Things moved slowly after my talk with Jori. We managed a few more successful raids, captured a half dozen prisoners, and made a fortune in bandit anatomy, but it was just chipping away at a mountain of a problem. Jori’s enchantment on my axe was a massive upgrade, despite his claims that it was hardly worth the title. Most of the prisoners had come from a single bandit camp, they’d surrendered after I set their leader on fire in the same swing that beheaded him.

I wanted to try striking at the camps south of the mountains, we had a few more locations, but Jarl Korir reined me in. He’d made a good point that several villages had been attacked, and still needed investigating. It’d been the right call, despite my desire to wittle down the number of bandits that could be sent against the refugee group. There was a village near the coast that we’d traveled to first, it was nearly as large as what remained in Winterhold.

The locals called the place Frozen Wharf, and made their living on the sea. They fished in the shallow waters and ice flows that made traversing the Sea of Ghosts so treacherous. The ice fin and horkers seemed to make the bulk of their work, though they also sent hunters inland and logged the forest nearby. I’d nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw what the ice fin really were, they were a cross between a shark and an eel, with light blue, razor sharp fins. The locals called them ice wraiths of the sea, on account of the chilling aura the fins had. The needle thin teeth filling their mouths were used as harpoon barbs and for sewing clothes, the scales and fins for various alchemical concoctions. The locals were the first I’d seen that really seemed like they had a good thing going in the frozen wasteland. If it weren’t for the undead spilling out of a cave nearby.

“First Ranger, glad to see the Jarl finally filled the position. Come on, get out of that cold.” An older woman beckoned me inside. I’d been directed to a large house, with whale bone decorations lining the outside.

“Thank you, would I be right to say that you’re Bellin’s wife?” I nodded to the woman, and made to take off my cloak. She batted away my hands and took it herself, she exuded doting grandmother energy with every motion.

“That’s right, Kirste. My husband’s just gone down to the wharf, I’ll send for him. Please, sit by the fire. Ale? Mead?” She asked, when a very deep, salt scoured voice rang out.

“No need to send for me, I saw the Ranger’s party heading for the tavern. Mead for the both of us I think. So, what’s the name of the Jarl’s new ranger?” A man that had to have been a titan in his youth came from the back door of the house, bedecked in thick furs and holding a great pile of wrapped meat that smelled of horker.

“Johannes, I’ve heard that you have a problem with corpses that won’t stay dead.” I tried to stand back up, but the tall thegn waved me back down, and took a seat next to me. The chairs were all made of finely carved whalebone, as the decorations were outside.

“Aye, and if that weren’t enough, they’re scaring off the horkers along the beach. We got a few good ones today, but the Jarl expects ten loads of smoked horker meat a season for that new deal with the Rift. You have a bit of a legend before you, you know. Johannes, The Horker Head Hunter.” The old man chuckled as his wife brought around two tankards.

“I’d hoped that maybe the bane of bandits, or noose of necromancers might have taken off first.” I shook my head. Apparently it wasn’t often that a man took a horker by beheading it with an axe. Bows, javelins, spears and harpoons were the more common method.

“If we got the names we wanted, that would take half the fun out of the story. I wished I’d been called Bellin the Troll Slayer, instead I’m Bellin the Pungent. I swear, you get swallowed by one whale…” It took a while before we’d both stopped laughing.

“In any case, about these undead. It started a few months ago. A strange man came about, asking of shipwrecks. He was a Breton, so we thought he was a scholar from the College, or some other milk drinking trade. He got the answers he wanted, paid well at the tavern, bought a small boat and disappeared. We figured the sea took him, he didn’t seem the sailing type. A few weeks after that, one of the hunters was caught in a blizzard, and had to hunker down in a cave until it passed. He claims that men were walking out of the surf, with great glowing eyes like the tales of Draugr. We’re people of the sea, a properly superstitious bunch, but that was a bit far fetched. Then we heard of the attacks on another nearby village, Sea Crest, about a day’s walk from here.” He took another drink from his tankard.

“Wasn’t so far fetched after that attack I take it?” The man shook his head.

“No, especially not after Roggi was nearly killed by one. He heard his goats getting upset with something, and went out with fork, thinking it was a fox or something like it. A skeleton nearly put a sword through his head. Roggi made all kinds of noise, his brother Aldis saved his life. I’ve fought Draugr before, but this wasn’t one of them. The Draugr still have skin, muscles. This was just a pile of old bones, with a layer of salt on them.” That was at once a relief, and a terrible bit of information.

“The strange man found his ship wrecks then. You’ve tracked them to a cave though?” A plan started forming in my mind.

“Yes, it’s a few hours walk along the coast, the skeletons are thick enough that you can see them wandering about if you take a boat out at night. Blue flickers out in the darkness. With the good wind, we could make the voyage in an hour if you’d like to see it tonight. The sun will be setting soon.” The old man looked to the fading light outside.

“I’d like that. My party is small in number, it’d be best to get a count of what to expect. They don’t come out during the day?” Jori had mentioned that most undead were weak to sunlight, even if it didn’t kill them outright like it would for vampires. Most avoided it on instinct.

“No, we’ve looked. The eyes are always heading towards a particular cave on the coast. The mage is probably calling for them at night, so they won’t be seen.” Bellin finished his mead, I’d hardly touched mine.

“If you aren’t in the mood for drinking, hand it over, I don’t waste good mead.” He motioned for the tankard. I handed it over and stood.

“I’ll go tell my people of the plan. Should we meet you here, or on the wharf?” I asked.

“Meet us by the wharf at sunset. My sons and some of the other young men will join you for crew. I imagine some of them would like to help you. We haven’t had a good fight for them to prove themselves in quite some time. It doesn’t do to be sea faring warriors, with no war to fight.” Bellin grinned as he started on the second mug of mead.

“I’ll take every set of fighting arms I can. We’ll be there. Thank you Thegn, and thank you ma’am.” Kirste already had my cloak in hand, I didn’t resist when she put it back on me. They were good people, and if their sons could fight, that was fine by me.

Skeletons were low tier undead, animated purely by the will of their master. Draugr had some substance, and some could be extremely dangerous. I wasn’t so worried with the skeletons, a good axe or mace would shatter them. I happened to have both. There was a bit of a crowd around the tavern, more than I’d expect even for a village the size of Frozen Wharf. The reason became evident as I got closer. My group weren’t the only outsiders that had shown up.

“Gromm! What are you doing here?” I called over to the man I’d spoken with after the fight in Icehome. He was wearing fur lined armor, with chainmail sleeves and a good steel helmet under his arm. A few other men I didn’t recognize were with him, talking to the twins.

“First Ranger! After the hunters returned, we told them what happened. We decided that the best way to keep the village safe, was to kill those rotten bastards before they could attack us again. We don’t have much to offer, but four good, armed men doubles your number.” He pointed to his companions. They were all outfitted the same as he was, with shields, axes, one had a large hammer.

“I won’t turn down the help. How’d you get here though? We’ve hardly been in town longer than an hour.” I came to stand on the porch of the tavern with him.

“Let’s get inside, I’ll tell you the whole story.” Gromm led the way to a pair of tables that had been stuck together. Riga and the twins had taken one side, while Gromm’s three had taken the other. I found my place with my own team, while Gromm took the side opposite me. A few locals had taken tables nearby, trying not to be too obvious with their eavesdropping. Gromm started his story once he’d gotten a mug of ale in his hand.

After we’d left the village, it’d been two days before the hunters returned. They’d been furious with the trick, but grateful that the Jarl’s men had come to help. Most of them had been helped by Hrolfin at one time or another, and wanted vengeance for what had been done to his family. They’d loaded up their sleds, and sent the best they had. We’d missed them at Winterhold by two hours, but they’d pressed on through the day and night. The fact they’d been able to catch up to us so quickly spoke to their motivation. The four of them were with me till the scourge was put down it seemed. The tavern was completely packed by the end of his story, and nobody was trying to be subtle about listening in.

“We’re glad to have you. But you might want to keep it to one drink. We’re heading out to get a look at the troubles around the village at sunset. Thegn Bellin is the local headman here, he just gave me the whole story.” Gromm’s hands clenched with excitement as I explained the situation, a few locals started muttering towards the end, and six of them came over to our table.

“First Ranger, I’m Jorn, this is my younger brother, Lodor. Bellin is our father, he sent us along to introduce ourselves.” The man was about my age and size, with a good set of steel armor and a fine greatsword. His brother was equally well equipped, though he seemed to prefer the nordic standard shield and axe.

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“Johannes. Good to meet you. How much of that story did you hear? Both of them I mean.” I put my hand out to Jorn. He took it, and cocked his head at Gromm.

“He spoke highly of you. From the sound of it, things could have gone a lot worse for his village if you hadn’t raced to help.” That got a solemn nod from Gromm.

“The bandits would have burned the place to the ground. We weren’t in a fit state to fight. Hrolfin was killed like a dog in the street. Cowards.” Gromm finished the last of his drink.

“The sun will be setting soon, why don’t we head to the wharf? My father has a boat ready for us.” Jorn pointed to the door. A few local men stood up.

“I’d join you!”

“My sword may be dusty, but it’s sharp!”

“Those damned skeletons nearly killed my brother!”

There seemed to be no shortage of volunteers in town. That was a good sign for things to come, but I had already gained ten fighting men unexpectedly. I raised my hands, quieting the clamor.

“The best thing that you men can do, is shake the dust off your armor if you have it, or make the arrangements to get your hands on some. There are larger threats to the Hold than a cave full of skeletons. Save your strength, I’ll most likely be back to ask for more of you to help soon. We will destroy them all.” That put questions on all of their faces, but they didn’t put any of them to their voices. Instead, there was a low drumming on the tables as a few men started patting their hands. We were seen out to a chorus of well wishes, and a few tagging along to speak with the locals Jorn had brought.

“Son, who’ve you brought me? The Ranger said he only numbered four.” Bellin was looking over Gromm.

“Men from the last village he helped, they rode in just behind Johannes. We’ve fourteen fighting men now.” Jorn raised his hands as if to present us. A high voice called to correct him.

“Thirteen fighting men, and one fighting woman!” Riga made sure to account for herself. The twins picked her up, as if to display a trophy.

“So it is. Don’t let the boys give you any trouble young lady. I reckon you’ve killed more men than they have.” Bellin shot me a questioning glance. I nodded. Riga had gotten her hands dirty on the last few raids, adding to the tally from the first two, the bandit woman she’d shot, and the man she’d shredded with Karliene. The wolf was trailing along behind us, playfully nipping at Icefoot.

“And two wolves.” I whistled for the dogs. Karliene sauntered up, tail wagging. She knew what it meant when a bunch of armored men were all gathered together.

“And two wolves… A company for the skalds to write about. Come on, the boat’s ready and I’m getting cold out here. Jorn, I’m trusting you to bring them all back intact. Johannes, you may be the Jarl’s man, but this is my boat, and my son Jorn is her captain. Whatever comes of tonight, he makes the decision when it concerns the sea.” Bellin didn’t leave any room, and I didn’t need any. That was a rule I was well familiar with, and it was a good one.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve never even been in a boat, as far as I can remember. Jorn’s the captain, we’re the passengers.” I agreed. Bellin seemed satisfied, and saw us off. The older man was letting his son take the challenge. He was a good leader, knowing when to step aside for the next generation. Jorn had the thing well in hand, he’d grown up with sea legs.

It was a good night for the trip, both moons were shining down, and the clouds were thin. I had my night eye ring, but the locals seemed to be able to steer around the ice without much trouble. The four sailing men brought to crew the ship were helped by Jorn’s party, occasionally dipping the oars into the frigid water, or working the small ship’s sails. Gromm looked a bit nervous, eyes staring out at the greater expanse of ocean beyond.

“What has you so interested to the north?” I came to sit by the man. He broke his trancelike gaze and seemed a bit embarrassed.

“Old legends, the less fortunate of the ancestors, the victims of old pirates. The Sea of Ghosts didn’t get the name for being safe. My grandfather used to tell me tales of longships full of draugr rising up from the waves, pillaging ships by night and adding their hulls, and crew, to the fleet. Stories to scare children.” Gromm tried to laugh it off.

“Not always. Yngol was led astray by the spirits. Mighty Ysgramor himself fought them, and broke them over his knee. The sea ghosts are not to be taken lightly, but they don’t venture into the shallow waters. Turn away, don’t look out to sea. That’s how the sea ghosts trick you.” Lodor, the younger brother, was behind us working the rudder with another man. Gromm paled a bit, but took the advice, instead turning to Karliene, who had settled by my feet.

“My, but aren’t you a fine hound. The village children miss having her around, even if it was just for a short while.” Gromm patted the dog between the ears. Karliene had run the children ragged playing all manner of games with them while I settled things.

“She enjoyed herself with them too. She’s bred to work and fight. She doesn’t do well left sitting around. Icefoot’s been keeping her company, the sled dogs don’t like to play with her, she’s too big.” I laughed. Karliene didn’t mean to, but she’d beaten all of them up anytime I’d tried to take the pack out for something fun. She beat me up too, she was stronger than she had any right to be.

“The Jarl’s houndmaster, it’s still Wolfbite?” Lodor asked.

“Yes. he’s getting older, but I’d say he has a few good years with the dogs left.” That put a grin on Lodor’s face.

“He sent Jorn and I pups for our tenth birthdays. I’ve wanted to ask him about getting a proper hound like you have. Are there any left of their litter?” Lodor pointed to Karliene and also Icefoot, who was sitting with the twins towards the nose.

“Two, Siga and Torgis. There’s about a dozen others in the kennel that aren’t the Jarl’s personal hounds. Jarl Korir wants six hundred pieces for the prize pups, four hundred for the normal stock. I could put in a word for you to hold one of them if you’d like.” I offered. Lodor smiled.

“I’ve got the coin, I imagine we’ll have more by the time all of this is done.” Lodor made a world encompassing gesture with his hand.

“Aye, we might. Do you think you want to stay with us after this fight with the skeleton master is done?” It was a bit early for the question, but Lodor nodded vigorously.

“I’m a second son, we make our own names. Fighting for the Jarl’s First Ranger is a good start to that. I’m not the only one in the village that thinks that either.” Lodor nodded at two men working the sails.

“I’ll be needing fighting men for the days to come. You’ll get your wish sooner than you think. Woah, over there.” I was looking over my right shoulder to Lodor when I saw them. Blue pinpricks in the darkness. Lodor strained his eyes, as did a few other men that heard me.

“Sharp eyes ranger. You’re right. I count six.” The other man at the rudder said. His count was low, way too low. I couldn’t see the eyes, but I could see the blue glow hiding among the rocks by the virtue of my ring.

“No, I’ve got a dozen, fourteen… There’s at least twenty of them scattered up and down the beach. Jorn!” I called up to the captain. He was at the nose, calling orders to his oarsmen. He tapped a man on the shoulder to take his place, and came back to me. I pointed out at the blue dots, and he nodded.

“We’re still a few miles from the cave, but that’s about what I’ve seen every night. They can’t all be new. There’s been more and more of them every night. When it gets close to dawn, they’ll head for the cave. We could strike now, while so many of them are far away. We’d have half an hour or more before the closer skeletons could reach it, an hour for the farthest.” Jorn pointed to how rugged the beach was. It was true, the skeletons I could see clearly were struggling on the rocks. What wasn’t true, was that it would be easier to hit them now. It was bait.

“No. Look at where they are. They’re standing on top of the highest rocks they can find, or the ones farthest out in the surf. They aren’t wandering. They’re patrolling. They’re not very sensitive, so they won’t sound the alarm when we’re out here. That’s the necromancer’s trip wire, to sound an alarm if anyone tries coming up the beach. There will be more inside. Enough to slow us down and trap us between whatever’s defending the cave and the ones coming back. Can you sail us in right here?” Sometimes the best way to avoid a trap was to purposefully set it off.

“You just said that’s a trap, the skeletons will start to sound the alarm if we get too close. Why would you want me to sail closer?” Jorn asked, confused.

“If I can see twenty skeletons here, and we’re still miles away, that means there’s probably another thirty or forty along the beach. There will be more up on the cliffs, protecting the overland route. There’s probably even more on the far east side of the cave. How far is Sea Crest from there? Would it be easier to come by boat, along the beach, or to attack from inland?” I was trying to come up with an estimate.

“Sea Crest doesn’t have a good harbor, the sea breaks on the cliff. The only way to get to the cave would be for them to come over land for a half day’s march, around the back side, and out onto the beach to the west of the cave. There’s a trail down the cliffs a short ways from here.” That was good news.

“Alright, that thins out the numbers I had in my head. I’d guess there’s twenty up top, twenty here, and twenty more between that trail and the cave. Sixty skeletons total, enough to stop a small force trying to push into the cave. What I want to do, is draw those skeletons in to us. How many archers do we have?” That led to a quick count of the bows, arrows, javelins, and other ranged weapons on the boat. It came out to six bows including the two the twins had brought, and about three dozen harpoons for hunting horkers. That left eight of us to fight on the beach.

“I can take the boat in, if you have a good plan Johannes.” Jorn looked dubious at the prospect of taking four to one odds.

“You yourself just said that it’d take half an hour or more for the skeletons to move back to the cave. The same is true for the ones up above and farther down to get here. Angven and Anglin can make a hundred yard shot in strong wind, I’ve seen them do it. We’ll pick off the ones we can, while the rest of us fight on the beach. The rocks form natural funnels. We thin them out here as best we can, and if too many start coming, we get back on the boat and leave.” That seemed to get Jorn on my side, until Angven spoke up.

“Johannes, I can make a hundred yard shot when I can see what I’m shooting at. It’s too dark tonight for that. The full moons won’t come for another week.” Angven cocked his head towards my hand. I nodded, and handed over my ring. Jorn just looked more confused. Angven handed the ring to him.

“Put it on, it was a gift from the College to help Johannes.” Angven looked to me to make sure it was alright, and I nodded. Jorn put it on and gasped.

“This, this is incredible.” He looked out to the beach, and gasped again. “That’s a lot of skeletons…” He took the ring off, and handed it back to Angven.

“We’ve been fighting against three to one odds or worse for the past few weeks, against men. Skeletons aren’t as dangerous as men are. We’ll be fighting two to one, maybe three to one here. I’ve got a few tricks too.” I patted my axe. Jorn nodded and walked over to the mast, patting a carving there. It was Talos’ mark.

“Bring us in! Lodor, drop our anchor three ship lengths out and run the rope to the turner. Furl up the sails, oarsmen, to your benches.” The boat turned in sharply as Jorn brought us in closer. Angven was standing at the prow, just beside the captain. The ice flows were thin, but sandbars were trouble. The low draft of the ship was on our side though, there were no bumps. Angven started to knock an arrow, when I came along behind him.

“Angven, dip your arrow in this.” I held out a glowing gold pot. He smiled, coated the arrow head, and let it fly. We were close enough to see the golden tracer merge with a set of blue eyes, and the resulting burst of flame. Angven managed two more shots before the skeletons raised the alarm, their compatriots burning with golden sun fire. A low wail started all along the rocks, I could see some of the men paling at the increasing number of ghastly voices picking up the tune.

“You hear that? They’re howling in terror! Let’s send these bones back to the dirt, where they belong! Sovngarde or Glory!” The men grinned, and took up the chant. I’m not sure who’s boots hit the beach first, but Jorn and I were at the head. Blue eyes were coming out of the darkness towards us, rattling bones and the clanking of rusty mail heralded yet more out of sight.