Dragonborn Saga

Chapter 771: Siege of Volkihar

The Tyranny of the Sun, a terrible prophecy that could endanger the very fabric of reality, has always put the Vampires of Volkihar on edge, making them keep every secret and operate for years from the shadows.

When the time came for the Elder Scrolls to appear, Harkon Volkihar stepped out from hiding and kidnapped Jon Dare, revealing his heritage to the world. That event happened a few years ago, and it affected Winterhold badly, as the first open battle between Jon Dare and his opponents was sparked while Jon was badly injured, having lost a foot before his capture at the hands of the Forsworn.

Revenge was something Jon had craved ever since, and from the moment he returned from his exile to Skyrim, after the death of High King Torygg. But as Jon always said, "Revenge is a dish best served cold," and so it was.

After depriving Harkon Volkihar of almost every advantage and proving that he could never win, Jon started taking action right away and wanted to make a spectacle. From every hold, Jon called a thousand warriors; from the Imperial Legion, Jon called five thousand; from Winterhold, he marched with every trooper; from Whiterun, he hired every single companion, and the numbers were over 15,000 warriors.

Alone, he paid for the expenses and salaries of every single soldier, making him the first man to hire the Imperial Legion and the Nordic Army of Skyrim under one banner, all with his own money. Upon that day, this was called the Golden Army of Jon Dare.

The target of that army was the Sea of Ghosts, and they all got on ships from Windhelm, Winterhold, Dawnstar, Morthal, and Solitude. Finally, all the ships converged around Castle Volkihar.

"Sons of Skyrim! Those who watched her bleed from the fangs of vampiric abominations.

Today, we shall wash her wounds with water and salt, with fire and sun.

ADVANCE!"

Jon’s voice echoed all across the sea with a booming Thu’um. Ships circled the island of Castle Volkihar from every direction, and on it, siege weapons and cannons fired all there was to fire.

The vampires, numbering no more than a thousand, were hit by a storm during a sunny morning, not of rain and lightning, mind you, but a storm of arrows and swords.

The mighty berserkers of Skyrim, a force comprised of hardened warriors from across the province led by Wulfur, the Harbinger of the Companions and sworn brother of Jon Dare, descended upon the formidable Castle Volkihar. These were not mere conscripts, but seasoned soldiers, many of whom were veterans of the Civil War, clad in steel and fur, their faces grim with determination. They carried with them the hopes of the holds, the burning desire to eradicate the vampire threat that had long plagued the land.

Castle Volkihar, perched precariously on a jagged, windswept island off the coast of Haafingar, loomed in the distance, a dark and ominous silhouette against the turbulent Sea of Ghosts. Its jagged towers and fortified walls promised a brutal and bloody siege, a clash between the mortal realm and the immortal darkness that dwelled within. The air crackled with the clash of magic and Thu’um, a thundering clash that shook the sea as the army prepared to breach the unholy fortress.

Wulfur, who bravely assumed the vanguard, was a man of imposing stature and grim menace: a human hulk encased in formidable armour. He came right from the distant city of Markarth, and he carried upon his shoulder a hammer of such immense weight that each footfall reverberated with seismic force.

His hammer was not the Champion’s Cudgel, which to him was like the Bloodskal Blade to Jon Dare. It wasn’t Volendrung either, the Daedric Hammer he and Jon had taken from the Daedric Prince Malacath. Rather, the hammer he wielded was much larger, much heavier, and much deadlier.

It was the thing Jon sent him to pick up from Markarth a few nights ago; its name was Stendarr’s Hammer, and it was something mighty.

——————————

[ Stendarr’s Hammer ] < Aedric Ebony Warhammer >

Hammer of the Lord of Mercy, Charity, Well-Earned Luck, and Justice. It was once wielded by Stendarr, the Divine of Righteous Might, which is fitting as the hammer is very heavy. It is made of ebony and sapphire, which can also be used to further temper it. The weapon is enchanted to drain or damage the health of those it strikes, at the cost of the wielder’s stamina.

Smite — Deliver a blow so devastating it tears matter asunder and breaks anything in its wake with righteous might, yet with a great cost to the wielder’s stamina.

——————————

Unlike most artifacts that belonged to the Daedra and possessed no less than three enchantments, this hammer possessed one humble enchantment, but one thing is for certain: it is no humble hammer.

As wielded by Wulfur, Winterhold’s strongest pure warrior, he mustered his terrifying aura and channelled it through the hammer that simply demanded more and more. He wouldn’t raise it with one hand but rather two, as to him it almost felt like carrying a mammoth over one arm, then he simply aimed it ahead and unleashed his aura through the hammer.

DRRUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMM!

The earth was deformed in front of him; the army of vampires that stood in his way broke left and right or disintegrated right then and there for those who were fairly lucky enough to die first. As for the first gate of the castle, it deformed greatly and only needed a gentle push to crumble. ȑΆƝＯ𝐁Ëʂ

Wulfur realised that the weapon he was carrying wasn’t a mere hammer; it was a superweapon forged for war and mayhem, but only for the sake of righteousness as its lord demands. Luckily, Jon knew that Wulfur was a firm believer of Stendarr, and this hammer in his hand alone would have its effect more potent than any other soul. In fact, it may be stronger than some of Jon’s shouts at this stage.

"Warriors! We wash the land of this filth on this holy day! Hail Stendarr! Hail Kyne! KILL THEM ALL!"

The fires of fervour ignited in the hearts of men and women of Skyrim, and the Nordic tide swallowed Volkihar, trampling over every vampire and thrall that stood in its way.

Wulfur was walking in the middle of the charge with the hammer over his shoulder; any vampire that came closer to him was met with a thousand spearheads ripping them to shreds.

His slow walk and confident demeanour made Jon smile, wondering when his reclusive brother had gotten so good at aura farming.

"Another round. Break the tower for my brother," Jon commanded the siege engines to fire their fiery ammunition at the first tower of the castle, cooking the vampire soldiers that were fortifying it.

Behind Jon, Serana appeared from under the deck of his flagship, the Iron Maiden, and stood behind him to the left, watching the home that she once grew up in get wreathed in flames. Her face was emotionless, but she still held her swollen belly gently and walked to his other side, but as she reached his right, she appeared no longer as Serana, but as Lamae.

"You aren’t an ordinary man, Jon Dare. You simply spoke up and gathered a thousand warriors from each hold and five thousand legionaries," she said and rested her platinum head on his right shoulder, "Why aren’t you just taking over the world already? You can be its Emperor without even trying."

Jon didn’t reply and kept his focus locked on the battle ahead, coordinating every battle group with his telepathy links.

"If only this Goddess becomes your Goddess as well, I’ll make you burn the Nirn for me," she said and looked at him with absolute lust, her face blushing, and her mouth watering.

Jon turned to her and saw the terrible lust in her eyes, which caused him to roll his eyes with annoyance.

"One day," she said, "One day, I am certain."

And she faded away, leaving Serana in the last state she was, clinging to Jon’s arm and salivating over his robe. The sight terrified her, and she backed away no less than four steps, shivering and gnashing her teeth.

On Jon’s face appeared a grin which he put off a second later so naturally. He felt like wanting to punish Serana in some way, but it seemed that Lamae was doing everything on her own.

Back to the front, Wulfur reached the gate and raised the hammer before delivering a mighty smite that sent it flying at the defenders behind it.

"STORM THE CASTLE! LEAVE NO BLOODSUCKER ALIVE!"

The Companions headed in first, following Wulfur, tearing the vampires apart and practising all forms of battle atrocities on any vampire that twitched. The gargoyles came to life and seemed to be trying to put up a fight, but their resistance was futile, and Wulfur reached the gate of the castle’s keep.

Naturally, Wulfur was this battle’s battering ram, and he chose to act like one, walking slowly and gracefully as the army cheered him onward.

He wielded the hammer with both hands again, holding it downward; Wulfur unleashed all his power with an upper swing that…

FWOOOOOOM!

... a harrowing sound of air breaking followed by a...

KRRAAAK!

... massive impact on the castle’s wall.

It was once there, now it isn’t.

The front of Castle Volkihar lay bare, and as the dust settled, Wulfur’s attack alone was enough to wipe out half the vampires in the main hall.

"ATTACK!"

Vilkas was the first to charge in, followed by Farkas and Aela. The Companions alone led an epic charge into the heart of Castle Volkihar, and no vampire was left standing.

From the flanks of the castle, a horde of undead draugr started to flow out, and in their midst, some vampires were trying to escape from the back. The Stormcloaks landed on one side and the Imperials landed on the other, each with a massive vanguard that overwhelmed the fleeing vampires under the leadership of both Galmar Stone-Fist and Legate Rikke.

Once the dust had settled, Jon Dare appeared like the main character he is and walked into the castle with an entourage of his women and family members. He was in his dragonborn armour and looked like a menacing black-armoured god with a red shoulder cape, holding a great sword in his hand like a one-handed sword.

As he looked to his left, the Companions and the Dare Troopers seemed to have rounded up as many vampires and thralls as possible. Jon simply lowered his thumb, and no prisoner was taken that day.

As he looked to his right, he saw the blood cattle of the vampires, humans whose brains were wiped clean and made into living dolls as emergency rations for the vampires. He simply signalled to take them away, and they shipped off the island immediately, seeking the Temple of the Divines in Solitude.

Finally, the heavily armoured housecarls of House Dare approached Jon and greeted him with utmost reverence.

"My Lord! It seems that the greater Vampire Lords have fled the castle. There is no trace of them at all," Lydia reported.

Jon’s face became twisted with clear anger, but he just exhaled it off, looking the other way as a Dare Trooper crossed the ranks of housecarls, legates, and jarls, approaching Jon with urgency.

"My Lord, I bear grim news from our messengers," the man said.

"Speak."

"A large force of vampires is sweeping across Skyrim, raiding and pillaging, my lord. They have attacked Riverwood, Rorikstead, Helgen, Redwater Crossing, Kynesgrove, Shor’s Stone, Dragon Bridge, and many other towns."

"How many?"

"Their number is small, sir, but they rode on magical steeds, evading any pursuers and not confronting any force."

"And the villages?"

"Some were burnt, but not to the point of ruin. However, many women were kidnapped, sir."

"Women? Not men, not children?"

"Yes, sir. The vampires only took women."

As ominous as it sounded, it wasn’t enough to spoil the mood of victory, but Jon had a bad feeling about this. Harkon Volkihar wouldn’t just abandon his home and roam around Skyrim kidnapping housewives.

There was a secret behind this all.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Between the holds of Hjaalmarch and Haafingar, Sybille Stentor, court wizard of Solitude, stood firm on a nearby mountain overlooking the village of Dragon Bridge, which had recently been hit by vampire raiders.

As a vampire herself, yet one on the human side, she sighed in her heart at the coming Human-Vampire war that had reached its climax. Jon Dare has probably levelled Castle Volkihar to the ground by now, and the vampires are raiding with all their might.

Still, the terrible news she was bearing for the Dragonborn grew grimmer by the second. She looked behind her inside the cave and saw an old priest sitting with his back to a wall, shivering from the sight he saw.

"Dexion Evicus, Priest of the Ancestor Moth cult. Please, know that I mean you no harm," she spoke to the shivering man.

He turned his head to her with a grim look in his eyes, feeling his teeth clattering as he kept warming himself despite the weather being fairly pleasant.

"We… I… I can’t… Vampire… This mustn’t… be heard… by you…" He spoke with great distress.

"I won’t be able to escort you all the way to the Blue Palace like this. At least tell me what you saw, and I can deliver it word for word to Jon Dare."

The Moth Priest found no leeway around it and looked at Sybille with absolute dread.

He opened his mouth and spoke the new prophecy that would rewrite fate itself:

"He must… know… Dhampirs… his child… Night Heirs… will be… death to us all!"

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Liked what you read? You can always read ✨MOAR!✨

Read the NEXT 12 CHAPTERS on >>> https://patreon.com/donovels

Wanna chat, get spoilers, report typos, be notified on chapters, or just hang out? Join >>> https://discord.gg/rAyrWnD

All my links and libraries >>> https://bio.link/donovel