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4E 201, Haafingar Hold
Kiera Fendalyn
They flew over the lands of Hjaalmarch and Haafingar, cutting a swift silhouette across the northern sky. Beneath them, the twin holds stretched out in wintry splendor—snow-covered pines, winding rivers locked in ice, and the stonework of distant cities. Morthal was quiet and mist-shrouded, while Solitude perched defiantly on its towering arch, the capital city of Skyrim.
Behind her, Serana rode steadily, her grip firmly on the saddle atop Vermithor. Serana had quickly adapted to the battering winds of this kind of travel. Kiera was initially amused at the way the winds blew the skin of Serana's face back, but she eventually got used to it.
"How did you even know of this place, Serana?" Kiera called over her shoulder.
"Before I was buried, my mother used to take me to see the shrines. Not of the Divines, but of the Daedric Princes—Meridia, Azura, Nocturnal…" Serana's voice was calm, wistful. "We even knew the Nightingales once. Not sure if they still exist."
"So both the shrine and temple are on Mount Kilkreath?"
Serana nodded. "It's one of her oldest sanctums. That's where we'll find this necromancer."
Seeing Serana's wistful smile, Kiera asked. "You know, you speak about your mother quite often. Were you close with her?"
The smile widened. "The closest."
Kiera smiled back, her gaze drifting to the distant mountains. Talk of mothers brought a twist of emotion to her chest. Hers was still alive—barely. Afflicted by the Razor. Gerron had said he was close to something that might help, but Kiera had learned not to place too much hope in 'maybes.'
She knew it was a risk of being a Vigilant. They lived a life of Daedric hunting, taking down the most vile race of Daedra on a day-to-day basis. There was never a certainty they would live past the next day. She had accepted death a long time ago, but it was different when it came for your family.
A gust of wind swept her cloak back, revealing the new ebony shield on her back. Her Vigilant armor was now reinforced with Dragonscale vambraces and ebony steel, all enchanted by her new Master Enchanter friend. Her new cloak, dyed grey and lined with frostwolf fur to ward from the cold, fluttered behind her.
She looked down from the skies as they approached Mount Kilkreath. The mountain itself was part of a vast mountain range that stretched across most of Haafingar Hold.
Kiera had gotten used to the cold after spending months in High Hrothgar. Running up and down the Throat of the World numerous times a day had given her a physique many would kill for. While the peaks of these mountains were tall enough for snow to start coalescing, they looked nowhere near as frightening.
"We're approaching the mountain, Kiera," Vermithor's low voice rumbled.
The Bronze Fury began his descent. Kiera and Serana gripped the reinforced saddle, the wind howling past them as the dragon plunged. Below them, the great Statue of Meridia came into view.
It looked radiant in the afternoon sun. Though some of its luster was lost as they entered the height of winter. The statue was half buried in the snow, with only the upper half of Meridia visible, whose robes extended to her sides like wings.
The robed woman held her hands aloft, as if waiting to cradle the dawn. She knew instinctively that the gap between the hands was where the beacon was supposed to go.
As if answering her muse, Meridia's Beacon nestled within Kiera's satchel began to hum and pulse faintly, reacting to the closeness of its sanctuary. A sure sign they were in the right place.
Serana tapped her on the shoulder before pointing downwards.
"Look there," Serana pointed, her vampiric eyes seeing something in the distance. "There's a fight."
Kiera followed the direction of her finger. Part of her training involved getting used to the new draconic senses and that included her enhanced eyesight.
At the base of Mount Kilkreath, a battle raged. Undead warriors—numbering at least in the hundreds—were locked in a skirmish with Imperial Legionnaires.
Draugr warriors and archers scourged through the mountains like ants, surrounding the legions who remained in a square phalanx formation. At the very front were the commanding Legates, shouting orders and keeping the discipline.
They wouldn't last much longer, Kiera realized. She could already see their lines faltering, the Draugr archers on the higher ground continuously pelting their lines with arrows.
"Vermithor!" she shouted.
The Bronze Fury let loose a roar that announced their presence to the battle at large. His wings folded in, and he dived straight for the battlefield.
"Are you ready, Serana?" Kiera asked.
Serana's lips curled. "Always."
She could see the Legionnaires bore horrified expressions at the sight of the dragon. Whatever hope in their minds crumbling at the sight of her companion.
That horror changed the moment Vermithor spoke.
"QO SPAAN LOK!"
Thunder cracked as a maelstrom of lightning surged from the Dragon's gaping maw, arcing through the undead lines. Bones splintered. Several Draugr combusted mid-step, collapsing into burning heaps of brittle remains.
From Serana's fingertips came a blizzard—glacial wind and snow formed into a cone of destruction. Her frost magic blanketed the ridgeline where archers had once stood. Frozen solid, they tumbled from cliffs like statues.
Kiera stood atop Vermithor's back, her skin shimmering silver-grey as her entire flesh turned a solid steel. She leapt.
A human missile of steel and fury, she crashed into the Draugr front, sending bodies flying.
"TIID!"
Her voice split the world. To her, time slowed—drops of snow hung in the air like scattered stars. Her right hand gripped Dawnbite, glowing gold with a sunfire enchantment, while her left channeled Accelerate, the new magic that Gerron had taught her.
The combination of the Slow Time shout and the speed-boosting magic made the world turn into a blur. Anyone who gazed at the battlefield would see nothing more than a flash of silver.
The only unaffected being was Vermithor—who had explained to her that as children of Akatosh, the Dragon-God of Time, all Dov were resistant to any time related shouts or spells.
Only overwhelming power and magic could cut through that resistance, evidenced when the Heroes of Old used the Elder Scroll to shunt Alduin forward in time. It was the reason why Hevnoraak managed to be unaffected by the Slow Time shout when she fought him in Valthume.
But none of her current opponents were Dragons or their pet priests. Merely undead abominations risen by a mage wielding vile necromantic magics.
She moved like lightning. Every swing of Dawnbite cleaved through Draugr like parchment. Their rusted armor and weapons may have meant something in life, but now they were just relics of an olden time. Her blade caught sunlight and screamed with fire. Every impact sent a shockwave.
A Draugr Deathlord roared and swung a massive greataxe, moving slower than a snail. Kiera slid low under it and drove Dawnbite upward, through his ribcage and out his spine. She twisted, spun, and kicked the remains aside as two more charged her.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!"
A continuous stream of fire emerged from her throat that melted the snow around her. Whatever undead that were swallowed by the flames turned to ash near-instantly. Serana kept raining frost spells on the periphery, while Vermithor circled above, breathing ruin into distant clusters of undead.
The Slow Time faded as the Draugr horde shifted focus. Some continued battering the Imperial shield wall, but many turned toward her.
"Come then!" Kiera shouted, her voice amplified by the Voice of the Dragon. "Face me!"
Arrows bounced off her enchanted flesh. A spear scratched the side of her thigh as she turned and impaled the culprit in one movement.
A second Deathlord began a Shout. "FUS—"
Kiera met him mid-word.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
She blurred across the snow like a bolt of fury and slammed Dawnbite into his skull, cutting the Shout short with a wet crunch.
By now, dozens of corpses lay burning, broken, or frozen in her wake. The battlefield trembled under Vermithor's circling wings as he roared in triumph.
Kiera stood in the center of the carnage, surrounded by the remains of every enemy she slew. With a deep final breath, she shouted. "FUS RO DAH!"
The shockwave of force erupted outward, pushing the remaining Draugr towards the mountain walls, crushing them between.
Silence was left on the battlefield. Only the crunch of boots in the snow and the periodic beats from Vermithor's wings remained.
Kiera raised her sword high and turned to the stunned Legionnaires behind her.
"Regroup and take care of your wounded. The dead are gone." Her voice rang with the weight of command.
From the front of the Legion line, Legate Rikke stared at her, jaw slightly slack, sword still raised from the last clash.
…
4E 201, Base of Mount Kilkreath
Legate Rikke
Being a Legate of the Empire meant a life of unending vigilance. It meant decisions made with steel nerves, nights spent awake at the war table, and enough blood on one's hands to dye the Jeralls red.
Rikke had served through enough campaigns in Morrowind and the Reach to know that even the best plans shattered like glass the moment the enemy did something unexpected. And by the Divines, this had been unexpected.
When Falk Firebeard had mentioned a "necromancer issue" just a few weeks prior, she had assumed it was nothing more than the usual brigand with a small mastery of Conjuration magic. Skyrim always had some fool digging up bones and scrounging through tombs to make an army out of it.
Her thoughts changed when they had their first skirmish. Rikke was leading two centuries worth of Legionnaires, a hundred and sixty strong, while Adventus had the rest of the cohort set up camp near Fort Hraggstad.
Rikke and the two centuries had just passed the Clearpine Pond when they were ambushed by undead at least twice their number.
The ambush was a devastating start to their campaign with Rikke barely escaping with fifty other Legionnaires. They went back to Hraggstad to rally Adventus and the rest of the cohort and came back to the scene, only to find that the skeletons and the draugr had escaped up the mountainside and hid themselves in many hills.
The mountain itself had been their enemy as much as the undead. Haafingar's mountains were a point of pride for the people of Solitude as they served as natural defenses against the many invaders that have tried to annex or harm them years and years ago.
However, the many natural caves and caverns worked against them as they served as hiding spots for the many undead that now prowl these mountains. It was even worse with the fact that it was currently the height of Winter, with snow reaching at least waist-deep in the heaviest storms.
Every crevice and every hill turned into a potential ambush site. The undead didn't tire, nor did they feel cold. They didn't need to rest and required no sustenance. That was how the current situation came to be.
She and Adventus had just returned from another excursion to seek out the hiding spot of the Necromancer with two hundred Legionnaires on their back when the Draugr came back in abundance. They hid themselves in the mounds of snow, allowing the Legionnaires to pass before springing up and ambushing them when they didn't expect it.
They had lost a third of their number in the first strike alone. While Rikke and Adventus managed to rally them into forming proper lines, it didn't take a genius to determine that they were fighting a losing battle.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a bronze dragon came sweeping down with two women. One of them black-haired, while the other white-haired. The latter whose skin had turned to solid steel and utilized the Thu'um as easily as any other magic spell.
Watching them decimate the undead was a sight to see as she secretly thanked Talos that she could fight another day.
She studied the white-haired woman—Kiera—more closely. There was a presence about her, something like a barely-restrained avalanche. The Dragon that was circling above was no less impressive. With scales the color of polished bronze, he cut an intimidating sight. With dagger-like teeth and claws as thick as greatswords, the feeling of danger came roiling off him like heat from a forge.
The dragon swooped down and landed, causing a rumble to the earth beneath. A black-haired woman with pale skin and deep crimson eyes slid down from his back. A vampire, Rikke realized.
There was no doubt on her mind now that the white-haired woman before was the Dragonborn. Kiera Fendalyn, Vigilant of Stendarr, and the current Dragonborn of this era. The woman beside her must be the Lady Serana, the vampire mage that had been often seen in the Dragonborn's and the Dragonslayer's company.
Despite being in the presence of a hero reborn, Rikke didn't let the awe show. She was a soldier first.
"Greetings, Lady Dragonborn." She introduced herself as she gave a salute. "I am Rikke, Chief Legate of the Imperial Legion here in Skyrim. This is Legate Adventus. We owe you our thanks."
Adventus gave out a relieved sigh. "Had you not come when you did, we'd probably be overrun before the sun had set."
"Please, call me Kiera." The Dragonborn replied, while gesturing to the vampire and dragon. "This is Serana and that is Vermithor. We didn't come here by chance. Did you know where these Draugr came from? Mount Kilkreath perhaps?"
She and Adventus' eyes widened.
"That's right, my Lady. Haafingar has been polluted with a Necromancer problem recently. We believe two sources are responsible," Adventus confirmed, his breath curling in the freezing air. "Mount Kilkreath is one. Wolfskull Cave is the other. We've seen movement between the two. It's like they're feeding off each other."
"Do you know if the one in Wolfskull is related to the ones from Kilkreath?" Serana asked, frowning.
Rikke exhaled slowly. "It's difficult to say, Lady Serana. We've determined that a cult is residing in Wolfskull to summon Potema, the Wolf Queen. The ritual was disrupted— or so we thought. But the energy left behind may have attracted someone else. Or worse… something else."
Serana's expression turned thoughtful. "So there's a chance we're dealing with a united entity rather than a separate one."
"We came to the same conclusion." Rikke acknowledged.
Kiera crossed her arms, the steel fading from her skin as they took normal flesh. "Then we'll strike both. First Wolfskull. If this is coordinated, we cut off the weaker limb before hacking at the body."
"Do you believe Kilkreath is the heart of it?" Rikke asked.
"I do," Kiera said simply. "Like I said, we weren't here by coincidence. I received a task from the Daedric Prince Meridia to clear her temple from a Necromancer."
Kiera's eyes widened. "If a Daedric Prince is involved…"
"Then this is indeed not a regular Necromancer we're dealing with." Adventus finished. "The Temple of Meridia would serve as a much better power base than Wolfskull."
Rikke and Adventus exchanged a glance. They didn't like the sound of this. Not at all.
"Well," she said after a beat, "we'll escort you to the mouth of Wolfskull Cave. I can spare a century to accompany you inside. The rest will remain to fortify our position and prepare for the next march."
Adventus stepped up, pulling out a map before pointing to a rough position. "There's a ridge here," he said, marking a snowy bluff West of Solitude "We set up an outpost. If we fall back, it's the last stronghold before the hold proper. From there, we can march either up to the temple or across to Solitude."
"Agreed" Kiera said. "We clear Wolfskull, then reconvene there."
Rikke nodded. "I'll assign scouts to track any movements from the Kilkreath pass. If the Draugr try another ambush, we won't be caught off guard again."
Serana tapped her chin, thinking. "If they're working together, we might find a means of communication between the two lairs. A magical link. Runes, soul fragments, bound spirits—any sign of that. If we can sever it, we can cut off any means of support from either one."
…
AN: Kiera flexes that post-training power level at Rikke and the Legionnaires. Vermithor also uses a shout for the first time. QO SPAAN LOK (Lightning, Consume, Sky) or the Lightning Breath shout is an original one that I made that shoots out a beam of lightning towards opponents.
Rikke meets the Dragonborn and Serana for the first time and the first impressions are great. Anyways, when I first saw how close Mount Kilkreath and Wolfskull Cave really was on the Skyrim map, I just had to combine their respective storylines into one.
More chapters on my P-word and all that jazz. Chapter 53 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!