Act I: Chapter 10

Hello everyone,

Follow me on instagram at wtmcdonaldauthor! If you are feeling generous, and wish to donate to my writing career, you can find me at Patreon under Twubs for early access to chapters of The Ladder, Defiant, and Tsunami of the South!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

*********************************************************************************************************

"Charge!"

I led the charge with a roar and made sure I stayed ahead of my men. The charge was a predetermined plan we had made for this specific battle, and possibly battles in the future also. The idea behind it was simple, we needed to close the distance. Already the Jarl and his forces had been fighting against superior numbers for a while.

We knew that we would be behind on the big battle by a little, and there wasn't much we could do about it. What we could do, is try and get there a little faster, while also drawing a bunch of attention to ourselves away from the nords of Markarth. That is why when I was about twenty yards from impacting the line of the Forsworn, who were now looking my direction and prepared for the charge, I skidded to a halt.

I dropped down into a stance that I had beat into my mens head and bared my shield towards my enemy.

"Shield wall!" I yelled to my charging men.

My men copied my actions and stopped suddenly, before falling into place beside me on the shield wall. Slowly but surely we formed a very intimidating wall on the road. I sheathed my sword, and kept my right hand free for the coming altercation.

When I didn't hear any more of my men gathering behind me, I began marching towards the Forsworn line. Slowly but surely, more and more of them had come to engage the enemy on their flank. This was something I didn't mind, in fact, I wanted it. The more men we pulled off of the Jarl, the better this would go.

The Forsworn formed into their own little make-shift shield wall, although there were gaps that were too wide, and they moved out of sync. The one advantage some of them had, were the spears. Not every man held one, but each one could disrupt our line a little bit. I didn't spend too much time on it, I couldn't, considering they gave up on the line and were now charging.

The fastest of the Forsworn ran directly towards me. I mentally applauded him for trying to cut the head of the snake off and defeat my men. It was not meant to be.

Just before he reached me, he planted and angled his spear to reach over my shield and pierce my skull. My right hand rose and with it, so did my magick. I grabbed the spear with telekinesis, broke it in two, and shoved it back through his chest. We locked eyes for a second before he died, and I could see the surprise on his face.

Then the rest of them hit the shield wall. "Brace!" I yelled.

It was difficult, no doubt. But I had leverage. The man behind me, supported my back foot, so that I could plant in the dirt and hold ground. He also had his shield on my back, lightly applying support, just as planned. If anyone were to get through, then the second line would immediately fall back slightly to deal with it, but no one did.

I braced myself and also molded my magicka again. A rotating ball of fire appeared in my hand again.

"Push!" I said.

With a yell of exertion, I shoved the two men on my shield back a bit. With the new space, I moved my shield and let the ball of fire in my hand go.

Limbs flew as the fire ball went into their line and exploded. Then I moved forward and drew my sword again. The shield wall thrust their swords as one with me, and men died by the fifties each time.

I sent a burst of 'Courage' at my men, as we continued to push forward. There would be no careful advancement like we did to breach the city. No, we would march forward consistently, keeping them on their back foot, massacring them.

And that's exactly what happened. I didn't cast any more destruction spells, as I needed to let my magicka recover a little bit. I did, however, send consistent pulses of 'Courage' towards my men, and even a few 'Fear' towards the Forsworn.

The combination of the two spells kept my men in high spirits, and theirs in panic. I had no way of verifying, but during that twenty minute initial engagement, I guess that around two hundred Forsworn fell to our blades.

Then there was a tap on my shoulder. I, and the men next to me, turned sideways and my men poured past me. I stayed in that position, until I was in the very back lines of my army. I dropped the shield on my arm, finding it useless at this point. The men were on auto-pilot and would need very little input from me.

A horn, some two hundred yards away sounded out, and I knew it was Loren and the other half of my men showing up on the other side of the city's center.

"We're almost there men!" I yelled as I sent out another burst of 'Courage'.

The men let out a 'Ha!' in confirmation and kept pushing forward, leaving bodies in their wake. I stayed in the back lines and gave orders to keep them in line and on task. The battle seemed to drag on after that.

Maybe it was just because of the hyper-awareness of adrenaline that made time simultaneously speed up and slow down. Every moment stretched on, and yet sooner than I realized, we had fought our way to the 'center' of the city.

I split my men up, sending half to meet Loren, and the other half to trap the bulk of the Forsworn army between us and the Jarl. Progress went slower then, because I wanted to be cautious. I had less of a back line to depend on.

Private Loren had none of these reservations. Even if he was a seasoned Legionnaire, he was still a nord. The men he commanded charged with him and split off into smaller fights, ignoring the shield wall except a handful of times. My anger peaked, as I saw too many of my men fall because of his lack of care.

While I had suffered some losses, it had to be under a hundred men total, out of close to a thousand to start. Loren looked like he had lost around half. It was unacceptable, and sloppy. When we met up with him, my anger got the best of me.

Loren cut a man down in front of him, and moved to swing at me, before he noticed my legion colors. A grand smile split his face as he saw me.

"Hadvar, a glorious battle!" Loren exclaimed.

I sent him a murderous look, and ignored him. "Formations!" I yelled, and for the first time in a while, I sent a burst of 'Fear' at my own men. I wanted them to know how fucked they were. I didn't care that it was their commanding officers fault, all I knew was that too many of my men were missing.

The men snapped into marching formation quickly, and awaited orders. "Back line!" I said, letting them know that they would be reserves for the rest of the battle.

Loren looked at me with a hint of confusion, and anger. "Not a word!" I told my superior with a point of my finger in his face. I left no room for argument even if it was extremely disrespectful.

"To the Jarl!" I said, as my men finished up the Forsworn on the ground.

My lines turned around at my command and I moved to the front, ignoring Loren's glare and angry walk. He followed me. I started our pace with a jog, and soon I came upon the men that I had left in my anger.

"Relieve them!" I told my men with the point of my finger.

The width of the main road we were now fighting on was about twice as long, so the men were stretched a little more thinly along the road and needed to switch out more often. There were also way more Forsworn to worry about, as we had reached deep into the main force.

'We're only halfway there.' I thought as I noticed the alarming amount of Forsworn still alive. The Jarl had been losing his battle, badly.

Luckily, the Forsworn noticed my force marching on them, and most of their numbers attacked my shield wall. I lost more men in the following fight than I was comfortable with. In fact, when I noticed just how many were falling, I joined the front lines again.

Men fell to my blade and my magic. Exploding balls of fire thinned out their numbers with each charge, and still, I lost men. The next hour was full of death, and I would never forget it.

Random cuts appeared on my body, only to be healed quickly. My magic was in a state of constant use, although my reserves had grown so much that I never ran out, although I did get low a few times. 'Courage', 'Fear', 'Fireball', and restoration decimated my enemies.

By the time the battle was winding down, I had stopped focusing on making my legend, and focused on saving my men and ending the battle quickly. Gone was the thought of glory by battle, now I could only think about getting to the end.

One moment, I looked up to see fifty men in front of me. Then after cutting one down, I looked up and saw that there were no more enemies for me to fight. My gambeson felt unnaturally heavy.

I looked down to see that it was soaked all the way through, and yet it hadn't begun raining. The smell is what alerted me to the truth. It was blood. It was caked onto my form, covering me. And almost none of it was my own.

And then, Jarl Igmund was in front of me.

"Hadvar!" The Jarl said. Like Loren, he wore a smile on his face. Although his was different. It was a tired smile, one of triumph, but exhaustion.

"Jarl." I breathed out. Only then did I realize that I was heaving air into my lungs, and I could barely hold onto my sword. I sheathed it, to relieve myself of the burden and looked around. Where before, our total force was just under four thousand, now I estimated our forces were close to a third of that, and my men were the overwhelming majority. I had only barely made it to the Jarl.

"The day is ours!" Jarl Igmund roared.

'Fuck, not yet it isn't.' I thought as I realized we had only made it into the heart of the city. The Forsworn could be assembling the reserves as we celebrated. The Jarl's proclamation sprung me into action. I moved back towards the middle of the city. I walked quickly, because I knew I couldn't jog in my current exhaustion. I passed by our remaining men along the way.

Most were on the ground, resting, but some stood with the support of their shields. They saw me pass, and moved to stand. I raised a hand to all of them, telling them to rest. They had earned it.

The half of my men I had let Loren command did not rest, they knew better. They stood exactly where I had commanded them. They stood with their backs towards me, in formation, guarding our flank from the city's center. I felt a bit of pride at their discipline, even if I was still pissed at them and Loren.

They parted as I moved through them towards the front line. When I breached it, what I saw, relieved me.

A single elderly woman stood in the middle of the city's center holding a long staff. On the end of that staff hung a white flag, the universal sign of surrender.

I turned to my men, and outstretched my arms. I didn't say any words, all I did was let out a single guttural roar.

The men who faced me did the same, and the city was drowned in our cry of triumph.

*********************************************************************************************************

I woke to sunlight hitting my eyelids.

I shifted on the uncomfortable cot, and my muscles protested at the movement. I groaned at how sore my entire body was. The groan triggered the headache pounding in my skull. I checked my magicka reserves and found that they had finally refilled in the night.

I summoned it almost nonchalantly and molded it around my body, healing my aching muscles. I sighed in happiness at the feeling and sat up. It took me a moment to realize that I was still in Druadach Redoubt.

'One day since our 'victory'.' I thought as I got up.

My gambeson, freshly cleaned by one of my men, hung on a clothing rack off to the side. I moved toward it, and picked it up.

I brought it to my nose, to see if the smell from the battle still clung to it. It didn't, and for that I was thankful. There were a few feelings that ran through my mind as I thought about the battle.

Pride was the biggest emotion.

There was some guilt, for the men who wouldn't make it back to their families.

And finally anger at Private Loren.

'I thought Tullius sent me an equal. Instead, he sent me a burden.' I thought to myself.

I shook my head and decided that I could do nothing about it besides continue to outperform Loren in hopes of being noticed by Tullius once again. It felt wrong to be beneath the Private.

I quickly dressed myself, and made my way to the building we had confiscated from the Forsworn and turned into a mess hall. The night before, I ate and drank with my men in celebration. It felt like I would never get full, no matter how many chickens or steaks I ate. Eventually I moved to mead, that did the trick.

'Explains the headache'. I thought as I got a healthy portion of bacon, eggs, and a biscuit. I wolfed the food down quickly.

"Sir!" A legionnaire got my attention as he approached.

"The Jarl requests your presence in his tent." The man said.

I nodded to him, releasing him from his duty. The soldier ran off to do some other duty, and I started my path towards the Jarl. It seemed like every morning, I was summoned by the Jarl.

'Why wouldn't I be? I just handed him the loyalty of his city on a plate.' I thought as I reminisced on the past few months. 'All he had to do was listen to the story of a random legionnaire one night when I showed up on his doorstep.'

The Jarl had, of course, confiscated the largest building in the city as his quarters. It was hard to miss. So were the three Forsworn women I saw leaving his tent just as I approached. There were no bruises on their skin, but I wasn't naive enough to think they were completely willing either.

'I can only control my own men.' I thought to myself.

After the surrender of the city, the nords had gone to plunder it, naturally. My men did not. In fact, I made it very clear the punishments that I would dish out, if any raping or pillaging was to occur.

Unfortunately, that did not extend to Jarl's men. I held no illusions that they didn't enjoy themselves to what the city had to offer them. Apparently, the Forsworn had thrown every man that could hold a sword, and a lot of women also, at us. I had no doubt that it would take them generations to recover from the loss. This meant that there was no protection against the nords lust after a battle.

And I was helpless to stop it.

I walked into the tent without announcing myself. Jarl Igmund, Private Loren, the elder from the day before, and Calcelmo stood around a table in the tent.

"Good, now we can begin." Igmund said with a smile as I walked in.

I did not react, nor did I greet anyone. Instead, I moved to my place at the table and waited for it to start.

"It is time for you to leave," The frail lady demanded.

'That's fair.' I thought about her statement.

"We will leave after we have taken what we want." Jarl Igmund said in a very serious tone of voice.

'What more do they have to give you?' I thought to myself.

"You have already taken everything." The old woman said. My respect for her went up when I heard her match the Jarl's tone.

Igmund brought his hand to his chin, in a thinking pose. After a moment, he turned to me and Loren.

"My men have had their fill, true. But what of the legion? They did not partake in the night's activities?" Jarl Igmund asked.

"My men want nothing more than to return to their homes and families. We can march tomorrow." I answered the Jarl, not giving Private Loren a chance to speak up.

Apparently, the Private took offense to that. "You speak for me now do you, boy?!" Loren said as he turned to me, bowing up a little bit.

The term 'boy' made all of my anger and resentment for the man in front of me flare up. I turned my body to him, but did not move my hands, which were still clasped behind my back. I clenched my jaw, trying to will the anger away. I was very close to risking it all.

Private Loren could see it in my eyes apparently. "Well? Do you ….boy?"

My mouth twitched as I used the term again, and although I tried my best to stop it, a smile crossed my face as I made my decision. It was a smile you make when you're so angry you could literally beat the person in front of you into oblivion, something I was seriously pondering.

"Yes, I speak for you. Because you are too incompetant to make the decision for yourself." I told him.

'Fuck, now I've done it.' The rational part of my mind thought.

'Fucking do something about it.' The dominant part of me thought.

And that is how I goaded my superior into swinging at me. Of course, I couldn't and wouldn't let it go unpunished.

I blocked his armor cladded fist with my forearm and wasted no time in targeting the weak part of his armor. My right leg snapped out and kicked his back leg. Loren dropped to one knee and was about to charge me when my fist connected with his jaw.

He didn't go down. Instead, he lowered his head and tackled me. I stayed on my feet for a little, but eventually we hit some furniture and fell to the ground. I tried to maneuver myself to be on top, but it turns out that he had some experience in wrestling and used his superior weight to get on top.

I caught one swing of his arm, and brought him close to where he didn't have enough room to swing. He didn't care, and led with his forehead. He headbutted me right in my nose, breaking it. He pulled back and made the noise one would make when they were about to spit a loogie at someone, and I lost it. My right hand snaked out and hit him in the throat, stopping the action that would have made me kill the man.

In his distraction, I expertly rolled him over. I wasted no time in pressing my advantage. My right elbow broke his nose, making us even and dazing him. Then I hit him again, this time on his orbital bone, which I was pretty sure broke too. His head went limp for a moment after it impacted the ground, but he came back too quickly.

His eyes were unfocused, but I didn't care. I raised another hand, to deal out more punishment. I didn't get the chance.

Magick filled the air of the tent and I was grabbed by an invisible force. I flew through the building and impacted a particularly large beam. My breath left my lungs at the impact and my back felt on the verge of cracking. The force held me there.

"Enough!" Calcelmo's voice cut through the room.

In my anger, I summoned my own magicka. Another force hit my forehead, breaking my concentration and causing my head to snap back on the beam.

"You're a hundred years too young! Calm down!" Calcelmo demanded.

This time, I obeyed, and looked around the room. Jarl Igmund looked bored, but the elderly woman looked at me with more than a hint of respect. Private Loren was still trying to figure out where he was at and what happened to him.

I took a few deep breaths and reigned in my raging anger. After a few moments, I nodded to Calcelmo.

"I'm done." I said simply.

I dropped to the ground, and my broken nose let out a sharp pain at the movement. I brought my hand up to it and once again summoned my magicka. I converted it into healing magick and reset it before fusing the bone back together and making sure my nasal passages were still good.

After that, I went over to Loren. Calcelmo raised a hand to me, threateningly.

"Just going to heal him." I told the old man.

I did as I told him. I reset Loren's nose, and fused the orbital bone back together. Luckily, he didn't have a concussion or anything having to deal with the brain. He just needed time to reorientate himself.

The Jarl made it apparent that he didn't care about anything that just happened.

"Now that is out of the way. We'll be gone at the end of the week."

*********************************************************************************************************

A/N: Boom, end of the battle, plus some.

What did we think? What repercussions will there be for Hadvar?

Let's talk in the reviews.