*REBEL'S CAIRN*
THE REACH
SKYRIM

The Hagravens were gathered together on one side of the room. Every Forsworn commander from each of the camps was represented: shamans, chieftains, and here there the antlered figure of a Briarheart. Most prominent in the circle of feather- and fur-clad Reach-men was a giant Orc, easily head and shoulders above them all.

Borkul the Beast. No mistaking him.

Do you think he's king now that Madanach is dead?

Doubt it…. But I suppose anything's possible.

"You have gained the respect of Mother Melka," the big orc said as Tala and her generals approached. "This has gained you our ears. For what purpose have you asked us here, and why have you come to the Reach?"

Tala took a breath, and told her story, keeping with the story of a kidnapped Redguard, brought into a black magic spell to raise the Wolf Queen of Old. She kept the details of how exactly she and Potema shared control of this body purposely vague. She was already an outsider; the less she was affiliated with a Nord, the better.

Borkul nodded as Tala brought the details of her exploits to the present day and the sack of Karthwasten.

"My scouts reported a score of Markarth Hold guards and housecarls marching for those mines," the big orc stated flatly, but the question was just under the statement.

"They came to secure the silver," confirmed Tala, who then shrugged slightly. "They brought too few men."

Laughter and shouts of admiration and encouragement sounded at the news of the Nords' defeat.

"We ambushed them in the mountain passes and defeated them. None made it back to Markarth."

Borkul nodded and tugged at the beard on his chin.

Did he have a beard in the games? I don't remember…

"These others may be ignorant of such things, Lady Tala, but my ancestors fought in the Imperial Legions: the name Potema Septim is not unknown to me."

Huh. Big but NOT stupid.

She begins to learn, after all. Don't judge a book by its cover.

"You would have us fight for a long-dead Nord bitch?"

"No, Borkul," Tala answered, swallowing Potema's anger at the insult with difficulty. If the Orsimer was surprised by her knowing his name, he did not show it. "I would have you fight for you."

There was a silence which Tala took as permission to continue.

"With my strength added unto your own, we can take the City of Markarth. I need only a place of refuge for my vampires. The undercity of Nchuand-Zel is overrun with Falmer and the beasts of the dark. But we would have no need to fear such.'

A murmur of approval ran through the camp as the quicker-witted began to catch on. But there were too few of these, so Tala decided to make it plainly obvious:

"It secures the undercity against any underground incursion, securing the mines, from which you can get silver enough to secure weapons, food… whatever you need to ensure your people's future."

That prompted another round of discussions and whispered conferences among the Forsworn leaders before Borkul turned to talk again.

"We would need your oath that your kind would not feed upon our people," he said, keeping his tone even. "We have troubles enough without worrying about dhampir and vulfwer carrying off our young."

The vampires and werewolves behind Potema shot to their feet, and several Reachmen rose in answer, but Tala merely raised a hand and with a single gesture, her generals resumed their seats.

"As you see, my men obey my word, and if you keep faith with me and mine, I will have no need to turn upon your people. We will be as shield-kin, guarding one another's backs in time of war. Alone, we are vulnerable, and poisoned daggers may slip under the strongest man's guard. But together, we can secure a future and a home for both of our peoples, so long in exile.

There was a murmur amongst the Reachmen, and several heads were nodding and there were more and more smiles amongst the gathered tribesmen.

We have them!

Perhaps…Even the skeptical among them see that this is an opportunity that they would be fools to pass up.

"Are you not forgetting something, Reachmen?!"

The crowd parted, and a woman in the two-piece armor of the Forsworn, complete with feathered headdress, made her way to the front. Even Borkul the Beast stood to his feet in respect.

"Kaie, hear the woman out! The plan is…"

Kaie… she's the woman that brings you back your gear at the end of the Escape of Cidhna Mine.

"I do not speak to the plan's wisdom or merits, Borkul, though it has both in abundance," Kaie replied firmly, but with a respectful nod of her head, both to the orc and towards Tala. "But the fact remains that each of the tribes is bound by the Ancient Law: Only the King may lead his people to war."

"She speaks Truth" shrieked one of the Hagravens from their perch on the side of the meeting place, where the old crones sat with their ears open, and their eyes shut. "She is right! It is the Law!"

A quiet gloom fell upon the room.

"And thanks to the Dragonborn kurr," Kaie and many in the room turned their heads and spat at the mention of the hero, "We have no king to lead us."

"Then let us choose one to lead us again," said a voice in back.

Kaie shook her head and laughed, but there was no mirth in it.

"And who would that be, Kalka? You? Or are there those who would follow Borkul the Beast, an Orsimer by birth?"

Murmurs of dissent now sounded throughout the square, some putting forwards a name, and others immediately shooting it down. Kaie shouted something in the Reach tongue which at least lowered the level of conversation in the crowd, then turned back to Tala.

"The fact remains, that with Madanach gone, there are none behind whom the tribes would unite," she said, a trifle apologetic.

Damn! All these blind fools lack is a leader! Maybe I could lay some sort of claim… or rather maybe you could… Trial of combat, maybe…

Potema… look at the sword Kaie holds.

What in Oblivion does… OH. Oh darling, that IS an idea…

"Give me the sword at your belt, then, Kaie of the Reach," Tala said, extending her open hand.

Suspicien and distrust crossed the woman's face, and a hand come down to rest on the sword's hilt.

"This is the ancient sword of my people: the sword of…"

"Red Eagle, yes," Tala finished impatiently, "I am no thief, that I would steal it! I would return it to its rightful owner."

Anger flashed across Kaie's face, but she drew the blade slowly, curiousity on her face.

"And which owner would that be, Lady Tala?"

"The Reach has no king," Tala said in a loud voice, taking the ancient sword from the woman. "And none here have sufficient grounds to claim the kingship. Very well then, sons and daughters of the Reach, I give you this great gift: I will GIVE the Reach a King! And you will see that that gods themselves are with me and mine."

And with that, Tala spun on her heels, making her way towards the Rebel's Cairn. Sacred as the place was, not even the most feral Briarheart moved to stop her. The entire party simply moved behind her, like sheep following their leader, until they came to the ancient resting place

Tala lifted a hand and sliced open a deep cut on the honed edge. Dripping blood down the fuller of the weapon, Potema's voice intoned as the eyes shifted to show the change in control:

"Lord Red Eagle, ancient one, first and foremost among Reachmen, heed the call of your people!"

There was a quiet murmur, and the Hagraven sisters darted forward, rapping their feathered and beaded staves on the ground in a rhythmic beat, adding their own dark words to Red Eagle's Rite:

"Still we fight for freedom! Still our blades are dark with blood! Turn your gaze upon us, and grant us your blessing anew!"

Tala lifted Red Eagle's Fury high, and slid it home into the narrow opening the rock

"I renew the ancient covenant: When at last our lands are free, we shall return, your sword of victory in hand."

The opening in the rock shifted, prompting startled gasps from many in the room. Potema walked forward, the Hagravens close behind, the rest of the dumbfounded party trailing after. The passage widened into the great burial chamber of the Reach's hero, with a single sarcophagus on the far end, surrounded by skeletons. Potema raised both hands now, channeling all her considerable necromantic power in her hands:

"Then arise, O great one, from your honored tomb! Reclaim thy stolen throne! Rule over thy people, High Lord of the Reach, forevermore!"

With a crack! and a BOOM the lid of the ancient coffin shifted and fell, broken in two. Then, an arm lifted from the tomb. Instinctively, the Forsworn in the room bent their knees, heads bowed. The Hagravens, on the other hand, were chanting as if they wanted to bring the mountain down on top of them.

Faolan, or Red Eagle, in the Common Tongue, rose from his tomb, dried and desiccated flesh drawn over haggard bones. Then the jaw of the nearly exposed skull lowered, and a voice rasped, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time:

"ARISE, Reach-born. Arise, and march to WAR!"


Author's Note:

So… now we have yet another arrow in Tala's ever-expanding Quiver. All the preparations seem to be coming to a head: Werewolves, no fewer than four vampire covens, a Daughter of Coldharbour, and the Wolf Queen of old. And now… a solid alliance with the Forsworn of the Reach.

Where do you all see the story going from here? And what about the Dragonborn? And who is this mysterious Arch Mage of Winterhold?

All excellent questions, to be answered in the future. *wink

-Tusken1602


Reviewer Responses:

JimmyHall24 - Taken under advisement!

Pietersielie, Tech Warrior Ender, Guest – Well, we'll see where these highways lead us!

Malhavoc Shadowlord - Without saying too much, I will say that no, the other SI are NOT anyone that Tala knows.

griezz – It certainly does complicate what Tala can and cannot do. BUT remember, you've seen the note because you're the omnipotent audience. Tala has NOT read any such note.

ROCK ON!