"Titus Mede was forced to renounce Hammerfell as an Imperial province in order to preserve the hard-won peace treaty.

The Redguards, understandably, looked on this as a betrayal."

-The Great War, by Justianus Quintius

4E 201

9th of Last Seed

Turdas

Location: Rural High Rock, near the border with Hammerfell

Weather: Partly cloudy

Dad may have been right. Dragons in the mountains… I know it sounds crazy, but I think I saw one. Just before the sun set, I swear I saw the shadow of a wing, a wing that was way too big to belong to anything else.

If that's true, then it's a really good thing I listened to him and didn't go through the mountains. I almost went back on my word.

I've heard several people before insist that they'd seen one. I should have listened. Now I just keep thinking back to what that one fellow in Wayrest said. He was drunk, I know, but he was talking about how the dragons would come back one day to take back the empire they'd once ruled…


The border crossing was surprisingly easy. Usually, there were troops, but today the patrols were conspicuously absent. Or maybe Maggie had just gotten lucky. Either way, she slipped across and into Hammerfell totally unhindered. Dragonstar, her first major stop was not far from the border, and she had to get there before nightfall. The Alik'r Desert was not particularly hot, as deserts went. It was plenty scorching during the day, but more people died within it due to lack of water than to heat. There was another danger, however, that claimed still more lives than that. Cold. At night, the desert wastes could rival parts of Skyrim for frigidity.

Too many people never expected that. They expected a desert to be hot all the time, and in their defense, that did make sense. Few non-natives realized how extreme the temperature swings could be until it was too late.

Fortunately for Maggie, she'd read plenty about the geography of Tamriel. She knew how cold the desert could get and had no desire to experience it. She knew she would have to spend a couple nights in the desert, since it was impossible to walk from Dragonstar to Elinhir in a day, or even two. But she wanted the chance to talk to some locals and get fully prepared before trying.

And there was another reason she needed to get to a city quickly. Since that morning, she'd seen dark clouds gathering on the horizon. While rain in the desert could be a good thing, desert storms tended to be sudden and violent. Maggie most definitely did not want to be caught out in one.


4E 201

10th of Last Seed

Fredas

Location: Dragonstar, Hammerfell

Weather: Cloudy, storm on the way

I made it to Dragonstar just as the sun was going down. One of the guards even remarked that I was cutting it close. I don't know if he simply meant that I had just barely gotten there before nightfall or that they were about to lock the gates. I know they lock the gates at nightfall in Wayrest so they can, in theory, keep bandits out without posting night watchmen. From what I've heard, there used to be a night shift of city guardsmen in Wayrest, but they kept falling asleep at their posts, and finally the captain decided that locking the gate was easier. Of course, that's bad news for anyone who shows up at the gate after dark.

I found lodgings at the rather-generically-named Red Sands Inn. My room was reasonably priced, but I didn't like the way the innkeeper looked at me. I don't think I want to hang around here any longer than I have to.


The storm broke early the next morning. Maggie was woken up by the sound of thunder. One look out the front door was all it took for her to decide that she wouldn't be getting out of Dragonstar that day.

Rain poured down all that day, soaking everything, as well as anyone unlucky enough to have to go outside in it. Any unpaved areas of the city quickly turned into messes of mud and wet sand. More than once, lightning struck a house, but the rain put out the resulting fire before it could damage anything.

Finally, evening came and with it an end to the downpour. The people finally ventured out-of-doors. Shopkeepers returned to their newly soaked stalls. And Maggie headed in that direction as well. The first thing she heard upon entering the city square, where the merchants had their stalls set up, was a frustrated cry. An armor merchant had left his transaction registry out in the open the night before, and now it was ruined.

Maggie headed for his stall, hoping he would still buy the deerskin despite his misfortune.

"Look at this," he said, showing her the ruined registry. "There were people on here who still owed me money. Now how am I supposed to remember?"

Maggie tried to think of something to say that would help. Lini, if she was here, would probably tell the man to go find a temple and leave an offering to Zenithar, god of wealth and labor. Maggie wasn't sure how well that would be received. The Nine—now Eight—Divines were Imperial gods, mostly. Each province and race of Tamriel worshiped a slightly different pantheon. And Hammerfell hadn't been on the greatest terms with the Empire since the end of the Great War.

When the Emperor surrendered to the Thalmor and was forced into signing the White-Gold Concordat, the treaty that had banned Talos and instituted a number of other humiliating terms, the Redguards of Hammerfell had been infuriated. They had kept fighting, effectively seceding from the Empire, and were now a sovereign nation. Maggie had a sneaking suspicion that bringing up the Imperial religion might not go over hugely well. Or at the very least, she would sound patronizing, which was not something she wanted when she was about to attempt to enter into a business transaction with this man.

She pulled the skin out of her backpack and laid it on the counter. "Will you buy this?" she asked.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" the man asked.

"I heard. Not sure how I can help, short of bringing my business here and doing what I can to help you make back some of the money you've lost."

"How does selling me a skin help?"

"Well, I imagine there's always a demand for leather in a city like this."

"There is, but right now I need to sell, not buy."

Maggie looked at his stall. There were only a couple of things on his counter aside from the ruined registry: a steel breastplate and a pair of leather gloves.

"But it looks like you'll have to buy pretty soon to replenish your inventory. This way, you can cut out the middle-man on at least this one purchase and save a small amount of money."

"But, the labor costs…"

" It's your labor. I've tanned plenty of skins before. Do you know how much most people will charge you to use their tanning rack?"

"No."

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"Promise."

"I'll pay you 30."

"Done."


4E 201

11th of Last Seed

Loredas

Location: Dragonstar

Weather: Rainy

I feel like an idiot. I finally sold the skin of that deer I shot. Guy said he'd pay me thirty, and I thought he meant septims. Hammerfell's an independent sovereign nation, and apparently, they don't use septims anymore. I now have thirty coins of local currency, which are going to be no good in Skyrim, or anywhere else that isn't Hammerfell for that matter.

That storm that's been threatening since yesterday hit early this morning and went all day, almost. Man, do I hate being cooped up inside. Every time I get stuck inside due to rain or what-have-you, I get this longing to be outside again, with the sky above me and the grass—or sand in this case, I suppose—stretching away in front of me.

Hopefully, I'll be moving on tomorrow.


4E 201

12th of Last Seed

Sundas

Location: Somewhere in the Alik'r Desert

Weather: Clear and hot

Well, I did get back on the road today. But it took a while. I talked a lot with the locals this morning and determined the things I needed to buy to be as prepared as possible for the desert crossing.

The money I got for the deerskin actually came in handy when it came to buying those things, but I actually didn't need as much as I thought I did. I packed for Skyrim weather, and Alik'r Desert nighttime weather isn't that different.

I had to buy a waterskin, of course. Going without one would be suicide. I also bought a cloth to cover my head and keep the sun off my face and a sort of eye covering that supposedly cut down on glare. I also ended up buying a second bag, solely for the purpose of holding my fur cloak. I obviously won't need it during the day.

I picked up a bit of gossip as well. Apparently, the border guards have been diverted to Skyrim to help put down the uprising there. Maybe this is bigger than I thought.

I also got the antlers ground, by which I mean I did it myself. Finding an apothecary shop was surprisingly tricky, but I found one and borrowed the alchemy lab. Actually grinding the damned things involved over an hour of pounding away with a mortar and pestle, and yes, my shoulder hurts like Oblivion now…


The sun was going down, its last light staining the desert sands red, when Maggie encountered the bandits. This was far from her first run-in with highwaymen in some form, but these were nothing like the ones in High Rock. The major difference was that these were on horseback.

She'd never seen mounted bandits before, and she'd seen plenty of bandits. She'd fought more than her fair share. The average gang relied far too much on brute force, and that made then fairly easy to deal with for anyone with a bit of fighting ability and half a brain.

These were clearly not average bandits. Everything about them screamed fast, from the build of their horses to the curved swords some of them had already drawn.

They swooped onto the path and surrounded her. Eight of them.

"Hand over your valuables, girl," one said, probably the leader.

"What makes you think I have anything worth taking?" she asked.

She needed to buy time to think up a way out of this. The first thing she noticed was that none of them had a ranged weapon. Interesting. She shifted how she was standing just slightly, to make sure they could see that she did.

"I'm sure I'd find something…on your corpse. Like that bow, for example. Hand it over, and I might let you live."

That did it. Maggie had always hated bullies, and anyone else who lived by leeching off others. She looked around. They were fools. With the way they had positioned themselves, they would have to dismount to fight her. If they stayed on horseback, they would only get in each other's way. That would buy her valuable time to kill as many as she could.

She pulled her bow off her back. "You want this?" she asked, holding it out.

"Give it here."

"And you 'might' let me live?" She pulled her hand back. "I don't particularly like that deal. How about you leave now and I let you live?"

He laughed. "Right. You kill us."

That was a fatal mistake.

"Last chance," he said. "Hand it…"

Maggie notched an arrow and shot him between the eyes. The bandit leader slumped from his horse. The others looked at his body in shock.

That shock proved fatal for the bandit on the leader's right. By the time the others reacted, Maggie had already put an arrow in his chest.

The others moved to attack, and just as Maggie had predicted, their first move was to dismount their horses, and the time that took was all the time Maggie needed to shoot a third one dead.

By that time, three of the remaining bandits seemed to be reconsidering their plan of attack. The other two never wavered and charged forward. Maggie shot one of them in the stomach before he could reach her.

The other slashed at her head with his sword. She barely ducked in time. Backpedaling frantically, she dropped her bow on the sand and drew her hunting knife.

This was not a good situation to be in. Her knife was designed for butchering already dead animals. It definitely wasn't a weapon for fighting with. But it was her best option.

His weapon was for slashing, not stabbing. That much she remembered from sword training with her dad.

How did she get around this? Thanks to her eye protection, he would have a hard time trying to read her intentions in her eyes, but she could see less of his face than he could hers. And his own eye protection would render any attempt to blind him by throwing sand in his face effectively useless.

He lunged forward, slicing his blade in an arc that would have sliced open her stomach had she not jumped back. He swung again, and she had an idea. Instead of jumping back, she dodged right. And kept going. A few steps brought her behind the bandit.

He realized too late what she was doing. He'd figured her for a novice swordfighter, and that was wrong. While she was definitely out of practice, she was not inexperienced by any means, and some things just didn't get forgotten.

He started to turn to face her, but not fast enough to keep her from stabbing him in the side. He dropped to his knees, and she finished him off with a thrust to the heart before she had time to think about it.

She looked around. The three who hadn't wanted to fight her had gotten back on their horses and were currently galloping into the distance. She let them go.

Four other bandits were dead. The one she'd shot in the stomach was lying on the sand, moaning.

She moved towards him. He looked up at her, pleading.

Was she really going to kill a man who couldn't fight back? He would probably die anyway, and in a lot of pain.

This was a mercy. Right? Was he silently asking her to kill him? Or not to kill him? The fact that he wasn't speaking probably meant he was in too much pain.

She closed her eyes and drove her knife into his heart. The look in his eyes would never leave her.


The bandit leader's horse hadn't bolted during the fight like the others had, so Maggie took it in the hopes of covering the distance to Elinhir more quickly. She searched the bodies of the dead bandits, as well as any packs that the horses hadn't taken with them when they ran off.

These men had surprisingly little in the way of belongings, and Maggie felt a pang of sadness at the pointlessness of their deaths when she realized that they had probably turned to banditry out of desperation.

After that, she hadn't wanted to take anything from them. Even telling herself that they didn't need it anymore wasn't enough to justify it.

So she only took the horse, after making sure to pick up her bow from where she'd dropped it on the sand.

Or at least, she tried to take the horse. She pitched her campsite that night, ate a bit of dried fruit, then bundled up in her cloak and collapsed into her tent. When she woke up, the horse was gone.

She supposed she'd been asking for it. She hadn't tethered it to anything, but only because there hadn't been anything to tether it to.

In truth, losing the horse wasn't a big deal. Maggie was not a very good horsewoman. She would take shank's mare over an actual horse any day of the week.


The next two days were decidedly uneventful. Maggie had never been bored while traveling before, but she had also never traveled through an area that was nothing but sand before either.

The sun beat down the entire time, except at night, of course, and Maggie was supremely grateful that she'd listened to the advice of the people in Dragonstar and bought additional protection against it.

The worst part was the feeling in her feet. If walking for days on the packed earth of High Rock had hurt, walking on the sand hurt more. This time, it wasn't her feet that hurt as much as it was her calves.

Every night when she stopped, the first thing she did was to take off her boots and dump the sand out of them. How she managed to get sand in boots that came up almost to her knees was quite the mystery, but it was one she didn't have time to solve.

The next thing she did every night was massage her feet and calves, desperate to alleviate the perpetual ache.

The last night before arriving in Elinhir, though, something of interest did happen…in Maggie's dreams.

She was flying, and it felt so right. Her wings sliced the air as she swooped above a snowy plain.

This was Skyrim, she realized. It had to be. High Rock, with its long coastline, never got cold enough for snowfall on this scale. But how was she dreaming about a place she'd never been?

She spotted a village in the distance and banked toward it. A few powerful flaps of her wings, and she covered the distance in what felt like only a few seconds.

She felt so powerful up here. She'd always felt like the sky was calling to her. This was where she belonged. With the world laid out below her, it seemed like there was nothing she couldn't do, nowhere she couldn't go.

Then she flew over the village and banked into a lazy circle above the central building. And the joy was replaced by horror.

Looking down, she realized that the people were staring up at her with looks of terror on their faces. And then she realized that, beneath her horror and confusion at this new discovery, the exultation remained. To part of her, this too felt right.

Why should they not cower before her? She was stronger than they were, and if it struck her fancy, she could burn their village to the ground, instead of simply gracing them with her presence.

Maggie turned and looked back at herself.

She saw a scaly wing, a scaly body, and finally a scaly tail. She was a dragon.

And then she looked down again and saw that the village was on fire, the people screaming and running with no purpose other than escaping their burning home. She hadn't done that, had she?

Another dragon flew towards her. It hovered above the village for a moment, and then unleashed its breath of fire on the few buildings that were not currently on fire.

"No!" she cried, but it came out only as a garbled roar.


4E 201

15th of Last Seed

Middas

Location: Elinhir, Hammerfell

Weather: Clear

I never thought I would be so happy to be surrounded by people. After almost three days of seeing nothing but sand, I actually jumped for joy when I saw Elinhir on the horizon. Having a nice bed to sleep in tonight is just a bonus.

I've never found traveling lonely before, but walking over sand doesn't produce the same feelings in me that walking over the moors and grasslands of High Rock does. I'm starting to think I might risk going through the mountains when I head home, just so I don't have to slog through the desert again.

And I have another reason to celebrate my arrival in Elinhir. From here, it's only a couple hours' journey to the border with Skyrim…


AN: Here's Chapter 2, for those couple of people who have been begging for more. Lots of traveling, and lots of practice for me, because I'm not particularly good at writing travel scenes.

Maggie's "eye protection" was inspired by the Inuit (better known as Eskimos) who protect their eyes from the glare of the sun on the snow by wearing whalebone goggles that allow only a small amount of light to enter their eyes. I figured people might wear something similar when traveling through the desert, but I couldn't think of anything else to call them.

I toyed with the idea of the second dragon in Maggie's dream being Alduin, but I threw it out. He'll start haunting her dreams eventually, but not yet.