The prisoner had needed a bit of convincing, to the point that I’d tied a noose around his neck and tossed a rope over the main beam of the Jarl’s hall that night. Handing the other end of the rope to Hemjar and letting him hoist the bandit two feet off the ground had led to a quick turn in the bandit’s priorities. In exchange for every last scrap of information he had, he’d been sentenced to a life of hard labor for the Jarl. That meant moving heavy rocks from one side of the yard to the other, being used as a punching bag by the guards, rented out to locals for grunt work, that sort of thing.
It was a good deal in my opinion. Hemjar wanted to make a public spectacle of his execution in the most painful ways possible. The bandit had filled in our map, and then taken a few away once I’d made it clear that false information would see him executed on my return. He’d pointed out four gangs, moved two of our suspected sites, and mentioned some attacks that he’d heard about, but had left no survivors to tell us. The most important bit of information he had was that Merkin operated out of an old barrow on the south side of the mountains, and that he was a Dunmer. That technically put him in the Pale, but Dawnstar didn’t seem to be in any hurry to capture the filth.
My party had stayed in the barracks rooms that night, and now we were heading back out just as soon as we’d gotten a good breakfast. Our target was the Wraiths first. It wasn’t meant to be a total extermination, though that would be a possibility depending on how cooperative they were. The next three days objective was to hit as many of the bandits as quickly as we could, with maximum casualties inflicted. Thinning out their numbers before they caught on to the fact someone was hunting them was key.
We’d made it back to the Snow Caps camp before midday, and the bodies were mostly where we’d left them. Some had been chewed on by the wild life, some had been dragged away, but there weren’t any new human tracks. We kept on to the mountain that our songbird had mentioned, and stashed the sleds in a clutch of trees just as the sun started its downwards arc. The whole pack would be coming with us this time, eight dogs and two wolves.
The twins found a good path through the mountainside that kept us in the trees, right up until an absolutely rank stench wafted over us. It smelled like a corpse pit, and really, that’s what it was. The sled dogs went skittish almost immediately, abandoning us to head back to the sleds.
“Troll cave, watch it.” I pointed to a gap in the rock ahead. Anglin and Angven were in the lead as usual, and slowly started backpedaling. We’d almost made it. Almost. A roar sounded from the overhang above us, and then the grating of claws on stone heralded the beast's descent. The troll landed in between us, kicking up snow with a thud. I already had my axe in hand, charging for the beast. Three steps, a swing, and a spray of blood saw the first blow landed. I’d cut a gruesome line across one of its arms, prompting an angry screech. It swiped out at my head and missed, three long claws shredded the air where my throat had been a moment before. I stepped into its guard with a another slash, swung my axe upwards, under its arm, and into its chest. The Troll stumbled backwards, and took me with it. My axe was wedged between two ribs, and I’d made the mistake of holding on this time.
Whistling arrows were feathering the furry beast as we both tumbled into the snow. Anglin and Angven’s shots were careful, opting for the least likely to hit me rather than the most deadly. The troll landed on its rear, rolled, and spun on all fours in the snow, then leapt forwards for me. My landing hadn’t been great, but I’d gotten back to my feet in time be knocked back on my ass. The troll’s tackle felt like a pile of bricks had hit me, but nothing broke. It raised a fist to turn me into bloody pulp, my mind was racing for a way out.
Kick!
My axe was still stuck between the ribs, and the haft was effectively a giant lever. I kicked the wooden handle with all my might, twisting the axe blade a solid fifteen degrees inside the troll’s ribcage. It twitched with the pain, opening its mouth to scream. A stream of fire washed over its head at that moment, melting fur and skin straight off the bone. It didn’t manage to roar, all the air in its lungs had been sucked out to fuel the flames bathing it.
Something, two somethings rammed into the side of the beast, knocking it off me. Gleaming steel rained down on its flank as the twins battered it with their blades. Angven’s axe cleaved a rib, Anglin’s sword thrust deep into the troll’s back, Riga launched an ice spike that exploded on the troll’s skull, razor shards flying every which way. I was able to get to my feet in the confusion, draw my mace, and beat the daylights out of the troll as it tried to recover. What had started as an ambush ended as a slaughter, chunks of flesh, blood, burning fat, and broken limbs were all that remained of the troll.
Lots of little monkeys beat one big monkey.
“Everyone alright?” I asked as I pulled my axe out of the troll’s ribs. The blade was starting to become a liability. The shape of it lent itself well to removing arms and legs off of people, but the size meant it was liable to get stuck in something big. I’d have to fix that before it got me killed.
“We’re fine, you’re the one that got tackled by the thing.” Anglin breathed out a long breath.
“Armor held, and the padding your father made did its job. I’ll be sore tomorrow.” I brought my axe high, and took the troll's head in one chop.
“Keeping it for the bounty?” Angven asked, somewhat amused.
“No, making sure the bastard doesn’t somehow get back up to fight another day. Always finish off a troll. They can heal faster than you’d believe. That was a whole lot of noise, think the bad guys heard us?” I asked as my eyes tracked over the twins. Their white cloaks were ruined, so was mine, troll blood was streaked every which way all across them.
“Probably heard the troll, but they’re noisy hunters. The bandits aren’t likely to come looking for it, especially if they know this cave is here. I’d have a man watch the mountainside to be safe, but I wouldn’t go asking for trouble.” Angven reasoned.
“Alright. Ditch your cloaks, that blood won’t come out. We’ll move in slowly to get a look at them, but if they’re on edge we’ll pass it over for now.” I pulled off my cloak, and threw it into the troll cave as we passed by. The twins did the same. It was the best place to ditch them, nobody in their right mind would willingly go into a bloodstained cave entrance surrounded by bones. The white cloth hadn’t been cheap, but thirty pieces was the cost of doing business.
The bandit camp was far more difficult to spot than the first one had been, even the twins were surprised when we finally realized what we were looking at. We’d chosen an overlook above the supposed spot, looking through the trees, trying to spot smoke or glints of metal. Finally Anglin groaned softly, tapped my shoulder, and drew a box around a particular clutch of trees. He drew the box with his fingers, then a roof.
“Clever fuckers, built their huts into the trees.” I realized what the bandits had done. The camp had a few wooden huts built in the cover of the pines. The snow laden branches broke up the outline and didn’t leave much of the huts exposed. Closer inspection revealed a wooden palisade connecting the huts, disguised with more pine branches. It was a hard target for just the four of us, unless we could pull off the same trick twice.
“Think we could coax a few of them out?” I asked the group.
“Maybe. If we do, we can kill the ones that fall for it with arrows.” Angven solved the easy part. When all you have is a bow…
“Alright smart boy, how do we get them out?” Anglin teased his brother. I had an idea forming in my head, but Riga was going to hate it.
“They sell bodies to Merkin. They’re a bunch of depraved monsters, they probably like to have their fun with some of the people they can take alive…” I looked to Riga. She was confused at first, then tilted her head, a scowl forming.
“Johannes, what’s going in that mind of yours?” She asked, a brief hint of worry in her voice.
“Well, a camp that’s probably full of men, alone up in the mountains, and a helpless, gorgeous girl comes bumbling through the trees, begging for someone to save her. She collapses right in front of the gate, exhausted and defenseless. I’d bet those men in there race each other to you.” I floated the idea. Riga didn’t like it.
“There’s no way they fall for that.” Anglin said.
“You’ve never been with a woman, have you?” I chuckled at Anglin. He went red, but stayed quiet as Riga bristled.
“Trust me, those idiots will fall for it. Anyone dumb enough to get into the business of selling corpses to a man that doesn’t mind making them himself is stupid enough to fall for a honeypot like this. Let’s figure out the best angle down there.” It was our best shot. We made our way around, circling the camp from the west to get a look at the other side. The palisade fully enclosed the camp, there didn’t seem to be any particular weak spot.
We kept to the plan in the absence of a better one, with the twins splitting into two firing positions. The wolves would stay with me, and Riga would ditch her weapons, pack, belt, armor, everything that could give the game away. She wasn’t particularly happy about giving up her armor, but I told her to trust her ward.
“Alright Riga, you’ve got the plan memorized?” I went over it with her one more time.
“I stumble forwards, begging for help, collapse in the middle of that field in front of their gate, a bit off to the side, and wait. When they get close, I blast them with flames. The twins will start shooting, and then I wait for you and the wolves. Once we kill all the ones that came out, we’ll get close, set the wall on fire, then we run. The twins will feather anyone that tries to get a shot off from the wall. Did I get everything right?” She asked.
“Perfect. You’ll do great, just remember, they need to get close enough to you to block the view from the wall before you set them on fire. Go on, when you’re ready.” I patted her on the shoulder. She nodded, steeled her self, and broke from the trees.
She started off quietly, moaning and crying, slowly building until it seemed like she was having a full on mental breakdown. There was some commotion from the bandit camp as they watched her. Riga was doing a great job of feigning exhaustion. She stumbled, dragged her feet, before finally collapsing in the snow, sobbing. The gate to the camp opened, I counted seven men walking fast. Two more were on a platform next to the gate with bows. I guess they weren’t quite as stupid as I’d hoped. The twins would see them.
“Hey now, hey now, what’s wrong girl? Did you get lost in the mountains?” A big man at the head of the bandits asked.
“She’s a pretty little one, ain’t she?” One farther back was eyeing her like a dog eyed a steak.
“Pretty as could be, little snow fox.” Another agreed. They were a few steps too far. Riga muttered something I couldn’t make out.
“What’s that? An Ice Wraith killed your husband? Speak up.” The bandits laughed to themselves, it was a nice touch to lure them closer. Riga pretended like she was trying to stand, putting a hand in the snow. I saw the flames start, puffs of steam rising. The lead bandit leaned down to her, and caught the spell full force in the face. He clawed at the fire, his cloak and jacket had lit, and the rest of the bandits tried to jump away as Riga swept her hands over them. The twins loosed their shots, nailing the two archers on the gate.
Time to make use of that Warcry.
I roared as I stood from the trees I’d covered in, the wolves already bounding ahead. The bandits were caught flat footed as Riga doused them in fire. Some managed to get away with just an arm or a leg burning, and rolled in the snow to put it out. One braved the spell, raising a shield against it. He almost managed a swing at Riga when one of the twins put an arrow in his leg. Karliene was on him in a flash, flailing her head back and forth once she’d gotten hold of his throat.
Icefoot pulled another bandit back down into the snow as he tried to run for the gate. Riga had changed tacts now, finishing off bandits with ice spikes. One rolled, and manifested a ward just in time to avoid being skewered.
“Geek the mage!” I shouted to the twins. Neither of them had a good angle on the prone bandit, but Karliene heard me, and somehow understood. She went for his casting hand, ripping bloody shreds out of it. Riga tried a spell, but it fizzled. Instead, she reached into the folds of her jacket for a steel dagger, and fell on the mage in a fury. The two girls tore him to pieces by the time I got there with my axe. There were still a few bandits rolling in the snow, some trying to stand. I put my axe to work. Stabs with the point ended two of them, a third caught the blade in the collar bone down to his heart.
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“That’s one mage, drink a magicka potion.” I looked to Riga. She took the offered vial, drained it, and seemed to regain some sense. I counted out the dead and dying bandits, plus the two on the gate.
“That’s nine.” I whistled, telling the twins to move up with us. If there were only a dozen of them to start, we had the numbers now.
“Anglin, I want your shield up front with me. Angven, protect Riga.” We moved forwards to the gate. It wasn’t all the way open, but wide enough to fit through single file. Anglin was about to step into it when I grabbed him by the shoulder.
“That’s a funnel. Watch.” I used my axe to hook onto the gate, and pulled it open a touch more. A burst of fire exploded around my axe head, a fireball meant for the first man in line. Anglin stepped into cover behind the gate, but I charged through with my axe in one hand, my left raised with a ward. I’d expected to fight a mage, and got something a whole lot worse.
A woman wreathed in fire, floating just above the ground, spinning and dancing in the air. Another fireball shot out, splashing on my ward. It cracked, but held. A second fireball, then a third, my ward broke. I hadn’t stopped moving forwards, closing the distance with the burning lady.
[Flame Atronach]
[Race: Lesser Daedra]
[Level: 5]
[Health: 115/115, Magicka: 80/175, Stamina: 50/50]
The tag popped up above its head as I wondered what the hell it was. It raised a hand as the distance closed to a melee, only for an ice spike to buzz over my shoulder and slam the daedra in the chest. That spooked it, the thing zipped to my right before I could change direction. It loosed a fireball back towards the gate, probably at Riga. I slid to a stop, eyes tracking around for other threats. I couldn’t see the other mage, but they had to be nearby.
I heard the clash of steel and a sizzling pop of flames, Anglin and Angven had managed to close with the Atronach. Something in my head twitched, a distant memory of one of those things nearly killing me. Atronachs did their best to take you with them when they died.
“Break off! Make distance with it!” I shouted to the twins. Angven’s axe slammed home into its head, and the flames started to glow brighter. Anglin had grabbed his brother, and was in the process of throwing themselves flat when the Atronach exploded. A wave of flame washed over the pair, they had their faces in the snow. I was moving towards them when a white hot bolt of lightning hit me square in the back.
My entire body seized up stiff as a board, and I face planted into the snow. I was still trying to get my legs to move when a screaming Riga slid to a stop above me, casting a ward in one hand and flames in the other. There was an alarmed shout, another crack of lightning, and then I was being dragged away by my stiff arm. I saw Anglin and Riga storming into a burning hut, a bright flash, a scream, and then I was outside the gate. Angven was saying something to me as I got my twitchy legs working.
“Johannes! Are you alright?” Angven was asking.
“I’ll be fine! Help them.” I tried to focus on the healing spell, but that lightning shock had made a mess of the mana I could usually call on. It was a roiling mass, like the ocean in a storm. It took a few seconds before I managed to get the spell going, but with it, the searing pain across my back slowly went away. I didn’t manage to heal it completely, but it was enough.
I walked back into the camp, to see Anglin kicking the shit out of the mage on the ground. Riga had a burn across her neck, but was dishing out a beating to rival the boy’s. Angven was about to join in, when I cleared my throat.
“That’s enough! We need a survivor.” I spoke loud enough to be heard over the burning hut. Riga gave the mage one more good kick before letting it rest.
“Aside from a bit of burns, are we intact?” I looked over them all. The twins had a bit of light scorching on the back of their armor, but seemed to have survived.
“Riga got kissed by a burning log in that hut, how are you feeling?” Anglin kept his eyes on the mage while he asked.
“Crispy, but I’ll live. How about this one?” I walked up to the mage. His arm was cut open and bleeding, there was another stab wound in his stomach.
“Dying, hopefully.” Riga started to try to kick him again, but Angven stopped her.
“Anglin, tie the mage up. He’s got time before he bleeds out. Riga, fix yourself up, you don’t want that burn to scar. Once the mage is bound, I need you to fix him. You can kill him later.” I turned my eyes to the other huts. One was noticeably larger than the rest. I motioned for Angven to follow me in. It was a mess inside. A cot, a chest, an ugly but functional desk. I threw a magelight onto the ceiling so that we could see.
There wasn’t much of note, but I could see that an ink pot had been spilled, a few loose pieces of paper were scattered around. Someone had hidden or destroyed their journals. I was willing to bet big money that it was the mage we had tied up. There were a few disturbing pieces scattered about. Human bones, some looked too small to have come from an adult. Any thoughts of sparing the mage left my mind after a few glances at a nearly intact set of foot bones, they hadn’t finished fusing together. I tried to push the thought out of my head, and turned to the treasure.
The chest itself was big money, over a thousand pieces had been stashed in a smaller lockbox inside. There were spell tomes too, three of them. A dagger caught my eye as I was digging through, it glowed a brief purple when my hand touched it.
[Item: Steel Dagger of Soul Trapping]
[Description: When a target is struck by this weapon, their soul is tethered to the nearest suitable Soul Gem. If they die while tethered, their soul is trapped within the gem.]
[Effect: Cast Soul Trap on Target.]
Soul traps, soul gems, magic items, something buzzed again. The soul gems were an intrinsic part to the creation of enchanted equipment, they were used as fuel for the magic. They were horrific, sending souls to the… It hit me like a truck, the Soul Cairn, the Ideal Masters, the spirits doomed to spend eternity wandering the gray wasteland after their souls were bartered to make a flaming sword. It took a very rare kind of soul gem to send a sentient, sapient being to the Soul Cairn, and I was looking at one. The black gem had been underneath the dagger, wrapped in a cloth. I took it out, and put it on the desk, along with the blade.
“Is he conscious?” I asked as I came back out from the hut.
“You won’t get any answer from me, scum!” The mage hissed.
“Great. Well, I’m going to make this real simple for you. Where are your papers? I know you moved them, where are they?” I squatted down to be at eye level with the mage. He sneered, reared his head back, and spit blood at me.
“That was a bad idea. Left or right mage?” I wiped the blood off my face.
“What kind of infantile question is that?” He tried to spit at me again, but Riga kicked him in the mouth before he could. A few teeth went flying.
“Hey Riga, do you think it hurts to regrow teeth?” I looked to her. She shrugged, and cast the healing spell on the bandit mage. He groaned, but it didn’t seem like a worthwhile method of torture.
“I’m going to ask you again, otherwise we’ll let Riga decide. Left, or right?” The mage looked a bit less confident now, but stayed quiet.
“Alright Riga. Pick one of his hands for me. Anglin, could you drag that stump over here?” I gestured.
“I pick his right hand.” She smiled. Anglin dragged the stump into position, while Angven held the man’s bound hands in place on it.
“Last chance to give me an answer without blood, mage.” I hefted my axe up.
“To Oblivion with you!” Wrong answer, again. I swung my axe down, and took off both of his hands. That oversized axe blade really was inconvenient at times. He screamed, but it only took a few minutes for him to settle down after I’d had Riga heal the stumps. She wasn’t talented enough to grow a hand back after all.
“Alright mage, now that we both know what the score is, we can keep going with the removing bits and pieces of your anatomy till the moons come up. I don’t think that’s necessary, and you certainly don’t want to be left as a meat sack rolling across the ice do you? Wolves will be around before too long with all this blood.” I sat across from the mage. He wouldn’t look at me.
“Alright, I’m gonna cut to the chase because you obviously think that even if you die, you’re going someplace right? Who’s your lord?” It was a reasonable conclusion from the Atronach summoning.
“I serve the King of Strife!” There was a new defiance in his eyes.
“Alright, well, you aren’t going to Coldharbour buddy.” I stood and walked back into the hut for the knife and gem. The mage’s eyes went wide when he saw them.
“Oh yeah, you know what these are. Tell me, what do you think it feels like when the Ideal Masters decide to devour your soul? Do you think it hurts? I haven’t heard much, but I know that there’s stories from a few necromancers that there are souls from the Merethic Era that haven’t been eaten yet. How does that sound? Ten thousand years of waiting around for an eventual death to some cosmic horror?” My hand flicked out and cut his cheek, a purple tether line manifested to the black soul gem.
“Wait! Wait! Listen, I burned the papers! But I can tell you things!” The mage’s sudden change of heart was telling in itself. Riga and the twins had taken an unconscious step back from the pair of us.
“Things like what? I’m on a hunt for Merkin and his little gang of amateurs. You’d better have something good or you’ll be serving as my walking foot stool for eternity.” More memories were starting to come back, things about necromancy, vampires, elder scrolls.
“Merkin is expecting a big delivery. There’s a refugee mob coming from Morrowind, one month! We’re supposed to head over the mountain in a few days to meet with the rest of them, then we’re marching over the White to some ruined tower.” The Mage spoke fast, eyes glued to the black gem and the purple tether connecting him to it.
“How many gangs is the rest? Two gangs? Four? I need numbers mage.” I let the dagger drift closer to him again.
“I don’t know! There’s got to be at least fifty fighters for a job as big as this. Merkin doesn’t like taking chances, or leaving witnesses!” The mage quickly tried to supply an answer.
“How many Dunmer are coming with that refugee group?” That would be a good proxy for how many soldiers Merkin would bring.
“A hundred, two hundred maybe. I only heard half the story. Enough to fill six wagons or more with bodies.” That was bad.
“Well, unless you have anything else to offer…” I stood.
“We’re going to deliver the bodies to the necromancers in the east! A big group of them are held up in an old barrow. Yngdaril or something! That’s everything I know!” The mage watched as the tether connecting him to the gem disappeared, and breathed out a sigh of relief.
“You certainly turned out to be useful. Tell you what, I need someone to send Merkin a message. You’ll have to be careful, seeing as you don’t have any hands, but you still have two feet. When you see Merkin next, tell him the Hounds send their regards.” I walked around behind him.
“The hounds send their regards, I’ll tell him, I swear it!” The Mage’s voice was giddy with relief. It was incredible how quickly a smart, desperate person could turn into a stupid, hopeful one.
“You’re just going to let him go? Johannes, what the— Oh, damn.” Angven started to protest, right up until I jammed the soul trapping dagger into the mage’s heart. He jerked, hissed in surprise, and slumped forwards. A bright purple light was sucked into the black gem I carried, and the gem itself began to glow faintly.
“Johannes… What was that?” Riga’s fearfully curious eyes kept moving between the dagger, and the gem.
“That’s part of the process for how enchanted weapons are made. You have to trap the soul of a creature with the soul trap spell, very creative names. If the creature dies while the spell is in place, their soul gets sucked to the nearest available soul gem. Like this one.” I lifted the black soul gem to her.
“That thing ate the mage’s soul?” Anglin’s eyes seemed fearful of the crystal.
“No, it’s just holding onto it for now. Once this crystal gets used though… It’s dark magic to use black soul gems. Just know that this bastard is going to be punished beyond anything that the Jarl or Hemjar could ever devise.” I stuffed the gem into a bag on my belt.
“How did you know all that stuff? You knew he was a daedra worshipper, you knew the realm of whichever one he worshipped, you mentioned something about the Masters?” Riga asked questions in rapid fire.
“Slow down Riga. I don’t know how I knew that. It came back to me when I saw the black gem. I’m still piecing it all together. This mage served a Prince, I won’t say his name, but he’s one of the nastier ones. As for the Masters… It’s complicated. They have some sort of realm like the Daedra, where the souls trapped in black soul gems end up. It’s called the Soul Cairn, and it’s one of the worst fates you could possibly have. The souls wander a wasteland for thousands of years, until the Masters decide to devour them. That’s what I know, and I don’t think anyone else knows much more than that. Very, very few people have ever survived going there.” I paused, regretting that I’d shared that.
“Riga, it’d be best if you kept all that to your self. People start asking questions when you know things that you shouldn’t, and that’s not the sort of attention that any of us need. I’m going to ask Jori about what these bandits would be doing with black soul gems. They’re very rare.” It was a mistake to tell Riga what I knew, that was obvious the second I’d started, but truthfully, I still couldn’t remember why I knew all this stuff. Tamriel wasn’t the world of my previous life, that was obvious, but I could remember things about it more clearly than the life I knew that I’d lived.
“That’s… You must have been some sort of witch hunter before you came to us.” Anglin spoke first. Riga was still digesting everything I’d told her.
“That, or maybe one of the Necromancers.” Angven was trying to make a joke, but realized it was in poor taste. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Come on, let’s see what’s worth taking and get out of here before the sun gets too low. There’s two more camps to raid, we can hit one more before the sun sets and still have time to put distance between ourselves and the scene.” There wasn’t a whole lot worth taking beyond the immediate valuables. There were a few steel weapons that found their way into bags, helmets and chainmail, but none of the bandits had been wearing heavy plate. It was all for the better, heavy plate would slow us down.
We paid our respects to the next bandit camp, and found it deserted aside from two men. They’d been loudly talking about how they’d spend the money they took from a murdered family, and caught arrows for punishment. One of them mentioned a nearby village that the rest of the gang was extorting before Angven put another arrow in him. We weren’t looking for prisoners now, this was a punitive raid. The camp had a fair bit of loot in it, enough to load down our sleds with.
With the knowledge of a local village being harassed by the bandits, we were left with a dilemma. The village was a couple hours away by sled, nearly a day’s hike by foot, which meant the bandits were probably going to stay there overnight. Nothing good happened after dark, that was a universal truth. If we made for the village, we’d be going into a fight tired and blind, but if we didn’t, it was a certainty that the villagers would suffer for it.
“We’re the Jarl’s Rangers, it’s our job to stop cretins like that from raiding villages. I say we make for the village as quickly as we can.” Anglin cast his vote. Angven agreed. I agreed with them too.
“Alright. We’re going to stash everything heavy here, take only what you need for a fight. Riga, how are you feeling as far as spellcasting goes?” I looked to our mage. She’d cast a lot of magic today.
“I can do some healing, but don’t expect much.” She looked like she was ready to fall asleep.
“Rest on the trip as best you can.” She’d need it.