion in his eyes. "I need to find Martin Septim," I said finally. Roliand. Steffan. Are they still alive? What of the others - Baurus, Grandmaster Jauffre? The thrumming of the Great Sigil stone set my teeth on edge and exacerbated the nausea from the adrenaline crash.

As we made our way past the bear's slumped form, I spotted the brothers of the Kvatch Wolf ahead. The gleaming white of their surcoats were replaced by blood, gore and mud, much as mine had been obscured by the detritus of the Deadlands. As Ferrum and I approached, I counted only three standing. My heart sank. Who have we lost now?

Inian looked up from the body at his feet as I stopped before him. Tears streaked through soot and blood on his face as he met my gaze. A half-hearted smile cracked the battle mask when he spotted the crackling stone in my hand. "I see you did it, Julian," he croaked. "I never doubted you." Grimness cascaded over his face as we looked down at the body between us.

Vonius. The gaping tear in his surcoat and mail left no doubt of the severity of his mortal wound. My breath caught as I knelt down beside the Kvatch decanus. The chill in his flesh numbed my scorched fingertips.

I looked up at Inian, who wavered on his feet. He slumped to his knees, the steel sword slipping from his hand. He took Vonius's fingers in his. "How many of you are left, Inian?"

His gaze flickered around at the two men still barely standing. Only the three of you? I recognized Merandil, but the third guard was unfamiliar to me. "There were six of you when I went in," I reached down and closed Vonius's sightless eyes. "Where are the others?"

Merandil caught my attention with a gesture and pointed out a crumpled body a few steps away. "There's Mergus, and Sura fell beside that bear," he waved toward our unexpected ally.

I glanced at the Altmer. "Did the bear -?"

"No," Merandil shook his head. "The bear killed the dremora that killed Sura."

I sat back on my heels and regarded Ferrum, who stood a respectful few paces away. "I imagine it will take some time to get all the dead and wounded off this field," my voice was almost as soft as the falling snow. "Let's get all of your contingent together here." I glanced at Inian. "You lost two before the Great Gate opened, right?"

"Yes," he nodded. "We were able to get Grancius's body off the field after the first charge, but I suspect Tuccius is still where he fell, by the barricades."

"It's dark out here," Ferrum shifted his feet. "And difficult to see further than ten paces."

I shivered. "And cold," I met Inian's gaze. "I suppose you don't want to leave Vonius alone out here?"

"Surrounded by daedra?" Inian shook his head. "You suppose right, Julian. I'll stay with my comrade until help comes, or I've recovered my strength to haul him off the field myself."

"Then let's make it easy for the burial detail to find you," I rose to my feet. "You, I haven't met yet," I turned to the unfamiliar guard. Like Ferrum, he had the florid complexion and aristocratic features of a High Rock Breton. "What is your name?"

"This is Rullus Herennius," Merandil introduced the younger man. "Jesan Rilian was his cousin."

I held my right hand out to the Breton. "Rilian was a good man." Herennius clasped my wrist in the soldier's greeting. "It is my pleasure to meet you, though I do wish it was under better conditions."

"Agreed," Herennius agreed with a nod of his head.

I waved Ferrum up to join the small group. "This is my Blade brother Ferrum," I said to the others. "Berich Inian and Merandil I met at Kvatch - we fought together."

The effects of the adrenaline crash seemed to be fading, since it was no longer such a struggle to stay on my feet. Though I still felt drained, at least I could now consider the task of cleaning up the battlefield without cringing. "Let's get your dead together," I glanced at Inian, who still slumped beside Vonius. "You stay here with Vonius," I met Merandil's gaze. "The four of us still standing will bring Mergus and Sura to you." I turned to meet Ferrum's gaze. "Then Ferrum and I will look for our own."

Ferrum nodded somber agreement with my proposal, and we trudged toward the fallen Kvatch guard. Though I still clutched the stone in my left hand, my sword hand had regained its grip, and I was able to help the others bring Mergus to lie next to Vonius.

This time, when I approached the bear's form, I was able to look at its injuries less emotionally. It still grieved me to see how many injuries it sustained before it finally succumbed to the siege engine's attack. "I wonder where that bear came from," I mused as we began searching for Sura's body beneath the deadra. "He should have been hibernating this time of the year."

"Maybe we woke him up," Merandil dragged a flame atronach body away. He dropped the glowing limb with distaste. "She's still hot," he muttered, blowing on his palms.

"Atronach flesh burns easily," I remarked, recalling how dead fire-ladies had flamed into ashes if they fell too close to the molten lava in the Deadlands. "We can use these for warmth and light."

"Here is Sura," Herennius dragged a corpse from beneath a kynreeve. "Light will make it easier for the burial detail to find us."

"Good idea," Ferrum moved to help Herennius with his burden. He caught my gaze as we teamed to carry the body back to Vonius. "It will work for others, as well."

I nodded my agreement. "It's something to do until we find Martin Septim and the rest of our comrades."

Julian is back! In more ways than one... It is good to see the both of you around once more.

This song just happened to come on in winamp as I was reading. It seems eerily appropriate, so I thought I would share.

Good thing for her that Ferrum was around to watch her back when she came down to Nirn. Also in more ways than one. Now we see all too clearly just why she does not like to use that Adrenaline Rush power. It was nearly the end of her.

Oh, the bear died. Vonius too. Another of the Kvatch Old Guard. As is no surprise, this has been a hard day. You bring the post-battle exhaustion and sorrow over lost companions to full life here, in Julian's return to Nirn.


nits:
My heels flailed for a grip on the slippery ground as the thorned head of the siege engine crashed to the ground, the hapless xivilai crumpling like so much parchment.
You have a repetition of the word ground here.

Welcome back!

‘His eyes widened. "You used the adrenaline rush in there?" His flushed skin turned pale. "Good thing I grabbed you when I did!" His brown eyes flickered over his shoulder toward the dull glow of the siege engine. "That thing would have landed on top of you!"
After everything Julian has been through, the thought of having it end by being crushed by that siege engine is horrifying!

A poignant description of the aftermath, with the everpresent humming of that great sigil stone. Martin was last seen astride Blanco – I’m sure that is doubly welcome news to Julian. So the bear remains a bit of a fortuitous mystery. Poor Ilend. He just doesn’t fare well in fictions does he?

I hope most of Julian’s fellow Blades are simply occupied or dispersed and have not suffered the fate of so many on that field.

I also hope Julian is able to enjoy at least one more top notch CRT meal before Martin tries to push her into the next darn portal!

It’s great to have you back!

The humming stone kept up some of the urgency for me as Julian and Ferrum helped the Kvatch contingent gather their dead. Hopefully Blanco’s lack of glow means that he and Martin are safe somewhere.

Searching the battlefield at night is especially tense and grim. The other Blades could be anywhere, even close by. I also hope that a Skyrim husky comes bounding out of the dark. Even with the Gate closed, there’s still suspense!

An excellent 'everyone catching their breath' chapter...

Loved the idea of the Dremora getting squished by the siege engine!... ...Definately could picture that...Good save by that Ferrum there!!...

Loved the idea of the Adrenaline Crash...Well, having had that sort of thing meself, I don't like it, but as I've never seen it in any of the fictions...I love it!!... ...Nicely done that there...

Was sad to see the bear succumbing to its many wounds...Hopefully it dealt twice as many out before though...That was the sad bit actually...Nice bear!...

Love the idea of everyone warming themselves by dead Atronach... ...

Brilliant stuff...Looking forward to the next bit...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I hope your own recovery speeds along like Julian's did in this... ...

@SubRosa: I really wanted to bring home what the Adrenaline Rush does to someone, and why Julian doesn't like it. I'm glad that you picked up on it. And yes, Ferrum's a good one to have at your side, and your back. I knew you would be sad that our ursine hero didn't make it - very few of the animals that ventured out onto that killing field did.

@Acadian: Yes, Vonius is like the Red Shirt, isn't he? I really struggled with the decision whether to keep him alive or not. Then I thought, well, you know what? After his behavior in the Oblivion Gate and the way he was so quick to leave Julian (or any player PC, that is) by her sick self in there, this would be the chance to show what kind of fighter he really was. And his kind of fighter, much like your portrayal of Savlian Matius in the Buffy fiction, inevitably dies by the sword. It will be some time before we learn of the fate of Julian's fellow Blades, or of the other guardsmen on that bloody field. As for a meal at CRT, it'll be a while before Julian can enjoy one like that again.

@Grits: Thanks for catching the mood of the aftermath. Sure, all the glory is won, the enemy defeated, but there is still that God-forsaken mess to clean up afterwards. This is the one thing most often skimmed over or even ignored in most fictions - and yet even mothers of small children know about this sort of thing all too well. It would have been easier if the moons were out, but with that snow . . . I'm delighted that you caught the atmosphere.

@McB: Yes, it's sad about the bear. Though I think he was more cranky than nice. I mean, he had just settled down for a nice, long winter's nap, and this happens just outside his cave? What's a man - errr - a bear to think? Of course he'd be cranky! When I was trying to figure out how to mark the locations of the wounded on that field, I thought of the fire ladies and the way they still glow even when dead. That led to thoughts about how magicka keeps their flesh whole while they are alive, but fails to preserve them against fire when they are dead. Hmmm - well that led to the idea of atronach bonfires! Thank you!

The story so far: Julian has recovered somewhat from the crash that inevitably follows the use of the Redguard Adrenaline Rush thanks to the help of Ferrum. They have found the few survivors of the Kvatch Guard not too far away, and are now searching for Captain Steffan and Roliand.

*************************

Chapter 31.2 The Price Paid

"Let's see if we can find the captain," Ferrum said to me as we retraced our steps past the grizzly and the ruined siege engine. My heart in my throat at the memory of Steffan's mutilation, I nodded silently. He is my Captain. I have to find him. Once again I felt shame at how I had almost let my feelings for him compromise my mission for Martin Septim.

We trudged through the slick mud, dusted lightly with white. Red showed where snow landed on bloodied areas. "Captain Steffan fought on with only one hand after you entered the Great Gate," Ferrum spoke over his shoulder. "He kept the daedra from finishing off Roliand." I blinked. Roliand's still alive?

"I'm certain you helped, Ferrum," I caught the Breton's shrug.

"I had nothing better to do until you came back." My breath caught at his dry response.

Ferrum led me unerringly to where Steffan slumped beside our comrade. His bare head, that white streak augmented by falling snow, lifted as we approached. My knees gave way at the glimmer of pain evident in his haggard visage, barely visible in the gloomy night. I bit back the sob as I dropped before Steffan. In a vain effort to avoid the impact of my emotions, I turned to look at the sprawled body of Roliand beside us. The big Nord lay on his back, the shattered helm removed from his face. Blood clotted his blond hair.

"Welcome back, Julian," Steffan's voice, like Inian's, was a mere croak. Exhaustion, pain and the darkness obscured the intense blue of his eyes as I met his gaze. "It's good to see you again."

No words came to my lips, and I found it hard to breathe. I remembered again the agony that had washed through my fingers just before Steffan had pushed me away, pushed me toward the Great Gate.

After a few breaths, Steffan turned his gaze back to Roliand. "At least he still breathes," he whispered. "But he hasn't moved since you went into the Gate."

Glad of the distraction, I lit off a starlight spell and bent to Roliand's face. I felt the Nord's breaths when I held my fingers over his nose. Too shallow, too fast. He may breathe yet, but for how much longer? Lightly I touched his face, then ran my fingers over his skull. "His head is broken here," I indicated the spot where the bones gave under my gentle touch. "I don't have the training for this. Best to leave him for Cirroc."

Steffan's nod was more felt than seen. "I thought so," he responded. I looked up at him when he shifted uneasily, hunched over that mutilated right arm.

I straightened up and held my hands out to him. "Let me see your arm, Captain," I managed to keep my voice steady. He resisted me a moment, then surrendered the damaged limb to me. Pain surged between us and I struggled to maintain a calm demeanor while I surveyed the ruin of his wrist. Bones poked visibly through tissue, all severed as neatly as a beef joint by the butcher's cleaver. A broken arrow shaft twisted around a piece of cloth at the elbow kept the blood to a little more than a seeping.

"It can't be restored," Steffan whispered. Flinching at the despair in his tone, I had to agree. Complete amputations can't be healed, even by skilled immunes like Cirroc.

"I can stop the bleeding, though, and ease the pain, Captain."

"Julian, you're exhausted," Steffan shook his head. "You've done enough. I'll wait for the medics."

I looked within. My magicka shone strongly, though at normal levels now that the Aetherius Stone blessing had worn off. "But I still have my magicka," I answered. "And I've done field healing before, with Sai." We looked at each other silently for several breaths, then Steffan nodded.

"Stop the bleeding at least," he muttered, looking away first.

I refreshed the light spell, then closed my eyes and let my magicka explore the stump. The trickling blood slowed to a stop as I found the ends of the major blood vessels and sealed them with magical cauterization. Arcane light surged through damaged tissues until new skin formed and covered the stump.

Now I sensed other, more serious injuries. Steffan tried to pull away, but I kept my grip on his arm. As I had done with Sai, I explored the additional sources of pain. As I located each origin, my magicka followed in tightly controlled measure. Ribs knitted together and torn fibers wove to reform damaged muscle and ligaments. The broken bones in his left hand and right ankle restored their proper shapes. However, the internal organs were beyond my limited knowledge. I could only stop the bleeding in his chest and abdomen.

My hands shook with agony as the magic faded away. I barely caught Steffan's shoulders as he slumped bonelessly sideways. No! I'm not too late! Panicked, I held my fingers over his nose. The sigh of relief escaped my lips when I felt his breathing.

Ferrum knelt beside me, and together we worked to ease Steffan's limp form into a more comfortable position next to Roliand. "We need to keep both of them warm," I said. Ferrum nodded and rose to his feet.

"I'll find a dead fire lady or two," he commented before fading away into the darkness. Left alone with only my own heart for company, I turned my gaze back to Steffan. Live. Don't let this discourage you. That despair I had heard in his voice earlier reminded me uncomfortably of my own after my capture and torture at the hands of the Skyrim goblins. But you're strong. Stronger than I was. You'll be fine. Once Cirroc heals your injuries, you'll be back on your feet in no time. Just keep breathing until he gets to you. Don't give up.

A glimmer in the snow brought my head up. I staggered to my feet, Sigil stone still clutched to my chest. Four ghostly figures formed from the whirling flakes in the corner of my vision. Though I squinted at them, my gaze could not pin them. Sighing, I gave up trying to identify them.

Get out of here, Valdemar. Drink that damn mead like you promised me. And thank you, all of you, for keeping this Septim safe. Somehow I knew they had heard my thoughts, for emptiness took their places.

Ferrum returned, dragging a voluptuous body after him. I turned to help him break the atronach's limbs into smaller pieces. He lit the flesh with a flare spell. As the corpse took flame, we stepped back from the intense heat and returned to our captain and Roliand.

Moments later, hoofbeats reached my ears just a breath or two before Blanco separated the snowflakes. He slid to a snorting and blowing halt before me and dropped his muzzle to my face. I could just make out the dark shadow on his back. A cold, wet nose nuzzled at my right hand before I could rub Blanco's muzzle in greeting.

"Julian!" Martin's voice was as hoarse as everyone else's. He vaulted down from the saddle and stopped before me. In the firelight, I could just make out streaks of blood and other matter overlying the battle weariness in his face. He paused to sheathe his greatsword, then gripped my shoulders. "You're safe?"

"I think so, Sire," I held the buzzing stone to him. "Here is your fourth element." And I hope this is worth the price we paid for it. My left hand, finally free of that unpleasant song, dropped to my side. I looked down at Sai, who waved his tail as our eyes met. I ran my hand over his head. No injuries here. Thank Akatosh for that.

"We have lost many men and women here today," Martin's gaze turned somber as he cradled the artifact in his hands. I saw some of the horrors of combat in those hazel eyes. "I promise you that their deaths will not be in vain."

I could only nod dumbly, my gaze on the crackling stone in Martin's hands. I realized that Sai no longer stood at my side. Martin shifted uneasily, then threw his cloak over the sphere, effectively muffling its disturbing song. Finally I found my voice. "You've not been hurt, Sire?"

"No, Julian," he shook his head. "Your Witchhorse, and something -" his eyes grew unfocused in the firelight. "Something happened out there." He shook himself, his hands lowering from my shoulders. "We'll speak of that later." He turned to Ferrum. "And you, friend?"

Ferrum somehow managed to straighten against his battle exhaustion and salute Martin smartly. "I am whole, Sire," he answered.

Now Martin Septim noticed the Blades at our feet. "Have we lost the Captain?" I heard the despair in his tone at the question and winced at the thought.

"His sword hand is gone," I managed to keep the tears from my voice as I looked down. To my surprise, Sai met my gaze from where he lay alongside the unconscious Steffan. The white tip of his tail flickered briefly as I motioned for him to stay put. "But both he and Roliand still live."

"Good," Martin nodded to himself. "Cirroc and his healers are already working to clear the field. But it will take some time for them to reach this area."

I was wondering about Steffan. Here we again see more of the dear price that was paid for the victory. The horror of his injuries brings Julian's heart out onto her sleeve. No surprise, given how close to death he was. To have lost him, without ever being able to get him in the first place, would have been a truly cruel twist of fate.

The near-sighting of the Fab Four brought a smile to my lips. A welcome change from the grim situation that came before. It it is truly amazing how you and Destri have made them all come so alive in our imaginations!

And finally Martin. It is good to see him, Blanco, and Sai once more. Given that this battle was his idea, the weight of the dead and maimed doubtlessly weigh heavily upon his shoulders.

It's great to see more of this story. Just one nit:

the grizzly and the ruined siege engine should be the grisly and ruined siege engine.

[disengages pedant mode]

"He kept the daedra from finishing off Roliand."

Roliand is alive?! That’s a piece of good news. I sure hope he stays that way. Maybe he won’t miss the crushed parts of his brain too much? I like the explanation of healing and its limitations. Steffan’s despair over his sword hand was very real, even with his far more serious injuries. It seemed he had a little adrenaline crash of his own after the healing, though just a regular one. He held together until there was nothing left for him to do.

A glimmer in the snow brought my head up. I staggered to my feet, Sigil stone still clutched to my chest. Four ghostly figures formed from the whirling flakes in the corner of my vision. Though I squinted at them, my gaze could not pin them. Sighing, I gave up trying to identify them.

I love this part! Even as a glimmer through the snow these four capture the imagination. They showed up at the perfect time.

A relief to see the four-legged friends whole, and it seems that Martin has something new to contemplate. Now I’m wondering where Baurus and Jauffre might be. The snow and smoldering atronach parts give this the feeling of a campfire scene only on a battlefield.

The aftermath for Julian and Steffan promises to be interesting. Julian already knows what she needs to know from her own experience, but he could certainly pull away like he tried to do when she was healing him. I love the attention you’re giving these encounters as different parties appear through the snow!

Yep, I second that last paragraph!!... ...

Definately loving the way people and animals are appearing from the snow...

Loved the healing...Definately love it when the damaged parts are visualised...I think Acadian did that too a couple of times...Loved it!!...

I know that Baurus and Jauffre can get offed in the game if you don't watch it when you jump into the gate...Looking forward to seeing how they end up, either way...

Brilliant stuff...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Julian's out! The Battle of Bruma is over! Martin has the Great Sigil Stone!

And the cost of war is never measured just in lives lost or saved. Men suffer wounds, and must live on, forever changed by what they do, and what is done to them.

I'm loving Captain Steffan. I always managed to keep Baurus alive, mostly through tactical planning, and the belief that the one guard to survive Uriel's assassination should not be a pushover in any combat situation. But I may have to play through differently once, just to see how Captain Steffan acts as Jauffre's second when I'm completing the Main Quest.

From somebody who has no excuse for not posting more, thank you for forcing me to get off my rump and get to work. As for you, well, it is what it is, and I can only hope that you aren't turning into a Meth-cooking Crime Lord in the greater Santa Fe-Albuquerque New Mexico area, but if you do, being portrayed by Bryan Cranston isn't a bad way to be seen. We're pulling for you.

Just don't shave your head and grow a goatee. For some reason, I don't think it'll work as well for you as it does for Malcolm's dad.

Oh this was beautifully done with an epic feel that matched the previous battle episodes. And with great skill as you and Julian tugged at our hearts. Mixed news on Roliand and Steffan. Hopefully they will both recover and I know Julian’s feelings for Steffan are not bound to his right hand (or lack thereof). I could feel Julian’s pain as she explored Steffan’s injuries.

As already mentioned, it was great to (almost) see Julian’s ancient Blade brothers again. And a wonderful entrance by Blanco and Martin.

@Cardboard Box: There was indeed a grizzly (bear) that participated in the battle and valiantly fell quite close to the ruined siege engine. I therefore believe Rider’s sentence that refers to both is perfect as is.

@SubRosa: The road ahead of Steffan is going to be a rough one for him, and no one understands it better than Julian. We will see that she will no longer deny her feelings for him once she realizes that everyone else can see it too. I knew you would love seeing/not seeing the Fab Four. I felt it was an appropriate farewell to them after the drama of the battlefield. And yes, Julian was as happy to see Martin, Blanco and Sai as you were.

@Boxee: Thanks for reading! I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. And thanks for the nit-picking mode, it was appreciated.

@Grits: Wonder about Baurus and Jauffre no more, they appear in this next section. As for Roliand, we'll have to see. I'm not sure yet if he will recover from what is obviously a very grievous head injury. I'm glad to hear that you are looking forward to more of Julian and Steffan's relationship as their dynamics change in the very near future. And yes, it was great to see the Fab Four again. Destri has created monsters with those four Blades (especially Valdemar and his barroom manners).

@McB: I know that Baurus and Jauffre are no longer essential once the Battle of Bruma engages. I remember once I managed to keep them alive before I went into the Gate. Jumped back out in time to see the collapsing siege engine fall on Baurus, who was still fighting. He fought no more. I felt devastated! Thanks for your words of encouragement, as always.

@BamBam: Great to see you again! I'm delighted that you are still enjoying this story. You're right, I wanted to show the impact of war on those who have been through it, not just in terms of lives lost but also in terms of injuries, memories, etc. In the game Captain Steffan is a decent fighter; however I'm with you, Baurus survived Assassination Night, he ought to live long enough to see the Avatar of Akatosh. In any case, as Savlian Matius fills a special role in Acadian's Buffy stories, so does Captain Steffan in mine. I'm glad you're liking him. As for my own ills, well - - Having been to the Alberquerque/Santa Fe area four times on vacation, I wouldn't mind living there. However not as the Meth-cooking Crime Lord with no head thatch and a goatee. Not my style, thankyouverymuch.

@Acadian: Thank you for your endorsement of my portrayal of the aftermath. For me that is more important than the battle itself, as epic as that may have been. Such heroic acts do not come without cost, and I think true leadership is revealed at this point, when everyone is coming off the adrenaline high, and the real price starts to sink in.

The story so far: Julian and Ferrum have found Captain Steffan and Roliand, and Martin Septim has found them. Now we begin to grapple with the next step.

******************************
Chapter 31.3 Duties and Obligations

Baurus appeared from the thickening snow with Jauffre and Camillus panting hard behind. All three were covered in blood and gore, all three moved slowly with exhaustion, yet they seemed intact.

“I knew it!” Camillus’s normal roar muted to a mere wisp, he clapped me heartily on the shoulder. “When that Great Gate closed, I thought to myself, That Julian’s come through like she always does!” He glanced from me to Martin. “Did she bring you that stone, Sire?”

Martin hefted his cloaked burden. “Yes, she did, indeed.”

“Then what’s keeping you from marching down to the Imperial City and lighting those Dragonfires?” Camillus’s intelligent gaze moved from Martin to me.

Does he know about the Amulet of Kings? I wondered briefly. I caught Martin’s glance at me, then he met Camillus’s eyes squarely.

“The Amulet of Kings is missing,” he said quietly. “The founder of the Mythic Dawn, Mankar Camoran, holds it.”

“By Shor’s cast iron globes!” Camillus exploded. His eyes narrowed at me. “You were the one that wiped out their enclave at Lake Arrius, Julian? You weren’t able to stop it?”

I shook my head. “No, sir, I couldn’t.”

“It isn’t Julian’s fault they knew she was coming,” Martin stepped to my side. “Mankar stepped through just as she arrived.” He gripped my shoulder. “Now that I have this stone, she will finish what she set out to do. Recover that Amulet.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” Camillus turned to me. “Closing Oblivion Gates? Drumming up support for Countess Carvain?” When I nodded, he ran a hand over his close-cropped scalp. I noticed that it shook. Fatigue? “Ach, if anyone can get that trinket back, it’d be Julian!”

“We have faith in our Blade sister,” Jauffre said quietly. Camillus grinned at his implacable tone. “She has not let us down before now, and I doubt that she will.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” I complained softly, then turned to Martin. “Sire, we need to pull our wounded and dead off this field. If I have your permission, I’ll stay and help.”

“You are no longer pilus,” Camillus exclaimed. “Clearing the field is no longer your responsibility.”

“General,” I met his gaze, “I may not be Legion, but most of these soldiers are here because I asked for them. I’ve never abandoned my comrades, and I’m not about to start now.” Now I met Jauffre’s eyes. “How many of us Blades are left?”

He flinched. “I don’t have a final count yet,” he said finally. “But Fortis and Pelagius are gone, as is Jena. I’m searching for the others. Caroline is grievously injured and is now in Cirroc’s care. I’ve accounted for Arcturus, and now Ferrum, Roliand and Captain Steffan.”

I looked up at the sky. “That snow is going to hang around a while longer,” I mused. “It’s going to be hard to see much in these conditions.” I glanced at Ferrum. “If we burn those atronaches wherever we find our wounded and dead, it might help the others.”

“I don’t doubt you’ll want to heal wherever you can, either, Julian,” Jauffre nodded at me. “Sire?”

Martin looked down at the cloaked stone in his hand. “Yes, all of us still standing should look to the fallen as quickly as possible. No one wants to leave our friends and comrades out with the daedra.” He turned toward Blanco and reached for the horse’s saddle, then hesitated.

Blanco swung his head at Martin, then pricked his ears at me, but remained rooted to the ground. After a moment, Martin took his rein and held it out to me. “Thank you for the loan of your Witchhorse,” he said finally.

For a long breath I regarded the Septim. He stood at ease in the enameled cuirass, but I could see exhaustion in his eyes.

Part of me wanted to leave this gory carnage behind and find a private spot somewhere to mourn those friends I had lost. Part of me longed to remain with Captain Steffan and Roliand, with Inian and Merandil on this cold, dark field. And the old pilus that never left me kept whispering - it’s not over yet, Julian. You still have work to do, these men and women to look after.

Finally I shook my head. “No, Sire,” I finally refused the rein. “I’ll stay with my comrades and see them safely removed from this field. You are now the Emperor, it is only fitting that Blanco should carry you back to Bruma tonight.”

“I will not leave this field either until the last of our brave soldiers have been removed to safety,” Martin shook his head. “They made the ultimate sacrifice because I asked them to. It’s only right that I should see them returned to their comrades.” He dropped the rein. “Blanco can decide what he wants to do.”

Again I saw the discomfort in his face, the same discomfort I remembered so well from holding so many sigil stones. “There is one thing Blanco can do for you, Sire,” I said. “Stuff that stone in his saddlebag. He’ll not let any one but you or me near it.”

“It’s - “ Martin’s gaze unfocused slightly, “- unpleasant. Certainly not something I’d want to inflict on Blanco, not after what he did for me here.”

Blanco pawed at the ground, then stepped to Martin’s side and nudged the man’s elbow with an air of impatience. He sidled in such a way to present the pouch slung at the cantle. Martin chuckled voicelessly.

“I won’t argue with you, Witchhorse,” he said, swinging the flap open and slipping the subtly hissing stone within the depths of the saddlebag. He secured the buckles and patted Blanco on his arched neck. “Thank you once again, Blanco.” Martin sent that hazel gaze at me once more. “And thank you, Julian.” He turned and walked away, Baurus shadowing him.

Jauffre knelt beside Roliand and Steffan. As I watched him ruffle Sai’s fur, Blanco stepped to me and rubbed his head along my right arm. I ran my hand over his nose, then his neck and shoulders. He felt warm, slightly damp, but none the worse for wear. A moment’s inspection convinced me the blood on his legs and belly were from his enemies, not him. “Whatever you were doing out there, Blanco,” I whispered into one pricked ear, “good job. Thank you.”

He snorted softly, then turned and stepped into Martin’s footsteps. Somehow I knew Blanco would stay close to the Emperor until it was time to return to Bruma. In his own way he would keep danger from the last Septim as effectively as Baurus had done.

Jauffre still remained silent beside the two Blades. I watched as he jammed the tip of his sheathed dai-katana into the mud and leaned on it. Simultaneously Ferrum and I stepped forward and reached down to him as he struggled stiffly to his feet. He looked up at us and smiled wearily. “I am not so old, yet,” he croaked as he straightened up. “But thanks for the offer.”

“We’ve all needed a little help from time to time, sir,” I said.

“True enough, Julian,” he nodded and met my gaze. “We will spend the night in Bruma,” he continued. “Best to wait until daylight to bring our wounded and dead home to Cloud Ruler Temple. And I want Emperor Martin to rest before he starts preparing for that damned ritual. I doubt I’ll be able to keep him from beginning once we return.”

“I will have the Sixth remain here, as well,” Camillus reminded us of his presence. “We will rest in our camp until Martin Septim is ready to travel to the Imperial City. It is only fitting that Julian’s old unit escort him to his inheritance.” He turned and faded away into the snowflakes.

“Grandmaster,” I turned back to Jauffre. “Stay here with Ferrum by the fire. It’ll keep you warm. I’ll walk the field and look for the others.”

That Julian’s come through like she always does!
Just like she did in an alternate universe, much to the relief of the Bravil's Fighters Guild.

“By Shor’s cast iron globes!”
I think that trumps Shor's Bones any day!

“I will not leave this field either until the last of our brave soldiers have been removed to safety,”
Well said! Here is yet another example of how Martin has grown into the role of Emperor. Not to mention how much of the old pilus still remains within Julian...

Let me heartily echo my full agreement with SubRosa’s comments. Well done.

At the risk of sounding macabre, let me also say that I am glad you are lingering on this hallowed Plain of Caribou. Much has occurred here, and it is good that you are not rushing to move on. There will be time for that, but both Julian and Martin said it well that this is the time to tend their wounded. It was good to learn that Camillus, Baurus and Jauffre have survived, but disheartening to learn that Fortis, Pelagius and Jena did not. And distressing that Caroline is severely injured.

I have no doubt that the Great Sigil Stone will be safe in the care of Julian's Witchhorse until it is needed.

I love Camillus’ reaction when he finds the group. As Julian was searching the field, others were looking for her. It was great to see Baurus at Martin’s back again.

As has been said, I’m glad that you’re spending time with the characters in the battle’s aftermath. Martin’s words and demeanor were especially revealing, as were Julian’s thoughts as he attempted to hand over Blanco’s reins. So much came together out there in the snow.

...I have to admit, I did chortle a little at...



Having said that about the last part, I thought to meself, "Well, that sorts that then!"... ...

A brilliant chapter...As ever...

Love Blanco, he's majorly coolness!!... ...

Brilliant stuff...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

This line got a chuckle from me:



At first I thought the pouch held water or wine, something to revive Martin.

I too liked the dwelling on the aftermath of the battle. Great Write!