“Kai, how’re the scouts doing?” I looked over some of the riders behind him. They looked a bit worse for wear. Dried blood painted their armor, and two horses dragged wrapped riders behind them.

“We’ve had better patrols. We thought we’d put the bandits behind us. They killed two sentries just before dawn, bastards disappeared back into the mountains before we could chase them. They tried ambushing us again on the way down the mountains, we caught four of them.” Kai tossed me a bag, he’d taken their heads. Losing two of our experienced riders wasn’t great, but the Jarl had brought up more cavalry than we expected. We still had more mounted power than we’d originally planned to.

“Any sign that they kept on you? I know it isn’t easy to hide on the ice plains.” I looked out at the horizon. The trail that the horses had left could be seen for miles.

“Left a hook for them in the forest, but none followed. I take it that means they’ve joined the main host.” Kai spat on the ice. I could hear the distant clomping of horses coming up from the infantry column. Kai hid a scowl as he saw them, he'd not been impressed by Korir so far.

“Jarl.” The stormcloak dipped his head.

“Kai, what happened?” The Jarl nodded towards the bodies, Kai explained again.

“What of the main host of bandits? Are they still in the mountains?”

“They couldn’t have made much ground, a few miles at best. We’ll beat them to the river by a full day if we ride now. Toban counted sixty bandits, five in robes.” Kai cocked his head back to the man on his right, a grizzled looking nord with a frozen gash on his arm. Something told me that he’d turn down any offer of healing with a line like ‘I ain’t bleeding, am I?’

“Sixty five afoot for thirty mounted, easy pickings.” The Jarl counted those on horse back.

“Seventy mounted, eighty once we meet with Kalor, Jarl. The sleds aren’t fit for a charge, but they are fast.” Jorman respectfully corrected the man. Korir forced himself to look over my sled, and the rest of the screen that had met Kai’s scouts.

“Eighty, if they were to be with us. Champion, I’ve been considering our options. You and your lot have been harping on about the dangers of the necromancers being left to their own devices in the barrows. Your plan to track one of these scum to their hole is a sound one, with a flaw.” The Jarl had a very smug look on his face. Smug looks and incompetence very rarely went well together.

“And that would be?”

“If we let one get away to lead us to the crypt, they’ll be ready and waiting. You yourself admitted that part of the difficulty in your attack against the vampire was the fact that he was ready for you.” The Jarl did have a point there.

“My plan would have seen us descend on Yngdaril the moment we knew where it was. Jori’s studies suggest that ruins of it still stand above the ice. The necromancer wouldn’t make it to the doors. Unless you think they’re fast enough to outrun an Ice Wolf.” I pointed to Karliene. I’d already accounted for the failings of my first plan. Speed, surprise, and violence were the key to storming a fortified position. There was no way around the problem of a frontal assault, but that was just the way of things with the barrows. Unless a battalion of sappers were to mystically appear in my lap, the front door was the only option.

“All the same, I think it would be better if we tried to attack both at the same time. You’ve proven yourself capable in finding those who would like to stay hidden, I’m sure you can manage without being led by the hand.” The Jarl was trying to get rid of me. I knew why, and from his perspective, it was perfectly reasonable. His perspective was that of an arrogant, incompetent, desperate fool, but I could understand it. If I partook in the charge, and it was successful, I would get the credit because I planned it. The Jarl needed a win here, one that he could claim without issue.

“Jarl, that wasn’t the plan. I need your cavalry to screen the area around the barrow, otherwise there is a real risk that some of them escape. If I have to leave half my force outside on sleds, we’re only going in twenty strong.” It was better than the dozen I’d had on the coast, but we’d only expected a single mage there. We had no idea how many were inside Yngdaril, how many guards they would have, if the draugr had been pacified the same way. There were too many unknowns to go changing the plan that I had carefully thought out with Kai.

“That also doesn’t leave us with an escape Jarl. The sleds were meant to put pressure on the bandits after our charge. Lancers don’t stand and fight, they charge and retreat. Without some sort of diversion, they’ll have thirty seconds or more to shoot us in the back.” Kai was doing his best to stay respectful, but the growing growl in his words could be heard. The Jarl wouldn’t hear it.

“Mounted men have always been worth five times their number! Countless battles were won by a small cavalry force routing thousands of the enemy, I think we can handle twice our number in brigands.” That broke Kai’s patience.

“Small, elite bands of experienced cavalry atop warhorses, yes! Not a handful of half trained riders on saddle horses and whatever armor we could scavenge! How’s this for history, during the battle for the Imperial City, can you tell me what happened to the Second Legion’s lancers?” Kai’s anger made him honest, and his men didn’t take offense to any of it. The war with the Imperials hadn’t started yet, this would likely be their first real charge in combat. The blunt rebuttal had caught the Jarl offguard.

“They charged the Thalmor center, and carved a swathe through them, one of the fe－” Kai cut the Jarl off.

“They were butchered! The Imperial infantry faltered when Thalmor skirmishers cut them off. The best riders in the Empire were killed to a man when those same Thalmor skirmishers shot their horses out from under them! That is what happens to a poorly supported charge in the day light! We expect them to make their crossing in the night! How are we to see them and plan our approach without the Champion’s night eye ring? Without his mages to shoot lights in front of them as we begin our charge? How are we going to stop their mages from lighting us on fire? Would you risk the lives of our entire force simply to put your name on a victory that wouldn’t be needed if you had done your damn duties before now?” Kai wasn’t this Jarl’s man, and Korir had fucked himself so thoroughly that there wasn’t much to be lost in humiliating him at this point, from Kai’s perspective at least. A better Jarl would have drawn his sword, and challenged Kai to an honor duel right there. The thought probably crossed Korir’s mind, his hand tensed on the reins of his horse, but he probably also realized he would lose.

“That’s settled then, we’ll stick to the plan.” I nodded to Kai, and started to whistle to the dogs.

“Johannes! You swore an oath to serve as my first ranger, and you have not been relieved of it! Your loose words I could forgive, your call to my soldiers, I could forgive, but this will not stand! You will do as I command!” The Jarl was bellowing for everyone to hear, his voice would echo across the ice for miles. It surprised me. He was right, I just hadn’t expected him to have the balls to call me on it. Jorman looked incredibly uncomfortable, shifting in his saddle.

“You damned fool. Johannes could challenge you for your seat here and now and not a man in the entire hold would question him for it.” Kai was angrier than I was, and seemed to be on the verge of fighting the Jarl himself. Jorman trotted his horse forwards, trying to put himself between the two before a blade could be drawn. I held up my hand.

“I don’t want his seat. The Jarl needs to lead his people to victory. I did swear an oath to the Jarl, to be his ranger and follow his orders, but I had a condition to that oath. I was to be allowed to fulfill my duties as I see fit. You can honor that oath and not change the plan I’ve come up with, or break the terms of it, and I’ll ride in behind your charge anyways. You can have your glories Jarl, I’ve made plenty of my own.” Korir was discovering new shades of red and purple at the words, but I had him in a bind. Ten seconds felt like ten years.

“So be it! After this affair is done…” The Jarl left the other words to hang. There’d be a reckoning, a price to pay, something something, I’d need to find somewhere else to live. If both of us survived. The Jarl turned on his horse and joined back with the infantry column, as did the rest of his retinue. Hemjar was the last to turn, and he was giving me the same look that he’d given Malur before torturing him to death.

Thirty Six Hours Later

“I count seven wagons, make it eighty men. No idea on mages or not. No undead. Even numbers…” I whispered to Angven. Kai’s scouts had caught up to the bandits three hours before, and shadowed them until they were five miles from the river. The men would have to disembark from the wagons when they got to the river or they’d risk plunging a whole dozen men into the frigid waters if a wagon sunk.

Eighty of us were hiding on the backslope of a low ridge, watching the twinkling torch lights move across a moonlight blue plain. Adalvald and Hania were going to be at the very head of the charge, ready to throw blinding lights in the faces of the bandits. They were much more practiced than I was, and assured me they could make all the light go one direction. The lancers would skewer as many as they could, then break off to clear a lane for my sleds. We’d start our charge first, but on the far right flank, turn ninety degrees left, and deliver a minute long broadside down our single file line of battle.

We had twenty nine sleds now that Kalor had joined us, twenty four had come for the charge, and a few were loaded with two passengers. The other five sleds were with the infantry, hauling supplies and keeping dog teams to protect the camp. Our best archers, and all the mages, were in shooter positions. My rough math said that we’d fire off a little over three hundred arrows on our pass, who knew how many spells. If a fifth of the arrows hit their marks, the bandits would be shattered, not counting magic or the ones that the lancers killed.

“The ford is just a mile off from there. See the rise?” Kai was belly down next to me.

“Got it.”

“That’s Split Tree Rise, this is Split Tree Ford. The ford is just before the hill. I’ll break my lancers off to the left, around the hill, and come back around for another pass if I think we could survive it. We won’t have lances, but an axe from horseback will kill a man all the same.” Kai hashed out the specifics we’d left vague.

“Good plan. If we kill a lot of them in the first run, I’ll circle my dog teams back around, dismount, and lead an infantry push from the right flank. We’ll catch them between our shields and your horses.” I agreed.

The plan [https://i.imgur.com/dIb460Y.jpeg]

The first charge.

“What will be the signal for a second charge? You’ll be in a better position to see them when we need to decide.”

“I’ll send up a green flare for you to line up your charge, but if you see a red flare, break it off before you meet them. Hania, did you hear that?” I whispered to the woman sitting slightly down the slope.

“I heard you. I’ll respond when I see your light. Same color?” I nodded to the woman.

“That’ll be good. We have half a mile of open ground between us and the bandits. I’ll let you call the charge Kai, keep it subtle. The later they hear us, the better it is.” I patted the Stormcloak on the shoulder, and started back for my sled. Karliene could smell the fight coming, she was getting antsy.

We waited in nervous silence for what felt like half an hour, but really couldn’t have been anymore than five minutes. Kai came running down the hillside, jumped onto his horse, and let out a wolf howl. The accuracy was uncanny, Karliene, Icefoot, and all the other dogs went rigid for a moment, then it was a chorus effort.

AWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!

So much for subtlety… AWOOOOOOOOOO!

Kai had been right to howl, the bandits were running around in a panic as our baying wolves sounded off. All they would be able to see was a tremendous snow flurry rising across the darkness. My sleds were in a double column to start, we’d do our best to merge in the turn. Kai’s cavalry were riding hard across the light snow cover, lances ten feet high held ready, banners dancing, hooves stomping, men and dogs howling. A bolt of flame struck out from the wagons, and met a blue shield five feet ahead of the riders. Two bolts, three, four, seven, ten, the necromancers had gathered their wits and started shooting. Half of the bolts were caught, a lot of them missed, but two riders had gone to the ground in smoldering heaps. Returning fire struck back as Adalvald narrowed in on the wagon that most of the spells had come from. A fireball three times as large blistered the air to answer, the wagon burst into an inferno. Three flaming pillars ran out of it, screaming their last to an uncaring night.

Let’em fucking burn.

The bandits that had taken cover around the wagons broke, terrified that their wagon would be next. They were blinded by a series of floodlights suddenly turning on in front of them, bathing the whole scene in golden radiance. The lancers lowered their weapons for the final approach. More spells flew both ways. Crackling thunder burst out from behind one wagon, answering flames rendered it to a funeral pyre. A cluster of eight men were running for the river. Four riders ran them down first, skewering, trampling, and slashing at the bandits. None of the eight made it to the river.

On the other side, I could see a brilliant battle of magic raging near the lead wagon. I whistled my dogs left, it was time for us to turn in and add our own might. A ward went up in time to catch a mighty bolt of lightning, the resulting flash was blinding in it’s own right. Three wagons were burning now, and the horses attached to the rest hadn’t waited around to find out if they were next. It was utter chaos by the time I’d brought Riga into range. Dying men, panicking horses, blood thirsty oaths, lightning, fire, it was every bit of the intensity of the worst memories I had.

“RIGA! BURN THE WAGONS! NO ESCAPE!” I called over the auditory onslaught. I wasn’t sure if she heard me, but a group of bandits were trying to climb into the back of a wagon that hadn’t gotten moving too fast yet. Riga put up both of her hands, and unleashed a jet of flame like I’d never seen before. Skin, fat, hair, fingernails, eyes, it all melted under magical flames, but she was melting their chainmail into their charring, splintering bones. One man tried to dive out of the wagon. The image of his flopping, fleshless arm seared itself into my memory, as did the arrow catching him in the lungs a second later.

There was a howl of pain from somewhere behind me, a dog had been hit. Arrows started whistling for us, the surviving bandits tried to put up some kind of defense. They were caught in the open now, the wagons gone and the river at their backs. A throng of them were right at the shore, archers hiding behind a shabby shield wall. They should have kept running.

“Sweep their legs out from under them!” I called out to the sleds behind me. I saw Angven draw back, and one of the men with a shield fell a second later. There were too many arrows flying back and forth to say for sure, but I’d chock it up to the young hunter. A moment later there was another fireball, less impressive but every bit as deadly. It slammed into the ground just before the bandits, tongues of flame ripping between their legs. Half a dozen of them immediately lit up and abandoned their positions. That tore the formation, the hole let dozens of arrows through. I started to turn my company around for another pass, There were only thirty or so bandits left.

No magic came out at us from the now running bandits, either the mages were dead, spent, or smart enough not to single themselves out. We stopped our sleds fifty yards from the bandits, the archers shooting down the slow ones. I sent a green flare up and grabbed my axe.

A green flare answered, I could hear horses charging down the hill. I got a good look at them before they slammed into the bandits, and it didn’t look good. A third of the riders had been killed or at least knocked off their horses in the first charge. What was left of the bandit mob was running for their lives, out towards the water. Some of them might make it knee deep before something caught them. Most of them wouldn’t.

The bandits stopped and tried to form a line when they saw the horses coming back in for them, a few had spears from what I could see. Lightning and fire broke on their shields, horses drove men into the ground as they fell on them, steel shone and flashed in the light. The passengers on our sleds hit the ground running, blades and magic ready, the drivers turned our dogs away back to safety, save for four great beasts. Karliene, Icefoot, Siga and Torgis had their harnesses undone, the four siblings forming a pack in the middle of our line. Jorn and Lodor would get their money’s worth from the hounds they’d bought.

We managed a somewhat coherent charge into the maelstrom, thirty or so dismounts formed a wedge behind the wolves. I’d ended up on the far right side of it. I could hear Jorn barking out commands from the point, he’d been in the middle of the line. We crashed into the rear of the bandits as they were still trying to fight off the stragglers of the horseman. Some of them had noticed us, and broke for the river. I caught one of those men in the neck, having gone wide.

The bandit saw me, and raised his arm like he had a weapon or shield to block with. His ice and mud stained sleeve quickly turned crimson, the axe blade kept on going. The other bandits heard his shriek, turned to look at me, and tapped into the last bit of strength they had. If it’d only been me, they might have gotten away. The twins had been near the head of the line when I brought us back around, and both saw easy prey. Angven and Anglin had their bows, and went about their job dutifully. Routing bandits fell on their way to the water, full of arrows. I went for the fighting core of the bandit line, a dozen or so were still standing.

Jorn and his contingent were battering down the center of the bandits by the second, Gromm had started moving to encircle them on the right. I ran past the far side of the Icehome men and finished the pincer. Lodor, Jori, and the Seacrest men had gone around the left. A bandit threw down his sword in front of me, and sank to his knees. They’d had a long time to desert the necromancers, and there were plenty of wounded ones strewn about already. The bandit caught a running kick to the face, Grimvald pounced on him before I could bring my axe down. A second bandit tried to put a sword in Grimvald’s back, but was forced to defend himself as the spear point of my axe drove for his face. I knocked his weapon aside and hooked my axe on the back of his shoulder, dragging him down into the muck. His leathers didn’t stand much a chance when I dropped my weight through the axe blade, into his ribs. I came up face to face with Jorn, both of us halfway through a strike.

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“Stop! Stop fighting! We got them all!” Jorn and I both started yelling before we could have a serious friendly fire incident. Two men had to be pulled off each other, a vigilant and one of Jorn’s new guys. After they were seperated, and we checked that no bandits were sneaking off, the fight was won.

The Result [https://i.imgur.com/UsnK1zW.jpeg]

“That was a fucking slaughter.” The noise had died down. A crackling wagon, groans and moans of the dying, the screams as we finished them off, the soothing voices of the vigilants picking out our own wounded and doing their best to heal them.

“Bandits aren’t soldiers. If they’d organized a spear wall, there’d be a lot more of us on the ground.” Jorn pulled his sword out of crispy corpse.

“That’s true. ANYONE SEE A MAGE? WE NEED ONE ALIVE!” I called out to the soldiers. I wanted one of the fuckers. An answering call came up near the river’s edge, where Kai had finished off the last set of runners.

“Got one here Champion! He’s breathing!” It was Grimvald and the Seacrest men hauling him over. Grimvald offered a bag.

“Had this on him, cradling it. Must be important.” I took the pouch and dug through it. Tomes, journals, a sack of coins, a knife, a glowing soul gem, a spare robe, rations, some rings and other jewelry… valuable stuff.

“Bind his hands. You, check him for weapons, quick.” I reached down to my belt, and the very special dagger I had there. The mage had been slashed across the back, shot twice, but he had a few more seconds, especially with how the cold slowed down the bleeding. Once the mage was bound, I cast just enough healing magic to bring him back around.

“Hey fucker. You with me?” I backhanded him hard.

“Kill me! Kill me you craven whoreson!” The mage spat blood back at me. I’d done this song and dance before.

“Grimvald, I think our friend here needs some water.” We took him under the arms, and put him on his knees in front of the river.

“Grimvald, you grew up by the sea. What’d they say about drowning? Bad way to die?”

“Terrible. It takes long enough that you can think about it the whole way down, so it goes from the few that survived. The salt in the water burns your lungs, you can push it out at first, then you get too deep.” Grimvald kicked the mage face first into the river and held his head under a booted heel. The mage didn’t make any bubbles at first, he was holding his breath. I kicked him hard in the ribs, that made bubbles, or screams. We hadn’t taken the arrows out of his back. I let the mage stay down for twenty seconds, struggling.

“Let him up. Alright mage, I’m going to ask you one more time nicely. Are you with me?” The mage didn’t say anything. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and pulled him out into the water farther, just above my ankles.

“I don’t suppose you ever learned water breathing, did you? You could really fuckin’ use it right about now.” I’d drawn my mace out, and slammed him in the stomach with it. Grimvald didn’t need any prompting, he kicked the mage forwards and held his head completely under the water. That ice cold clarity had to be a real bitch when you were drowning. The mage started to weaken after about forty five seconds.

“Let him up. Hey, are we having fun yet? Or do I need to start cutting fingers off? I’m sure there’s a slaughterfish or two around. They really love the soft parts. Nice pointy ears like you’ve got, they’ll come sprinting. Swimming. Swinting?” I looked to Grimvald. He didn’t make a sound, but he had a dumb grin to match the dumb joke.

“This is fun to you, dog? Laugh when your home burns, when the dead march!” The mage was having a chuckle of his own.

“About that, see, we already burned Yngdaril. Nasty fight to take the place, I’ll give you sick fuckers your due, but we took it. Even got the Helm of Winterhold too. Did you dumb bastards even realize what you had?” Gambling had never seemed like a good idea, but it certainly paid tonight.

“Lies!” Desperation and rage mingled in his voice.

“Nope, but see, there is one thing we need from you. There’s a barrow south of the mountains that some of your friends might still be hiding in. If you tell me where that barrow is, exactly, I’ll cut you loose, and I won’t send the dogs after you for one hour. Crossing the river, no blood trail, it’d take them a while to catch your scent. You make it to Morrowind before we catch you, and you’re gone, I’m not going into your territory.” The mage was a dunmer, with a bag full of tomes. I wasn’t counting my chickens yet, but I’d say there was a damn good chance we scored big.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yngdaril is the only barrow.” That earned him another minute under water.

“Hey! Go get a few bandits and keep them alive! Look for well off ones, good armor!” I yelled back to Grimvald’s men. They took off running, we probably didn’t have much of a supply left when it came to dying bandits. If he wanted to keep playing dumb, I'd get it out of the bandit chiefs.

“Alright, I know for a fact that you have a barrow south of the mountains. I’ve gotten that out of five different prisoners, none of them were prompted for it. I’m going to ask you one more time, politely, before that offer about Morrowind expires. Then we get to decide how horribly you die. Where is the barrow? You lie, you’ll be screaming next week.” The dunmer almost took too long, but when he did speak, it was calm and collected.

“Half a day south of some village, Mountain’s Seat I believe. There’s a rock formation in a large clearing between the mountains. It isn’t a rock, it’s a ruined statue. Around the base you’ll be able to see dragon runes. West from the statue there’s three peaks, walk towards the middle peak. It leads into a valley, there’s a goat trail rising up the right side, take it and double back two thirds of the way up the mountain. You’ll see a stone cairn there, and a cave to your north. The barrow is inside. Now live up to your deal.” We’d scored big. Either the dunmer had told the truth and consigned his compatriots to death, or we’d come up with a very smart, very creative one, who’s name rhymed with Vivec. I was leaning towards the latter.

“One last thing, if it clears, I will cut you loose.” I wasn’t lying to him. I’d give him a running start, but he wasn’t making it to Morrowind, not with the twins and the wolves on his ass. Grimvald and I hauled him back to the scene of the massacre, a dozen bodies were being wrapped up.

“Who’d we lose?” I asked Tolin, the guard rode with Korir’s party. He’d had his back to me, but his face contorted into a rage when he saw the prisoner.

“BASTARD! YOU KILLED MY COUSIN!” Tolin lunged for the dunmer, open handed thankfully. Grimvald jumped between us, the bigger man held the guard back long enough for a few others to help.

“I’LL STRING YOU UP BY YOUR INTESTINES YOU KNIFE EARED, GOD SLAYING －!” Tolin was dragged away howling. Hania came by to see what was going on.

“Hania, where’s Jori?” The Dunmer went stiff in my hands for half a second, and I’d made a mistake. His hands were bound, but I was behind him. A gout of flame roared between us, breaking on my armor. It only hit me for a second or so before I got my ward up, but that was enough. Milek was trying for a runner, the ropes binding him were on fire, and a healing spell was going in his hands.

“SHOOT HIM! SHOOT THAT FUCKER! DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!” I looked around for a weapon suited to throwing, but came up dry.

Twang

The arrow arced up, back down, and hit the elf in the thigh. He went to ground hard, rolling in the snow. My best, most beautiful bitch in the whole wide world was on him a second later. Karliene had hold of his arm, and looked fit to tear it right off. The other arm was a problem. Milek raised a fist full of lightning, there was nothing I could do.

Twang

The fist was nailed to his neck, along with all the lightning it held.

Bzzzzt!

AREEK!

“Karliene!” The dog went down with him, twitching. Hania was there a second later, the woman had been hot on the elf’s heels. I expected her to drive her sword into the elf’s neck, but she went to the dog first. That freed up my hands. Others were right on me, Jori included, but that bastard had crossed a line. I slid onto the elf, dagger in one hand, black gem in the other.

“Meet your masters!” The steel blade punched straight through his neck, into the bone, and out the other side of his spine. Milek tried to scream something just before he met the blade, but I only caught gurgles. A second thrust into his throat, a third, a fourth up through the mouth and into the bottom of his skull, a fifth into the eye socket, and a great purple light filled the gem.

“Don’t fuck with my dogs!” I put a few more holes in him afterwards, I lost count. Jori, Riga, and Anglin had to pull me off of the butchered corpse. It took a few moments before I was back with it. Hania was still knelt over Karliene. The wolf’s tail was wagging, but she had a nasty scorch around her muzzle.

“Will she make it?” It was the only thing I was concerned with. My dagger was still stuck in Milek’s corpse, but my right hand found my mace.

“She’ll have a bad scar there under her eye, and she shouldn’t pull a sled for a while, but Karliene will be fine.” Hania didn’t look away from her work. A purple glow drew my attention. I’d dropped the soul gem when the others wrestled me off the corpse.

“Johannes, where’d you get that?” Jori asked as I stooped down to pick it up.

“My cut of the barrow loot. The vampire had three of them, two filled. This makes three. I won’t ask you to do the work with them. That’s Milek, isn’t it?” I pointed to the corpse.

“It is. We got Calus, Viren, Ramoth, and a nord I don’t know. That’s four of the Mer Kin. One more at Yngdaril, one more south of the mountains…” Jori trailed off, but there was a real glimmer in his eyes. We were winning, and we were winning hard and fast. There weren’t any survivors to lead us to Yngdaril, but Milek was too dangerous, too wiley. We’d be on them in the morning anyways, courtesy of the magic map.

“They’ll be dead this time next week. Where’s Kai?” I called out for the Stormcloak twice before a troop of horsemen rode out of the dark.

“Champion. Saw you going after the elf with that dagger.” Kai nodded to the body.

“I need him drawn and quartered. You have horses, I have rope.” I pulled the loops off my belt. Kai’s smile always had a tinge of malicious intent, mostly the work of a scar. This time, it was real.

“I’ll have him in pieces.”

“Keep the head, take it to Jarl Ulfric. He’ll get a kick out of it I think.”

“More than a kick. Are you committing to us?” Kai sounded hopeful.

“No. Kai, I agree with Ulfric on many things, but theres another war boiling up under all of this. Listen to the Vigilants.” I wanted to say more, but I couldn’t. It didn’t help that there was no sure thing about the truth behind Ulfric’s motives. Religious freedom, power hunger, a Thalmor agent? The damned elves were no slouches with magic, and the magic did exist to enthrall someone. The vampires were proof enough for that.

“Stuhn lays your path. When you win your war, join us.” Kai had stepped off his horse, and patted my shoulder.

“Mine’s a war without end, unless you know a convenient way to erase necromancy from existing.” Kai shook his head.

“No, I can’t say that I do, but we’ll put a dent in it. The filth will think twice before coming to these lands from here on. Go on Champion, others probably have need of you.” Kai turned me away as he set to the task I’d asked of him. I found a seat on my sled, Hania walked Karliene over to me a while later. Icefoot and the other wolves trailed behind.

“Take it easy on her, she’ll be back to normal in a few days.” Hania patted the dog as she curled up next to me on the sled. Hania found a seat on the other side.

“Thank you, Karliene was the first friend I made here.” I scratched the dog between the ears. She had a spiderweb scar wrapping around her muzzle, down below the left eye.

“She’s a strong beast, a good friend to have.” Hania reached over to scratch Karliene’s chin. The wolf was far too large to be a lap dog, but it didn’t dissaude her from trying. Karliene wiggled forwards, close enough to where she could be adored by the both of us. Hania giggled, a noise that really didn’t mesh with her look.

“And three more, to boot.” I waved towards the other three wolves that were sitting nearby, a silent sentry for the sibling.

“A shame I hadn’t brought any coin, I had my eye on Siga before Jorn bought her. At least Karliene can keep company.” The dog rolled in my lap, happy for the affections.

“So you’ll be staying on then, after this mess is done?”

“I swore to it. A living champion of Stendarr walking the land, I can’t think of where else I’d go. You’re going to be where the fight is, if this is any evidence.” Hania waved a hand to the carnage at large.

“It’ll be good to have you… Don’t know if Riga will say the same.” I decided to broach the subject while Doctor Riga was busy.

“Ha! She’s young, with a bonafide hero that saved her life. I can’t say that I’d be any different under the same circumstance. I followed a Vigilant out of my father’s keep for similar reasons she’s following you.” Hania’s tone was pleasant, but I saw a bit of pain cross her eyes.

“What was his name?” I didn’t need to ask about the reasons, I’d been around that block once or twice, even if I couldn’t remember their faces.

“Mathis. He was a few years younger than you are, but strong, bold, and kind. He was killed in the Reach last year. Hargravens.” Her tone hardened slightly at that.

“Rotten bitches. I’m sorry.” Hargravens were a horror, birdy old crones.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Mathis died doing what he thought was right, there just weren’t enough of us. He burned the coven so we could get out. As for Riga, if you do have in interest in her, don’t die a heroic death. Living heroes are better.” Hania’s tone told me that was all she had to say on it. Before either of us could break the awkward silence, Adalvald strode out of the darkness. Hania stood up, giving Karliene one last scratch before excusing herself. Angven and Anglin had been coming from the other direction, but I held up a hand. Adalvald looked to be a bit perturbed, but kept an even tone.

“Champion, Jori has told me some troubling things.” The older man was speaking softly. The twins probably heard him, sharp as they were, but that didn’t matter. I rose from the seat I’d found on my sled, Karliene whined as I gently pushed her off my lap.

“Come on. We can talk about it away from prying ears. Most of them.” I gave a signal for the twins to follow, but keep their distance with my fingers. Adalvald followed me out into the snow a good ways before speaking.

“You know what this is about?”

“The soul gems, right?”

“That… but also the brutality of this… this massacre… Stendarr is the god of Righteous Might, Merciful Forbereance. Stuhn taught the values of taking prisoners, the rule of law, showing mercy to the vanquished foe. These were men, not demons. You had them butchered like rabid curs.” Adalvald sounded more curious than disgusted, but both were present.

“Have you ever found a child’s bones sitting on a desk like a fucking decoration, Adalvald? I have. Have you seen a pack of bandits stalk out of their camp to rape a helpless woman? I used that against them, and killed them to a man. Men like these. They were on their way to do that to a whole caravan of refugees. There is a time, and a place for mercy. We don’t have the luxury of taking prisoners right now, giving them a trial, feeding them. Not for men like this. Not right now. This was hardly a campaign and Jarl Korir struggled to feed one hundred fifty men for a week. How many of them should I have let live? Ten? Twenty? As many as we could feed? If Korir was… Where the hell is the Jarl?” I wasn’t yelling, hissing, or even taking a hostile tone before that question came to mind. He’d been riding at the head of the charge, right beside Kai and Adalvald.

“Struck by an arrow, but he’ll live. His house guard took him back to the ridge. For the rest, yes, I’ve seen things like that, and we did kill most of them. These men were on their way to do it again. I know that food is hard to come by, here especially. I did not expect Stuhn’s champion to be so… so brutal, so calculating. Perhaps Isran was right.” Adalvald sounded unsure of himself, stuck between doctrine and works.

“Damn right he is. I may be brutal, I may not live up to every expectation you have for a Champion of Stendarr, but you haven’t seen the things I have, or the evidence that they really will come to pass. Isran hasn’t either, but his methods work, he survives. I’ve seen you die. I’ve seen your order massacred by the dozen. We have time to stop that, but we need to unify. This fragmented bullshit with Isran and Carcette ends, right now. The mess that we’re dealing with here is nothing. There’s a war on the way, and we’re still waiting for our hero. That hero… It isn’t me. I’m the help.” That took Adalvald by surprise, I could see him realize, slowly, that there wasn’t an ounce of hyperbole to my words.

“Who is that hero?”

“I don’t know who he or she, is, but they’re coming.” I wondered about that, would the Last Dragonborn be another reincarnate? Or someone from this world? Whoever they were, I hoped they would take their sweet time. I didn’t want to start worrying about dragons yet.

“I see. If you’re the help, we are truly in dire straits.” For every bit I wished I could exagerrate, Adalvald made up for in understatement.

“And Winterhold’s poorer than it used to be… Oh, these are for you, Milek’s tomes. Make sure they’re the ones that we’re after before you burn them, and do not let them out of your sight.” I handed over the bag of books. I’d shaken out the loot already and stashed it on my sled. Adalvald bowed his head and took them.

“Of course. This has been an enlightening, and troubling, conversation Champion. I’ll keep a mind to your words.” Adalvald and I walked back to the sleds, they were being loaded with the dead, and the loot. A few mounted men were coming back from the north, two wagons in tow, and more horses. I recognized the man leading them, it was Molnen, one of the Jarl’s men I'd met when I first took the job to find the spy.

“Thegn.” I waved to him as the wagons pulled in. Angven and Anglin were still hovering nearby, but seemed to realize that I wasn't going to be left alone long enough for idle conversation. They kept a healthy distance.

“Champion. How did things go here after we left?” Molnen’s eyes wandered to Kai, the Stormcloak was rousing his men with Milek’s head.

“Bloody, but we found what we were looking for. That’s the ringleader’s head over there. That’s his leg. That’s his arm… I had the body drawn and quartered. The Jarl could make a mighty warning, nailing those bits around the Hold. Figure there’s enough bandit heads for every village to get a few to display.” It was grim, but it would dissuade any banditry for months to come. Molnen laughed.

“You’re a brutal one, I would have expected it from Hemjar. After that show with the tanner’s girl, I figured you’d be too soft for that kind of thing.” Molnen stepped down from his horse and took a seat on a crate that had been pulled from one of the stricken wagons.

“Times for mercy, times to send a message. These men were killers, they’d have raped and murdered their way through the caravan with or without the necromancers pulling their strings, if they’d known about it.” I used the same defense as before. It would send a louder message if we’d done it Hemjar’s way, keeping a few alive to make a spectacle of, but that wasn’t the right message to send. Wanton barbarism at the Jarl’s command would only cement him as cruel and stupid. This way, the bandits had died fighting to commit their crimes, a swift and fitting end.

“That’s the truth. What’s next for your contingent? The barrow?” Molnen looked over the growing number of men returning to the sleds.

“We’ll set out at first light. They need to rest before I send them to fight again, we all do I think.” I pointed to his bloodied plate.

“The Stormcloaks are marching through the night, but the rest of us will sleep well.” That caught me offguard.

“What? Why would they do that?” They’d been marching all day, they had to be dead tired by now.

“Kai has other orders. Windhelm can’t take anymore refugees, the Jarl doesn’t want them coming here either.” It was a struggle not to stand up and scream.

“What are they going to do? Butcher them?” There was millenia of bad blood between the Dunmer and the Nords, but I couldn’t imagine that even Ulfric would go so far as to massacre civilians. Especially not while he was still trying to gain support.

“Not specifically, just to turn them around and march them back over the border. Kai is going to set in at Ashwatch for a while. Morrowind may still belong to the Empire on paper, but they’ve not been an Imperial province for a century in practice. The Stormcloaks are secessionists in any case, and don’t think that Skyrim has any responsibility to the foreigners, foreigners that our fathers fought half a dozen wars with.” Molnen shrugged, he had more pressing matters closer to home.

“It’s going to get very, very ugly if the Stormcloaks close the border. Desperate people won’t hesitate for long. They’ve already got fire and Argonian steel at their backs. What’s a Nord blade to their front?” It wasn’t my problem, politics weren’t what I’d been chosen for. I’d already adopted the struggles of one people, and it was stretching my mind to breaking. I couldn’t fix everything. Molnen agreed with my words in any case.

“Windhelm has jobs, money, a longer growing season. If those refugees had come here, we’d already be fighting a war with them. Hemjar would have slaughtered dozens. Pick your battles Champion. Stuhn called on you to fight for our people, your people. You may not remember who you are, but you’re a Nord.” Molnen let that point hang, it was a fair one.

"Stendarr fights for more than just Nords, but I see your point."

"It was Stuhn that named you, not Stendarr. He could have appeared by his Imperial name, we would have known him, but he appeared as Stuhn. He called to the times we Nords fought beside Shor, against the elves. Why would Stuhn have done that if he thought you owed any service to the Dunmer?" I hadn't considered that. Molnen wasn't much older than me, but I got the same kind of feeling from his eyes as I had from Adalvald and Tolfdir.

"He wouldn't have." I admitted, putting my mental decision to words.

"So don't trouble your self with it. You have enough facing you already..." Molnen grimaced ever so slightly, realized it, and wiped his face clean over the course of a second.

“Any advice for the trouble I already have? Seems like you have something to say about it.”

“Hemjar’s going into the barrow with you. The big man’s clumsy, doesn’t always watch where his hammer is going to land. An accident might happen if you don’t watch out for it.” Molnen spoke quietly enough that nobody else would hear him.

“Ah. I’ll keep my eyes open. Thanks Molnen.”

“Champion.” Molnen nodded, stood and got back on his horse.

Accidents can happen both ways, to multiple people.

"So, how are we going to kill the big bastard first?" Anglin appeared over my shoulder, throwing his cowl back.