Not Alone (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 31

I gazed down at my hand, clenching my fingers tightly into a fist and watching the way the dull light glinted off of the bracers of my Daedric armor. The helmet of the same material rested on Gormlaith's saddle in front of me, the empty eyes of the piece of armor staring back at me.

Pulling my attention away from my armor, I glanced to the left, then back to the right, once more running my eyes over the ranks of Stormcloak riders from where I sat at the front of the army. Some sat on their horses' backs sharpening weapons, the shriek of stone against steel permeating the air. Some sat as I had, gazing down at their saddles or helmets. Others sat tall and straight, watching the rise of earth that marked the final descent out of the mountainous region to the south, knowing that it was over this formation that the enemy would appear.

"Do you think the Imperials know we're here?" Ralof asked quietly so only I would hear.

"I have no doubt of it. I'm sure they have dragons scouting ahead, and in this weather one could have easily spotted us without us noticing it." Of course, we had our own dragon scout, one with instructions to return and give the signal when the Imperials were about half a mile away.

Ralof fingered the blade of the smaller axe he fought with while on horseback, testing the edge. "Let them come. This is the kind of battle I like best. Each army knows the exact position of the other, and yet they meet equally in the middle. None of this underhand, ambush business today."

Personally I could care less if the battle was fought on unequal terms as long as those terms were on my side and my forces won, but I didn't say so.

A dragon appeared on the horizon and I squinted at it, just making out the blue banner of the Stormcloaks hanging around its neck. Silsivhir made one or two graceful and entirely unnecessary circles, no doubt designed to keep the entire army in suspense, then roared twice.

The Imperials were coming.

A flurry of activity swept through the riders as helmets were donned, weapons were gripped, and last prayers to the divines were whispered.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the memories of past battles rush into my mind. I imagined swinging my swords, smoothly beheading an Imperial. I practically felt myself duck to the side, barely avoiding a poorly aimed arrow and taking out the owner of the projectile with a well-timed fireball. My arm automatically twitched to deflect an imaginary sword before I plunged both swords into the man's chest.

I slowly opened my eyes as my heart beat faster, pounding like a herd of horses running wild. Fire ignited in my blood and caused me to shiver slightly as a thrill of energy ran up my spine. This must be where that saying about feeling most alive when you're about to die made sense.

I was still exhausted from not having enough sleep, my back still twinged a bit from where Brynjolf had rammed me into the door, and my head still ached slightly from the aftereffects of using the Death Shout, but as the desire to fight rose in my mind those little pesky details ceased to matter.

Absolute silence reigned over the waiting soldiers as the sound of boots crunching snow was carried toward us by the gentle breeze. I met Ralof's eyes, and he nodded slightly. I nodded back and slipped on my own helmet, satisfied that if one of us fell in this battle, the other would rest easy in the knowledge that he had said goodbye.

First one horse came into view above the rise, the beast and its Imperial rider halting at the top. Like a spilled bucket of water spreading across hard ground the rest of the mounted Imperials fanned out to span the width of the rise, their horses chafing at their bits and stamping.