CHAPTER ONE

FAILURE

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A mist hung heavy over the frost covered marsh and the sky was black and hidden behind ominous clouds. There is a special kind of silence during a night like this one: A damp, curious and creeping silence that suggested a shadow following you through the dark; thin fingers stretched out to brush your neck. The mist could make one imagine mysterious figures in the swirling white just beyond the corner of the eye, and perhaps convince some to turn back toward home where there was a warm fire and loved ones waiting to embrace them. But this misty marsh was a place far, far away from a welcoming hearth.

This was the place that Sowilu Futhark found herself trudging through, boots sticky and thick with mud. She huffed, moist breath becoming steam as it mingled with the cold air and the mist parted with her presence. The Nord girl came to a pause just then and squinted through the unrelenting fog. Her ever so slightly pointed ears strained and then they heard the same suction sound that her own boots made as she traveled in the marsh. She whistled a short, precise note.

A whisper of a moment passed before a whistle pierced the silence in return to her own. She let out a sigh of relief and watched shadows approach her until they became the physical bodies of several armor clad men. The leader removed his silver helmet, blonde locks of hair fell toward his strong chin where a scruff of a beard was growing. His expression was stern and intimidating. His armor was hidden beneath a heavy brown fur coat that was most likely claimed from a cave bear.

"I trust you have what I asked for?" he spoke in a deep voice and a Eastern Nordic accent, eyes cast in shadow yet clearly locked on Sowilu's.

Sowilu blinked hazel orbs at the man, temporarily frozen where she stood. Despite having been in his presence several times before, the young woman could not help but become awestruck by his powerful aura.

Sowilu cleared her throat, hands fumbling through her leather pack that hung about her waist as she replied: "Yes, sir. It's just here..." Sowilu pulled a rolled parchment from her satchel and offered it to the man.

"Here it is, Ulfric, as you requested."

Ulfric Stormcloak took the roll of parchment from Sowilu and gently unrolled it. He was not just any man, but the leader of the Rebellion against the Empire of Skyrim. He was the Jarl of Windhelm and believed to be the true High King by his loyal followers who stood beside him in blue and gold armor. Sowilu was one of these people, and she felt great honor in having been chosen to bring battle plans through Bonechill Passage to aid the invasion of Helgen and reclaim yet another home of the true brothers and sisters of Skyrim.

"Well done, girl." he said simply as his eyes scanned the curled paper, "We should be able to make our positions in two days if we move now. I can give you my fastest horse to bring a message of preparation to our Pinewatch Camp."

It took Sowilu a moment to register that he was addressing her yet again.

"Me?" she replied in a voice that was slightly higher than she intended.

Ulfric raised an eyebrow and said, "Yes. You. Don't just stand there with your mouth open, girl. You have proven to be a swift messenger, so let us continue the good work!"

Sowilu nodded obediently as some of the other Stormcloaks sniggered, and she shot them a mean look through the dark. Ulfric waved his hand in the air to round up the horses that had been left in hiding at the edge of the marsh. Sowilu watched the group as they parted the mist with their warm bodies, retuning to the temporary camp there in Greywater, and she marveled in the idea of aiding Ulfric and his closest warriors in the great war that was brewing ahead of them. Could she be remembered as someone who greatly benefited this battle?

Her fantasy was interrupted by a swift, familiar whoosh that nearly grazed her neck. She furrowed her brows and turned around in the direction the noise had ended with a textured thump to see a stick stuck in the mud where her footprint had been left not long ago. Her mind was slow to process what she was looking at, but she felt vaguely somewhere in her chest a sensation of fear.

No. It was the birth of adrenaline, and it bloomed within her like a flower of fire and fear.

"IMPERIAL ARCHERS!" boomed a voice from somewhere in the mist.

Sowilu dropped to her knees and yanked her silver waraxe from the loop on her belt. She heard shouting ahead, but she was immobilized by fear. Her heart raced and she looked around wildly for familiar shadows. She heard Ulfric's commanding voice giving orders, but nothing made sense to her in that moment. Arrows whipped through the fog and left tiny holes, as if piercing through cobwebs, and stuck sharply in the wet ground around her.

An explosion of sound blasted ahead followed by a collective scream of terror, and Sowilu saw the small puddles of water welled in footprints ripple in the aftershock. There was a strange vibration that tingled within her and she was overcome by an intense burst of bravery.

Sowilu launched from her crouched position and charged forward blindly. Sooner than she had expected, she was in the middle of clashing metal and fallen bodies. A sword sliced through the fog and she deflected it with her waraxe. The Imperial soldier yelled and jabbed at her torso, but she was quicker than he and her axe hacked easily through flesh and bone. The soldier's sword made a thud as it hit the ground, hand still gripping the hilt. The Imperial shrieked in pain and attempted to stop the blood, but Sowilu quickly finished him.

More soldiers rushed around her, some becoming distracted by her fellow Stormcloaks. Another sword attempted to strike near her thigh, but she kicked at the elbow and broke the arm that held it. She took down two other men faster than she thought herself capable. Her body was warm now and her swings coming more efficiently, but her fighting would not last long.

Another blast of sound, which Sowilu then recognized as Ulfric's Thu'um, accidentally caught her off guard from behind and sent her forward like an immense gale of wind. She rolled like a rag doll in the muck, her waraxe flying from her hand and disappearing somewhere in the darkness. Mud found its way into her leather armor and mouth and temporarily blinded her upon landing. She scrambled to find her footing, but slipped and tumbled into a shallow bog.

Sowilu grasped at the slippery bank and crawled out sputtering and rubbing mud and water from her eyes. Her body ached and she choked on the stench of the wetland. Just as she finally blinked up ahead of her, an arrow stabbed directly through her forearm. The poor girl screamed and grabbed the arrow instinctively, but was afraid to yank it out of her flesh. She had never felt a pain such as she had now. The world blurred around her, and she vomited into the bog.

Then she was distant from her body, only the shouts of her brothers in arms echoing through the pitch as they were overcome by the Imperials.

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It was cold that day, she remembered. It had been drizzling, threatening snow, and she had just come up from mining deep in Fenn's GulchCave, a property that the Futhark family had inherited from her Breton uncle Fenn, which he had inherited from his father and his father before him. The veins were rich in silver and iron and there had even been an amethyst cluster discovered there. The Futhark's had been fortunate to have the mine, and they were envied by other mining families in their home village of Karthwasten.

Sowilu felt a chill run down her spine as a chilly gust of wind bellowed by and howled down the cave. The combination of warm, sweaty flesh and cold, rainy wind did not sit well with her at all. She went to the storage box where she stuffed her cloak and spun it over her shoulders, deep green fabric cascading down to her thighs. She rested under the rock that jutted out from the mountain at the mouth of the mine and watched the rain drizzle down and flurry into flecks of snow.

Soon, down the hard and worn path, there came the clopping of hooves approaching. Sowilu rose from her spot on the storage box where she had decided to sit and stepped out into the snowfall to see who was riding up the road. There was a hooded figure wearing the same color green she was, and she recognized the horse as Flitch.

"Uncle Glenn!" she shouted and waved. He waved back.

Flitch snorted and shook his tawny brown mane back and forth when he was reigned to a stop before Sowilu. She noticed that there were some pelts secured to the rear of the horse and rabbits hung with the packs full of camping gear and supplies. It appeared he had a bountiful hunt, but his face suggested otherwise.

"Was the trip well, Uncle?" she asked curiously, her head tilting to the side.

Glenn removed his hood, pointed ears peeking past dirty blonde hair and his face rough and flecked with a few tiny scars along his jawbone and neck. He had experienced more than a small number of close calls in his years of hunting in the wilds of The Reach.

Glenn was the youngest of four brothers of the Breton family that had been joined in marriage years ago. The clan carried the name Bowstringer, and it was his little sister Tarra, Sowilu's mother, that had married into the Futhark family.

"It was fair." he confirmed.

"That's good." she replied.

Something was strange. Glenn was her favorite of the four Bowstringer Brothers. He was always energetic and humorous, eager to share stories and show off his haul. It was he who had been teaching her how to use a bow and arrow, teasing her for relying too much on her axe and fire magic. 'Are you going to chop down the forest and burn it? That's not how you hunt!' he had joked with her after she had attempted to catch a goat with a blast of flame, charring the hide and rendering it useless. 'Hunting is about quite and patience. The bow will teach you patience. The quite part might be impossible for you to learn with your lead feet, however'.

"Is everything okay?" she pried.

Glenn let out a sigh and reached into his cloak, pulling out something small and silver. He tossed it at her and she caught it easily. The object was cold, and she turned it over in her hand. Her face suddenly felt very pale. It was her badge of loyalty that she received when she signed up for the Stormcloak Rebellion. She hadn't even noticed it was missing.

"It's yours, isn't it?" he asked, "I found it in your dresser when you asked me to find that book you were reading. Remember? It was a week ago before I left for this hunt."

Sowilu stared at the badge in silence, her finger tracing the bear emblem on the front. She had told no one that she joined the rebellion against the Empire. She was afraid of what her family might think or what side they were on.

"I joined almost a month ago." she confided, "But I haven't been summoned for anything yet. I was still... I was still considering my options. Considering how I could help. I want to see Ulfric reclaim Skyrim for the Nords, and for my people to be free of the Aldmeri Dominion. They were selfish to think they could buy out our land from our people! Don't you agree, Uncle?"

Glenn was very quite, his green eyes watching her as she explained the badge to him. When she had finished, he threw his leg over Flitch and dismounted. Sowilu stepped back as her uncle approached, uncertain of his feelings on the matter. He stood over her, 6'2" to her 5'9", and spoke in a voice that barely masked anger.

"When I found this, I first felt disappointment. I decided to think about it on my hunt before I told your father and mother of my discovery. I wanted to speak with you to really understand why you chose to betray the Empire for some pathetic criminals stuck in the old ways of Skyrim and the worship of a tired God.

I had so greatly hoped that this was a phase. A moment of utter childish stupidity that had beckoned you to do something so foolish and reckless. But to hear you now, rambling like an ignorant mud crab about the Rebellion doing any good for Skyrim... I am ashamed!"

Sowilu felt the hot sting of tears attempting to break the dam she was creating to keep herself from showing any sign of defeat. She clenched her fists, hurt by her Uncle's words and angry about his hate speech toward the true people and culture of the Nords.

"No! It is you who are ignorant to the crimes the Dominion has committed against the Empire! Do you seriously think that what they are doing is right? They allow the Thalmor to roam around and slaughter anyone they find worshipping Talos, and any other Nord who so much as glances at them funny! Do you think that fair and just, Uncle? Do you like watching our people suffer under Altmer control?!"

A loud clap echoed through the trees.

Sowilu was in a heap on the fresh snow that covered the ground like a thin white lace; her cheek burning and her eyes watering. Glenn was looking down at her while shaking out the hand that has just given her a heavy smack, a twisted expression on his darkened face. Sowilu sucked in a cold breath, shuddered, and choked as hot tears began to stream from her eyes. She sobbed, holding a palm against her tender skin, and looked up at her uncle in bitter bewilderment.

"Listen." he growled, his eyes wild with mixed emotion, "You are my family. But not by blood. You do not speak for MY people. The White-Gold Concordat was the best thing that happened to this dying Empire. If it weren't for that, the Aldmeri Dominion would have easily destroyed Skyrim, and then what? Are you really going to fight alongside men who are too stubborn to leave their decrepit, ancient ways behind? Your argument is weak, child."

Glenn mounted Flitch and the horse whinnied and stomped his hoof.

"Your choice is your own, Sowilu, but know that I will not support your choice. I highly doubt the rest of the family will either. Markarth is a city for the Imperial Legion. You will be cast out from everything you have and know. Is that what you want?" he asked.

Sowilu wiped her tears gently from her face with the sleeve of her tunic and glared at Uncle Glenn. A fierce fire burned in her expression and he blinked at her, unsettled. She said nothing. She didn't need too.

The youngest Bowstring Brother shook his head and whispered, "So be it.", and turned Flitch away from his niece, kicked with his heels and galloped off toward Karthwasten. Toward a family that would turn their backs on her.

She rose slowly to her feet, eyes still leaking from the pain and her cheek fat from swelling. Her head turned about until her eyes caught something at the side of the rode. She knelt down and picked up the Stormcloak badge that had been knocked from her hand in the assault.

Sowilu traced her thumb over the Windhelm Bear, the sigil of Ulfric Stormcloak. Quietly, she tucked it into her pocket and started walking down the snowy road, the white becoming thicker and the snow collection on her head and shoulders. She pulled up the dark green hood of her cloak.

If she followed the Karth River North, she could make it to the Reach Stormcloak Camp by tomorrow morning.

So she walked.

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There was a grinding and clopping sound somewhere in the blackness: It was rhythmic and familiar and seemed to come right from where she was.

Where was she?

Sowilu's eyes fluttered open. She was sitting on something made of wood, and she felt herself rocking back and forth in time with that clopping sound. Sowilu scrunched up her face and sat up straight. She took a deep breath and all the scents surrounding her came at once: Pine, sweat, horse fur, mud...

Sowilu blinked against the bright as everything that had happened came rushing back. The pain in her right forearm came back too, and she felt sick. A voice spoke from across where she was sitting on what she understood now to be a wooden cart led by a horse and rider.

"Looks like you're finally awake."

Sowilu moaned softly. As her vision cleared, the woods washed in thick white fog surrounded her, like solemn figures watching from the safety of a mystical shroud. She looked down at her arm and saw that it was crudely bandaged and stained with darkly dried blood. Her fingers would not move, and her wrists were bound tightly together with dirty rope.

"They left the arrow in there." came that voice again, his Nordic accent reminded her of a friend she once had that hailed from the South.

Sowilu muttered something she assumed was a 'what?' but it merely escaped as a whimper. She looked desperately at the man for help, but saw he was just as tied up as she.

"They broke off the parts that were sticking out of you." he verified, "but they only did so they could wrap you up and keep you from bleeding to death before they could kill you themselves."

He was wearing the blues and browns of a Stormcloak soldier. His hair was long and golden with a braid dangling next to his left cheek. He looked to be not more than 5 years her senior, but his current grim expression made it difficult to tell. She also noted that he looked far cleaner than she felt and probably looked after taking a tumble in the muck.

She cleared her throat as asked, "Kill me?"

"Kill us." he corrected and nodded up at the horse rider pulling the cart, "We have been captured by the Imperials, girl. It looks like you were fighting alongside Ulfric Stormcloak before they captured him. I saw them load you and whoever was left from the struggle on these carts and there weren't many."

Sowilu felt very, very sick. She looked up at the man in bright red and gold steering the cart and back at the man across from her. There was another man next to him who had been listening and, she just noticed, was sobbing and murmuring to himself. To her right was someone much larger than the other two. His eyes and mouth had been wrapped in black cloth and he wore a coat that made him appear to be a captured cave bear.

"By the Gods..." Sowilu murmured, "Ulfric?"

"That's right" said the man with the braid in his gold hair, "And we will all join him proudly in Sovngarde. It's been an honor serving you, Ulfric. And an honor to die beside you my fellow sister."

He looked at Sowilu, his blue eyes shining strangely... like those of a man who had accepted death long ago. He was a true Stormcloak.

Sowilu looked at her feet, unable to maintain eye contact. Who was she to feel in any way worthy of Sovngarde? She felt like a failure sitting in that cart next to her leader. And she was a coward who was afraid to die.

The cart rumbled and rocked in line with seven others filled with Stormcloak soldiers. Most of the men and women looked as if they had been captured without a fight, such as the man across from her, while the others were caked in mud and blood much like herself.

"We were captured at Pinewatch." spoke the man once more. Sowilu kept her head down and listened. "They killed our night watch swiftly and silently like the wind through the mist... they have very capable archers, I'll give them that. We were anticipating orders from Ulfric to storm Helgen, but they found us before then."

Sowilu nodded, and he continued:

"Hardly a day later they were dragging you on board. I heard that the Imperials followed one of our messengers back through Bonechill Passage. Led them right to Ulfric while he was waiting for the plans. What a foolish mistake that messenger made... no matter now, I suppose."

Sowilu said nothing. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was her fault. It was all her fault. She did everything in her power to prevent herself from vomiting again.

Not much later, the horses slowed and a great wall made of pine trees, their tops carved to a deadly point, appeared ahead of them. Some people were shouting orders to open the gates so that the prisoners could be taken to their deaths, and other voices were those of curious villagers asking questions as to why.

"These Stormcloaks had planned to seize Helgen." muttered the horse rider steering Sowilu's cart. Sowilu looked over her shoulder to see a young boy walking alongside them with inquisitive brown eyes set on the Imperial. "Oh..." said the boy, his gaze meeting Sowilu's. She quickly turned around and closed her eyes, wishing she had been left in that marsh. She could hear the boy's mother hissing at him to stay away from the criminals.

Sowilu did not open her eyes again until the carts had stopped and she was being shouted at by guards to get up and get out.