“Johannes! Come here good man!” Korir bellowed across his hall the second I came into sight. A few guards and some of my company were sitting around the tables, a drumming of hands started. It was praise I didn’t deserve. Pyrrhic victories shouldn’t be celebrated.

“Jarl Korir.” I bowed as I reached the table. The Jarl had his hand out, I took it and was pulled into a firm shake.

“Sit, sit down! Your men told me the short version of the story, Lodor here has grown like a weed from the last time I saw him, my father still ruled then.” Jarl Korir motioned to the young man. He turned an awkward shade of red.

“I suppose they want me to tell the long version then.” I took a seat across from the Jarl. Korir motioned for one of the serving girls, she hurried over with a pitcher of sweet smelling mead. For once, I took the tankard without hesitation.

“That’d be a good start, what happened exactly?” Korir was excited, he’d probably only heard the good parts.

“We found the source of the skeletons plaguing the eastern shores, I enlisted the help of the men at Frozen Wharf and Seacrest, and we planned our attack for nightfall. I took a force by sea to the mouth of a cave, your thegn, Fenrik, took the Seacrest men by dog sled to cut off any possible escape. His force cleared the cliffs of archers and set a defensive perimeter. I took the men from Icehome and the men of Frozen Wharf into the cave. We battered our way through a paltry guard of skeletons, and found a barrow.” I paused there to take a drink.

“A barrow? The things are like skeevers, look into any dark hole and you’ll find one.” Apparently my company hadn’t told the Jarl anything, unless he was just being polite.

“It was fairly small, we solved the puzzle to enter and found ourselves in a long hall. The draugr ambushed us there. One man died to a spike trap, he was from Frozen Wharf. We beat back the undead, and made our way deeper. The draugr were waiting for us, and they lit two of my men on fire with an oil lantern. We kept on, and made our way to the puzzle door, into the main chamber of the barrow. That’s where things went wrong. It was a vampire inside.” The way that Jarl Korir’s face paled, I was sure that nobody had told him even the slightest specifics.

“A vampire? What did you do? Is it dead?” At least the damned imbecile had a proper fear of the wretched things.

“Dead as a door nail, but that part came later. He sacrificed a woman, we took her body back to Frozen Wharf hoping someone could identify her. The arrogant scum tried to gloat, so I set him on fire with the magic Jori taught me. He ran away, and sent the skeletons to fight. We fought through them, skeletons aren’t too much trouble. It was the damned Draugr inside the tomb chamber. A big one named Gronvir rose up. He shouted, not yelling, a dragon shout, like the old dragonborn did. He knocked me off the stairs, Angven too. Gromm and the Icehome men stopped the draugr from overrunning us immediately, but that big bastard…” I killed the rest of the tankard, and shook it for the serving girl.

“He knocked all four of them down the stairs, would have killed a few if it hadn’t been for Jorn. I hit Gronvir with a spell, Jorn used the opportunity to take a swing. Angven stabbed the big beast in the leg and brought him down to his knees. The bastard let off another shout right before Jorn could take his head off. Knocked Jorn back and ran him through with a sword. Lodor took the draugr’s head with that axe on his belt a second later. Jorn lived, but he’ll need a few days to recover.” I paused again once the girl had refilled my drink.

“A few days? You must have fed him one of those health potions then.” Korir was irritatingly ignorant of the tools he had at his fingertips. He’d grown up in the shadow of a legendary school of magic, so had all these other nords. I wondered how many of them had died because nobody knew a simple healing spell.

“That, and all the healing magic I could manage. If it hadn’t been for both, Jorn would have died. By the time I got Jorn stable, the vampire had escaped. We chased after him but the damage was done. Fenrik is dead, so are four of his men and a girl barely old enough to look at boys.” Yeah, nobody had wanted to break that news to the Jarl. His intrigued, still mostly positive demeanor melted in a heart beat. The tankard in his hand flew across the hall, his chair kicked across the floor.

“Bastards! I’ll have their damned heads on spikes!” I’d seen Korir angry, but nothing like this. Jorman leaned over the table while the Jarl was busily destroying everything in reach.

“Fenrik was his lifeguard when he was a boy, they were close friends. You’re sure he’s dead?” Jorman spoke softly.

“Shredded by the vampire. He played a big part in killing it, but it was too little to save his own life.” Jorman shook his head. I could tell that to Jarl Korir, that alone was the biggest catastrophe of the mission.

“So his line dies. Fenrik’s first wife died trying to bring their son into the world, the boy didn’t make it either. He only took a new wife at the Jarl’s insistence. What of Kalor? Where is he?” Jorman was keeping an eye on the Jarl, who had gone after an expensive looking cabinet.

“Rounding up a troop of soldiers to meet us on the march to Ash Watch. They should still have twenty or so men fit to fight. I took six of them to the College, every one of them was cursed by the vampire, but they’ll make a full recovery with the help of the mages.” Jorman took that in stride. He was as biased as any Nord against the mystics, but he could appreciate the utility. Jorman was pragmatic as any career soldier ought to be.

“How many are you expecting to join you? We have one hundred here.” Jorman nodded his head towards a table of guards I didn’t recognize.

“Thirty two fighting men including my self, eight mages if the Vigilants live up to their word. I’d call it thirty six.” Who knew that helping out the villagers was a good way to build up a fighting force in a short time? I’d sure as shit done more for them in a month than Korir had in years.

“Good, very good. I’d better make sure the Jarl doesn’t destroy any more priceless heirlooms of the hold.” Jorman nodded, and went to wrangle in the noble. One other man I didn’t recognize was still sitting at the table, dressed in furs. He noticed me looking at him.

“Ranger, I’m Kai Wet-Pommel, Jarl Ulfric’s man. You killed a draugr lord?” He was big, arms like oak branches, and an axe larger than my own was leaning against the table next to him.

“Lodor killed it, we all helped.” I put the credit where it was due.

“But they were following you when they killed it, your command. You would have put the thing down if it weren’t for the power of its Thu’um.” Kai used a word I knew, but hadn’t remembered yet.

“Maybe, I might have gotten split in half. We killed it, and Jorn nearly died trying. I wouldn’t have liked my chances at taking it on alone.” Kai shrugged.

“Draugr Lords were heroes once, four on one is a fair fight. You’re the one that’s uncovered this whole mess here. What do you think is waiting for us at Ash Watch?” Kai put a hand on the haft of his axe, running fingers over a carven bear head.

“Dead men, bandits, and their masters. Do you have scouts watching the ways east?” If he did, he’d be more competent than most of the people I’d met.

“Aye, on fast horses. We’ll know when the scum march. Jarl Ulfric has another company patrolling the western shore of the White River before the tundra. There’s only two good places to cross the river north of there, and only one good path through the mountains for as many wagons as you said there’d be. My wolf hearts will shadow them.” He was exceptionally competent, from a command perspective at least.

“If you have that many scouts looking, do you think it would be possible to know when they’re fording, and hit them with sled raiders? They’ll be vulnerable in a narrow choke like that. Every one of my men will be on sleds, snow cavalry.” That brought a smile to Kai’s face.

“Our infantry won’t catch them until too late, but my best men came by horse. We could press them against the river before they’re ready, maybe even rout the bandits.” Kai’s lips curled into a bloodthirsty smile.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Thirty or so from me, how many horsemen do you have?”

“Fifteen to ride with us. The Jarl here has a few good horses. We can run them down with fifty, round about.” Kai and I discussed further details of the plan for an hour or so.

He wasn’t enthused to hear about the possibility of undead marching with the bandits, but he did like the idea that it meant they’d probably march by night. It made them vulnerable on the flat snow between the mountains and the river. It basically shook out to his men taking the role of lancers, while my troop would slide in behind them to rain arrows and magic into the confused bandits. A single pass like that could kill off thirty or forty of them. With the forty bandits we’d killed already, there was a good chance that we could shatter them with a strike like that.

Kai had gone off to talk with his men about the new plan while I waited around the hall for the Jarl. Idle time and plentiful drink was a dangerous combination. The drunken disgruntled thoughts that wouldn’t abate did lead to me sliding some puzzle pieces together. Lodor was commiserating with me when it struck.

“Lodor, when did that vampire show up in the tavern at Frozen Wharf?” Cogs were spinning, slowly.

“A month or so before you did. Why?”

“A month or so ago we killed a bandit spy here in Winterhold. We asked him a bunch, searched his quarters, turned his whole life upside down to shake out answers, but he’d burned all of it. Riga… never mind, but we know bandits were passing letters through the tavern here. It’d take a few days walking to Frozen Wharf.” We hadn’t been looking for bretons when we were sniffing out a spy. The Jarl had mentioned we were going to slaughter the western bandits in his announcement before the feast.

“You think you missed one then? The vampire I mean. What does that matter now? They’re both dead.” Lodor seemed confused.

“I’m afraid that the vampire might have gotten a letter out. Come on, we have a courier to find.” I stood, slightly wobbly on my feet. With some luck, the Dunmer I’d interrogated would be in town again. He’d told me that Winterhold was his mid-month stop, so I had probably missed him already.

The tavern wasn’t very busy, most people that would have been drinking their troubles away had been put to work by the Jarl’s deal with the Rift. It was a marked improvement, new goat pens had been built around the edges of town, a village a bit to the east had a wharf for fishing boats that were being built with the Jarl’s coin and timber cut by men the Jarl hired. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on Korir, he was doing some things right.

“Dagur, is that Dunmer around? The courier I mean. He stays here when he’s in town, doesn’t he?” I walked up to the bar man.

“Haven’t seen him lately Ranger, usually he’s here by now. May be an elf but he braves the cold like a proper son of Skyrim, not even the blizzards would usually slow him down so much. A day, two? He’s almost a week late.” Dagur explained, before reaching under the counter to offer an ale. I waved it off, my time for a drunken stupors was all used up.

“You tell him to find me if he comes round Dagur.” I patted the bar top before I turned to leave. Lodor was still confused.

“Johannes, what’s all this about?” Lodor asked as we walked back to the Jarl’s house.

“We’ve killed or captured a lot of bandits Lodor. Think it’s coincidence that a vampire starts calling up skeletons out of the sea right when the Jarl sends out a party to kill the hired help?” Lodor didn’t know the whole story yet, about the kinds of tomes that Milek had been looking for. That vampire had been able to command the draugr, or at least get by them without being attacked. It wouldn’t bother a vampire at all to travel by night like the undead would need.

“Wait, hold on. Are you saying the vampire was replacing their losses?” Lodor was starting to understand, but I wasn’t entirely sure it was about replacing losses rather than just growing their army. It was all a drunken hunch. We made it to the Jarl’s door when I’d thought up an answer.

“Let’s take a look at the Jarl’s map, I want to show you something.” We had markers for where people had gone missing, where the bandit attacks were, where the undead were sighted, and dates for them too. The Jarl wasn’t yelling and breaking things, but he wasn’t in the main hall either. Gromm was up though, chatting with Tolin the guard.

“Gromm, Tolin, I need some sober eyes to look at something and tell me if I’m crazy.” I called over to them as I kept on for the war room. The pair shared a funny look, but hurried up behind me. Luck was on my side, maybe, when we went got to the map. Jorman and the Jarl were looking over it, discussing something.

“Ranger, I was just about to send for you. Sorry for my… my indiscretions earlier.” Jarl Korir put it politely.

“It happens to the best of us Jarl, I had to do a bit of screaming and shrieking this morning too. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think we might have a problem. A very big problem.” I strode over to the map. The Jarl wasn’t pleased at the news, but waved for me to go on before finding a chair.

“Here, at Mountain’s Seat, we had a report of two people, a man and his son, going missing sometime around the fifth of Evening Star. A week later, a logging camp was attacked in the night here, one missing, three dead. The survivors said the wounds were like a troll had done it, but the noises didn’t sound like a troll and a blizzard was blowing through, so no tracks to follow. One week later, we catch Malur as the bandit spy, two days later a man says his wife is missing from this village a days walk to our east. Jorman, you went to investigate that, was there any sign of bandits, skeletons, anything?” I had connected three points meandering towards Frozen Wharf, at the right time.

“Nothing, but there were wolf tracks where I thought she should have been. The man said his wife had gone to collect herbs in the forest not far from their home, he was out fishing, plenty of people saw him. Where are you taking this?” Jorman was keenly interested, probably because I’d indirectly claimed that he missed something.

“Around that time is when the people of Frozen Wharf said a strange Breton, the vampire we killed, showed up. A week later, skeleton attacks in Sea Crest and Frozen Wharf. The vampire had a woman captive. Riga looked her over before we wrapped up the body, she had wounds from the vampire feeding on her.” That drew a disgusted scowl from everyone present.

“You think that vampire did all of this, all of these attacks? Why so long between them though? He could have made it to Frozen Wharf before the new year.” Jarl Korir had a point, but I had the answer.

“Everyone has told me that there are ancient barrows absolutely riddling the mountains. Dozens at least, more likely hundreds. Mountain Seat and the logging camp are nestled in the foothills, how far do you think the nearest barrow is to any of them? It can’t be more than a few miles.” Jorman and Lodor tensed up, realizing exactly the point I was getting at.

“Blood sucking bastard! If he had two weeks to ransack through them Johannes—” I held up a hand to cut Lodor off for the benefit of those who hadn’t gotten it.

“Jarl, that vampire had some measure of control over the draugr in the barrow outside Frozen Wharf. Lodor was about to say it, but he could have handed over hundreds of undead to the necromancers. We know that Milek is working out of a large barrow on the south side of the mountains. Judging on where this trail starts, I’d say it’s nearby Mountain’s Seat. My friends at the college are trying to translate his journals, but it’s an old, rare form of Bretic. We might have a target by the time we stop the ambush on the refugees. There’s also the other barrow we know about to the east, Yngdaril. I think that’s where the vampire intended to end his journey before the ambush.” I laid out the far fetched, loosely supported idea I’d come up with. If I was back in my old life, someone would have played the devil’s advocate, correlation not meaning causation, but that didn’t happen.

“You’ve out-done your self Ranger… you really have.” The Jarl put on a slightly forced smile, but there was some genuine emotion in there. I held up my hand, for the last bit of bad news.

“There’s one other thing. The courier that usually stops by Dagur’s tavern, he’s gone missing. If my memory serves, he left the day after the feast. I think the vampire was here, in Winterhold, when we sniffed out Malur. Dagur says the Courier is never this late, not even with bad storms, and he’s a week overdue. If the vampire sent out a letter warning the Mer Kin that we were going to start targeting the bandits, they may have sent other necromancers to raise bodies from other tombs. We should send messengers to every village, every logging camp, every place we know about that borders the mountains, and ask if they’ve seen anything strange.” The assembled men collectively groaned, save for Lodor, he’d already gotten that far.

“So what are you saying? That the mages have hundreds of corpses ready to fight us? Or that it’s a risk, at least?” Jarl Korir was rubbing his temples.

“That’s the short of it, yes.” I’d spared him all the details about how I wasn’t sure if they could move the draugr out of the barrows, or if they’d be stuck raising the other corpses as skeletons, he wouldn’t understand. The draugr weren’t just combat automatons, they had been bound to their barrows for a reason. It was debatable if they were really undead like zombies and skeletons were, or something else.

“I’d been about to celebrate and offer you a reward for your hard work Johannes, but we’d best save that for later.” The Jarl sat back down and reached for a tankard.

“No sense celebrating when things can still go sideways.” I agreed. What the Jarl had thought to give me as a reward was a curious question. Going off what I’d seen of the hold, and how much money I had, the only man liable to be wealthier was the Jarl himself. He didn’t have any enchanted blades or armor, there was no point to give over soldiers or equipment when I’d built my own warband. Whatever it was, it would be better given after this mess was handled.

There were some questions of logistics, and specific formations for our upcoming march to the river, but most of it didn’t concern me. My job was to act as the leading edge of the force, using the high mobility of the sleds to clear the path ahead and eventually join the Stormcloak cavalry for a raid. The Jarl had been happy to hear that I’d gotten along well with Kai, especially that we’d come up with a plan to break the back of the enemy before they crossed the river.

I excused my self from the talks once I’d said my piece. I was dead tired after sledding through the night, dealing with the infected men, and everything else. The comforting furs of my bed were calling out to me, and that’s where I was determined to be until dinner.