A Stranger in Skyrim

Chapter 46: Army

By: N3k0

In which sometimes, a semblance is all that's needed.

They'd come across the battlefield shortly after breaking camp, still on the road to Rorikstead.

Rather - they found what remained of it. Only the Stormcloaks remained standing; the Imperials were cut down - or worse.

The Stormcloaks laughed, mocking their captives. The Imperials that remained were all females. Their armor had been cut in strategic places, to make a mockery of the uniform and reveal more flesh than it 'protected.' It was obvious what was planned for them, and crude remarks were the kindest things the Stormcloaks forced on them.

Mariah's blood boiled.

Lightning flickered in the sky, clouds rolling in as she tried to convince herself not to intervene. Her power bubbled up inside of her, demanding to be used.

Kill them. They deserve it; kill them all.

She wasn't immortal, she wasn't some god to mete out justice. If she turned her power on these Stormcloaks, they'd tear her - and Lydia - apart.

They'll never know what hit them.

"My Thane," Lydia cautioned. "This isn't our fight." Her sword was readied all the same.

Mariah nodded agreement. "It isn't." She said simply. The dragon's soul stirred within, and she drew his power forth. She thought she heard a ghost of laughter as she brought that strength to bear on the complex magic she wove.

"It's theirs."

The magic struck the first of the Imperial dead, and spread out from there. The Stormcloaks had taken losses, as well - every corpse on the field began to rise, new life gasping in their veins. This wasn't the clean, elegant work she'd done with Alvor - these were not truly alive, though their souls cried for the vengeance she was about to give them.

Screams echoed across the plains as the Stormcloaks realized what was happening.

There was almost no time to respond.

Those of the fallen who still gripped weapons brought them to bear. Those who did not grabbed their opponents and beat them until they submitted, at which point they took their weapons. Nothing would stop them; they didn't flinch from injury. Some corpses lacked arms, legs, heads - they still moved, still worked toward a singular purpose.

She made sure they did not attack the Imperial women - of course she did - but the Stormcloaks? Men and women alike, her army tore them all to pieces.

It was the work of about a minute - that was all the longer she could hold the spell.

The corpses crumbled to dust as she lost hold of the power. In that short time, however, she'd taken the entire battlefield. Some of the enemy corpses remained on the ground, dead, but by the end, only the Imperials remained alive.

Shrill shrieks and sobs now echoed, until a woman's strong voice began barking orders, taking command.

"Let's go," Mariah said, intensely weary.

Lydia nodded, looking perhaps a bit uncomfortable. "Yes, my Thane."

Mariah didn't precisely remember making it to Frostfruit Inn, but Lydia assured her she made it there under her own power before collapsing facefirst into the bed. The magic had, once again, taken its toll on her. It was the price she paid for twisting something she only barely understood to purposes it wasn't meant for.

As she stared up at the ceiling, she contemplated what she'd done the day before.

Did it matter that it was the Stormcloak army that won that little conflict? No; she didn't care about the war enough to pick favorites. If she'd seen Imperials abusing their captives in that fashion, she'd have done the same to them.

The whole thing was a pointless waste of life and energy. What if a dragon had swooped down on them?

Stupid.

She rolled out of bed, yawning and stretching. There was a lukewarm tub of water that she could only assume was meant for bathing - she washed herself, making a point to scrub her fingers through her hair. There wasn't any soap, but honestly she was just glad to get some of the road dirt off.

Lydia woke slowly, her expression weary. "My Thane?"

"Yeah?"

The housecarl climbed out of her bedroll, dressing in her armor. "It's still early," she noted, though she didn't seem bothered by that fact. A yawn escaped her, all the same.

"So it is." She could still feel the moons hanging overhead, though they were weak yet. "I'd rather not deal with any more people than we have to right now."

The way to Morthal was marked by frigid rain that soaked through her cloak and into her robes. Sheets of falling ice kept Mariah from noting much of the path, and though they stuck to the road for the most part, they still managed to get slightly lost on the way. To regain their bearings, they ducked into a small, open shack.

A soft, animal whine greeted them.

The dog was large, with gray and white fur - it could almost be mistaken for a wolf. Mariah knelt before the creature, putting her hand under his nose. "Hey," she murmured softly.

Of course she'd noted the body lying still on the bed in the room. The dog's master, probably, a human.

A dead human, at that.

"This journal says his name is Meeko," Lydia commented, idly looking through the man's belongings. "No other friends or family who could take the dog in; it looks like they were all alone out here."

Mariah nodded. It went without saying that she'd be adopting another stray. She couldn't just leave him here, after all.

Well, technically she could, but she felt that would be cruel.

"How about it, Meeko?" She asked the dog, conversationally. "Do you want to come with us, then?"

Meeko barked, happily, licking her cheek. She made a face, but laughed anyway. She wondered how Lucia would like the animal as she absently scraped her fingers through his fur. Fleas - she'd have to see if there was some kind of potion or something, to kill the little bugs off.

"At this rate, you'll adopt all of Skyrim by the year's end." Lydia sounded amused by this prospect.

Mariah ducked her head, embarrassed a bit.