Omega - Chapter 7

• Posted by Andrew Shepherd November 13, 2015 - 835 views

  Omega - Chapter 7

  TOC

  There was an embarrassing silence around the round table in the Volkihar main hall the next morning. Lydia sat across from Thorne and the pair kept throwing shy glances and smiles at one another over breakfast. Serana looked at Maxim with an eyebrow raised and Fawkes grinned openly. It appears, thought Maxim, that Lydia has finally seen Thorne without his armor on...

  The meal was brief and the group gathered their belongings plus some extra supplies from Volkihar and congregated in the main hall.

  "So you are short a horse, Maxim." said Serana to the dragonborn.

  "And...?" replied Maxim tentatively.

  "Well, speed is what we need now. Obviously Thorne and Fawkes can keep up by running and I can summon Ferrus..."

  "Go on."

  "Well, Lydia can have your horse and you can ride Arvak." Maxim shifted uncomfortably. He was a battlemage, yes, but not a summoner or necromancer and those skills had never sat well with him, despite his lover being both.

  "I suppose I will have to," he replied reluctantly. "We are all going to have to do things in the coming weeks that we are uncomfortable with." Serana leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

  "We will get through this, my love." He smiled. Footsteps came from behind as Valerica and a tall, hooded vampire ascended the stairs to the balcony.

  "You need to get moving," she said. "Alectus here has just returned with the news that the enemy's flyers have been sighted moving north from the Throat." Alectus nodded.

  "We have also encountered enemy patrols wearing that armor," he said in a quiet voice, pointing at Thorne. "We managed to escape by casting fury on the leader and he turned on his own men." Maxim's eyes widened.

  "I didn't think they were susceptible to mind control," he exclaimed. "Both Fawkes and Thorne resisted the Thu'um."

  "But it did free them from thralldom," replied Serana. "They both have very strong minds as well. It may be that the enemies Alectus' group encountered were more susceptible."

  "Important information," said Valerica. "You must take it to Solitude. Now."

  The party said their goodbyes and left the castle, making their way quickly down to the wharf. An hour later they landed at the small jetty on the northern coast. A well-trained war-horse, Maxim's mount was nevertheless relieved to be away from the ominous castle. Maxim handed his reins to Lydia and she vaulted into the saddle. Then Maxim and Serana stood a ways apart and wove their arms in the air which shimmered in front of them and two skeletal horses warped into existence, one glowing red, the other blue. Serana mounted the red horse. Maxim felt the urge to pat Arvak's neck but at the same time felt a wave of revulsion as his gauntleted hand touched the glowing bone. With a breath he heaved himself into the saddle. Arvak made no sound. They set off at a gallop along the coast and up a trail into the mountains, heading east for Solitude.

  As the companions made their way along the snowy mountain trail they began to meet more and more travelers, often heavily laden with supplies, making their way towards Solitude. Many of them gave the party a wide berth and on more than one occasion a refugee would run in terror at the sight of Fawkes and the ghostly horses.

  After several hours of travel the group came to a paved Imperial road which turned south, down the mountainside. Eventually they came to a huge statue on a cliff face, a hooded woman holding a glowing orb aloft  between her hands. Maxim dismounted from Arvak who promptly vanished. Serana did the same. The dragonborn turned to his companions.

  "I must make my obeisance to Lady Meridia." the warrior said. He drew Dawnbreaker, which was glowing as bright as the sun and mounted the stairs to the shrine alone. After a time he returned with a dark look on his face.

  "Yes?" asked Serana expectantly.

  "She berated me about my relationship with you."

  "Of course she did. What else did she say?"

  "She actually shares your sentiments about what needs to be done about the invaders. Anything to be rid of them. I never thought I'd hear her say that."

  "Well, this invasion is unprecedented. Desperate measures are needed for desperate times." Maxim nodded.

  The group continued down the mountain road until they reached the main road to Solitude. Despite it's width, it was choked with refugees all heading towards the capital. People on horses, families in wagons, carts laden with food and possessions. Rubbish lined the road sides and flocks of crows and packs of stray dogs rooted through it. The companions were now forced to walk through the throng, although it kept its distance from Fawkes. Several travelers commented on how he was the biggest orc they had ever seen.

  Finally, in the distance, Maxim could make out the ramparts of Solitude's outer defenses. Tents were now lining the sides of the roads and the surrounding hills and they were assailed by the stench of garbage, raw sewerage and cooking food. Imperial patrols were struggling to keep the road clear and maintain order in the makeshift camps. One such was making its way towards them.

  "Halt!" barked the young Imperial captain at the head of the patrol. His shining steel armor looked as though it hadn't seen a minute of combat and the scraggly beard adorning his chin looked as though it hadn't seen a year of manhood. Some rich noble's son, no doubt, thought Maxim. The captain looked him and his friends up and down. "Where are you taking this... thing?" he said disdainfully, looking at Fawkes.

  "He is with me," replied Maxim calmly. "We have an urgent appointment at the Blue palace for the moot."

  "And who are you?" the captain snorted. "The Jarl of Arse-crack?" The soldiers behind him snickered. Lydia stepped forwards, eyes flashing.

  "This is Andreas Maxim, the dragonborn, you oaf!" she snarled. Maxim placed a cautionary hand on her steel pauldron.

  "And I am Alduin the World Eater, stupid woman!" he retorted. Lydia's hand went to her sword hilt and the soldiers tensed. Serana, Fawkes and Thorne remained motionless.

  "Back down, fool!" shouted a stern voice from behind. Riding an armored horse and flanked by praetorian guards rode a lean, fierce looking Nord imperial officer. "The dragonborn could offer you a thousand deaths before you even drew your sword." The captain paled

  "Legate Rikke," he stammered. "I had no..."

  "I need you to take care of a situation at the docks, captain." she said officiously, cutting him off. "Some fishermen are having an argument about ownership of a haul." Now the captain's cheeks flamed. "Now, captain!" she yelled. He gave a stiff salute and wheeled, marching back up the road, his men in tow. Maxim inclined his head.

  "Legate." he said simply.

  "Dragonborn," she replied with a salute. "I've been sent to find you. The Jarls have gathered and the moot is about to begin."

  "How many Jarls have come?" asked Maxim. Rikke's face grew dark.

  "Three. Balgruuf, Siddgeir and Idgrod Ravencrone."

  "That's all? What of the others?"

  "Igmund and Ulfric have fortified their capitals." said Rikke tightly. "We have had no word from Dawnstar, Winterhold or Riften." Maxim shook his head.

  "This is bad news. We must get to the Blue Palace immediately."

  Serana and Maxim both summoned their mounts again and the group made off at a gallop towards the capital, the praetorian guard roughly opening a path before them. The gates were thrown wide and the motley group came through at speed. What townspeople were left in the capital were forced to jump aside to avoid being run down. Most of the shops and houses had closed and the windows boarded up. It appeared that the whole of the Solitude legion was out patrolling the streets.

  At the end of the long cobbled avenue was the majestic blue palace. Maxim and Serana banished their horses and Lydia dismounted and handed a waiting guard the reins. Thorne and Fawkes strode with heavy thudding steps to the castle doors and the mutant was obliged to duck his head as he passed through. 

  The castle throne room was abuzz with chatter, debates and arguments as they entered the main hall. As the group ascended the stairs to the room the din quickly ceased as all eyes fixed on Thorne and the supermutant. Jarl Elisif sat upon the throne with General Tullius at one side. The Jarls and their thanes lined either wall, some holding cups of wine, others scrolls. The Harbinger of the companions, Sven Wolfclaw and his mate Aela stood leaning against a wall, sipping mead. Legate Rikke stepped into the center of the room and bowed to Elisif, then saluted to Tullius.

  "Andreas Maxim, the Dragonborn and his companions." she announced. There was silence for a moment. Then Maxim stepped forwards and bowed to the Jarl.

  "Greetings Jarl," he said in a commanding voice. "The hour is late, and we have much to discuss with little time to discuss it." Elisif blinked and her steward, Falk Firebeard stepped forward.

  "Dragonborn, there are formalities that must be observed first. This is the Jarl of Solitude you.."

  "To oblivion with formalities, Firebeard!" Maxim barked. "The fate of Tamriel depends on what we decide here today and how quickly we act!" Firebeard blanched as if he had been struck and the rest of the court shifted about uncomfortably. The thu'um was not just a weapon, but a tool of command. Maxim realized that it was now time for him to use it. Tullius was the first to reply.

  "Very well, Dragonborn. You were at the Throat with the first invasion," he glanced at Thorne and Fawkes. "Tell us what you know."

  Maxim went on to describe the battle on the mountain and his encounter with Thorne and then Fawkes. Now Tullius addressed the power-armored soldier.

  "Alright Thorne." he began. "The dragonborn vouches for you and that's enough for me. What exactly is the Enclave planning?" Thorne took a deep breath, his scarred features hardening further.

  "Nothing less than the colonization and enslavement of this world." The throne room erupted in a storm of gasps, curses and shouts. 

  "We will never surrender!" shouted Jarl Balgruuf. Several warriors clanged their swords and shields together and both Wolfclaw and Aela snarled.

  "You have no choice," said Thorne loudly over the commotion. "The Enclave's technology far surpasses your own. Before Maxim set me free I easily defeated one of your dragons. There are hundreds of troops like me, plus others like Fawkes and a multitude of other enemies that I could barely describe to you." The crowd murmured uncomfortably. "Finally," continued Thorne. "Their great starship, which orbits your planet, has the death-ray. A super weapon capable of leveling a mountain top. Imagine then, what it could do to this city if you continue to resist." There was a shocked silence from the room. "Or any city on this planet." he added.

  The room again burst into an uproar. Maxim let it continue for several minutes to let Thorne's words sink in. Then he raised his face to the domed ceiling of the throne room.

  "FUS!" he shouted. The dome rang like a giant bell sending dust and a rain of pigeon feathers and droppings down upon the crowd. Several courtier's fell, and others screamed or dropped their drinks. Wolfclaw and Aela were trying to hide grins behind their gauntlets. With slitted eyes, Tullius looked at the dragonborn then at Thorne.

  "What do you propose we do, soldier?" he asked in a gravelly voice. Thorne exhaled heavily.

  "The population of Skyrim needs to get underground. Caves. Mines. Any place deep enough to shield you from the death ray." There came several exclamations of disbelief.

  "There's no place big enough in all of Skyrim to hide that many people!" spluttered Tullius.

  "There is one," said Maxim. "Blackreach."

  Tullius stared uncomprehendingly. A soft femine voice spoke up from behind.

  "That place is cursed," said Sybille Stentor, the court's mage, from under a deep cowl. "It was the downfall of the Snow Elves. It is a place of death." Maxim shook his head.

  "No. I have been there. There is a city there that could house us and there is water and space for our people. The legion can hold back the Falmer and Dwarven automatons much easier than they could this death-ray."

  Harbinger Wolfclaw stepped forward.

  "The companions can act as an expeditionary force," he growled. "Some of us fight better in the dark." Aela grinned fiercely.

  "What about food? Shelter? Sanitation?" asked Tullius. "How long are we expected to stay there? Do you even have a plan to fight the invaders?"

  "I don't have all the answers," replied Maxim. "But I do know that if we don't move now, we may all be dead within a week."

  Igrod Ravencrone, the Jarl of Morthal stepped forward, her eyes milky white.

  "The dragonborn speaks truly," she said in a reedy, distant voice. "I see lands aglow in a green sea of death and slaves toiling under a bloody sky." The film over her eyes cleared. "We must make a move within a day." Once again, the room broke into a cacophony of angry, worried voices. Jarl Elisif rose from the throne.

  "What of the other nations?" All heads turned towards her. "Cyrodil, Hammerfell, Elsweyr and Blackmarsh? Alinor and Valenwood? Who will warn them?" There was silence for a second and then the tall first Emissary of the Thalmor, Elenwen, stepped into the center of the room.

  "We have a ship waiting at the Solitude docks, prepared and ready to sail for Alinor. We shall warn the rest of Tamriel." she shot Maxim a venomous glance. "Let no one say the Dominion will not do their part." She bowed stiffly to Elisif and swiftly left the palace, two Altmer guards in tow.

  Eventually, the moot agreed that the city and all of the people within and without must take all they could carry and make for the Great Lift at Alftand. They would take the road through Dragon Bridge to Morthal and from there make the perilous journey into the mountains where the lift could be found.

  All through the rest of that day and night, the city began to empty. Shops and houses were boarded up, wagons laden with food and supplies formed a long line in the streets of Solitude, escorted by guards and mercenaries, and the people, rich and poor lined up with the masses outside the city, ready to depart.

  The Companions of Jorvaskr had set off before dawn, led by the twins Farkas and Vilkas. Sven Wolfclaw approached Maxim as he stood on the front gate wall ramparts, watching the long column of torches move off in the dark on the road to Dragonbridge.

  "Harbinger," said Maxim to the towering Nord. "I thought you had already left?" Wolfclaw shook his blonde mane.

  "Hircine has spoken to me in a dream," he replied in his customary growl. "Aela and I are to accompany you. There is prey on your hunt that our lord wishes us to bring down." Maxim turned and grasped the big Nord's arm in a warrior's grip. "It will be my pleasure to hunt with you my friend." Wolfclaw laughed roughly and slapped Maxim hard on the back, then made his way down the stairs to the gate.

  Maxim watched as the horns of the imperial legion sounded and the Jarls and their entourages, under heavy military escort made off among the long line of refugees heading west along the imperial road. He then made his own way into the crowd, joining Wolfclaw and Aela down to the docks where the rest of his friends waited. They had requisitioned a large fishing vessel to ferry them across the narrow strait between Solitude and the southern fens of Haafingar. The plan was to take a short-cut through the marshes to Morthal and secure it before the vanguard of the legion and the first refugees came through. From there they would accompany them into the Stonehills mountain range to the lift and provide support in the transition to the ancient Dwemer city.

  As Maxim and the two warriors picked their way through the crowd to the road down to the dock the dragonborn pondered on the many dangers of his plan. The journey into the mountains would be extremely hazardous with so many people. The wagons and carts would not be able to traverse the narrow mountain paths, and many women, children and elderly would be exposed to both the elements and the threat of attack with defenses thinly spread. The lift would not take more than ten people at a time and there was a huge amount of supplies needed to be shifted down to Blackreach as well. But he could think of no other way. And time was running short.

  Once on the southern shore the company of heroes mounted their horses and made their way swiftly into the fens, guided by Maxim. Overhead, dawn stained the wisps of cloud pink. The marshes were eerily quiet as the group traveled in silence. No birds, insects or beasts of the swamp were to be seen or heard. They reached Morthal by midday. It too was dead quiet. No signs of looting or damage to any of the houses that were chained, barred and boarded. The travelers created a wide perimeter around the town, patrolling for signs of trouble. But all through the afternoon, the misty surrounds were still. As if in anticipation.

  It was dusk when the imperial vanguard reached the town along with the first and fittest of the refugees. Some stopped to eat and rest for a time, while others were eager to continue. The Jorvaskr companions had been through much earlier than Maxim's group and they had marked the path into the hills with torches and white stones. Eventually, the heavily armed escort of the Jarls reached the town and general Tullius bade Maxim and his company to join them.

  "So far so good, dragonborn," he called down from his mount as Maxim strode to meet him.

  "So far general," he replied. "But its too quiet. Something bothers me badly about that. The marshes are always rich with sound and life."

  "Perhaps its the amount of foot traffic coming through?" suggested the general. "The wildlife would shy away from it I suppose." Thorne had come up behind Maxim in his clanking power armor.

  "Our enemies are surely watching," he said gravely. "I expect an attack before too much longer." The general squinted at him. 

  "I hope you are wrong, soldier," he replied. "For all our sakes."

  It came after nightfall.

  Maxim's group had accompanied Tullius and the Jarls along the dim torch-lit trail into the mountains. The snow was thick either side of the trampled ground and hoar-frosted trees sparkled in the light. They had just passed the stonehills mining camp when, in the distance, came a low thudding roar. There were wails of terror from the procession of people and the horses whinnied and pranced skittishly. Dragons! many people cried.

  "No," said Thorne in a low, ominous tone. "Vertibirds." 

  The thudding roar became louder, into a more distinct chopping sound that beat upon the ears like giant war drums. People threw themselves down into the snow, cowering.

  "They attack from the air!" yelled Thorne, his voice hugely amplified through his helmet. "General, your soldiers must shield the civilians from incoming projectiles. Their steel may afford them some protection." Tullius nodded and shouted the command to his officers who passed it down the line. The legionnaires created a turtle formation of shields over large groups of people, but there were too few soldiers to cover them effectively. The chopping sound grew louder and bright lights appeared over the hills, racing towards them.

  "Mages!" bellowed Maxim. "Cover the legionnaires from behind with your wards. They will stop the energy blasts!" The legionnaires held their shields aside and the court mages and hedge-wizards slipped in through the gaps to stand behind, their hands raised and glowing. Sybille Stentor and Morthal's mage, Fallion stood beside Maxim.

  "Sybille and I will re-animate the dead to fight for us," the dark mage said to the dragonborn. Maxim swallowed his distaste and nodded in acknowledgement. 

  "Maxim," said Thorne who was standing to his left. "Fawkes and I must get on the ground. If the Enclave sees us alive they will attack immediately."

  "Very well," Maxim replied. "What else can we expect?"

  "The Enclave wants to take us alive. They will give us terms of surrender and time to decide. We will have to strike swiftly." The dragonborn exhaled heavily.

  "Alright Thorne, we will wait for your signal." Thorne and Fawkes lay face down on the ground and Maxim and his friends stood in a circle around them to block the pair from view.

  The vertibirds roared in overhead, the twin spinning rotors kicking up snow and drowning out the screams of the people. The flying craft formed a wide circle around the column of refugees, their bright lights beaming down, blinding them. Thorne carefully rose to a crouch to survey their enemies.

  "Six gunboats," he said to Fawkes. "Each with six troops. And two transports, each with ten. All in power armor." Fawkes risked a glance upwards to see a nearby vertibird hovering overhead, the gunner manning a huge mini-gun which swept back and forth at the ready.

  "Damn," the mutant rumbled. "Too many of them. Were gonna get slaughtered." Thorne unslung Volendrung from his back.

  "Not today my friend. When I say, give me a boost." 

  "People of Skyrim!" a huge voiced blared over loud-speaker from the nearest bird. "You are outmatched and outgunned. Throw down your weapons and raise your arms in the air and we will not harm you." The civilians began screaming louder but were silenced by the disciplined legion troops. "Your leaders are to step forwards to be transported to our main base." The two transports had landed and unloaded their troops who were marching towards Maxim's group and the Jarls.

  "Over my dead body!" shouted Balgruuf. Several others echoed the sentiment. The loudspeaker continued.

  "The rest of you will be escorted overland to Windhelm to be processed." Damn, cursed Maxim inwardly. UJlfric had fallen. "You have one minute to comply. Fail to cooperate and we are authorized to eliminate you."

  "Stand firm!" bellowed Tullius to the legion and guards. "Wait for our signal!" Maxim turned to Serana, Wolfclaw and Aela who were standing nearby, their eyes fixed on the vertibirds. They turned to Maxim.

  "Its time." he said. The vampire and two warriors suddenly doubled up and began to shimmer and swell. Fur began to sprout on the rapidly distorting limbs and bodies of the two warriors and with great guttural growls they transformed into hulking werewolves. Then Serana screamed in a blood-curdling cry as wings began to protrude from her back and her form became a nightmarish tower of fangs and talons, each holding a red ball of energy.  Nearby soldiers and civilians drew back in horror. Maxim threw back his head.

  "MUL QAH DIIV!" he cried in a deafening shout. A burning aura of energy formed around the warrior in the shape of a horned dragon. He drew dawnbreaker from its sheath and spellbreaker from his back. Everywhere now weapons were unsheathed, shields raised, wards erected.

  "You have twenty seconds to comply!" shouted the loudspeaker on the nearest vertibird.

  Thorne stood, raising Volendrung and Fawkes rose with him.

  "Try and grab a minigun, buddy." he said to the mutant. Fawkes crouched and cupped his hands.

  "Go Thorne!" he roared. Thorne took a great, power-assisted leap into the mutant's huge hands and Fawkes launched the soldier through the air at the vertibird.

  "What the FU..!?" yelled the loudspeaker as the hammer wielding soldier came hurtling towards the cockpit. The pilot pitched the craft backwards to avoid the blow but it was too late. Fawkes' aim had been true and Thorne brought Volendrung down with all of his might. The giant hammer smashed through the cockpit, pulping the pilot in a red spray and continued crashing down through the fuselage and out the underside in a shower of sparks and jagged metal. The vertibird continued its backwards plunge and plowed tail-first into the snow. One engine burst into flame. Thorne landed perfectly on his feet and went into an immediate sprint towards the downed craft, Volendrung in full swing. The gunner had just manage to scramble from the burning wreckage when the hammer took his head clean off. Maxim re-slung the weapon and ripped the minigun from its mount. Then he spun up the barrel, lined it up with the next closest vertibird and unleashed a barrage of fiery death upon it.

  All of this had happened so quickly that none of the other Enclave forces had responded. It took Thorne ripping fire through the second bird and it exploding in mid air before they retaliated.

  The four other craft aligned themselves over Maxim's group and focused their fire on Thorne, who continued to train the heavy weapon upon them. Maxim held spellbreaker over Thorne's head and chest as he took cover, the shield deflecting both laser blasts and bullets. But some still made it through, burning and tearing. Fawkes rose up and pitched his sledge at the closest bird. It impacted on the cockpit screen, shattering it, and the craft lurched sideways. The injured pilot managed to regain control meters from the ground at which point Wolfclaw and Aela both took a sprinting leap towards the open side of the machine. The werewolves were a fury of claws and jaws inside the vertibird, and bodies and armored limbs came flying down from it, the bird spinning wildly. One of the werewolves tore the minigun from its mount with its jaws and both leaped free as it crashed to the ground. Aela ran to Fawkes and dropped the gun at his feet.

  "YEESSS!" the supermutant bellowed as he grabbed the gun and trained it on the next vertibird. But now they had learned their lesson. They had risen high into the sky and began to rain rockets down onto the defenders. Bodies were hurled about in the fiery explosions and soldiers and civilians alike were blown apart. The heavy armor and shields protected some of the defenders from the indirect damage but it had now largely descended into Fawkes' predicted slaughter.

  Now the advancing troops from the transports had reached striking distance and in a long line simultaneously began to fire into the crowd, beams burning, shells shredding. Thorne and Fawkes had continued to fire but both were dented and bleeding from multiple wounds and were beginning to stagger under the assault.

  "Maxim!" gasped Thorne painfully. "We need air support or we are all dead!" Maxim was hunkered over a wounded Lydia and Serana had transformed into a red mist and hovered nearby, helpless to do more. Sybille Stentor was hunched over Fallion trying to staunch the blood from a grievous wound and the two werewolves had bolted to the flanks of the troops, trying to engage them at close range to slow them. Air support! thought Maxim desperately. Odahviing will not come, he was too badly wounded on the Throat of the World. Then it dawned on him. He rose and faced the oncoming line of Enclave troops.

  "DURNEHVIIR!!" he screamed at the advancing soldiers. They were thrown back by a blinding sphere of purple light on the ground in front of them as the huge semi-skeletal dragon warped into existence.

  "QAHNAARIN!" he roared. "Finally you allow me to do the Ideal Master's bidding!"

  "Durnehviir!" shouted Maxim. "Destroy their air machines!"

  "With pleasure, Qahnaarin!" he bellowed as he launched himself into the sky. The vertibirds now turned their assault on the dragon, but their weapons were useless. He took the underside of one of the gunships in his jaws and then smashed the vehicle into the nearest bird, throwing some of the Enclave troops down to the ground were they smashed into broken steel and bone. Durnehviir let the gunship go and the two birds dropped from the sky and impacted on the ground in a great ball of flame. The undead dragon then turned his attention to the fallen.

  "DIIL QOTH ZAAM!" he shouted. The dead Enclave soldiers rose to their feet, some without limbs, some heavily torn and dented. Some picked up weapons and began firing into their former brethren, others simply charged headlong into the line.

  The final gunship and the two transports rose and retreated back to the south, away from the catastrophe that had suddenly befallen them. Taking advantage of the chaos, Tullius launched himself from behind the cover of the Jarl's wagons and into his still standing horse's saddle.

  "Legionnaires," he bellowed. "Form up!" The remaining soldiers quickly formed ranks, holding shields in front and swords beside. "Charge!!" The line of imperial soldiers began a measured run towards the embattled enclave troops.

  Maxim rose and raised sword and shield.

  "WULD!" he shouted and in a blur he had engaged the troops, dawnbreaker shearing through power armor, blood spurting. Serana had reformed and now, hovering above the ground on beating wings, raised a talon and with unseen power dragged an Enclave soldier through the air and into her hands, where she drained the life from him. Then she dropped to the ground, hurled the body into a nearby soldier and set upon him with slashing claws. The Enclave soldiers were now forced into hand to hand combat and drew shrieking spinning blades from their sides to slash at their assailants. One loomed above Serana as she fed but a great clawed hand caught his wrist and ripped the arm from his body. Screaming in pain, the soldier was slammed into the ground as Aela ripped his chest plate open and the chest underneath.

  Thorne and Fawkes now joined the fray, Volendrung smashing broken bodies into the air and Fawkes' fists smashing bent metal into the ground.

  It was over in a matter of minutes. The remaining Enclave soldiers attempted to flee but Durnehviir swept down upon them, snapping them in half with his jaws.

  Maxim and Thorne removed their helmets from sweaty heads and surveyed the battlefield. Crumpled metal forms were surrounded by piles of Legion troops. Burning crashed vertibirds lit the scene in a hellish orange light. Scores had been killed or maimed. Many civilians had fled into the night. Their chances in the wild were not good.

  But against terrible odds, they had been victorious. Serana and the werewolves had returned to their normal forms and were walking side by side towards Maxim, who had returned to Lydia. Her wounds would heal. She had been lucky.

  Maxim turned to Thorne who was crouched over Lydia, helping her drink water from a skin. He placed his gauntlet on the soldier's damaged pauldron.

  "Well fought, brother." said the dragonborn. Thorne looked up and began to smile. And then it turned to a look of horror. The air above began to crackle and a titanic green flash lit the night sky as bright as day.

  "NO!!" screamed Thorne.

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