Not Alone (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

I had fully expected for the Imperials to attack either when dawn came or the rain stopped, but I was very quickly proved incorrect on both counts. By the time dawn came around not only had the downpour not lessened even the slightest bit, but the Imperials hadn't even gathered on the plains beyond the farmhouses yet. They must have made camp near where the cavalry battle took place. Had we hurt their forces that much? Or were they still playing their waiting game?

I opened the door of Breezehome, then stood just inside the doorway, watching the water puddle up in the street, then turn into little rivulets and run off to meet the rushing water in the stream. Why did this scene feel familiar?

Because I've done this before, I realized suddenly, my vague memories solidifying. I had stood in this very position watching the rain splash down onto this very street with my mind in much the same gloom as it was in now.

Except then, all I had to worry about was the rain and how it would affect my journey to Riften to inform Delvin that I'd finished his job. Now, an army was poised outside the gates of Whiterun, waiting for some unknown signal to attack.

I tried to picture having nothing more on my mind than what ruin to explore or which job to take from Vex, but my present problems kept driving out any memory of a time without them.

For instance, what in the names of all the Divines were the Imperials doing? I just didn't understand what they were waiting for. I had anticipated an attack at dawn, or midmorning at the latest even with this downpour. It was now late afternoon. It was like the blasted Imperials were taking every chance they could to delay any attack on Whiterun, and the longer this dragged on the more I was convinced Miraak was planning something really, really bad.

It wasn't just me, either. The Stormcloaks passing the gates into Whiterun occasionally sent dark glances at the wall, sometimes turning to mutter something to a fellow soldier. The sentries atop the walls were nervous, stepping uncomfortably from foot to foot and watching the distant horizon keenly. Even the dragons appeared uneasy, occasionally kneading their claws on their chosen rooftops and dislodging bits of roofing.

Everyone hated this lull and just wanted for it to end, for the Imperials to attack so any thought could be lost in the madness of battle.

Speaking of the madness of battle, there was one aspect to this war I had managed to almost completely forget. I had handed the missives off to the couriers... two days ago, now, so the one heading to Riften with my acceptance of Maven's offer of mercenaries ought to reach her either today or tomorrow. Of course, after she received the letter she would still have to contact the Hammerfell mercenaries and give them the go-ahead, and that was assuming she had actually had them lined up to hire beforehand. If, on the other hand, she had decided to wait for me to accept before even finding a mercenary group to negotiate with, I could expect them to get here in maybe... eight to ten days. Eight would assume that Maven sent an offer to them that would take three days to get there, then they took a day to decide to accept, then started out the next day and only took three days to get to Whiterun. Ten days was more likely, but hopefully Maven had already set up the deal and had someone ready to ride for Hammerfell. If she did, I could expect the mercenaries to arrive in as little as six days, which, while better than eight, could still be too long.

I knew Maven would keep her deal, and whether the mercenaries got to Whiterun in time to help or not, we would just have to wait and see. What I could do was actually inform the captains, Cerawyn, and Jarl Vignar that they were coming, a little but rather important task that had completely slipped my mind.