4E 201, Road in Eastmarch, Six days later
Kiera Fendalyn
The soft rhythm of hooves on dirt echoed as Kiera, Gerron, and Serana rode side by side. The air was crisp, with the occasional whisper of snow carried down from the Throat of the World.
That was her destination, and by Stendarr did it look intimidating. So tall it was that the peak of the mountain went above the clouds, Kiera couldn't imagine what the harsh winds would be like that high up. The stories said that there were ten thousand steps that had to be made from Ivarstead to reach High Hrothgar, the home of the Greybeards.
It was meant to be the first trial, to cull anyone unworthy from ascending and learning the tongue of the dragons.
They had departed from the Hall of the Vigilants six days ago and now were well into Eastmarch territory. Kiera breathed in the cool evening air.
This was the part of the Vigilant life she had loved. The long travels through well-trodden roads, the unique and sprawling views, the cool night air. Skyrim's lands may be wrought in war, but it remained breathtaking in the rare moments like these.
Doing it with companions made it even better. She glanced at the new addition of the group. Serana, cloaked and hooded against the sun that had only recently dipped below the trees.
She was a surprisingly good conversationalist once she went past the whole pure-blooded vampire thing. Kiera had learned that Serana was quite an accomplished mage, with near mastery of the Destruction, Conjuration, and Illusion schools of magic.
It was initially quite difficult for her to see Serana as the witty and sarcastic woman that she was outside of the vampiric exterior. But she has learned her lesson with Vermithor and the Companions that not everyone deserves to be stuck with that kind of prejudice.
Speaking of the bronze dragon, Kiera wondered what happened to the dragonstone? Vermithor mentioned a name called Paarthunax, which she assumed was another dragon. Kiera hadn't heard of any dragon on dragon battles lately, how are they doing in their attempts to combat Alduin, she wondered.
Their journey through Skyrim was also wrought with many troubles. They had to fight off a number of wolves, bears, and even a few trolls. They were never caught off guard due to Bronze, the mechanical owl being their eyes in the sky.
Not to mention the numerous bandits that are running around doing whatever they want.
"Give us all your valuables!"
Four men emerged from behind a small outcropping, weapons drawn. Bandits, of course. Ragged armor and faulty weapons. Kiera counted two rusty axes, a chipped sword, and a wooden spear that looked ready to snap in half from its own weight.
Kiera merely gave them a deadpan stare.
What made these people think they were easy targets? Did they not see her clothes that obviously marked her as a Vigilant of Stendarr? Or perhaps the seven foot tall, ebony clad, mountain of a man with a magical hammer on his back?
Even Serana, despite her modest garb, had an air of unshakable poise and confidence.
She pitied them.
Gerron turned to her casually. "Do you wanna handle this or should I?"
Kiera was busy chewing on a piece of dried beef and just shrugged. "You go ahead."
"Got it."
Four thuds and a heartbeat later, it was over.
"You two have a very amusing dynamic." Serana muttered amusedly, dismounting and approaching one of the corpses. "You wouldn't mind if I feed, do you? It's been years and I'm quite parched."
Gerron just shrugged before looking at Kiera.
She hesitated for a second before shaking her head. In the end, it was a necessity. She'd much rather let Serana do it on these bandits rather than innocents.
A few hours passed as they continued eastward. The moons, Masser and Secunda, had begun their ascent, bathing the land in silver and crimson hues. They approached a bend in the road when Serana pointed at something.
"What is that?"
Kiera followed her gaze. Perched upon a small rise near the road was a ring of ancient stones, surrounding a low mound of some kind.
"I have no idea," Kiera admitted. She looked to Gerron, who's usually a lot more learned regarding these things, only to see his gaze a bit clouded, as if he was seeing something that Kiera couldn't.
Not a heartbeat later, it disappeared, and he spoke. "They're dragon burial mounds. Places where dragons were laid to rest in the Merethic Era. There's one that's quite close to Shor's Stone. I used to play on it when I was a kid."
He looked directly at Kiera then. "An interesting thing about them is that dragons do not truly die once their mortal body is slain. Their souls linger and remain dormant. If my theory is correct, it should mean that you could devour the soul of the deceased dragon that's laying here."
Kiera's mouth went dry. She dismounted slowly, her feet crunching in gravel as she approached the ring of stones. There was a hum in the air, faint at first, like the vibration of a distant string being plucked. Then it deepened—more sensation than sound, a trembling in her bones.
She could feel it, a similar rush of power that she received after the Dragon Hunt. Color spilled from the mound in long, ethereal strands—crimson, gold, and a deep cobalt. They coiled in the air before rushing toward her. She cried out as they pierced her chest, filling her with heat and raw, unbridled power.
And with it, rage.
She fell to a knee, her breath labored.
"Kiera!" Gerron caught her before she hit the ground, "What happened?!"
Serana appeared at her other side. "She's burning up!"
"I—I'm fine," Kiera managed, her voice ragged. "It's just… the soul. It's getting a little too much. I gain their strength, but also something else."
"Could it be their senses or instincts?" Serana raised an eyebrow. "Souls are quite nifty little things and are said to hold much more than a creature's power. You're absorbing the dragon's very essence. Its senses, its emotions, its memories."
She spoke softly then. "It's quite similar to when I first turned into a vampire, there was a period of time where I needed to get used to the new sensations being a vampire brings. Could it be the same for you?"
Kiera was quiet for a moment, the worst of the pain ebbing. She looked up at them through sweat-soaked lashes.
"A dragon's senses are much sharper than regular humans." Gerron added with a frown. "Perhaps I can help you, we can add daily spars to our routine. Get you used to your new strengths. You'll need to relearn your limits."
"But I could hurt you by accident." Kiera said with worry.
Gerron just chuckled. "I can take it, don't worry. Besides, you're an accomplished healer aren't you? Just fix me up if you accidentally break anything."
"I can also help." Serana said. "There's no doubt that your magicka levels also took a steep rise after absorbing a dragon's soul. I can help tutor you in balancing your spells to not overload it accidently, as well as getting you used to your enhanced senses. I have them too after all."
Kiera looked between them—these two who had no obligation to stay by her side. The fact that one of them was a vampire, standing with a Vigilant of Stendarr was enough to make her laugh, if she weren't still shaking.
Instead, she smiled through the sting in her eyes. "Thank you. Both of you."
Gerron grinned. "What are friends for?"
…
4E 201, Windhelm
Galmar Stone-Fist
"We have yet to receive word from Frorkmar regarding the Vigilants," Galmar said with a frown, his voice low and gruff with concern. "I fear the courier carrying their reply was intercepted."
"I'm not surprised." Ulfric replied at the war table, his hands resting firmly on either side of the map stretched across its surface. The map was cluttered with carved wooden markers—blue for Stormcloaks, red for Imperials, and black for unknown threats. Too many black ones lately.
"Information is as powerful a weapon as any sword," Ulfric continued, his gaze tracing the river routes and mountain passes of the Pale. "Tullius is no fool, he has seen fit to blind our intelligence as much as he could. News of the other holds has certainly slowed in recent weeks. It is a good idea, I admit. To sever our veins before we can strike. But none of it would matter as long as the heart still beats."
Galmar glanced up at the man before him. His friend. His Jarl. The true High King. The Jagged Crown resting atop Ulfric's head suited him. It made him look every bit the King Galmar believed he was.
"Jorleif returned just days ago from Shor's Stone," Galmar reported. "Said the troubles are dealt with. Brought back a good supply of weapons and armor—some of it quality Ebony."
Ulfric nodded. "Good. We'll need it."
"He also spoke of something else."
Ulfric turned his head slightly. "And that is?"
"Shor's Stone was attacked by bandits." Galmar's voice was tight. "A hundred strong, and well-armed."
Ulfric's eyes narrowed. "A hundred? How did such a force remain hidden?"
"The lands of Skyrim do not lack ruined castles or ancient tombs to hide in." Galmar said grimly. "The war is turning the holds into chaos. Displaced cutthroats prowling the countryside. They pillage villages and claim roads as their own. This is no longer just rebellion against the Empire. Skyrim is bleeding, Ulfric."
Ulfric let out a slow breath. "Aye. I've heard it before. But if we peel away fighters from the front to police the wilds, we risk losing the war entirely."
"It speaks ill of your rule to let your people suffer," Galmar said, not unkindly, but firmly.
Ulfric's jaw clenched. He paced for a moment, then turned with resolve in his eyes. "Windhelm has a standing garrison of three hundred Stormcloaks and five hundred city guards. I'll send Brunwulf out with a hundred men—skilled riders and lightly armored to move fast. He'll move between Fort Amol, Greenwall, and Riften. Clean the roads between them."
Galmar grunted approvingly. "The Civil War's in a stalemate. Rorikstead was burned to the ground, and Whiterun's been attacked by dragons. We've been lucky none have flown east into our skies. And now we have this business with the Dragonborn and some... so-called Dragonslayer."
Ulfric raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, a sound split the sky.
It was a primal roar that sent chills down Galmar's spine. The kind that made grown men forget they were warriors and remember they were prey.
Galmar and Ulfric's eyes locked for only a moment. Then they moved.
They rushed out the Palace of Kings to see mayhem, six of the Snow-Hammers fell in step behind them—the royal protectors of the Jarl. They were all clad in full plate armor, tabards of blue and brown with the bear of Eastmarch etched on the cloth, a fur cloak covering their forms to protect them from the cold.
These were the best warriors Windhelm had to offer, serving as Ulfric's personal retinue and bodyguards.
When they came outside, it was to a city in chaos.
People screamed and scattered through the main square. The sound of bells clanged in alarm, and horns blared atop the ramparts. The scent of smoke and something... unnatural hung in the air—sulfur, perhaps, but tinged with copper.
A runner nearly stumbled into Galmar, breathless. "Jarl Ulfric! A dragon is sighted! From the east! It came down from the mountains and burned the harbor! Our fleet is gone!"
Ulfric didn't hesitate. "Man the battlements and rouse the Stormcloaks! Evacuate the citizens to the inner keep and the Palace of Kings, now!"
Galmar moved to follow his Jarl, remaining half a step behind him. The city guard were running around heeding Ulfric's orders while Stormcloaks were rushing up the walls. The screams and roars of the dragon became more pronounced.
They were half-way up the battlements when a familiar voice called out.
"Jarl Ulfric!"
Brunwulf Free-Winter rounded the corner, screaming himself hoarse. Gray haired and battle-scarred, Brunwulf was a former veteran of the Great War and is now serving as Captain of the Windhelm Guard, as loyal as he was noble hearted—having disagreements with Ulfric on certain policies.
"What of the Gray Quarter?! They're the easternmost district in the city! They'll be the first to burn!"
Ulfric paused in the steps—only for a heartbeat. "My order still stands. They are citizens of Windhelm and are adhered to the same protections. Take what guards you can and lead them to safety Brunwulf."
The older man slapped a hand to his chest, respect gleaming in his eyes. "Yes, my Jarl!"
When they reached the top of the outer walls, Galmar felt his breath catch.
Below them, the great ships of Windhelm's navy—fishing vessels, trade barges, and warships alike—burned in the harbor. The dragon soared above the waters, wings wide enough to cast a shadow across the bay. Its neck was long and spindly, with scales the color of blood. Two curved horns jutted from its brow as its mouth glowed red as if molten rock burned inside its throat, revealing hundreds of dagger-like teeth that could crunch through even the strongest of steel.
It was the single most impressive and terrifying thing Galmar had seen in his long life.
"Gods preserve us..." Galmar muttered.
"Ready the ballistas!" Ulfric barked. "Archers, to your marks!"
Windhelm was a fortress city, built to withstand sieges. The walls and towers held many siege weapons capable of bringing the beast to the ground. Catapults and burning oil were useless against a dragon, but ballistas capable of launching massive bolts as tall and thick as trees should do the trick.
The siege engineers rushed into motion, turning the weapons upward—but they were too late.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
In one moment, the dragon was above the bay a few hundred yards from the outer walls. In the next, it was past the battlements and was inside the city proper. Its immense wings crashed against rooftops as it landed.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!"
Flames unlike any Galmar had seen before swept through the streets. Not orange nor yellow, but an eerie crimson color that clung to stone and steel alike, burning through walls and melting cobblestones.
"The ballistas can't turn inward, my Jarl!" one of the guards cried. "We're defenseless!"
Galmar grimaced. It was a precaution in case any invading force managed to take over the outer walls. All siege weapons were fixed to point outwards so that they wouldn't be used on the defenders in the inner city. It seems that decision had now bit them in the arse.
"No, we're not," Ulfric said grimly. "Keep that beast's attention on us, buy time for the citizens to escape. Archers surround it and loose at will! Stormcloaks, with me!
He took one step forward, raised his voice to the sky, and shouted. "MID VUR SHAAN!"
And there it was. The famed war cry of the north. Called by many as the Battle Fury of the Thu'um. Ulfric's blessing to the Sons of Skyrim.
Galmar felt it immediately—the tingle of strength in his arms, the clarity of purpose in his mind. Around them, every warrior stood taller. Their strings drew faster.
A single man unleashed four arrows in the span of a second, and they had over three hundred archers moving in.
That day, the air sang with the whistling of a thousand arrows.
Like a rain of steel, the volley pelted the dragon. Most bounced uselessly on its hide—but they'd found a weak point. The wings. The thin, veined membranes were vulnerable. Arrows pierced them, and the beast shrieked in pain, staggering slightly.
Galmar and Ulfric took up bows themselves, unleashing arrow after arrow. They were much better with axe and sword respectively, but until that damn dragon landed in a place where their weapons could reach it, the bow would have to do.
The dragon roared again and spun in the air, sending masonry flying as it clipped a tower. It rose, a river of crimson fire still spurging from its maw, and plunged downward again toward the inner wall, crushing the guards beneath its weight.
Galmar clenched his jaw and notched another arrow. Markarth's dwarven bows would've helped now. He realized. They were better made, with a much higher range than the regular bows most fletchers could make. He made a mental note—if they survived this, he'd get a few.
…
AN: Turns out, gobbling up dragon souls have certain side effects, who knew?
The assault on Windhelm was fun to write. I hope you enjoyed Ulfric's use of the Battle Fury shout. The Thu'um is one of the most busted things in the universe of Elder Scrolls, hope that's properly portrayed.
As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 33 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!