23: Strange, isn't it?

We rested a short while, and I examined the interior of the chapel. The hallowed stone was charred and pockmarked in places, and the bell tower had a huge hole in it. It made me question what exactly had happened here the night of the siege. Something had obviously breached Kvatch’s walls, but there were no sizable holes to speak of. Also, the entire city of Kvatch seemed to have turned to rubble, which was certainly not something a Dremora’s mace could do. The Daedra had something up their proverbial sleeves, and I intended to find out what it was exactly. Still, I didn’t want to cause the survivors of Kvatch any more anguish than they felt necessary, and questioning them so soon after the invasion seemed inconsiderate. I decided to let it go for a while, but had no intention of stopping myself from wondering.

I moved about the chapel, praying to each of the nine gods at their individual altars. It had been sometime since I had visited a wayshrine to any of them, and so I did not receive any blessings, save for one from Kynareth. In truth, my attention was focused more on the sleeping bags piled around the altars. They were nothing more than a few sheets, and yet everyone had been reduced to sleeping upon them. The rich and the poor, the sick and the healthy; all had to sleep out that horrible night on little more than a piece of cloth separating them from the hard stone floor. Many of the bags were stained with urine or blood, and the collective smell was unbearable; not necessarily because of the strength of the odor itself, but because of the horror that each bore witness to. A man is truly petrified beyond words when he would soil the only thing he has to sleep on. Looking upon this did not bring a tear to my eye, however. These cots represented the lucky few who had made it to safety in time. They were the ones who had not been driven out into the streets to be cut down and ripped apart by Scamps. I did not cry, but I said a prayer for all of them. Hatred and anger were all that I felt. Realizing that these blood-stained and soiled cots belonged to the LUCKY people made me make a vow right then and there: I would hunt down the bastards who started this whole mess and cut them to pieces. My mind was racing with murderous rage when the captain called us to battle. The time to rest was over. The time for revenge had come.

We burst from the chapel and into the central square, cutting down all the daedra that stood before us. I myself took down seven scamps and two Dremora. We fought terrible odds, at least eight to one, and yet we emerged victorious. I healed what I could in the momentary lull in fighting, but we were soon off again to retake the castle. Unfortunately, the portcullis was down, and there was no way to open it from outside. The captain quickly formulated a new plan. It would be difficult for me, but it was critical for our success.

I was to return to the chapel and find the guard who had been posted there. Berich Inian was his name, and he held the key to the North guard tower. In that guard tower was a secret passageway that led into the castle gatehouse. From there I could raise the portcullis and the captain would rejoin me. It seemed simple enough if you didn’t factor in all the daedra that stood between me and the guard tower.

Nevertheless, I had a job to do, and I jogged back to the chapel to find Berich. He was conversing with three imperial legion soldiers, and I nearly jumped for joy when I saw them. The legion is much better trained than the city guard, and the war that was going on could really use their help. They all looked at me, and I strode purposefully forward.

“Come on, I need your help.”

“What for? Have we retaken the castle already?” Berich seemed torn between terror and boredom. Obviously he didn’t like being posted at the chapel.

“I need to get into the North Guard house. Can you help me?”

“Well, I have the key to it, but it is a fair distance from here, and the way is crawling with Scamps. You’ll need my help, and the help of these three if they’re willing to give it.” He gestured towards all three legion soldiers. The lead one smiled.

“We’re ready for battle. Just tell us where to go.” He drew his sword slowly and looked at me. “You’re in command now.”

“Thank you. Berich, which way to the guard house?”

“Well, we’ll have to go through the chapel undercroft. There’s a way out from down there.”

“Very well. Berich is on point, and I want you three to kill anything that’s not human.”

“We can do that.”

Berich took us down through the dank undercroft and out into the fire. My little platoon and I were quite effective; breaking through several score of Scamps. Eventually we came to a tower that was missing half of its walls and Berich sighed.

“Well, it looks like you didn’t need my key after all. What were you looking for inside?”

“A passage into the castle gatehouse. Can you help me find it?”

“Sure. Its right under that big piece of rubble. Shouldn’t be too hard to move that rock though.”

He was right on both counts. With the help of the three legionnaires we moved the huge rock aside and descended down into the passage. Berich said he would return to his post. Obviously terror overcame boredom. The passage was short, and soon we were back above ground in the gatehouse. I went directly for the winch to open the portcullis, but I required the help of a legionnaire to rotate the thing.

As soon as the portcullis was up, the captain and his men charged into the courtyard, slicing up the Daedra within. Things were good to start with, and we cut most of them down. As soon as the doors to the Keep opened however, we were inundated with Scamps. We all fought bravely, but soon we were forced to fall back to the gatehouse. It was more easily defended, but there were simply too many Scamps. I lobbed fireballs over the first line of defense and into the sea of Scamps, hoping to damage them as much as possible. Healing the primary defenders was also a top priority, and between the fireballs and healing spells my magicka reserves were soon drained. I rummaged through my pack and found a potion to restore my magicka, and soon I was back in the fight. We fought like this for what seemed like ages; five strong men holding a line against the Scamps and rotating out during a lull in the fight, and me rushing about, healing guards and killing scamps.

Eventually, we struck down the last of them. Sadly, we lost seven of our men, reducing us to the captain and I, two city guards and the three legionnaires. The legionnaires were bleeding profusely, but refused to stop. I admired their bravery, but cursed their stupidity. I healed them as best as I could, but it was not enough. They would certainly be dead in a few hours.

We pushed aside the mountain of dead scamps and stumbled into the keep. The Daedra seemed to have exhausted all their troops on the fight in the courtyard, as the castle was deserted. We found no traces of the counts guards anywhere. Finally, we came to the count’s room, but when we found him lying in a pool of his own blood, the captain burst into tears. He knelt at the counts side for a long while, his anguish flowing in rivulets down his face. I was about to console the captain, but then I realized that I did not know his name. I had fought alongside him in the bloodiest battle I had ever seen, and I did not even know his name.

It is so strange that times such as these will cause one to slaughter beast after horrid beast, and yet not know the names of those who slaughter alongside you. Dark times are coming. The siege of Kvatch is only the beginning…