Through the trees strides a young man, the stillness of the forest trail is so primeval that the tread of even a soft footed boot seems deafening. Nor is he as careless as he seems, striding through the ancient green vastness, miles from the last settler's cabin.

All the same, it is instinct instead of any warning of the senses which brings him to an abrupt standstill. The silence seems…too absolute. Whipping his head around he focuses on a branch. Did that just move, even with no stirring breeze.

Instantly his hand is on his sword as he hears a heavy chopping crunch behind the wall of leaves. And, even as the bushes ahead shake violently, an arrow arches out, flying down the trail. The youth follows it with his eyes even as he ducks for cover. Then, from behind a thick truck he sees the bushes part, and a tall armored man step out. As he calls out the boy places him as a Nord.

"Come on out boy. All's safe now, there was only one of those devils." He waves his hand "Out Boy!"

"Yes..hold on, I'm coming," he sheaths his sword "My name is Balthus. I'm from Chorrol."

"Ragnthor, from Whiterun, and you're a long way from Chorrol boy. Step over here and I'll show you why you should have stayed in the safe part of the empire."

Ragnthor's pushes apart the bushes and Balthus gasps. "By the Gods, An Argonian!"

"Are you surprised? After all you're only 4 miles west of Black River."

"They told me at Velitrium last night, and again at the settler cabins on the road, that these devils sneaked across the borders sometimes." He shook his head and swallowed "But I never expected to see one this far from the interior."

Ragnthor shakes his head. "No settler is truly safe between Thunder River, which you would have crossed a ways back, and Fort Tuscelan. I picked up this one's trail 3 miles south of the fort this morning and been following it ever since. I came up behind him as he was drawing a bead on you, else there'd be a pale skinned stranger in hell."

He starts walking down the trail and Balthus hurries to follow. "You mean…you actually managed to sneak up on an Argonian?! I've never heard of any civilized man doing that, not even here in Conajoharra!"

Ragnthor smiles wryly "Don't be so sure I'm civilized, I'm no imperial soldier you know. I may draw the pay of an officer of the line but I do my work here in the woods. Valannus knows I'm more use ranging along the river than cooped up at the fort. Now what's your story boy?"

Balthus bristles "I'm not boy, for one thing. And I haven't decided whether to enter service at the fort or take up a homestead."

"All the best land near Thunder River is taken, and here you're getting too close to Black River. Argonians steal over to burn and murder, and not always alone. One day they'll try to sweep all of you Imperials out of Conajoharra. Can't say I blame them, it is their land really."

"Strange talk from a man in the service in the Governor of Conajoharra."

Ragnthor just shrugs. "It's nothing to me, I sell my sword to the highest bidder. It's been years since I worked the soil and will be many more, so long as there are other harvests to be reaped with the sword. And there will be, the lord holding this land refuses to send enough men to protect the settlers."

"The Argonians will never attack in force, they are too divided."

"So were the Orcs, years ago, until one man united them when the Redguards tried to push northward."

Balthus merely nods. "My uncle was in Venarium when the orcs swarmed over the wall. He was one of the few to escape the slaughter." Suddenly he realizes something. "But, you speak familiarly of Venarium. Perhaps you too were there?"

Not giving a glance back he strides on. "I was. I was part of the horde that swarmed the walls. I had barely seen 18 winters, and was an outsider as well, but my name was repeated around their council fires."

"Ragnthor…Ragnthor of the Isles! I've heard of you. Perhaps it's a good thing I'm not a redguard.

He shrugs again. "I bear no grudges. But, your once provinces have sheltered you imperials from the wilderness for too many centuries. You need hardening. Anyway, it will be dark before we reach the fort…Listen!" Balthus was left wondering at the hearing of the man as he yelled before he himself heard it.

Suddenly it cut off. "It broke off, at its highest note."

Balthus shudders "Ye gods what could cause such agony?"

Ragnthor whips his steel sword from its sheath. "We'll soon find out, Come On Boy!" he races down the trail, axe haft on his other hip beating a furious tempo.

While behind him Balthus puffs a curse. Among the men of Chorrol he is considered a good runner but Ragnthor is leaving him with maddening ease. He rounds a bend and barely sees Ragnthor dart off the path. Balthus follow, sliding down a sharp slope, where he sees the body.

"Sweet Mara! Did you see his killer Ragnthor?"

Ragnthor stands on the edge of the small clearing, pushing apart the bushes. "No…and maybe I'm lucky I didn't."

Balthus stood looking over the body, "Who did this? An Argonian?"

"No, it was a swamp demon. Look at his throat, slashed from ear to ear as if from a sharp blade."

"Gods! But who is he?"

Ragnthor stood, testing the edge of his blade. "His name is Tiberias, a wealthy merchant of Velitrium. And he's the fifth dead at the claws of the swamp demon."

"Again that phrase! What…"

"Use your eyes lad! Look closely at the throat and you'll see that only a talon could make that wound. The flesh has been ripped, not cut. You even hear of an Argonian wizard name Zogar-Sag?"

"No, I…"

"He lives in Gwawela, the closest village across Black River. Just shy of 3 months back he stole a mule train packing ale kegs that belonged to Tiberias. A woodsman named Soractus trailed him and led Governor Valannus and 3 soldiers to where he lay drunk in a thicket. I told them to kill him, he would be trouble if they left him alive. However they jailed him and he escaped, vowing vengeance. He's getting it."

"But how do you know he wasn't killed by an Argonian, which had an animal's talon."

Ragnthor crouched low and points with his sword to a massive, 3 claws track. "Did a man make that?" He stood, sheathing his sword and drawing his axe.

"Mara's mercy. What is that, I have never seen a beast leave spore like that."

"A swamp demon," he grabs a sapling he was eyeing and swings his axe "Thick as bats beyond Black River. No use trying to track him either," he tosses the tree at Balthus and starts working on another. "Tried that once, lost its trail in a dozen paces."

Balthus, understanding, starts lashing the sapling Ragnthor throws at him together. "You were tracking one of those demons?! Why?"

"It's my job. I told you Zogar-Sag vowed to kill Tiberias and the five men who captured him, in way that would make Imperials shudder for centuries to come. Well Tiberias is the fifth to dead at a demon's talon." He bent and picks up Tiberias and places him and the litter. "Soractus was killed along the river, 3 soldiers in the shadow of the fort. Each one, except old Tiberias here, lacked their head which is no doubt ornamenting the altar of Zogar-Sag's particular god."

As they bent to lift the litter Balthus asked "And we are going to carry him back to the fort?"

"Demon isn't going to get Tiberias's head if I can help it. I never liked the fat fool but losing heads set a back example. And it's only 3 miles to the fort."

They strode the path for a while, marking the passage of maybe a mile. "But, if Tiberias knew Zogar-Sag wanted him dead, knew the other died so horribly, why was he out here alone?"

"Each of the victims was smitten with madness before doom overtook him." He kept looking around, Balthus knew, despite not seeming to move. "Well, at least he took fright when we came upon him and didn't have time to take Tiberias's head."

"When you came up. You mean," Balthus mumbles. "It must not be a very terrible creature if one man can scare it." Suddenly a scream rose from the woods. "What was that!"

Ragnthor let go of the litter, drawing his sword and darting into the woods. "A woman's scream, probably a settler's wife! Stay Here!"

"Stay here with a corpse and a devil stalking the woods? I'm coming with you!"

"Suit yourself," Ragnthor cried back as he ran all the faster, "it came from over here."

The run was fast. "Gods and Goblins! How can anyone run so…why are we stopping?"

Ragnthor was crouching in front of him. "That cry came from this glade or near to it. I don't misplace a sound, even in the woods."

"Then where is she…Mara what is it now!" Shout Balthus as the scream rose again, behind them!

Then it changes into a bubbling, mocking cry of laughter. "Come on, unless you wish to be left this time!"

With a scorching oath Ragnthor runs at breakneck speeds, bounding over logs and rocks like a fox, Balthus staggering behind him sword in hand. Moments later he nearly stumbles into the Nord, who had come to an abrupt stop. "Shor…"

"What is it," Balthus says, only to stop short as he comes around Ragnthor, "Mother Mara…." Something is moving in the forest beyond. Something that glides like a serpent but isn't one. Something glimmering like a blue flame, yet taller than a man, outlines indistinct.

For a moment, old superstitions welling inside of him, Ragnthor stands there motionless. Then he hurls his axe "DAMN YOU, DEMON OF ZOGAR-SAG!" But the thing glides on, not altering its course as if it were an embodiment of blue flame, moving with reason and purpose through the darkening woods. Then it is gone, the forest seeming to wait in breathless stillness.

"It tricked us, damn it, with its accursed screaming. Should have known a demon can impersonate a woman."

"But why would it?"

Ragnthor grins grimly. "Follow me and gain some bitter wisdom boy." He pushes through the last bushes separating them from Tiberias "Now there's 5 heads decorating Zogar-Sag's altar."

"Gods," is all he says as he looks at the now headless corpse, blood slowly oozing from the fresh wounds. "But what it that thing that can scream like a woman and laugh like a devil, and shine like witchfire as it glides through the trees?"

"Swamp demon. Well, grab the poles, we'll take the body in anyway. At least our load is a bit little." With that grim philosophy he grabbes the leather loop and stalks down the trail.

Fort Tuscelan stands on the western bank of Black River, the tides of which reach the foot of the stockade. It is here civilization ends. For, in the dark forest on the other side, the primitive still reigns amid deep green shadows. Neither do the lizard men forget that, once, the land called Conajoharra was theirs.

"Who goes there!" a voice calls down from the gate.

"Open the gate, damn your hide! Can't you see it's me, Ragnthor!" Each moment seems an eternity to Balthus as he thinks he see and Argonian's face and demons blazing eyes behind each tree at their backs.

Suddenly the gate swings open. "That's better! I swear soldiers' way set my teeth on edge." As he feels the eyes on him jeers. "What are you oafs staring at? Never seen a dead body before?"

One of them, a hulking brute with half dead eyes, looks at it. "That's Tiberias, right enough. Recognize that fur coat."

"Aye, what of it?"

He points to the man behind him. "Gallus here owes me 50 gold. Told him Tiberias had seen the loon when he rode out this morning, glassy eyed. I wagered he'd come back without a head. I won."

Ragnthor curses low under his breath. "And they call us Nords barbaric." Dropping the body he strides off. "Let's go Balthus, before the crowd gathers. I need to talk to Valannus."

A dark haired man steps out from a low building, impressive mustache on his hard face not drooping in the heat. "And the Governor of a frontier outpost should be visible. I had begun to free the Argonians had got you at last."

"When they smoke my head, the whole river will hear it. They'll hear Argonian women wailing their dead as far off as Velitrium. I was on a lone scout, couldn't sleep. Not with the drums talking across the river."

Valannus shakes his head and walks in the building, Ragnthor, having to bend to follow. "The drums talk every night."

Ragnthor shakes his head. "It's been different since Zogar-Sag got back across the river."

"I suppose we should have given him presents and sent him home, else hanged him as you said to."

"Hard for you imperials to learn the ways of the outlands. Well it can't be helped now. There'll be no peace while Zogar-Sag lives and remembers the cell he sweated in." He grabs the rough hew cup of wine from Valannus and downs it in a gulp. "By the way the lad is Balthus. From Chorrol. He's come to help hold the frontier."

Valannus hands Balthus a cup. "I'm glad to welcome you young sir!"

He nods, taking a sip. "Glad to be here, Governor. Thank you."

"I wish more of your people would come. We need men used to forest life, as many of our soldiers and even settlers are not."

Ragnthor chuckles "Not many this side of Velitrium. But listen Valannus, might as well tell you. We found Tiberias dead on the trail, same as the others."

"What!"

"He went mad, rushing into the woods to lose his head, same as the others. It was a swamp demon, of some kind. We caught a glimpse of it."

"Do the soldiers know of this?"

Ragnthor stands and grabs the wineskin, filling his cup. "We left the body by the western gate."

"DAMN! You should have concealed the fact, hidden the body in the woods! The men are nervous enough!"

"It would have done no good, and you know it." He sits down and leans against a rough hewn support column. "The soldiers would find out one way or another. If I'd hidden the body it probably would have returned to the fort the same way Soractus was, tied up outside the gate for the men to find in the morning."

Valannus signs and looks out into the middle of the fort. "I suppose you're right, Ragnthor. After all, what do you really know about what that jungle hides. No man has plunged deep into that darkness and survived. Who knows what gods and devils are really worshiped in the forest, and the great swamp they say lies beyond." He turns back inside and pours another cup. "And this Zogar-Sag…The mages of the Imperial City would sneer at his primitive magic making, and yet he has driven mad and killed 5 men in a way no one can explain. I wonder if he himself is fully mortal."

Ragnthor smiles and he pours the last of the wine in his cup. "If I can get within axe throwing distance I'll answer that for you."

Valannus stares at him. "You puzzle me Ragnthor. The soldiers, who do not believe in ghosts and demons, are almost in a panic of fear. And yet you, who do believe in all manner of uncanny things, do not seem to fear the things you believe."

Ragnthor downs the wine. "I used to, in my younger days. But I've found there's nothing in this universe that steel won't bleed. I threw my axe at that demon and it took no hurt, but I might have missed in the dark. I'm not going out of my way looking for devils, but I'm not going to get out of the way to let one go by."

"More depends on you than you realize." He walks over and stands by his war table. "You know our weakness, a slender wedge thrust into the wilderness. Most of the army that conquered Conajoharra has been withdrawn. Even serpents and wild animals maul the men, until they to believe Zogar-Sag's boast that he can control animals."

"What do you want from me Valannus?"

Valannus slams his fist on the table. "Ragnthor, Zogar-Sag must die! Else the border may soon be left unguarded and nothing will stop the Argonian's westward sweep. Will you take 100 men, tonight, and try? I know it's mad, and I'm mad to ask it but…"

Ragnthor nods. "I'll go, if you let me pick a dozen men to go with me. A dozen can slip in and out where 100 couldn't. And I don't want any soldiers! They'll just…"

Balthus surges up. "Let me go! I've hunted deer in the forests outside of Chorrol my whole life!"

Ragnthor gives a wry smile. "Alright Balthus." He turns to Valannus. "I'll pick the rest from the stall where the foresters gather and we'll be on our way in an hour. If we live we'll be back by daylight."

The Black River is a vague trace between walls of ebony. The paddles which propel the long boats dip into the water as noiselessly as the beak of a heron. Balthus knows that not even the keen eyes of Ragnthor can see more than a few feet in front of him. The Nord is feeling his way by instinct and an intense familiarity with the river.

The young imperial recalls the plan, stated to himself and the foresters accompanying them back in fort Tuscelan. "We'll drop down to a point below the village of Gwawela, where the old witch-devil lives. Then we'll steal through the woods." It all seemed much simpler back then.

Looking around Balthus can see his other companions no more clearly than Ragnthor. Yet he remembers the look of them, before they had slipped out of the fort. They are a new breed, growing up on the edges of civilization. Imperials to a man, yet a world apart. They are wild men of a sort, shaggy and rough cut, clad in skins from head to foot with well worn weapons at their hips. Yet they are still sons of civilization, while the Nord in front of them is a wild man of a thousand generations of wild men. They have acquired stealth and craft, he was born with them. Balthus admires them, and is proud to be among them.

They are nearly a mile below the fort when Ragnthor lets out an almost inaudible grunt and they swing the boats about and glide to the opposite shore. The stars give little light and no one could have seen them cross.

As silent as a panther Ragnthor slides over the side and vanishes into the bushes. And 9 more men follow him, just as silent. Balthus settles himself to wait, and not a word passes between him and the other man left to guard the boats. Nor does any sound come from the bank, even the drums have been silent for hours.

Suddenly he hears something slap the water, like a big fish jumping for a bug. A bug that doesn't fly at night. He turns to the other boat and sees its stern drifting into the current as if the forest had let go of the root he was holding.

Balthus tries to get his attention, whispering "hey" but the man doesn't reply.

Clawing his way down the bank using root and tufts of grass he silently glides toward the other boat, thinking the man has fallen asleep. He reaches out to grab the shoulder of the man when, to his amazement, he crumples at the slightest touch. Dead, throat slit from ear to ear.

In that instant of horror and panic, Balthus surges up…only to feel a scaly arm clamp like a vice around his neck, silencing any cry. He doesn't remember pulling his knife, only those arms dragging him into the water and stabbing wildly. He feels the blade sink deep into flesh and hears a blood chilling scream rise in his ear. A cry that is equally answered.

As he claws his was up the bank, away from the now lifeless body floating behind him, the very darkness seems to come alive. The next moment he is driven back into the river by a hurling, dark shape. And, as he struggles with a foe that is too dark to see, something cracks into his head, making the night shine with fire before fading to a dark where even the stars don't shine.

Fires dazzle Balthus once again as his sense return. "Where…" then memory and understanding rush him as he realizes he is tied standing to a post and surrounded by "Argonians!" Even as he cries out he sees blood on the scales of some of them, signs of fighting…recent and deadly.

Outside the ring of warriors, fierce eyed woman tend to fires, which rise to hurt his eyes. And, even as he turns from them, he represses a cry a horror at the pile he sees there. The glassy eyed heads of the men who followed Ragnthor. He cannot tell if the Nord's head is among them.

Suddenly he becomes aware of another man near him. "So, they got you too."

Balthus nods. "Aye, snuck up in the water and slit the other man's throat. Mother Mara how can anything be so quiet."

"They're devils, that's how. They must have been watching us from the time we left midstream. We walked into a trap. Arrows ripped into us from all sides, most of us fell in the first fire. 3 or 4 broke through the bushes and came to handgrips with them but there were too many, far too many. The Argonians don't keep spies on the bank as far down as we were. We must have stumbled on a big party coming up the river from the south. Ragnthor might have gotten away though, haven't seen his head."

The man looks around and Balthus can just barely notice the suddenly, slight droop to the man's shoulders. "Better for you and me, lad, if they had killed us outright. There's some devilment up, there's too many here. They aren't all Gwaweli, some from the eastern swamps and from up and down the river. I don't know what…" Suddenly the hissing of the argonians raises to a deafening level, blotting out almost completely Balthus's ability to think.

Suddenly they turn toward a large tent at the far side of the fire circle. And someone dances out. Dressed in feathers and skins of the unknown things living in the woods and swamps of Black Marsh he strikes a worrisome figure. Balthus knows without asking that this is Zogar-Sag. With almost demonic leaps and bounds he dances into the rings of warriors, hissing towards he silent and bound captives.

Suddenly he freezes, and the hissing behind him abruptly stops. It seems to Balthus that the shaman his growing, starting to tower above him even thought Balthus knows the shaman is far shorter than himself. The young Imperial shakes off the illusion with great difficulty. The shaman is…talking…now, in his native language, hisses and jaws snaps mixed with hauntingly primal growls. He thrusts his long neck toward the wounded forester, who spits a dark red glob of blood into his eye.

With a fiendish howl Zogar-Sag convulsively leaps back and those behind him give a horrifying scream that shudders up to the stars. Yet, when they rush towards the wounded man, the shaman beats them back. Giving a jawsnap so loud it echos in Balthus's chest, he points towards the gate which he slowly being opened by hulking brutes. Then they race back to the circle, which hastily parts, as Balthus sees the women usher children into huts.

A broad lane is open now to the gate, beyond which the black jungle rules. A heavy silence reigns, only to be broken by Zogar-Sag. He screams out a…word. A word like something from the deepest hells. And somewhere, out in the black trees, there is a reply. Deeper and more primal than can be made by any race Balthus knows. The woodsman next to Balthus licks his lips fearfully, and the whole of the village stands silent. Zogar-Sag stands still as a statue, plumes trembling slightly around his. And then suddenly, the gate is no longer empty. Balthus feels the head on his scalp ripple as he stares at it. The creature that stands there is like something out of a nightmare.

Looking like a sabercat only twice as big, no one has seen one of these beasts in centuries. With its small head, the imperial scholars assume that it had overly large centers of the brain for processing aggression. So much so that it would fight anything that moved. Powerful enough to hunt the mammoths of Skyrim alone, even Balthus had heard the legends of hunters finding the 2 together, fangs of the cat driven so far into the skull of a mammoth it couldn't draw them back out.

It slinks past the pile of bloody head, for it only hunts the living. And an awful hunger burns greenly in its unblinking eyes. A hunger for death dealing as well as food. It halts before Zogar-Sag, like a hound before its master. And, when the shaman points to the wounded forester, it moves toward them in a crouch, drool dripping from the ends of its teeth.

Suddenly the shaman screams and the monster leaps. Balthus has never imagined such a spring, such an embodiment of hurtling destruction incarnate hidden in the iron hard thews and ripping talons. The woodsman has no time to even scream. The beast lands on his chest, snapping the post in its fury. Then, suddenly, it is gliding toward the gate, half carrying and half dragging the form that only vaguely resembles a human.

Cold sweat suddenly bursts on Balthus's skin as he strains against his bonds. What strange horror do they have in store for him? He feels the eyes of the Argonians on him, hundreds upon hundreds of cruel eyes which seem no more civilized than the beast of the forest. Suddenly Zogar-Sag sends another, yet different, cry into the jungle with a word that threatens to make his ears bleed and Balthus shudders at the implication.

This time, there is no answer, only a pregnant silence. Until, suddenly, there is a faint swishing outside the gate, a dry rustle that send shivers running up and down his spine. And then the fire lit gate is filled with another monster from men's long dead dreams. Balthus recognizes the beast, what the ancients called a ghost snake. Huge constrictor like folds yet also bearing fangs that deliver a most fearsome venom, with jaws large enough to swallow a bull. Valannus spoke truly, no man knows what haunts the great swamps a forests beyond the river.

Silently it ripples over the flat ground. With a glazed, hypnotized stare Balthus looks down the throat he will soon slide down as the snake rears its head back for a final strike. Suddenly something glints in the fire like and impales the great snake jut behind the jaw, causing it to have massive convulsions, whipping about trails of blood and venom. Knotting and looping fearsomely it rolls into the fire of warriors who attempt to flee its maddened spasms.

Suddenly Balthus feels something jerk at his tightly bound wrists. "Who the devil…"

Suddenly he is free and a hand grabs and pulls him along. "Come on, youngling, before they get over their panic."

"Ragnthor! It was you, then…"

Ragnthor shoves an axe into his hand. "Who else. Now take this and follow me." Without a moments pause he rushes into the hut Zogar-Sag had emerge from.

Inside, faintly lit by a fire, Balthus sees 5 humans heads set in place, with a grizzly familiarity to the freshest. "Tiberias!" the at the back of the hut he sees "Ragnthor, whats that dark idol over there? So much like a man, yet different? SWEET MARA ITS MOVING!"

"That's because its no idol boy, but a living thing chained by Zogar-Sag to guard his head. Let me handle it." The horrid shape heaves up suddenly in the gloom, misshapen arms stretching to the floor. With a grunt it leaps at the Nord, who swings his sword, cleaving it open from shoulder to the middle of its stomach.

In a way Ragnthor had predicted this moment, there's nothing in this universe that steel won't bleed.

"Don't stop to gawk boy, the stockade is just behind this hut. Were lucky the mad charge didn't carry them this way." Balthus nearly gasps in surprise as Ragnthor lifts him at arm's length as if he were a child. "Climb, you can do it! I've got something to take care of down here."

He throws and axe at an Argonian who just walked around a hut. He screams as the axe hits him, causing Ragnthor to curse. "Damn, didn't get him before his could make a sound. And I'd wager there are a few of those devils who've recovered enough to think about their escaping captive."

He is proven right as a handful run around the hut even as he leaps high, not catching Balthus's wrist, but his shoulder. Balthus groans as he feels the weight of a half armored man swing himself over, even as the arrows begin to fly. Then falls drops to the ground and they take off into the jungle, where terrors that may await them are far worse than Zogar-Sag's horrors.

"Which way to the river Ragnthor!?"

"We don't dare try for the river now boy. The woods between here and there are swarming with Argonians. We'll head in the last direction they'll expect, east."

Looking back through the brush to the not so distant fort, Balthus can see the head of the warriors looking over, surprised, having thought Ragnthor's lone attack the herald of an assault in force, even as the shrill roars of the wizard directs the men in slaying the now uncontrollable serpent. Roars that are soon deepened in anger as he find that they had escaped.

Ahead Ragnthor laughs grimly. "They'll be after us now. Damn that dog, if I'd but had a second spear…"

Balthus puffs slightly behind him. "I'm glad your priorities were as they were though."

Ragnthor is still breathing easy. "Just run boy, as you've never run before. You'll find Argonians get over their fear quickly."

They ran hard for a few minutes before Ragnthor spoke again. "They'll expect us to head to the river so we'll make good time on this trail, if you can call it that."

"But won't they try to track us by torchlight?"

"Even they can't track they well boy." Suddenly Ragnthor darts off the trail at full speed to run alongside for a moment before getting back on. "When we are far enough from the village we'll swing back to the river in a big circle. There's no other village beside Gwawela for miles, so all the Argonians will be gathered there."

"So we'll outflank them?"

"Aye, they can't follow our trail until daylight. They'll pick up our trail them but before dawn we'll leave the trail and take to the woods…"suddenly Ragnthor slid to a stop. "Something is following us," He whispers, "Give me your axe."

As he hands it he asks "Shouldn't we take to the woods, we can't fight the whole tribe."

"Not even an Argonian could have found our trail and followed us so quickly. Keep quiet."

Moments later Balthus's heart leaps to his throat as a savage form appears. Squinting hard the young man sees it is not the monstrous saber cat standing there, but a leopard snuffing the trail then moving forward uncertainly. With a start Balthus realizes the beast it stalking them! At that moment, its eyes glowing like balls of fire, the beast looks toward them. And, in the moment, Blathus's axe is a streak of sliver. Almost before he realizes what happened the leopard is in its death throes.

"Well that's one beast who'll tell no more tell to Zogar-Sag. And once I hide its carcass the Argonians who are no doubt following it will be delayed in finding us."

As Ragnthor heaves the dead thing over his shoulder Blathus asks "What do you mean, tell Zogar-Sag?"

"Use your brain boy, you yourself saw that shaman call forth both a monster snake and a saber cat to do his bidding. To say nothing of the inhuman beast he used to take Tiberias's head."

"Does he catch leopard cubs, then, and train them as blood hounds?"

Ragnthor scoffs. "Hardly, that was a leopard he called out of the woods. Now be careful, we don't want to leave any more spoor than necessary, so walk with care. Try to glide between the bushes and always place your feet where they leave the least track."

"I know what to do, but I'll be damned if I can do it half as well as you."

"You'll learn, or you won't last long in Conajoharra."

"What did you mean, called it out of the woods? I mean, if he can order beast to do his bidding, why was there only one?"

"He can't command all the animals, just those that remember Jhebbal Sag."

"That name, I've heard it somewhere, but I can't…"

"Once, all things worshipped Jhebbal Sag. But that was long ago, when man and beast spoke the same language. Men have forgotten, and even the beasts forget. But the few men and beasts who remember are brothers, and speak the same language."

"That's Impossible!"

"Aye, that's what more civilized men say, but no one can tell me how Zogar-Sag can call animals out of the wild and make them do his bidding. They' call it a lie, if they dared. If they can't explain something, they refuse to believe it."

Balthus shudders. "You won't catch me arguing. Maybe we are just more superstitious in Chorrol than the rest of Cyrodiil. And the things I have seen here…."

They pushed into a small clearing, "They say there is a clearing sacred to Jhebbal Sag in these woods but I've never…wait."

Balthus stops, spine prickling as Ragnthor stoops and scratches a strange symbol in the leaf litter. As he does so there is a windless rustling of leave and a faint moan in the boughs above.

"What is that Ragnthor, I've not…"

"I first saw this carved in the rock of a cave no soul had been in since before the first era, west of Yokuda, half a world from here. Later I saw a witch-finder from Hammerfell scratch it in the sand of a nameless river. He told me part of its meaning, it's sacred to Jhebbal Sag, and those men and beast who worship him. Watch." With that they faded into the woods and the far side of the sign.

To the east, drums mutter. And other drums, to the north and west, answer. Then they see it, and Balthus shivers as a dark shape pushes through the bushes. A black panther glides like a black shadow in the moonlight. It too is following their trail. It moves to the symbol drawn moments ago by the Nord hidden in the bushes and Balthus would swear aloud, if he dared, as he beholds the awe and admiration in the beast's eye as it touches the symbol with its muzzle. He doesn't breathe and Ragnthor turns into a statue cast in steel.

For a long while the panther crouches there motionless. Then it slowly begins to slink backward carefully, belly to the ground. The next instant it wheels as if in panic and vanishes from the clearing in a flash of dark light. Balthus has seen Ragnthor's eyes as all this has taken place. They smolder with fires that have never been lit behind a truly civilized man. Balthus feels that he has seen shadows from life's dawn; ancient, primal phantasms, nameless and unaged.

Then the deeper fires as masked and he is beckoning Balthus further into the forest. "We've no more to fear from the beasts…but we've left sign for men to follow. Come, we've got to warn Valannus!"

"Warn him of what?"

They run for a while before sliding down the bank of a small stream. "The woods are swarming with Argonians, That's why they got us! Zogar-Sag is brewing war magic this time, no mere raid this time."

"Why would he dare attack the fort when they've repulsed so many raids before?"

"Zogar has done something that hasn't happened in near 200 years. He's managed to unite 16 or more tribes."

"How do you think he has done it?"

"With his magic of course. An Argonian would rather follow a wizard than a war chief. The warriors you saw in the village were only part of his force. More are coming, from the farther villages."

They stop to drink, the first water they had had in hours. "How many do you think he can muster in all?"

"Near to 3000 fighting men, damn him. After the ambush that killed the foresters I laid and listened. They mean to attack the fort. I don't know when but it can't be long. He's whipped them into a frenzy. And if he doesn't lead them to battle soon they'll fall to fighting amongst themselves. They're blood mad, everyone."

"Do you think they can take the fort?"

The big man merely shrugs. "Don't know. But we've got to get back across the river and warn the settlers. They need to head to the fort or to Velitrium."

Balthus wipes his lips and stands. "You think they'll be attacked as well?"

"Aye, the Argonians mean to drive you all from Conajoharra. I wouldn't be surprised if their war parties cross the Thunder River and raid the thickly settled land beyond."

As the start to move again Balthus speaks "I've been meaning to ask how you escaped the ambush?"

"If more border men would wear armor there would be fewer skulls in altar huts. Thing is, most men make noise in armor. I don't."

"Still they ambushed you…"

They started up a small hill. "They were waiting for us already when we came otherwise I'd never been taken by surprise. When an Argonian stands motionless even the beasts of the swamp pass them by. Still I escaped… and knew from their drums they had taken someone alive."

"The forester the great cat killed. And myself."

"Luckily they were so engrossed in the ceremony that I was killed to kill a guard. Was his spear I threw, and his axe you're carrying."

"But what was that, that thing you killed in the hut?"

"One of Jhebbal"s children that didn't remember and had to be kept chained. It was one of Zogar's gods, a bull ape. Some Argonians believe they are sacred to Gullah, the hairy gorilla who lives on the largest moon." They crest the top of the rise. "Well, it's getting light. Here's as good a place to rest as any, and defend it they find our trails soon than I hope. Probably have to wait until nightfall to head back to the river." With that he leans his back against a tree and sleeps.

A few hours later he wakes and notices Balthus still sitting, to nervous to sleep. As soon as Balthus see him he asks "Those were fellrunner plumes Zogar wore. Where did he get them?"

"East of here, many marches, lays the sea shore. Ships, both merchant and pirate, trade with the Argonians. Argonian shamen place great store in those plumes and pay good prices."

"Who would you know that?"

"Sailed that coast, and many other, when I was with a band a pirates, years ago."

"I knew you hadn't spent your whole life on the frontier. How widely have you traveled?"

"Farther than any other of my race. I've seen all the great cities, even a few of the Aldmeri when I was raiding their shores. I've roamed Akavir, Yokuda, Pyandonea and the islands beyond. Been a mercenary captain, a corsair, a desert raider, a penniless thief, Hell I've been everything except a king and that's one job I'd never want. How long I'll stay on the border, I don't know. But it's as good a life as any for now." He pushes himself to his feet. "Well, the Argonians have lost our trail else we'd be up to our necks in them by now. They must be preparing to cross the river. This is our chance."

As they stalk through the woods toward the river Balthus asks "Do you think they'll cross the river before nightfall?"

"No. Some woodsman would see them and raise the alarm. Some will cross above and below the fort and hide out of sight of the sentries. Then, when the other attack from across the rivers the hidden ones will attack the fort from all sides. They've tried that before but this time they have enough numbers to make a real go of it. We've got to reach the fort, and stop for nothing."

"Including food I assume. I haven't eaten since I first met you."

Ragnthor chuckles. "There's plenty of food at the fort. Anyway, here's where we'll cross the river."

"Can we be sure they haven't already crossed and the woods are alive with them?"

"You're a worrier Balthus though I don't blame you I guess. Thing is we've got no choice. We're about 6 miles south of Gwawela and…" suddenly something flashes across the clearing and Ragnthor draws his sword just as fast, deflecting the arrow. "DAMNED ARGONIANS!"

Ragnthor moves so quickly he is a blur, his sword a dull silver gleaming swath. But the next instant Balthus hears a death scream and knows Ragnthor found his unseen archer. And as hisses and roars rise a half dozen more. The roaring Nord is lowering the odds however with massive swings of his sword, severing limbs and torsos alike even as the young Imperial bursts through the bushes.

In time to barely avoid a savagely hurled spear. For a spilt second he wonders which of them threw the weapon, a wondering that is soon answered as the self same Argonian leaps after it with swinging fist and up raised axe. The Argonian is like a beast, muscles as hard a steel as he knocks the young man down with the weight of his body. Still, the Imperial manages to avoid the blow and his axe stikes home, cleaving the lizards skull. He pushes the dead body off and looks around wildy for Ragnthor, expecting him to be overwhelmed with numbers.

It is then he fully realizes the strength and ferocity of the Nord. 2 attackers fall back, shorn completely in two by the heavy broadsword and then a third is impaled by the cold steel a moment later. Another one, smarter than the rest, grabs his bow off the ground. Ragnthor's reply it to hurl his sword, driving it to the hilt in the creatures chest. The last 2 rush him and, unarmed, it seems he must surely fall. But Balthus is there to hurl his axe with such deadly skill it reduces the attackers to one. The remaining one, however, has 2 weapons to Ragnthor's none and leaps, striking with both. The knife breaks on the Nord's plate and the axe hand is grabbed in midair, as Ragnthor's hand closes on the leaping Argoanian's throat, cutting off its savage roar. Those iron fingers tighten and Balthus hears a bone snap. Then next moment he is hurled to the ground, rebounding once like a broken doll, then lays still, limp posture telling on a broken back and shattered limbs.

"Come On Balthus! Grab a bow and arrows and run. That was a roar they heard so we must trust our heels again. They'll be on us in no time."

"Back into the woods? But I thought…"

"If we tried to cross the river now they'd feather us with arrows before we reached midstream." Ragnthor does not plunge deep into the woods though, and Balthus recognizes a grim determination not to be turned from the river they must cross to warm the fort.

Then, after what seems like an eternity, Ragnthor stops. "I can't hear the yells anymore."

"Sneaking up on us maybe." Balthus is suddenly aware he is gasping for breath and it feels like he hasn't eaten in a year.

"No, they've gone back. A short chase like this they would scream and roar every step of the way. They've been recalled. Good for us but damned bad for the fort. It means they are being summoned out of the woods to make ready for the attack. The ones we ran into were from a tribe farther down the river, doubtless headed to Gwawela to join the assault. And now we're farther away than ever. DAMN IT We Have Got To Get Across That River!"

Turning west they hurry through the thickets with no attempt at concealment. Following Balthus feels a cosmic loneliness, for despite his admiration, Ragnthor is as much a part of the wilderness as he is far from it. Despite years roaming between the great cities he is still a wild northman, even as a wolf is still a wolf despite brushes with guard dogs.

Suddenly they stop. "Hold," the big man whispers, "out there on the river."

It is only then the Balthus hears the rhythmic spashing and peers through the leaves to see a dugout canoe with a lone body in it, fighting the current.

"That's a Gwaweli man, emissary of Zogar-Sag. The white plume shows it. Must have carried a peace talk to the tribes down river and now he's trying to get back in time for the slaughter."

The nest moment Balthus nearly jumps out of his skin as Ragnthor cups his hands around his lips and slams his jaw shut in a perfect imitation of an Argonian, followed by a hideous hiss. The man starts then scans the bushes on both sides of the river before turning toward the watchers from Fort Tuscelan.

Not understanding Balthus watches as Ragnthor takes the bow from his hand even as the Argonian slides in close to the bank and issues forth the same harsh sounds. His only reply is the twang of a bow and the shriek of an arrow that buries itself in his broad chest. He is dead by the time he hits the water.

"Wh…what did you say to him?"

"Quick, come here. A simple phrase I learned from an Argonian pirate who was on my crew."

"Doesn't seem fair, he thought a friend was speaking to him. You mimicked one perfectly."

"Only way to get him to the bank. We needed his boat. Which is worse, betray an Argonian who'd even smoking our skulls, or the men across the river whose lives depend on us getting across the river." Balthus stays quiet.

A short while later. "How far are we from the fort?"

"About 10 miles. And we'll go on foot from here."

"Why not keep the boat?"

"If they're crossing the river we might run into them. Besides we'll reach the fort fast on foot."

They have gone maybe a mile before Ragnthor speaks again. "Valannus wanted to build forts at the mouth of North and South Creeks, then the river could be patrolled constantly. But the damned government wouldn't do it and recalled the very troops that had captured Conajoharra."

"Why wouldn't they listen to Valannus?"

"Soft bellied fools sitting on velvet cushions while naked serving girls pour wine from their knees, I know the breed. 'Diplomacy'. Hell, they'd fight the Argonians with theories of territorial expansion. They'll never grab any more Argonian land, any more than the Redguards will rebuild Venarium. In fact the time may come when the Argonians, Nords and Orcs overrun the border cities and then it will be….Look There!"

"What's there Ragnthor, I can't see as well in this gathering dark…why it's a dog!"

"Aye, I remember him. Argonians killed his master and we found him in the middle of 3 Argonians he had killed, laying slashed to pieces. As soon as he recovered he turned wild. What now Slasher, you still hunting those who killed your master?"

"Slashers his name, eh, well…" he reaches down to rub the faintly snarling dog's head.

"Watch it, he's not been petted in some time."

He kept rubbing the dog's head. "He's alright now, he'd just forgotten for a moment that he isn't a wild thing. Strange, I remember the sleek, well-fed hounds on my father's estate. I guess the frontier is no less hard on beasts as men."

"Let him come with use then, he can smell those devils before we can see them."

The miles fall under their steady stride, as the last of dusk fall into darkness. Slasher leads in a grim silence, until he halts suddenly, ears pricked. A moment later the men hear it, a demonic roaring.

"We're Too Late! THEY'VE ATTACKED THE FORT, COME ON BOY!"

The sounds grow louder as they run, the roars mixed with the yells of the soldiers. Then, just as Balthus fears they will run into the very midst of the fight, Ragnthor swings away from the river in a semicircle that brings them to a crest of a small rise where they can look down over the forest.

"Well, there's the fort boy."

"Mother Mara…"

Roaring like beasts hundreds of painted warriors storm the eastern wall, weapons in hand, dodging arrows and, as they start to climb the walls, large rocks and logs. Torches thrust into pole over the walls give a flicking, uncertain light over the clearing. On the far side the river itself swarms with canoes. And even as boat sink with thrown boulders and bodies fall filled with arrow, one fact remains…

"They've completely surrounded the fort, damn them."

"Should we try to break through?"

"What for, to die with Valannus? No, that fort is doom. But that's not the half of it. Do you know why they aren't trying to burn down the fort with fire arrows? Because they don't want a flame to warn the settlers. They plan to stomp out the fort and sweep westward. They may cross Thunder River and take Velitrium before anyone knows what happened." He turns and starts walking down the rise. "Well, we failed to save the fort. But we can at least warn the settlers west of here and get them started down the road before it is too late."

Balthus follows, shaking his head. "If only we had gotten here sooner."

"Would have done no good, fort is too poorly manned. I see that now. A few more charges and the Argonians will be over the walls. Our duty is too the settlers now so let's move. It's 19 miles to Velitrium, and five to the first of the settlements over at Scalp Creek."

It seems to Balthus that they have been running and fighting centuries. Yet he still bold runs on, following the unflagging Nord. Suddenly Slasher stop, savage growl bubbling up out of his chest.

"Argonians ahead."

"How many?"

"Can't tell, most likely a small party who couldn't wait from the fort to fall and went ahead to butcher settlers in their beds." They hear the chanting and yell even before a small fire lights their way. "Well boy, there's your enemy."

"Merciful gods…"

Around a burning ox cart five Argonians dance wildly, with bloodied axes. Nearby a man and a woman lie dead in the road, throat cut and mutilated beyond identifying of sex. At the sight a red haze fills Balthus's eyes as he draw an arrow back all the way to his ear. With a twang it flies to bury itself in the neck of one of the dancing beasts. Then the three of them run forward to deal with the survivors. Ragnthor his animated purely by his fighting spirit but Balthus is afire with fury. Even before the first Argonian who opposed him has fallen, chest spilt wide open, he springs over the body in search of a new target. But Ragnthor stand wiping his sword over the 2 he has slain and Slasher turns from the body of the fifth, great jaws dripping blood.

Balthus says nothing as he looks at the bodies laying near the wagon. Both were young, younger than him even. By some wind of fate they left her face unmarred and even in the agonies of a savage death it is beautiful. A mist fills his eyes even as bile builds at the back of his throat and he turns away.

"Some young couple, just starting out on their own, heading to the fort when the Argonians found them." Ragnthor starts walking. "Maybe the boy was going to enter the service or take up land on the river. That's what's going to happen to every man, woman, and child this side of Thunder River if we don't get them toward Velitrium in a hurry. Here's a trail leading north from the road."

"How can you see it in the dark?"

"Trained eyes. You'll…damn. See the wagon tracks, must be the settlers going to the licks after salt. Licks are at the edge of the swamp, nine miles from here. Damn it, they'll be cut off and butchered."

"Is there anything we can do?"

Ragnthor nods. "There is. One man can warn the people on the road while the other heads to the lick. You go ahead and warn the settlers on the road and herd them to Velitrium in a hurry. I'll reach the men by the licks. We won't come back by the road. We'll head through the woods." Without another word he takee off and hastens down the trail. Balthus stares after him for a few moments then set off up the road, Slasher gliding at his side.

Crossing Scalp Creek the Imperial youth comes across the first cabin. He runs up and beats on the door. "GET UP! THE ARGONIANS HAVE CROSSED THE RIVER!"

The door opens and a woman in a simple night dress appears. "Come in! We'll hold the cabin."

"No, we've got to make for Velitrium. The fort can't hold them. No time to dress, just grab your children and come."

"My man has gone off with the others for salt."

"Ragnthor has gone after them. We must hurry up the road to warn the other cabins!"

She sighs and lets him in. starting to wake the children. "If the Nord has gone after them they are safe, if mortal man can save them."

"You have a horse?"

"In the stable." She turns to her children. "Wake up, the Argonians are coming."

Balthus curses as he catches the only horse in the stable and leads it out. "It will have to do."

The woman comes out holding an axe. "The children will ride her, I'll walk."

He hands the woman the horse's lead and puts the children on its back. "You hold tight to the mane and each other." As they talk off down the road he says "You have taught them well not to cry."

"Frontier children cry only once, at birth, and never again." Balthus knows that, if cornered, she will fight with the fury of a she cat. But he keeps think of the fort, those Argonians drunk on blood and slaughter.

Soon they are at another cabin, men likewise gone, that soon follow behind. One of the women mentions a young couple that passed by. Balthus says a few words and the subject is closed. Soon there are a handful of women and twice as many children. Led by Balthus they are moving as fast as practical when suddenly Slasher growls as a shriek sounds in the woods.

"An owl." One of the women says.

"A painted owl, with an axe in his hand. Go, rouse the others down the road and take them with you, I'll scout behind." Without a word the older woman herds her charges ahead.

As they fade into darkness Balthus remembers his own people in Chorrol and a moments giddy weakness swims over him then "come one Slasher, we've work to do."

Soon a red glows comes through the trees, the Argonians have fired the last hut. "Zogar-Sag would have their hides if he knew. Still, the fire will do my job for me, warning those up the road." Then, their bloody work done, the Argonians move out, in the direction of the women and children. "Damn, they'll catch up to them inside of a mile, unless…" He lets loose and arrow that buries itself in a scaly breast.

As their brother falls the rest of them melt into the bushes on either side of the road and Slasher whimpers in bloodlust beside the young Balthus. Unknow to the young Imperial an Argonian is closing in behind him, creeping ever closer to the large stand of fallen timber Balthus waits in. Suddenly Slasher snarls and turns turn, letting fly an arrow in that same direction and is rewarded with a hiss a pain. Even as the hiss Argonian his limping away, Slasher bounds over the fallen timber. The bush shakes horribly, the inhuman growl mixing the hiss gurgles, then the dog slinks back to Balthus's side, jaws dripping red.

He rubs the dogs head. "Good boy."

No more Argonains appear on the trail, and Balthus wonders if they are sneaking past him in the woods. Then it happens. The Argonians come in a sudden rush, braking cover on both sides of the trail. Once again there are five of them. But Balthus takes no time to muse on the fact and he bends the bow, and 3 drop with arrows in their chests. The remaining pair hesitate, with one turning back. But other redoubles his speed, leaping over the surround logs, axe held high. Balthus tries to dodge, and slips. But that slip saves his life, the descending blow shaving a lock of hair off his head. The force of the wasted blow sends the Argonian hurtling to the ground. Slasher is there and makes it so the Argonian will never rise again.

The dog is limping when he comes back to his newfound master, yet neither whimper nor word is exchanged between them. The strong bonds are shown without speaking. Then comes a period of waiting, during which Balthus wonders if the one who fled is coming back with others. No matter he thinks each passing moment increases the safety of the women and children hurrying toward Velitrium.

Suddenly, without warning, a hail of arrows whistle over his hiding place and roaring rising from the trail. As if sensing he has no arrows left, they close in silence. Fiercely Balthus hugs the head of the great dog growling at his side. "Give them hell, boy." Slashers snarl is the only reply he needs.

The next moment Balthus leaps to his feet swinging, even as dark forms flood over the logs, his axe severing the neck of one. A swift battle is waged, filled with flailing axes, stabbing knife, and ripping fangs. A battle lost from the waging.

When Ragnthor turned from the Velitrium road he had expected to run slightly more than nine miles, and had set himself to the task. Yet now he had scarcely gone four when he abruptly hears a party of men before him. From the sound they are making he knows they aren't Argonians.

He calls out in the dark "Ho Party!"

A voice comes back "Who's there? Stand where you are until we know you or you'll get an arrow."

Ragnthor walks into view. "You couldn't hit a mammoth in this darkness."

"You're Ragnthor, the Nord from Fort Tuscelan."

"Aye, but fort is no more, the Argonians have crossed the river."

The lead man nods. "We thought as much. Casius here track an antelope nearly to Black River when he heard the yells and ran back to tell us. We left the salt and wagons to come as swiftly as we could."

Another spoke. "If the fort has fallen war parties will be ranging up the road to our cabins, we must…"

"Your families are safe, my companion went ahead to take them to Velitrium. If we go back by the main road we may run into the whole horde."

"So what do we do?"

"We'll strike southwest through the woods. You go ahead, I'll scout behind."

A few moments later the whole band is hurrying through the woods, with Ragnthor dropping back further and further cursing the noise they make. A band the same size of Argonians or Nords like himself would have move with no more sound than the wind through the grass.

As the men finally fade from sight Ragnthor wheels, instinct telling him he is being followed. Then a voice floats through the trees. "Ragnthor…"

"Balthus?"

"Ragnthor. Ragnthor! Wait for me!"

"I hear you boy, I can tell your voice, I'm coming. But what in the hell…shor's bones…."

He drops to a half crouch, skin on his spine growing tight. For it is not Balthus that emerges from the other side of the glade, but a weird glow that moves towards him. A blue witch fire that pulses with intensity.

It speaks in a faint, flowing voice. "why do you stand there like a sheep waiting for the butcher ragnthor?"

Ragnthor bristles. "Sheep?! Do you think I'm afraid of a damned Argonian swamp devil! A friend called so I came!"

"i called in his voice. the men you follow belong to my brother, i would not rob his knife of their blood. but are mine. you have come from the grey hills of skyrim to meet your death in conajoharra."

"You've had your chance at me before now. Why didn't you kill me then, if you could?"

"my brother had not yet whispered you name to the black ghost that haunt the uplands in the dark lands. but now a bat has flow over the mountains of the dead and drawn your image in blood on the white tiger hide the stand before the house of the four brother of the night…"

"Enough mumbo jumbo. Why have the gods of darkness doomed me to death?"

The voice grew in intensity as it stretched to the ground. "Behold this symbol, Ragnthor, which fades even as I draw it. You dared to make a sign only a priest of Jhebbal Sag dare make. You race is run, you are already a dead man. Your head will hang in the altar hut of my brother."

"Show yourself! I would see what you look like, you who leave a track like a bird, burn like a flame and yet speak in this language. I would see you, and know whether a sword could harm you. And who is this brother you speak of? ANSWER ME DAMN YOU!"

"You shall see and carry the knowledge to the dark lands." The fire fades and what is standing there is an unholy union of Mer, Argonian, and bird. Thin in limb it stands taller than himself and he knows it would have strength far great than looks would show. "Zogar-Sag is my brother, a child out of a woman of Gwawela who slept in a grove sacred to Jhebbal Sag. I too am a child of Jhebbal Sag, out of a fire-being in a far realm. Zogar called me out of the misty lands and bound me to him. His thoughts are my thoughts, if one of us is cut, the other bleeds. But I have talked enough…"

Suddenly the red eyed devil is standing over him, even though he didn't see it move. And, even as he barely avoids a blow that tears his horned helm from his head he knows why the others died so easily. It was fear that slew them, as much a raking claws and slashing fangs. But Ragnthor is not afraid, at least not as he was when he was a young and superstitious man. He has learned than anything made of material flesh can be killed by material weapons, no matter what its form may be, and feel s savage joy as his blade sinks deep into its birdlike leg. Yet the wound is far from mortal, and the great claws rake his chest, tearing through the steel plate like it was cloth.

Even as he recoils from the attack he braces himself for another. And then suddenly he is inside those great arms, driving his sword deep into its belly. He feels powerful arms lock around him, and talons ripping through plate, searching for his vital organs. He is lapped and dazzled by blue fire that is cold as ice and seems to freeze his bones and flowing blood til only the pain from his wounds keep him aware, and alive. With a surge of strength he pulls away from the thing, leaving chunks of armor in its grasping claws. And, as the thing attacks him on unsteady feet while still being able to kill, Ragnthor's sword swings, leaving its head hanging by only a thread of flesh. It staggers and falls, flame turning red from its falling blood.

Shaking the blood and sweat from his eyes he wheels, to run through the woods like a deer, blood from his wounds still dropping to the ground. Spurred on by the smell of the burning demon and a distant howling.

There has been fierce fighting on the banks of Thunder River and before the walls of Velitrium. And now a strange quiet follows the storm, in the taverns along the river "…aye the Argonians have fallen back across Black River. Something broke their nerve, though only the devil who made them knows what."

Ragnthor nods. "They tell me you're the only survivor of Fort Tuscelan?"

"Aye, aye. I even saw the great Valannus go down, the last killed and the bravest. It was when Zogar-Sag died that I had my chance to break free."

"Zogar-Sag, dead? How?"

The man drink from his glass. "Can't say. I saw him die in a way that took the heart out of the Argonians. Strange it was, he took know wounds and was dancing toward me with his red axe when suddenly he screamed and fell into the fire. There were red marks on his leg and belly and his head was nearly cut from his body. What do you make of that?"

Ragnthor drank from his own glass. "He lived by magic, and somehow he died by magic. Still Conajoharra is lost the Cyrodiil and Thunder River will be her new border. Tonight I drink to Balthus, without who many more would have died." He pours the rest of the wine on the dirt floor. "Ten Argonians heads will pay for the life of Balthus." He smashes the glass on the table "and seven heads for the dog, who was a better fighter than many a man." He doesn't notice the woodsman's gaze as he drinks from the bottle, lost in a now dark mood.

Author's Note: So, this is the start of a series where I'm going to do stories of Ragnthor that happened in his years of wandering. I don't know how many I will do or will feel motivated to do, because even though I have a large store of stories to draw from I may let this series just slow and stop. They aren't going to be in any particular order, just the ones I feel like writing when I feel like writing them. What I'm thinking of doing next is the first of a definite trilogy of tales centering around his time as a desert raider, or maybe a thief tale. I don't really know yet. But any way, I hope you enjoyed this and your staying safe with this stupid Covid-19 nonsense. Since I am under lock down for 21, go Idaho!, I'm hoping to get a new Dragonborn Comes Home chapter out in that time but who knows.