Not Alone (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 31

I sat silently, waiting. No way in Oblivion was I going to order my troops to try to attack the Imperials going uphill. We would wait until they came to us.

The silent standoff continued for several seconds, then an Imperial wearing the attire of a general appeared in the gap between two of the horses in the center, his own steed bedecked in the red of the Empire. He was too far away to make eye contact and we were both wearing full-faced helmets, but I had the distinct impression he was looking directly at me.

The Imperial general raised his sword and a group of six dragons shot into sight from below the rise, several letting loose battle cries as they hurtled toward us. Four roars sounded from behind the Stormcloak's own lines of cavalry as Odahviing, Silsivhir, Yolzahkfron, and the other dragon darted into the air to meet the assault.

Another roar sounded from somewhere behind the Imperial forces, then the whole line of horses started the march down the hill, churning the light sprinkling of snow as they gathered speed.

I rode Gormlaith out in front of the Stormcloaks, feeling every eye upon me. Doubtless some of them at least were expecting a morale-boosting speech. Something, maybe, that would make them feel better about the most likely impossible odds we were facing, or something that would set their blood on fire with eagerness to fight.

I had never been the type for speeches. Standing in the stirrups so every rider could see me, I felt the corners of my mouth twitch up into a smile. "Let's send some of these milk-drinking Imperials to Oblivion, shall we?" I drew my Daedric sword with my right hand, raising it toward the warring dragons in the sky.

As one the Stormcloaks followed my example, their weapons joining mine to create a bristling forest of steel.

"For Skyrim!" I roared, almost feeling a little bit of the power I used to Shout manifest itself in the words.

"For Skyrim!" To a man the Stormcloaks surged forward, following Gormlaith's lead to drive across the plains like a tidal wave.

I leaned low over Gormlaith's neck, feeling her powerful muscles surge beneath me as she flew across the plains at a full gallop.

Five.

I could see the light glinting off of the helms of the riders in front.

Four.

Every breath I took, every beat of my heart, somehow seemed louder than the thundering horses of both armies.

Three.

The fastest horses were starting to break away from the main pack, their riders raising weapons high.

Two.

I could see the determination in the Imperials' eyes.

One.

There was a confused sound of metal banging on metal, horses and men screaming, and war cries as the two armies collided. Trusting Gormlaith to make her own way through the sea of horses and fallen riders, I hacked viciously at anything wearing Imperial red, ignoring the occasional sword that bounced off of my Daedric armor. I could hear the screams of the Stormcloaks behind me that were not so lucky in their possession of armor as they were caught by a sword, mace, or battleaxe and cut to the ground and spurred Gormlaith forward with a shout, renewed vigor flooding my veins.

After the initial bloody and murderous charge, the battle divided up into several smaller skirmishes with groups of Imperials and Stormcloaks fighting each other all over the plains. I buried my Daedric sword in the eye of one Imperial woman and dropped the reins to set fire to another with a well-aimed Spell of Fireball, then reined in Gormlaith, gripping tightly with my knees as she snorted and danced nervously in a small circle. The Imperial infantry stood silently at the top of the rise, watching the battle unfold below and making no move to join the fray. The red-cloaked Imperial general sat calmly on his horse just in front of his army, and despite that I knew he couldn't see it, I sent a sneer his way. Despite that I knew he possessed at least enough experience to realize that this was just an attack designed to give the Imperials something to think about more than anything, I couldn't respect any leader who wouldn't fight along with his soldiers.