Chapter Two: Swords in the Mist.

Beric I

Fully armed and armoured Beric slipped easily between the dense branches of the night darken woods and knelt by the sleeping form of his brother. He lay curled on the pine needle strewn ground, wrapped against the chill in a sleeping roll lightly spotted with the gathering dew of the coming dawn. He rested his hand on Beren's shoulder and shook him insistently, an urgent whisper hissing into the quiet air.

"Wake up- Aela and Serana are back from scouting."

Beren's eyes snapped open instantly from his uneasy sleep. His eyes slowly adjusting to the faint beams of light streaming through the trees from the waxing moons, he sat up blearily as Beric continued with what information Lydia had relayed to him.

"Three sentries, the rest are asleep and the rear entrance is un-guarded as Serana guessed. Everyone's gathering by the firepit for your orders."

"How long till dawn?" he asked as he threw back his blankets and furs with a groan of weary limbs, sitting up and half-blindly searching the dark ground with his hands for his boots and clumsy pulling them onto his feet.

"Durag reckons more than an hour, maybe two." Beric said standing up. He pointed towards the centre of the camp, back the way he had come. "Lydia's armouring up with the Squire, He'll be ready to help you into your kit shortly." Beren knuckled his eyes and nodded his thanks. Jumping up from his bedroll to force sleep from his limbs. He rolled his broad shoulders and stretched, stamped his feet and then quickly moved to the pack he had been using as a pillow, rolling his bedroll away neatly with the practiced ease.

Satisfied that Beren was awake, Beric turned his back on his brother, his footsteps a muffled swish on the forest floor as he walked towards the centre of camp. The extinguished fire pit was surrounded by small circle of cloak swaddled figures and a few still curled up sleeping on the ground, beyond was a roving sentry seconded from the Whiterun guard, patrolling their perimeter. There was ten in their party, a mix of warriors and the assorted hangers-on attracted by a potent mix of circumstance, convenience, myth and personality. All too suddenly the peace of the night was disturbed as Erik the squire came rushing by. He was blindly crashing through the branches and entangling undergrowth fit to wake the Divines, piled pieces of armour in his arms clattering against his cuirassed chest and almost tripping upon the greatsword just slipping through his grasp.

"Is The Dragonborn awake?" the boy asked, his features were chastened by his recent reprimand, but his enthusiasm was rekindled now that he finally had the chance to act as a squire.

Beric moved to hush him. " Yes. He's waiting for you." He pointed to what he knew would be for Erik the dark outline of a figure amidst the tangled pines pulling on his gambeson.

The 13-year-old boy tried to rush past, crashing through the silent night. Beric's arm shot out and stopped him, firmly but gently gripping him to prevent him from accidentally dropping his armful of weapons and armour, and leaned in close to whisper. The squire gulped and looked uneasily at the Dragonborn's brother, eyes watching warily under the brim of his helmet liner. Beric thought for a moment, taking in this spectacular display of eagerness and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt after the incident earlier that day.

"You're making too much noise rushing like that. It's good that you've put your armour on to be ready the protect the camp while we're gone, but don't rush about. It disturbs the troops when they see armed and armoured men, or even their leaders running around without a good reason, and sound carries further by night. Secondly, this is a skirmish, not a battle-help Beren with his armour, then put the greatsword back on the horse and grab some meat, bread and cheese for Beren's breakfast." He said to the boy in a quiet, kindly whisper.

"Yes sir." The boy nodded and muttered, chastened and now moving quietly and carefully to comply with his orders.

Beric walked into the circle that had gathered around the cold unlit firepit, and looked about their little crew of would-be rescuers. Lydia, fully armoured already in her layers of steel, leather and furs, was standing furthest on the left. With her sword belted at her waist and her shield rested against her knees on the ground, she was mechanically munching a hunk of bread and cheese, looking into the dark night and its shifting shadows with an unconcerned expression. Right of her was Durag, stood in his mix of mage robes and scavenger dwemer plate, Aetherial staff slung on his back as he fiddled with his crossbow, eyes cutting through the night curtesy of his enchanted googles, muttering to himself under his breath.

Directly opposite Beric, across the firepit was the returned Aela, stringing her longbow, needing no mage sight or night eye to carry out a skill she had been practicing since the age of eight. She stood half naked in her archaic armour despite the chilly night and billowing mist, Skyforged steel sword and quiver full of arrows belted securely at her waist, shield slung over her back. Serana stood beside her in the pre-dawn dark, like him wearing a worn and battered Dawnguard brigandine and gambeson over he traveling clothes, her elven arming sword and dagger belted on her waist. She greeted Beric amicably with a slight smile and a nodded 'Good morning' as he moved over to her side for a whispered chat.

"Morning. Haven't seen you since you left. Lydia said you were happy, did you find Frothar then?"

She smiled brightly in the dark, though only they could see it.

"Oh yes, they've been using the pit to trap mammoths for ivory- I climbed down, and found Frothar's cage about 30 feet on at the mouth of a cavern. I'm sure we can sneak in from the pit to him, though it won't be easy for him to sneak out quietly, or quickly if Beren's planned attack is delayed. Despite that I nearly tried to free him there and then, if it wasn't for the padlock and Bandits."

"Well I'm glad you waited for the rest of us. Probably would have been a little difficult for you all by yourself, holding off all those bandits single-handed." He teased, knowing she would never have been so rash though all the same secretly relieved that she hadn't taken the risk alone. Not now, not when there wasn't any need for those sorts of heroics any longer.

"Ouch, Such little faith in my abilities, I'm shocked. I hope you haven't been idle while I was away, doing all the real work."

Beric hesitated for a moment. "I spoke to Beren about Erik's little display earlier, and how he handled it." Beric said, casting his eyes around and lowering his voice. He flicked his eyes over and they shifted slightly away from the rest of the group.

"That must have been a fun conversation." She said delicately.

"Normally he leaves discipline to me. He's always found it easier to win people over."

"Yes, he's always been outgoing, he's just got this easy charm about him. But it feels…fake somehow now, like he's lost himself. His jokes forced like he's just going through the motions. And he's been snapping at people. He never used to do that in public." Serana spoke in a worried tone, low and insistent.

"Erik doesn't make it easy for him, might be it just got to him. You've seen the way he follows Beren around, like a sulky lost lamb. It would wear anybody down." He said with a loyalty he didn't fully feel, half-heartedly defending his brother. Serana shook her head at this, and spoke simply, waving his argument away.

"Rihad's death was hard on us all, Beren especially so. But that doesn't make it right. Erik is a young boy eager to help, and all Beren can do is ignore him or treat him poorly." Beric signed and nodded at all this, conceding the point.

"It's difficult-damn it-it's not healthy. For any of them. He just needs a bit of time. Time to see some of Erik's better traits. He's brave, polite and persistent to be fair. Give it time for Erik too. Lydia and I can get to work on him. Stop him from acting the little castle-born lord, calling for his executioner and heads just because Elisif executed a few traitor Jarls. He's young and smart enough to learn to be more adaptable, merciful even, when its suitable."

"Speaking as a castle-born lady, that's going to be difficult. Those traits are instilled in us from birth, the good and the bad. We're taught to be polite, and courage is expected along with the other responsibility of nobility. But that comes with the belief that the law should be clear and hard to be just. What people call mercy can look like inconsistency or favouritism, and that causes confusion and resentment against their ruler." She reeled off this old lesson with a shrug, not convinced but feeling the need to make the point all the same.

"Growing up alone on the streets of Whiterun left us with a different perspective on the nature of the law. We've learnt the value of mercy and a second chance, even for castle-born ladies." Serana gave a wry smile at this and Beric mirrored it and shrugged his shoulders as he continued. "Speaking of hypocrisy, Erik's going to have to swallow that bitter pill for himself soon when he meets his betrothed. If he's disappointed by Beren, what's he going to make of Ingun Black-Briar?" he left the question hanging in the air, and Serana nodded thoughtfully as they lapsed into silence.

"Did you get a chance to ask about going back to the college while I was gone?" she asked suddenly, changing the topic. He hadn't, and he had the grace to look a little guilty about it. He'd not forgotten.

"No. I'm sorry." Serana's smile faded quickly at this.

"Beric, we've talked about this. We promised ourselves the college after everything- the dragons, the war. I'm willing to hear a good argument for why we should wait, but after all the time I've spent waiting and dreaming, my patience is a little short." She shook her head and crossed her arms, waiting. Beric sighed, and his happiness faded quickly.

"I can't bring it up now, when we're out here. When I found out he was the Dragonborn that changed things. It's still changing things- even now, though its two years ago. When we meet Aela and Lydia in Whiterun in early Morning Star 202, since then we've been running just to stand still. Now, the civil war's over. No more Miraak or Aldiun or Ulfric. But a body twitches when it dies, and it takes work to calm things down-to enforce the peace. Give it a year…then, we can go." And to make sure he was alright, the though of abandoning Beren right now, given his behaviour weighted heavy on his heart.

Serana's face fell, and she looked away at Aela and the others standing and waiting in the night for the last of their number. He could see a glimmer of unspoken similar concerns running through her head too. He awkwardly changed the subject back to the original matter at hand.

"this pit you were talking about, I don't like it. No escape if things go wrong. What happens if the rest of them are delayed?"

"You said we could take them all on single handed, now you're worried about running from them?" she looked back at him, taking the opportunity to tease though there was a little venom to it.

"Nah, we've always fought our way out of worse. It's Beren's fighting skills I'm worried about."

"Do I feel my ears burning?" a voice called out quietly behind them and made the pair of them jump.

Beren came striding out of the night, fully armoured and grinning reassuringly to his friends. Like Lydia, he was covered head to shoulders in a mass of steel, leathers and furs, fully armed for the dawn assault on Halted Stream Camp. His Skyforged steel arming sword and matching dagger belted on his waist and his shield swung on his back until needed. A bear fur wrapped around the broad bulk of his shoulders, giving him a broad, sturdy, feral look.

He quickly moved amongst the group, a firm clasp of the forearm and few quiet words to each and a quick stolen kiss from Aela as a welcome back, then looked over the cold fire pit. He moved the shuttered lantern closer he was carrying closer to it and placed it on the ground carefully opening the shrouded grate a sliver onto the area around them as he knelt. The rest of them crowded closely round the spilled small pool of light in the moon-dark woods and stood in respectful silence. With a few quick brushes and some swift movements with his hands, he smoothed out the ground, re-arranging the rocks and sticks into a rough but small model of the camp and surrounding area. He picked up the largest, straightest stick as a pointer.

"We're going to make this quick to save the night and the mist, else we'll lose it to the sun. As it stands, we're too close to risk more light, so the lantern and Masser and Secunda will have to provide for this briefing."

"This is the camp." He indicated a small triangle of sticks with his pointer.

"This is the ridgeline behind it, with the mammoth trap pit." He indicated a rough mass of rocks and a small hole in them.

"This is the little woodblock we're standing in." He indicated a small collect of sticks he'd pushed into the ground

"Aela- what did you find, in full." He handed the stick over.

She stepped forwards taking the stick and waved it over the gap between the copse and camp on the model. "It's looking good. The valley is full of mist that's thicker then what we're standing in now. There's a little stream at the bottom of this little valley, but the camp sits at the head of the valley so we don't need to worry about crossing that. With the mist and the cover from bushes and tall grass I crossed the valley floor easily enough, got within 50 feet of the palisade. The two gates are closed and most likely barred for the night. Two sentry towers near the gate each with one sentry, but they're barely awake, plus a third watching the fire outside on a chair. Finally, I climbed up the rocky ridgeline here." she tapped with the stick in the centre of the little triangle. "This little hut in the centre, by the fire- there's about 5-6 bandits here, snoring."

"Good." Beren announced as Aela returned the stick and stepped back. "Serana."

Serana stepped forwards but waved the offered stick away.

"I climbed down that mammoth pit we'd heard about. It's about a 20-foot climb, and a bit dangerous as it's filled with spikes at the bottom. Once there I crept along the tunnel- all clear, no guards at all in that at least. At the end, close to the entrance to main cavern is the cage where they're keeping him, about 30 feet down the tunnel from the pit. They've got about a couple of guards watching at a distance, and a solid padlock on the cage door. Beric and I could make the climb down easily and ensure they don't murder him before we get there. Beric could probably open the cage and steal him away, though I doubt he could climb out in the condition he's in."

Beren nodded at this, and looked thoughtful for a moment. He then launched into his plan, using the stick to illustrate his order- here tapping a particular area before sweeping widely across the model to show the movement of troops, occasionally pointing at individuals to emphasise key points confidently made.

"OK here's the plan. We're going from move here as a group to about half way across the valley floor under the cover of night and the mist and then split up, about 100 feet from the wall for a two-pronged assault. I will have the main assault group with me, and the rescue group led by Serana. The rescue group will move off first, and the assault group will wait under my command for them to move off. We will then move to 50 feet away from the palisade and hold fast there. Serana- you're going to take some rope and Durag-" this pronouncement caused a slight stir in the group. Beren ignored it and continued, authoritatively.

"Serana and Durag, when you get to the mammoth pit, prepare the climbing rope and when you're ready send a weak magelight straight up. This will be the signal for us to start the attack. Beric will return it to confirm we've seen it. You're going to enter the mammoth pit and stealthy move forward into a position to watch the cage. You are to hold off any who attempt to open the cage to get Frothar. To be clear- you are only to attack if it looks like they are going to kill the boy, otherwise don't intervene until we arrive. This requires two people who are skilled at sneaking and not drawing attention." Beric kept his face impassive at this. Serana could manage that feat with her eyes shut, but Durag was only mildly skilled in this work. He kept his opinion to himself, for now.

"While Durag and Serana get into position Aela will lead us from the split-up point into the same position she scouted. There we will wait for Serana's signal. The main assault will contain me, Lydia and Beric as our battlemage, under covering arrows from Aela. Aela- you will kill the two sentries while we advance, and any others who appear in the guard towers. Once close to the palisade I will shout down the walls or main gate, and we will then clear the bailey to the mine entrance, killing all who resist. Once inside Beric will use his magic to clear any barriers, obstacles or formed resistance, and Lydia and I will follow."

"Remember- we need to move hard and fast- the mine has three layers of defences according to the merchant- the outer gates, the mine entrance, and the mine gate half way along the tunnel. The speed and violence of our assault, combined with the hour of our attack will overwhelm the bandits before they can mount an effective defence. I want us to get amongst them before they can respond or slow us up. We must maintain the momentum and surprise at all costs. Beric will stun those who surrender with his magic, and Aela will follow on, binding and taking control of any prisoners as we pass through. Kill any who resist. Wipe. Them. Out. If that's what they want."

With that he thrust the stick deceivably into the ground, and looked around at the audience of six, confidence, enthusiasm and aggression radiating off him.

"Questions?"

He looked around the tight circle of his friends as shook their heads and whispered no.

"Durag? Aela? Serana?"

They shook their heads. Beric had made his decisions, and there was sense enough in it, and he was the Dragonborn and who were they to question his competence so publicly? He asked a few confirmatory questions about the plan and then pronounced himself satisfied. A few of them flicked unseeing eyes towards Beric in the dark, uneasy.

"10 minutes and then we head off."

With that statement Beren broke up their little gathering, and they all rushed off to grab the last bits and pieces necessary. Beren moved away, and grabbed the proferred breakfast from Erik and stuffed it into his face in three massive bites, chewing mechanically. Beric followed his younger brother as he walked away from the group, isolating them. Once they were sufficiently far away that they were unlikely to be overheard Beric reached out and tapped Beren on the arm.

"I didn't want to challenge you back there."

Beric turned on him with a bark. "So don't do it here."

"I just want to make sure you're thought this through." Beric responded, calm and unruffled. "Durag is a poor climber with his leg, and Aela and I would have both been better choices for the climbing and infiltration."

Beren relaxed a bit and Beric could see his concerns for a moment flit and fight behind his eyes. He the suddenly barked a quiet laugh and shrugged. "We can't get the boy Frothar up again, so we need to watch him rather than attempting to smuggle him out. The main assault therefore needs to draw everyone in, and if you're shooting up max-strength mage light into the air like fireflies and I'm shouting down the gates, that place is going to look like the fall of Windhelm. Aela should help with that- the longbow has a rate of fire that a crossbow just can't match. Durag meanwhile has the plate for a melee, and his staff can add to the numbers if needed." Beric felt that was over selling Durag's armour, and Beren obviously sensed this doubt and paused for a moment, then lightly punched Beric on the arm.

"Besides, you said it yourself- I need someone there who can fight like you."

Beric nodded, unwilling to pursue the issue further. He could see the logic of how he had worked within the limitation of his resources, though still privately troubled as tumbled thoughts ran through his head. If Beren was worried about exposing Aela to danger, she shouldn't have come- not that Aela would agree to that- and so here they were. Satisfied, he consigned himself to the mission and steeled himself for the morning's bloody work, and with that they hurried into fading night.

Durag and Serana left them at the pre-arranged point, stalking single file through the swirling mist, a whispered "happy hunting" passing over Serana's shoulder as she looked back at Beric who returned it, then the pair of slipped off silently into the lightening gloom. He watched them until they disappeared from sight, and then the rest of the team moved off quietly, having given them a sufficient head start for their longer route. Now they waited patiently in the long grasses where Aela had spent much of the night scouting. Beric knelt uncomfortably amongst the wild grains and the bushes and the mist along with the others, peering into the lightening night sky, watching and waiting, sword to hand, water soaking the cloth of his leggings and the leather of his boots. The mist was definitely thinning now, and the moons had fallen below the horizon. Over to the east, a faint glow lit up the skyline as Magnus, the Sun, threatened to rise and burn away their cover with his searing rays of light.

Beric glanced at Beren for a moment who knelt beside him, and saw him peering intently into the dark. He knew on what his eyes were fixed. They were watching unblinkingly the dark shrouded outline of the low rock-strewn ridgeline that backed Halted Stream Camp for the sign that they were in position. He was breathing deep, steady breaths, sending great clouds of breath up into the air, shield in one hand, sword in the other, Aela by his side, longbow held low across her chest with an arrow nocked to the string. He settled his eyes back on the ridgeline, easily seeing through the dark as thought it was midday. He thought through the plan ensuring that he was happy with it, the order of events and the roles he would play. He ran through a list of spells in his head, and felt the magicka in his body stir and roil in readiness as he framed them in his mind. Satisfied that all was well, his thoughts again drifted to Serana.

She was capable, he knew full well. And he could see the logic of her and Durag in their role. The best solution to a bad decision he thought. With a missing finger on one hand they couldn't sneak him out. If they all came from the front, what if they killed Frothar before they got there? Or held him with a blade to his neck to bargain? Better to send a pair in ambush. Serana and Durag were creative, intelligent people and skilled with sword and magick enough that they could easily hold off any number of disorganised bandits channelled down a narrow tunnel. If they were quick, it might even work to their advantage. He could see them now on the ridgeline, a distant pair working forwards quietly and stealthily. He felt excitement and fear spike within him, as he took what enjoyment was possible in the last few minutes of peace and quiet.

He would have felt better accepting those risks though. He favoured simple plans were little could go wrong while maximising the impact at the decisive point. If that meant leaving Frothar to his chances, then he would accept that risk. Or, when forced to take the subtle option, not to compromise in the selection of his team. This just seem schoolboy, he thought with sudden savagery. He wondered how much his jitters were down to the plan's intricacies, how much an unwillingness to take any chances, and how much his own emotional preferences. He calmed himself. It should be fine.

He ran through the team in his head. Aela was a Companion, and a competent all-round fighter with arming sword, Longbow and round shield, while Durag's skill was with magic and crossbow at long range, and Serana's as a spellsword, striking from mid-range as others closed in for the kill. The thought that Serana and Durag might have to fend off a determined assault in the close push of melee, without shields and with only light armour suddenly did not fill him with the confidence it previously did. Now an arching nimbus of light shot up from behind the camp like a fire arrow, only for a second or two and then fizzling out.

Abruptly Beren hand shot out, gripping his forearm with Fierce strength "that's the signal, let's go let's go." He said in a rushed half-whisper. Beric had already snapped back and up on his feet, hurriedly sending up his own reply to confirm, the magelight pinged straight up, blanketing the camp before them as Aela stood and drew back her great longbow. All of them were now up and moving before Beren had finished speaking. Rushing through the dawn air at a sprint. Behind Beric heard the characteristic 'thwump' as Aela loosed her arrow at the sentry now magically illuminated and stood blinking in wonder at the light dangling above his head.

The shaft zipped through the air, and struck the sentry in the temple with cracking force. His head snapped over at once, blood haloed his head in a pink mist, pulsing from his shattered skull. The bandit dropped wordlessly below the level of the palisade, a corpse before he hit the ground. They ran on at a dead sprint, Beric felt his helmet bouncing on his head and straining at the chin strap, heard the sound of their boots, pounding through the grass, and the hoarse breath of Lydia and Beren as they fill their lungs with air. It seemed impossible that they remaining sentry wouldn't spot them.

In the end it was, but it didn't matter. The sentry tore his gaze from the hovering light, turned and saw the three of them rushing like Daedroths from foul Oblivion, and he filled his lungs to shout a warning. Aela's arrow took him in the shoulder, he staged from the blow and let out a high-pitched scream of surprise and pain. The camp, already awakening with call of surprise, now echoed with returned shouts of alarm. The Dragonborn answered it with his own as they rushed the solid wooden wall.

Ten feet from the palisade he shouted. It was a horrible, impossible sound, the pressure wave pulsing on their eyeballs and compressing their skull and chests. The anger of a vengeful god unleashed, as a section of the palisade disintegrated, twelve-foot-tall tree trucks sent spinning end over end through the air like cabers, or shattered to splinters and matchwood scything through the mist, some slivers the size of toothpicks, others the length of a leg. The force of the yell did not dissipate but continued, and bandits inside the camp staggered as their hut disintegrated and collapsed, caught in the path of the unrelenting wave of pressure. A bandit sleeping on the floor in the hut snapped upright as the thin walls were blown away, only to be hit full in the face by a spinning log. His head split apart like a dropped melon leaving a truck pulsing vibrant blood in arching crimson squirts, before being buried under the collapsing roof. Then through the broken breach the three came, and then they started killing.

Beren was first through the breach, booted feet half slipping on the disturbed earth and morning dew as his sword snapped towards a half-dressed Redguard, who had stumbled up to stand in the breach shock written across his face. The sword punched through his open mouth, and the blade burst through the back of his head in an explosion of blood and brains and hair. His eyes filled with blood, and he coughed weakly, broken teeth falling to the ground. Beren's shield thrust violently and pushed him to the ground, and he stepped forwards over the corpse, cutting the top off a Bosmer's skull off with a wild swing as he screamed his victory cry. The Bosmer babbled inanely in reply, and collapsed writhing on the ground and pissed himself. Above them the sentry in the tower took another arrow, this time to the belly and fell screaming and crying mother over and over again.

Beric followed behind through the breach, stepping to the right. A Nord in iron armour rushed at him with an arming sword, his shield forgotten in panic. Beric held his bastard sword up in both hands in an ox guard. The Nord swung wildly, screaming wordless revenge. Beric silently parried the wild strike, and feinted in return. The Nord jumped back, and his guard wavered, unused to fighting without a shield. Beric rapidly stepped forwards pressing his advantage, making room for Lydia to punch her shield into the heaving melee. Then Beric swung, sword flashing past the guard. First the tip of his sword caught the Nord's sword hand, cutting it open to the bone and severing a finger. The nerveless hand dropped the sword. Beric followed the cut up with a thrust, springing forwards, the razor-sharp blade slicing through the bandit's throat. His body collapsed backwards as he clapped his hands to his throat in shock desperately attempting to stem the glow as he gurgled and choked, collapsing in the dirt to bleed out, legs kicking. Beric ignored him.

With that, they were through the breach. Of the three sentries, two had been killed or incapacitated by Aela's arrows. Beric had killed the other. Of the six or so bandits that had been sleeping outside in the hut, they had either been crushed to death when it had collapsed, or killed in combat by the others.

"Hurry! Hurry! To the gate!" Beric called to the others, stumbling over the broken ground pointing with his dripping sword, and they rushed forwards, across the rubble strewn ground. Their hob-nail boots scrambling for purchase, heavy handed arms pumping. Behind them they heard the easy breathing of Aela as she caught up with them, longbow slung, shield ready and sword drawn. Lydia barely paused as they rushed forwards to finish off a bandit amidst the ruined hut, his legs pinned beneath a beam of wood. He had tears in his eyes, and shivered from shock. He looked up, and his eyes lit up with a wordless plea for mercy before her sword sliced down. They cleared the bailey before the mine entrance, Beren tumbled into the door shoulder first, and the flimsy wood burst open. Lydia, Beric and Durag followed into the dark. Swallowed up by the earth.

Beric called upon his magicka and brought forth a floating orb candlelight as they hurried down the mineshaft, so narrow they were forced to move two abreast. They heard rebounding shouts of surprise ahead, but no sounds of combat. Good, Beric thought, they still haven't found Aela or Serana. A pair of voices distinguished itself from the noise deeper in the mine. They were close, engaged in a loud and confused argument, the sounds of their fight bouncing off the earthen walls of the mine.

"What was that? Thunder?" a worried, confused voice echoed from up ahead.

"Did that sound like thunder to you?" came an acerbic reply.

"Sounded like nothin' I've ever heard. Could be warnings of a cave in. Never heard of thunder underground but…."

"Shut up." The voice cut through the babbling, but he refused to be silenced

"Sounds like someone's coming, maybe they know what's going on-Hey! Hey! Hey? Wait- Who's that?"

The four of them had bounded around the corner midsentence, tumbling into sight- blood-soaked and breathless and clutching their weapons tight, and looked down the tunnel towards a landing where the shaft levelled off and opened up into a room. The shifting magical candlelight played weird dancing shadows on the walls, illuminating the shocked faces of the pair of bandits.

The two bandits were standing sword and shields loosely to hand where they had been arguing, and they rushed forwards with a roar to meet them in the narrow tunnel where an advantage in numbers would be useless. They had reached the final barrier; the metal gate was now in sight over the bandits' shoulders open and unlocked. "Victory! Or Sovngarde!" Beren cried, returning their roars with his own guttural yell, forgetting all reason and surging forwards, sword held high behind his shield. Lydia doggedly pressing forwards at his left-hand side, the others close behind. Yells of surprise and bloody oaths sounded from beyond the open gate in answer.

There was a shattering crash of shield on shield, a teeth-shaking collision as charge met charge. Shield, braced against heaving shoulder, pushed against shield, heaved back in reply with a strong arm and back. Boots slipped and strained for grip on the gravel of the tunnel floor, while swords flashed overheard and clattered underneath, searching for an opening, striking like snakes before withdrawing, hunting for the meat and blood, the food and drink of a fresh kill. Beric found himself standing behind Lydia who was fighting the left-hand bandit, a fur-clad imperial. She swung her sword over the heaving shields at the bandit's head. The bandit stepped back nimbly to avoid the blow, and Lydia surged forwards, punching out her shield into the bandit's side again and again, keeping him off balance and isolating him. Beric instantly stepped forwards to protect her right side from the bandit Beren was fighting shield to shield, together pressing the Bandit against the wall and separating him from his companion, breaking their shield wall into unequal duels.

He felt rather than saw Aela surge forwards behind him to help Lydia, blade in hand. The now cornered Bandit turned his shield from one brother to the other, his sword ever moving, presenting a moving barrier of defence. Desperation lit his face as he attempted to duel two men at once, and he knew that his death had come. He filled his lungs.

"Help! Help! Attackers! They're here!" He screamed in a babbled panic, his shout provoking yells further down the tunnel.

Beric feinted at the bandit with his bastard sword, but the Nord merely laughed and kept his nerve, and then Beren took a chance and swung low with his Skyforged sword, beneath the shield to catch him in the ankles. The bandit saw the blow coming, and deflected it with his shield, overcommitting to the block. That sealed his fate, he shifted his attention to far to Beren, his shield too low, Beric quickly stepped to the left, and punched his sword forwards, the thrust caught the bandit sideways in the chest, and through it was stopped by his ribs he screamed in pain and surprise, and he tried to awkward turn back to Beric, struggling on the end of the blade like a butterfly on a pin as Beric twisted and tried to worked the blade free. With that, Beren buried his sword deep in the bandit's neck, and ripped it out in a spray of blood.

The second bandit was lying dead on the ground. Wordlessly they hurried into the room, turned right and passed one by one through the gate- Lydia, Beren, Beric then Aela. The ground was steep, and loose with gravel and mud. They were forced to slow their progress, boots as dirt and pebbles cascaded out from under their feet, and they all swore savagely when the candlelight spell winked out and Beric had to cast it anew.

They entered a large cavern and looked down from the wooden scaffolding of the mine workings that hugged the edges of the cave onto the scene below. The orb of magical light now unneeded in a scene lit by foul smelling oil lamps and guttering torches, the rapid transition to the well light room and the noxious smells making their eyes blink and water. The centre of the cavern was filled with a half butchered mammoth corpse, surrounded by mining tools and piles of bedding. Ahead the bandit chieftain was rallying his remaining five men, leading them to the ramp which led up the scaffolding to them. The chieftain gestured to two of his bandits and they peeled off to the darkened mouth of the tunnel to the rear, and the large cage there, while he led the other three towards them, up the ramp of the wooden scaffolding towards them. Suddenly, with the quickness of a spider Serana and Durag appeared. Serana backhanded the air in front of her, and rapidly moving spears of ice impaled a Orc. He fell to the ground with a scream and laid still for a second in a pool of blood, until with another gesture he rose with a corpse-groan and turned towards his former allies. Durag's Aetherial staff paid for the other, a shower of Dwemer spiders bursting from its head, they scattered across the floor in a wave, nimbly avoiding the wild strokes of the sword and crawling up the flailing body of the other bandit, pulling him down and tearing into his screaming body, quickly ripping it apart with vice and pincer.

The remaining bandits, surrounded, outnumbered and demoralised were quickly and bloodily cut down as they stood back to back in a desperate last stand. Beric, Lydia, Serana, Beren at first all screaming for their blood, yelling their warcries, then pleading with them to surrender as their swords bit deep and were drawn back for another stroke, begging them to think of their lives and put a halt to the violence, Beren pulling his helmet from his head, yelling his name to them. Jarl Balgruuf and the Dragonborn were renowned as just and merciful men, but stern upholders of the law. The Bandits would rather face their deaths sword in hand and send their souls to Sovngarde, than prolong their suffering and met their end on the block. Their wishes were granted, and they fell taking all their wounds to the front.

Beric looked over their corpses, strewn around on the wooden floor, and put his foot on the chieftain's head and bent, pulling his roundel dagger out from the vision slits of the Bandit Chieftain's helmet, and wiped it clean on the man's tattered gambeson. He swallowed roughly, his throat rough and scratchy with from the screaming and exertion and his thirst. He blinked it away, refocusing and clearing his head from the red mist which had descended upon all of them.

"Go to the boy! Go!" came the order- Beren pushing people down, into the pit, and Lydia started down, Beric following quickly, jumping over the piled twitching corpses. Beren knelt over the chieftain's body, rustling through the pouches on his belt and pulling out a random assortment of objects. Clipped coins scattered onto the planks, slipping between the cracks. A crust of bread thrown down and soaking up the blood. Serana grabbed Beric and led him across the cavern.

"He's this way come on."

She led them across the cavern floor, towards the cage. At the bottom a huddled bundle of rags, curled up on itself in fear and nursing a bandaged hand.

"Frothar- your father sent us, you're safe."

He looked up at them with a grimy face, and broke into tears of gratitude. Beren appeared key in his hand. The padlock clinked open, and the boy was carefully lifted out of the cage. Beren pulled him onto his shoulder, and carried him out of the cavern. Lydia and Aela followed, swords out. After a quick search of the cavern revealed little but aged mining equipment, some food and a pot of deer stew the remaining three of them wordlessly made the long climb back up and out of the mine.

When the emerged, Magnus stung their eyes, and the felt the cold sweat that bathed their limbs and stuck their mop-wet clothes to their bodies for the first time. He could feel the after effects of the fight, cold sweat coating his body beneath the bloody outer layers and adrenaline setting his hands clumsy and shaking. Effects which had long lost their novelty but never their consequences. They saw that dawn had truly risen, burning away the morning mist. Erik had brought their horses and the rest of the party down from the camp. Exhausted and grateful, they thanked him, mounted their horse and rode for Dragonsreach, and for home.

Hey everyone thanks very much for reading. That's chapter 2 done. Chapter 3 is in the process of writing, and I will aim to release in early may (ideally 01/05/19). I will aim to release a chapter at the start of each month, and will leave an update to let you all know if the situation changes or a chapter is delayed. Please leave a review to let me know your thoughts- what you liked and what I can improve on.

Cheers!

reviews

Hello again .6, thanks for writing a review for this chapter too!

Yeah, Erik is really young. At the younger end historically for a squire, but still reasonable and accurate. It helps explain why they look at him as both an obnoxious teenager and an untrained liability that they want to protect but also not really engage with.

Thanks for your advice on the numbers- I will ensure I write them out in future, and fully take that on board. Delaying mentioning his age was conscious decision that I went back and forth on. Ultimately, I didn't want to put it into the previous chapter as I felt it was already exposition/description heavy and I felt it would have felt awkward and wasn't something someone would realistically think about themselves. I'm trying to gradually reveal backstory, but I'll look at adjusting the pace with which that information is communicated in future, as well as look again at what needs to be communicated and when.

As for Beric I'm glad that you liked him. He's got a lot of war experience, but he's cautious, introverted and reserved compared his brother. As I said previously, Beren isn't in the best place right now, and Beric's struggling with that, as well as dealing with Erik. All of which affects his personal life.

Thanks very much for feedback with the combat. I waned to make it feel realistic but not glorified. I wanted it to be off putting and uncomfortable- disgusting even. I felt helps show how good they've become at it as a team, and illustrate the background of how they feel about Erik's hero worship of them.

GreyWolf93, thanks for taking the time to write a review for chapter two.

Thanks very much for that flattering comparison, it is the highest praise I can think of. Especially for the characterisation- I found that I was struggling with 'world building disease.' Dialogue and characterisation were my self-diagnosed areas of improvement. I'll try my hardest to maintain the current quality.

Thanks for spotting that, and providing an example. I'll go through chapters 1 & 2 and fix those issues, probably over this month. Cheers.

Just a issue that needs to be cleared up, Erik of Solitude is a different person from Erik of Rorikstead. I'm sorry if that was misleading as I used the same name- I should have expected that and made it more overt who his father is.

As you note, social class in a pre-industrial society is rigid, even in Skyrim. These will affect Beren and Beric too- while Beren is the dragonborn and outside those conventions, Beric isn't. We'll get into all of these issues in chapter 3, where a lot of the politics that's been window dressing so far will start to directly affect the characters we've established.