Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[Acadian]

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?

[ghastley]

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.

[Grits]

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!

[haute ecole rider]

@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.

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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 . . .

[SubRosa]

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.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 20 2012, 10:45 PM

[Grits]

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!

[Acadian]

'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.

[haute ecole rider]

@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 . . .

[SubRosa]

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!

[Acadian]

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’.

[Grits]

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...

[McBadgere]

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*... ...

[haute ecole rider]

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."

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 8 2012, 11:48 PM

[SubRosa]

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.

[Acadian]

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!

[Grits]

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!

[McBadgere]

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... ...

[haute ecole rider]

@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."

[SubRosa]

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.

[Cardboard Box]

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]