Mud caked shovels pried graves open. Their residents were unceremoniously removed and tossed into piles in the center of the graveyard. Even from so far away, the pungent smell of death and decay filled the air. The treacherous spellcasters were few in number, only eight excluding the infamous instructor who stood at a distance, watching the men and women work, wearing an expression of satisfaction.

Drake Hannel. He was Imperial of perhaps middle age, almond hair with a streak of grey running along the left side. His facial hair was cut clean and thin, almost giving him the appearance of a Cyrodiilic nobleman, just the kind of people Felsi hated. The black robes he wore were decorated flashily with different designs and jewel ornaments that added an air of arrogance.

His apparent students were a mixed bag of different shapes, sizes and races, seemingly having no similarities in appearance or in mannerism, except for all of them having the same expression when their eyes fell upon the man, one of affection and devotion. They reminded Felsi of a cult.

She removed the looking glass from her eyes and glanced back at her own group. She had Berta and Ansen who were the best young marksmen in the North, Mikal and Victor, both of which were talented melee fighters, and the mage, Gorakhal, whom she still wasn't sure was trustworthy or not. The man, she was sure, was playing them, or at least trying to.

Victor walked up to Felsi's side and asked, "How's it look?"

The woman finally took her eyes from Gorakhal. "See for yourself, with your one good eye."

Victor took the looking glass from Felsi and peered down at the graveyard. "Either these kids are studying the age-old art of undertaking, or they're necromancers like we thought," Felsi said.

"I'm thinking necromancers."

"I believe that if we're going to strike, we should do so sooner rather than later. We have the advantage," Gorakhal chimed in. He hadn't stopped examining the crystal they'd taken from the two mages in Morthal since getting his hands on it. The mesmerizing gem, even Felsi had to admit, kept catching her eye. "The spell they mean to cast, I don't believe it'll work without this."

Berta snatched the rectangular, multicolored stone from him and asked, "You figure out what this rock does yet?"

"I believe it is an amplifier, used to greatly increase one's level of magicka. Normally a person would only be able to sustain necromancy for so long, and their thrall would only have a low level of self-awareness and intelligence. With a strong enough amplifier, not only could you hold necromancy for much longer, but under the right conditions, one could possibly revive something as large as a mammoth. Put simply-"

"Couldn't you have put it simply in the first place?" Berta interrupted. She tossed the stone back to the Orsimer and turned away.

Gorakhal sighed. "This gem makes a necromancer's undead minion much more dangerous."

"Well, if what you say is true, and we really do have the advantage, we should exploit it," Victor said, still looking through the scope.

Felsi observed their surroundings and began to formulate a plan. "Alright, gather 'round, because I'm only saying this once. Berta, you and Ansen get to high ground, doesn't matter where as long as you have a clear view of that graveyard. If you see me do this," Felsi held up her left hand with her index, middle and small fingers showing, "open fire. Don't do a thing until you see these three fingers, understand?"

Ansen and Berta nodded in recognition and copied the three finger gesture. Felsi handed her looking glass to Ansen and turned to Victor. "Vic, you and I are going to don the robes we took from those two mages and see if we can infiltrate their little circle, try and get the book before the party gets underway."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Gorakhal. Hang around the perimeter until we need you."

"As you wish."

Felsi held out her hand. "And I'll hold on to that little crystal…" Her face was expressionless and her harsh tone left no room to argue and, at least on the surface, the Orc didn't seem to have any intention of disagreeing, placing it in the center of her palm.

"Alright. You know your jobs, get to it," she ordered sternly.

As everyone went their separate ways, Felsi pulled Mikal to the side. "Listen, big fella', I don't trust this guy."

The large man furrowed his brow. "You want me to keep an eye on him for you?"

"Keep both eyes on him."

Mikal began to tail Gorakhal and Felsi turned back in the direction of the graveyard, looking on as her group splintered.

Berta pulled herself up to the thickest branch on the tall oak and straddled it. She turned her head toward the graveyard and squinted. "I think this is high enough…" she mumbled, bouncing on the branch, testing its strength. "This'll do."

The tree sat right at the edge of the tree-line around the graveyard. She would have to be careful not to be seen, but other than that, it was perfect. It sat comfortably in her crossbow's range and had a clear view of the entire field, an ideal perch for someone like her. The teen, although still quite young, went out on several missions with her older brother, and or Reli when she required a good shot. Her crossbow, lovingly named Adja, was something Berta was extremely proud and protective of.

Ansen finally made his way up the tree that sat directly next to the one Berta was perched in. He looked across to her and tossed the looking glass into her waiting hands. The teenage mercenary brought the scope to her eye and peered down at the graveyard. Around its perimeter was an iron fence, ten feet tall with spikes topping each of the spokes, with a tall, heavy gate on the eastern side that stood open. Within were dozens of tombstones, many of which hadn't been opened yet by the mages, and a crypt which sat at the very back of the grounds. Beside Drake sat a beautifully carved coffin with gold trimming and a red velvet skirt, without a doubt an extremely expensive item.

"So many bodies…" she said, still speaking to herself.

Ansen hung his quiver from a branch just above his head and readied his bow. "Have they entered the graveyard yet?"

"Not yet."

Berta very indiscreetly cast her ire-filled eyes to the Imperial-Nord. She was hoping, praying to Talos that Felsi didn't stick her with Ansen, but of course the very first thing that the woman says is that she wants the two of them working together. Berta didn't think highly of Ansen before, but after he beat her brother down the way he did, she began to hate him.

She wasn't going to let it interfere with the job, though. If there was one thing that her father drilled into the skulls of Berta and her brother, it was that you never let personal feelings get in the way of coin and coin was one thing that Berta always ... appreciated.

Snow still fell on this late Turdas afternoon and Mara watched as the flakes floated down to the ground from within the prison carriage. A'mber, her cellmate, weakly struggled against the irons that kept her hands bound. Besides the two of them, the dark haired Nord guard that usually watched over the duo sat in the back of the carriage as well, watching the scenery go by.

"You can stop tying to get out of those irons, Imperial," the man said to A'mber. "We're here."

Mara sat up to get a look around to try and see where they were as the wagon came to a halt, and immediately wished she didn't. She stood and shifted over to the side where A'mber sat and asked, "Have you figured out a way for us to not die yet? Because they're taking us to a damn graveyard. A graveyard."

A'mber just sat there, groaning. "To be honest, I'm … not gonna' be much use to you right now," she said. "I've come up with a plan, though. We have to get him," A'mber nodded toward the Nord, "alone. If you can do that for me, I think I can get free of these restraints."

Mara thought carefully for only a few moments. "I have to pee!" she shouted to the man.

He turned to her, raising his brow in confusion. "What?"

"I have to pee."

He sighed and stepped off of the wagon. "Come on, then."

Mara stepped down as well, briefly glancing back at A'mber as she followed the guard into the woods. The Breton watched her go and leaned back in her seat. Her deep blue eyes turned up to the sky as the clouds coasted their way in front of the sun.

The man led Mara about forty paces into the brush and stopped. "Go ahead. But make it quick, we don't have all day."

Mara smiled and slowly made her way behind a boulder just a few feet away. "What in Oblivion am I supposed to do now?" she whispered.

After a while, the man asked, "Are you done yet?"

"Uh, almost." Mara tried to break the ropes that bound her slender wrists together.

"Hi there handsome."

The seductive female voice seemed to resonate from all directions, like it penetrated the very air around Mara. She looked around, but found no one speaking and when she peered around the boulder, found that her escort seemed to hear the voice as well.

"Y'know, I was wondering when I got an opportunity to finally get a hold of you. You people were smart, only moving me in the daylight, keeping powerful runes around me instead of tossing me in a traditional cell, but I assume you didn't count on this afternoon being so very … cloudy."

Before the Nordic mage even knew it had happened, a pair of sharp, pointed fangs found his unprotected neck. They sunk down deep into his flesh and pale, unornamented lips drained the precious crimson liquid. The venom that'd been shot into his bloodstream by the fangs paralyzed his body, like the poison of a Black Carpa mushroom.

Mara trembled as she watched A'mber bleed the Nord, sucking the life right from his neck. She couldn't believe the woman that had been sitting next to her, sleeping beside her for days could've, whenever she wished, sucked the blood from her veins.

Once sated, the Breton pulled her fangs from the Nord's neck and he collapsed to his knees, lifeless. A'mber took a dizzy step back, still riding the feeling of ecstasy that had a hold of her. Coming down from her high, she remembered where she was and recomposed herself to the best of her ability, though she still felt like she'd just had electricity sent up her spine. A'mber could just barely see Mara cowering behind the boulder to her left, looking in her direction.

She inhaled deeply and sighed, knowing what she'd just done to the girl. Instead of dwelling on it, she knelt and took the key to her irons from his coat. As she unlocked the shackles, A'mber said, "So, you know my little secret now… I'm a monster."

Mara lips trembled as she tried to figure what she should do.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, unless you do something stupud. I just needed a little blood to boost my energy again," she said, glancing down at the body at her feet.

Slowly, as to not spook the Imperial any more than she had, A'mber approached and broke her rope bindings. "You should get going."

Even after A'mber gave Mara her word she wouldn't be hurt, the Imperial was still sure she was going to die. But the Breton vampire just turned and walked away, in the direction of the graveyard.

"Arthurous took them this way!" Mara heard echo in the distance.

A'mber stopped her walk and turned in the direction of the shouting. "That must be the wagon driver I knocked unconscious." Reluctantly, she looked to Mara and said, "Come with me. We need to hurry up and disappear before those damnable wolves catch our scent."

Mara wouldn't budge.

"You're really just going to stand there? I shoulda' left you in that lake…"

The Breton grabbed Mara's wrist, squeezing so tight it hurt, and pulled her in the direction of the rising sun, toward the graveyard. If she was going to end the mage's hunting of her, A'mber would have to go to the very source: Drake Hannel. Getting to him without dying was going to be a problem, though.

They were getting strange looks here and there from the others, but it seemed as if the two veteran Sparrows had successfully infiltrated the graveyard. The robe Felsi wore fit a little snug around the chest and stomach, which didn't surprise her considering the man she'd taken it from was a smidge smaller than her.

The hoods on their heads helped to hide their identities, but Victor thought it better to keep a low profile. They stayed low, avoided sight whenever possible as they slowly, cautiously made their way to the professor's position, near the crypt at the back.

"This is going surprisingly well…" Victor commented.

Felsi laugh and said, "You and I both know something's going go wrong eventually. This would be no fun otherwise."

"I swear, woman, sometimes I wonder if you and little Berta are the same age."

"I was much crazier than Berta when I was a sixteen."

"I can only imagine."

Felsi stopped as the came down behind a low brick wall and scanned the area. She immediately found the man that held the book, the Shadow Text. The High Elf stood directly beside Drake, clutching the book tightly to his chest, as if his life depended upon it.

"Well, I found the book. Now we just figure out how to get it," Felsi said, again formulating a plan of action.

"… We could just walk over."

"No. Maybe if I got their attention, start hollering about an intruder and-"

Victor placed his hand on her shoulder. "Where did Drake go?" he asked, glancing around.

Felsi just noticed it. The Altmer that carried the Shadow Text was now standing by himself.

"What the-"

"If I'd known we'd be having guests, I would've straightened up a little." Victor and Felsi both spun around, the latter holding knives between each of the fingers of her left hand.

The firebolt that met them when they turned was traveling much too fast to be avoided and if it weren't for the ash that swarmed around their bodies and hardened, preventing the flames from slipping through, the duo would've been dead. Gorakhal scaled the fence that surrounded the graveyard and lightly landed on his feet, releasing the Ash Shell spell he'd just cast.

As soon as the spell was lowered and the ashes fell from their bodies, Victor's cutlass slid from its sheath within his robe. "Go for the book!" he told Felsi.

As she dashed in the direction of the Altmer, Victor charged Drake. The experienced Imperial spellcaster placed an adept whirlwind rune directly in the former pirate's path, tossing him high into the air as his foot came down on the trap. As Victor reached the peak of his height, Drake sent a stream of electricity into his chest, cracking the armor plate beneath his robes.

The Graveyard was now abuzz with mages, defending against the intruding group. They not only had Gorakhal, Felsi and Mikal, who'd just climbed the fence, to contend with, but the Nordic woman, while heading for the book raised three fingers in the air, her index, middle and small.

Not a second later, the first shot, a crossbow bolt, landed in the chest of a mage that pursued Felsi. A well placed arrow that landed in the lower thigh of the High Elf she was chasing soon followed. She was so close to him now, all she needed to do is reach out and grab his robes.

Another, much more powerful fire spell cast by Drake struck Felsi from behind, engulfing her in white hot flame. Wihout thought, she rolled up to the dirt and cast off her garment, the flames not touching her skin once. It did, however, burn away the sleeves of the shirt she wore beneath her armor, revealing her scarred arms.

As she turned to face the man, Drake came upon her burning robes and reached his hand inside the fire. He pulled it back out hastily, the multicolored crystal the Sparrow had earlier taken from Gorakhal in hand.

"Thank you for bringing this to me," Drake said, slipping the crystal in his pocket and then casting a healing spell on his burned hand. As his mages engaged the mercenaries, he asked, "Who are you people?"

"What's the point of explaining yourself to a dead man?"

Felsi chucked her knives at the man, aiming for his throat. They bounced off with a ping sound when he cast Iron Flesh, smiling with confidence. The Sparrow leader smiled back and drew her carved Nordic dagger.

The Dunmer mercenary looked up at the sky, observing as the thick clouds that hung in the sky began to gather. A storm was brewing, he could tell, and it was going to be a nasty one. Just as that thought ran through Sindell's mind, the light snowfall that'd been coming down since the previous night was beginning to pick up. Mara chose the perfect time of winter to get lost – blizzard season.

The cave Sindell and Talia came across five miles back definitely had Mara's scent in it, at least according to the hound, but she was no longer there. The trail they were following was fresh, meaning wherever she was being taken, they would have to come across it soon.

"You're quiet," Talia said, bringing him back to reality.

"Thinking."

"Yeah, well, don't hurt yourself, honey."

"Hilarious."

They heard an explosion come from the north, dead ahead. Both spellcasters could tell just by the sound that it was magical in origin, a Destruction spell. Sindell's ears perked up and he said, "There's a battle going on up ahead. And it sounds like a large one."

"Come on. We've got to hurry. Chances are, that's where she'll be," Talia said, picking up the pace, dismissing her skinned hound, To'k.

Before the two could really even get anywhere, they came across yet another corpse deeper in the trees. Talia immediately noticed the punctures in his neck and the unnaturally pale complexion of his skin.

"A vampire, probably," she said. "It's strange for him to be drained in the middle of day, without fighting back." She looked around for any signs of a struggle and found none.

"Strange indeed."

Sindell's ears picked up something else just then, something besides the sounds of battle off in the distance. It sounded like talking not too far away and one of the voices seemed familiar.

"I got her!" Sindell shouted, realizing where he'd heard the voice before and rushed off.

"Damn you, elf! Wait for me. You know I'm not an athlete!" Talia called, pathetically trying to keep up with the mer.

"Just hurry!"

Although she'd just fed, A'mber still had no way of fighting back against the men that'd pursued her. There were three of them, all mages of Drakes, surrounding her and Mara. The Imperial woman stood beside her, not really sure who to be more afraid of, the mages or the undead bloodsucker.

"Now just come along, nice and easy, girly," one of them said. "There ain't no need to fight back, not with the sun clear in the sky. You could get hurt that way…"

If it weren't for Mara, A'mber probably would've been able to find somewhere to hide and mask her scent. But unfortunately for her, the girl re-injured her ankle when she tripped over a root jutting from the dirt. The Imperial was all but dead weight then, just being dragged along by the Breton until these men caught up to them.

"Drake wants her alive, just in case. But that doesn't mean we can't cut her hands and feet off," one of the other mages said, attempting to threaten the vampire.

A Dunmer A'mber never saw before came upon the three like a hurricane, swinging the bludgeon in his hand with masterful skill. Before any of the three mages could cast a single spell, they were left lying in the dirt, dead, their skull's cracked open. The elf glanced up at A'mber and questioningly met her deep blue eyes.

Mara ran, to the best of her ability, over and much to Sindell's surprise embraced him in a tight hug. "Thank you so much…" she whispered. "You don't know how glad I am to see you, Sindell."

"Are you alright?" the elf asked as Talia walked upon the scene, short of breath.

Mara nodded and continued to squeeze him, like a child clutching their parent following a nightmare.

Talia, the sly witch that she was, held a hand behind her back, brewing a frost spell as she stared down the vampire. She could tell at first glance, just by looking at her appearance, that the woman was a vampire.

"Who's your friend, sweetie?" Talia asked the young Imperial.

"She helped me escape those mages when we were imprisoned together."

As the spell was reaching its peak, Talia asked, "So I shouldn't freeze her solid?"

Mara looked back to A'mber. After a brief moment of thought, she replied, "No."

"Is … that an emphatic no, or…"

"I'd probably be dead if it weren't for her, so-"

"I just want to know you're sure. Putting her on ice would not be a problem…"

"I'm sure!"

Talia dispersed the spell brewing in her hand and assumed a more relaxed demeanor. The sounds of battle still boomed in Sindell's ears and he turned to the sounds. It brought memories back to the front of his mind; ones he stored away and thought would never reappear. They were the sounds of war, and were all too familiar to him.

The mage was good. Felsi never once underestimated him, but he was better than even she thought he would be. Drake's skill surpassed that of any other spellcaster she'd ever faced. It wasn't the level of spells he flung her way, they were mostly adept, but he had an obscene level of magicka and gave out an almost constant flow of the stuff. She wondered if it was because of the crystal...

Icy spikes sped by the Nord's head as she dashed between tombstones. Felsi would get skewered if she stopped so she attacked on the move, throwing the remainder of her knives at the mage. Drake ceased the icy assault to protect his face, taking the three flying weapons in the forearm.

When he dropped his guard, Felsi rushed him and unleashed a flurry of slashes with her Nordic dagger. Drake prevented any of the attacks from going too deep by effectively backing away during the onslaught.

"Felsi, behind you!" Mikal called as he drove his greatsword into the skull of a Redguard.

Felsi was struck in the back of the head with a stone the size of her fist. The throbbing pain in her skull was soon followed by blurring vision and she dropped her knife. Drake blew passed her and ran to his Altmer student, taking the Shadow Text from his hands.

"I recognize the patch on their armor," the elf said. "These people are Silver Sparrows."

Drake grinned as he flipped through the pages of the book, "Mercenaries, eh? Well, if they want to fight I would be more than happy to oblige…"

"Stop him!" Gorakhal shouted, gesturing to the Sparrows. He looked up at the trees where Ansen and Berta were camped. "Shoot him! Shoot Drake before he's able to cast!"

Berta shouldered her crossbow and aimed at the Imperial. "I've got him," she whispered.

She pulled the trigger and the bolt launched from the weapon and sliced through the air. When the High Elf saw it coming, with no regard for his own wellbeing, he stepped in front of his professor and took the bolt in the chest.

"Damn! Ansen!"

The Imperial-Nord reached up to his quiver and his hand came back empty. "I'm out of arrows."

It was too late, anyway. Drake already finished the Daedric incantation within the book, the gem in his hand beginning to glow a bright lavender, then blue and pink. The jewel then turned an abysmal black and Drake smiled again. Tendrils of lightning surged from the book in all directions, striking several of the graves around the man.

"Welcome back to the living, brothers and sisters!"

An eerie silence hung in the air, as the winds picked up, transforming the steady snowfall into something else. As what would probably be a blizzard began to form, Felsi put her hand to the back of her head, making sure there wasn't any bleeding, and she was thankful when she only felt her red hair. That's around the time when she noticed the bodies two fallen mages nearby beginning to stir. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that they were dead, she saw many of them die with her own two eyes, but even so, they began to rise.

Her eyes found Victor just a couple dozen feet away, the same expression of shock strewn across his face. "Felsi. This is a problem."

The corpses the group of mages had earlier unearthed and pilled together now began to rise as well, limp and decaying. There had to be at least twenty undead men and women standing all around Felsi, Victor, Mikal and Gorakhal.

Victor twirled his cutlass by the hilt and said, "It shouldn't be possible to summon this many undead thralls!"

"It's the book. It holds some very sensitive Daedric incantations within, hence why the College of Winterhold wants it back. They had it locked up tight, to the point where no one could get to it, not even me…"

"You should've said something earlier! We would've just destroyed the thing!" Victor growled.

Ansen's ability to see what was going on in the graveyard was quickly lessening and his position in the tree becoming more and more useless. Biting his bottom lip, Ansen made a decision and began to climb down the tree.

"Where in Sovngarde are you going?" Berta asked as she watched him descend.

"They need help and I'm all out of arrows. Where do you think I'm going?"

Ansen landed on the snowy ground, the ice beneath his boots crunching lightly. As he walked to the fence that surrounded the graveyard, along with the blackish glow of the jewel Drake held, he could see an orange light emanating from within, quickly growing in size and brightness.

"What's that?" Ansen could hear Berta ask.

"I don't know," he responded. Slowly the realization came to him and Ansen cursed, wide eyed, and dove to the dirt. The huge fireball came rocketing through the fence and slammed into the trunk of the tree Berta nested in, almost burning through to the other side.

Slowly the tree began to teeter and Berta grabbed onto several of the branches for dear life. It was to no avail because she eventually lost her balance as the tree tipped and she fell from it, plummeting more than fifty feet to the ground below. Right before she hit the snow, Ansen came rushing over slid on his knees beneath her, catching the teen in his arms.

The Imperial-Nord let out a pained sigh as he and Berta slammed into the trunk of another tree, coming to an abrupt halt.

The girl uncovered her head after the oak hit the ground and looked around. She then looked down at Ansen and stared at him. "Uh … thanks for the save."

"I think you broke a rib…" Ansen joked.

The sound of footsteps could just barely be heard approaching and the young Sparrows sprung to their feet. "Someone's coming…" Berta said.

"Really? I hadn't guessed."

"Ansen. It's me," a thick Morrowind accent proclaimed.

Ansen let his guard fall. "Sindell?"

Just like that, the elf appeared before Ansen, carrying Mara piggyback with Talia and an unfamiliar woman flanking him. Berta didn't drop her guard until she saw the crest on Sindell's chest.

"What're you doing here? How'd you find us?"

"We weren't too far away and I could hear you talking."

Talia took a step forward, looking passed Ansen and Berta. "Ansen, what's that light?"

He turned to the black glow she was speaking of and said, "A necromancer's using some kind of special magic to raise the dead. That's where Felsi and the others are."

"What?!"

"They need our help," Ansen said, drawing his sword.

Sindell carefully let Mara down and turned to Talia. "Will the two of you be alright?" The woman gave him an amused look and the elf said, "You know what? I shouldn't have asked."

Another fell at Felsi's feet after she decapitated it with one swing of her dagger, the fourth of the undead creatures to return from whence it came by her hand. She had no idea where the others were; the winds were too strong and the snow too thick for her to see very clearly. She stayed extremely vigilant to the immediate sights and sounds around her, looking for anything that moved.

"Felsi!" she heard Sindell's distinct voice.

"Where are you?" Felsi called back.

"We need to regroup!" she then heard Victor announce.

He was right. Staying dispersed as they were was going to get them all killed one by one. Felsi knew just the way to get them all together, too, though she hadn't done it in a very long time. She reached inside her shirt and pulled out the trinket that hung from her neck by a leather strip, a small Y shaped bone.

It was a whistle she and several other Sparrows used to use to communicate and locate each other while on mission. The whistle was made from the bones of a Grey Siren, a Cyrodiilian bird that was used to carry messages during the Oblivion Crisis.

Felsi put the tip of the whistle to her lips and blew into the passageway, covering one of the three holes with her finger, producing a high-pitched sound, like a song. As she played the small device, the other Sparrows drew near, following the siren's call to its source until they all came together.

"Been a while since I heard that," Sindell said.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it, Dren?" Victor asked.

"Reminisce later, guys," Berta said watching as the undead drew nearer.

"Form a circle," Felsi said. "We're making a stand."

The others did as she said and formed a wide circle, all of them facing away from the center. Baring their weapons, the seven stood at the ready, awaiting the impending enemy force. Even over the roar of the wind, the creatures howls and barks could be clearly heard as they came charging.