THE BATTLE FOR FORT SUNGARD
The Harbinger
The cold of the cobblestone is seeping through my armor. I lean a little towards Vilkas so I can feel his warmth. It helps a little bit. But the sound of Galmar chomping on his food doesn't help the sickening feeling in my stomach. Not one bit.
We sit outside a bandit ruin after taking out all the men and women we could find here. They knew who I was, most bandits remember my name quite well after my crusade against them before I met Aerin. This made Galmar like me even more.
Yet, it was the last man to be killed who drove me mad. He whispered such…horrible things. That the Night Mother was seen in Whiterun Hold and how we must beware of her. Vilkas reassured me that she was to be in Windhelm until Ulfric left. But Galmar had a different opinion.
"Of course. I could see her wanting to use her wings every once in awhile and go exploring. She probably has Ulfric good and tied up in his own damn bed." He takes another bite of his salmon sandwich. He chews thoughtfully, "Do you think she drugs him with potion to get him to go along with her?"
I sigh softly, "I doubt it. He seemed very aware last we saw of him."
"Those things can wear off quickly. Just take them at night and be good by morning." He presses on.
"I don't think it was her." Vilkas says behind me. His arms wrap around me more tightly. "If she left and was after us, she would have gone straight to Falkreath."
The camp we left the night before. If that was her destination, then she would have found it easily enough. I was just happy we were wanted near Markarth. It gave us good reason to leave as soon as possible.
"How is Jorleif doing?" I ask Galmar.
He seems to groan with the mention of him. "Alright. The man is still in shock. I told him I've seen men with half their arm or less and they walk around just fine."
I wince at his brashness. I feel so bad for the steward. We were able to get a few healing potions and spells for him. Thankfully, most of his toes and fingers were salvageable sparing only a few. I am certain he is still in shock though. He begged to stay with us the whole way to the Reach. He doesn't want to be left alone or sent back to the Palace of the Kings.
"Did he say anything about that night?" Vilkas asks.
Galmar finishes eating another piece of his meal and has the good grace to swallow before talking, "Not much. Just that she burst into his room in the dead of night. Didn't say a word, just cut off all that she could while holding him down. Then tied him to that horse and put that note in his mouth. I don't expect anything less."
I didn't either. I was still surprised that she didn't kill him. "Maybe Ulfric doesn't know. Maybe that's why he's alive. If she killed him…"
"Ulfric would not be happy." Galmar finishes. He suddenly sits up a little straighter, turning his head so quickly the bear mask moves off center to follow it. "That's it! We just need to let the man know what happened and he'll throw her out like last weeks trash. It can be practice for General Tullius in Solitude."
"You think he would change his mind so easily?" Vilkas cautions.
"It's worth a shot." The bear man shrugs.
"I hate to say it," I add, "But I doubt Ulfric is safe around her. I would not put it past her to kill him."
Galmar just gives me a weathered look. "She is caught in a trap. She can't enter her Castle and her precious Brotherhood cannot get to her…"
"Maybe the Imperials are helping us indirectly." Vilkas says behind me.
I stiffen, I expect Galmar to take offense to that. He only gives me a cat-like grin. "That is correct…what if we drove the Imperial forces north where they would have a better handle on the Castle? They could destroy each other, mutually, before we intervene."
"Not a bad idea." I muse, "It seems difficult logistically."
"Not so, wolf." He rises to pull his map out of his bag. He points to all the Holds, marking where the Imperials still stand. "To make them think that Solitude is their only chance. Their only place to defend. They would strike out like a saber cat backed into a corner, at any and everything that's in its way. It's brilliant." He gives me a fierce grin.
I nod to this. I'm still cautious but optimistic. "Where do we start?"
He laughs, "We are already on the way there! To Fort Sungard. I want it taken by nightfall." He glances out at the still rising sun, just hidden behind the warm gray clouds. It might rain on our way there.
"That means we leave now." He promptly gets up and staggers off. Vilkas inches me forwards until I too fall from the ruined stone building. Vilkas follows me.
"You think that plan will work?" He asks as we go round up the other men to head north.
I watch the pluming clouds. It certainly will rain. There's that feel in the air. "I do. It's all we have right now."
Possibly for dramatic effect, or to slow us down, the rain came in sheets when we finally made it to Fort Sungard. I would not be surprised if they had a mage on them who could bring on the weather like this.
I grunt as another Imperial goes after me with his sword. It lands squarely on my now armored forearm. I shove him off and give the killing blow with Grimsever. "You think they did this on purpose?" I yell over the downpour. It is hard to speak with my hair plastered to my face and the water running into my mouth.
"I wouldn't be surprised if they can change the weather so!" Galmar yells over his own battle, "Imperial bastards, they work with the Thalmor who outlaw damn near everything! It wouldn't surprise me to find out some still worship Talos!" He cuts another's head off and pivots to stab the man behind him.
It is a very lucky blow. I duck just in time to miss a few arrows. I hear Vilkas ahead. He insisted on becoming the beast. He thought it was best to use such a curse, as he put it, for such destruction. I didn't follow his sentiments. I just didn't want to change over yet. I have a feeling if I do, I might see someone I don't want to.
They were whispering to me. I thought I saw a shadow in the rain. Up on one of the tall stone walls. A far-off figure of a very well-muscled man twice my height, with horns on his head and a leer at all the carnage below him. Then it was gone.
I want to watch that spot, just to see if I was imagining it or not. But I have to press on. Another Imperial comes for me. I have to kick him off to keep from curling around me to stab me in the back. They are getting brazen. Willing to take up closer combat and use all their forces on the strongest.
"Wolf!" Galmar yells over the fray.
I duck as more arrows come my way, then move when I see five Imperials barreling down the path right towards me.
"Wolf! Mjoll! They know." Galmar frantically says again before falling into his own fight.
They know we are their most prized weapons. I pull Dawnbreaker and use both it and Grimsever to slash through my enemies.
"Soon, they will have us over run! You might want to start pulling out those tricks!" He yells again. I hear the desperation creeping into his voice. It is unlike him to feel this way. Usually, he's reveled in these fights.
An arrow pierces my armor, the sharp tip sinks into the back of my shoulder. I groan with it but keep fighting with my right arm. Grimsever kills one more man before my other shoulder is taken.
They're immobilizing you. Vilkas tells me. They don't want you to change, but Mjoll you must! They must have gotten word of our powers.
They have, indeed. I grunt and shove another Imperial off me while the battle rages on, then I fall to my knees.
This change…gods it's painful. My shoulders are searing with the blistering heat from those arrows and the rain isn't helping in the slightest. Once my body has been pushed enough to have longer limbs and a half-wolf face, I lunge. The Imperials are clever. They've taken advantage of the mere seconds it took me to change this far. Now ten are surrounding me. The Stormcloaks and Vilkas can only hold off so many at once. I see fifteen around him and one Imperial engaging one Stormcloak each. They must have planned this for days.
A few come at me with their short swords. I tear through their bodies with my claws, it's gruesome, and it is enough. They go down and don't rise again.
More arrows pierce my back. I roar with the feeling. It's fire, then relief, then some sort of sickening feeling from all the rain washing over it.
"Ready more arrows! The beast will come down if we get it in the eye!" A tall and imposing man up above yells to his soldiers. He grins down at me when he catches my gaze.
I won't let that happen. I duck and barrel my way through the remaining soldiers, using my head and fangs to get through them, before I launch myself up the stairs to these archers. They try to take me down. More arrows litter my person by the second, but I keep going. I see the man I need to kill. He's the one calling the shots. Once he's dead, the morale will lower, and it will be easier to pick them off.
Mjoll, wait for me! I need you to wait so we can take them on together. I hear Vilkas tell me.
I won't listen. I know if I wait, it just gives them more opportunity to shoot down at the Stormcloaks and possibly Galmar. I slice and slash my way through the men trying to take me down with nothing but swords. The line of archers awaits me at the end of this hallway.
The man ahead of me, the tall one and the only one without a helmet, smiles menacingly in the rain. "Ready!" He shouts and holds a hand up to signal those sturdy bows be drawn. His people follow. Now, I am facing off with the whole line of them. Twenty men and women all with arrows pointed directly at me.
I call it. It's not easy by any means. And it didn't work like I wished but when those arrows release, I push through the rain and the pain that won't stop following me. My back and chest have been flayed alive by these arrows. The spectral power comes to me right as the new ones pierce my skin. I reach out a solitary hand to swipe at the man.
He only grins at me. He knows the arrows are pinning me down now, the weight of them is too much. I fall backwards, some fall from me, others lodge themselves in me further as my power fades. The spectral call didn't allow them to pass through my body like I wished.
My powers are fading. I watch the rain dance in the sky, falling more softly than it did before. This is the kind of rain I prayed for. Voices come near me. I hear a roar. I see many terrified faces above me, racing away from me, or trying to cut into me further. A blur of red and brown is now replaced by silver and blue.
In my desperate attempt to grasp onto something normal, I see him. One of the Imperial men comes to crouch down next to my face. My labored breathing makes it hard to talk. I try. "Hircine."
The man has Imperial clothing, but his face is covered in a deer mask. The pristine white one Hircine would wear. The antlers are large and should knock down anyone running through it, but it doesn't. Showing me this is just a figment of my imagination.
"You are unwell. Her spell has corrupted you." Hircine lays a hand on my forehead and gods above, it's warm. I can feel him above me but no one else can.
"We are trying to find a way out. Desperately prodding. We are close. We will be with you soon." He says.
"Am I dying? Am I to be part of the Hunting Grounds?" I ask with a weakening voice.
"No. You will live. Stay alive a little longer and I will be the first to find you." He promises.
I gasp. I try to move forwards, to get any warmth from him that I can. But he just lifts his hands to pull the helmet off. Underneath, instead of an average face with red eyes, I find skeletal muscles. Those muscles are what one sees when a face is torn from the body, blood wells in the wounds, the unseeing eyes twist in whichever way they want.
I try to scream. But no one comes to help me. The now dead, Imperial man falls forwards, the mask all but forgotten. Right into my face…
I wake up with a scream. He was used as a vessel. The man was dead the moment the mask came off and with it… I feel almost sick to my stomach. I turn in the soft sheets and lean over the bed. Possibly to lose any food I've taken in, but nothing comes out of the dry heaves.
When I lean back, sweaty and shaking, I see I am in a great bed in a generously large tent. A solitary candle is the only thing keeping this room alight. I move my arms and expect to wince from the wounds of numerous injuries. But all I feel is a little soreness.
I drag myself out of the bed and race to the small opening. Outside the mountainside is bathed in bright moonlight. I hear the faraway sound of wolves scurrying in the forest. Birds mingle in the trees. We are still in the wilderness.
I pace out to find Galmar sitting at a fading fire. Soft snores come from other tents. The older man finally looks his age, his weathered face is showing more wear and tear, he seems to be fiddling with some sort of contraption. My approach has him looking up at me with hooded eyes before they widen. "You're awake!" He leaps up to grab me roughly by the shoulders.
"How do you feel?" His eyes search mine.
"Good. I feel fine. What happened?" I have to ask.
"The battle was a few days ago. We were victorious but you, my good woman, were on death's door." He wipes some perspiration from his brow, "It took your wolf man and five others to carry you all the way to our camp. I thought it would be best to rest there while the other half of my men guarded the fort. I didn't want you stuck in another ambush by the irritated Imperials."
"Where's Vilkas?" He is the only thing on my mind at the moment.
"Getting more potions for you. We went through all we had on hand to get those damn arrow wounds to heal up. The bastards were smart. They had silver tips to them. They knew we had wolves with us." He spits, showing his frustration over the matter.
Silver tips. So, that is why the man leading the archers was so cocky. "Was Vilkas okay?"
Galmar shrugs and goes to sit back at the fire. "He got a few licks in on him but he's fine. He was more worried about you."
Just then, I hear heavy footsteps approaching. I turn right as he plows into me. "You're alive!" He nearly shouts in my ear.
Vilkas. I hug him so hard, if he were human, I would fear he would break. He buries his head in my hair. Smelling me. I used to find that…odd. But he affirmed that is how wolves recognize one another and sometimes greet one another in the wild. I still prefer a smile and a good handshake.
"How do you feel?" He pulls away to look over me.
"I feel fine. I heard about the arrows and the traps they set for us. I feel better knowing it wasn't a fluke that they could take us down so easily."
Galmar smirks behind me, "Of course it wasn't! They heard of the previous slaughters and wanted to be careful…that means we are losing our advantage."
The last thing I want to do is talk about war strategy. I just want to curl up in the large warm bed with Vilkas by my side. But I pull him down next to me by the fire. "What will we need to do?"
Galmar chews on this for a moment. "We will need to think on it. I believe if we have you both fight as humans, they wouldn't know wolf from man."
"It's hard with her eyes." Vilkas says next to me. I give him a worried glance, but he only wraps one arm around my shoulder.
"That is true." Galmar peers at me again. "If only we could make them go away."
"I can work on it." I say.
"Ah, well, we have a very long time to strategize before our next move. You aren't going to like this…" He ruffles around in the bag next to him.
"What is it?" I ask but he just shoves me a note.
"Got it last night." He mentions. I pull open the already broken seal to read the contents.
Galmar,
We need you at the Palace of the Kings immediately. We got new soldiers to take out with you. It would be wise to round them up before the next battle. I expect to see you soon.
"More soldiers?" I question.
Galmar groans, "Not that. Look at the handwriting, the word choice! Ulfric is very frank, but he would also certainly write a damn essay on how the war is going from his perspective. That was not written by him."
I look at the letter more closely. I have not seen one by Ulfric before but if I were to guess, the handwriting is sloppy. It is also extremely blunt.
"Perhaps he wanted us to get back as soon as possible?" Vilkas guesses.
Galmar's eyes hide no pain in the fading fire light. He removes another pouch from his bag. "Take a look at this."
Vilkas takes the bag this time and opens it. Inside, a few things fall out to his hands. The first, a few strands of hair. The second, a claw cut from a wolf. And the third… the hagraven feather I gave Aerin after I saved him. He became a wolf that day. I wanted him to keep the other one as a reminder of what good grace was bestowed upon him. All these contents smell like them.
My eyes blaze and even Galmar shrinks back when I look to him. "She has them?"
"As far as I can tell, yes. The letter is alluding to more wolves. If we get more human soldiers they're just thrown into the bunch. No one makes a big stir about it. But this letter and those trinkets? It made me think the new ones are people you know."
I stand immediately. "Get everyone together. We need to go the Palace of the Kings now." I frantically tell Galmar.
He starts yelling about leaving the middle of the night with no preparation. But I thought he would have had experience with that by now. I race ahead of Vilkas to get into the tent I woke up in. There I could gather my things and race ahead of everyone else.
Vilkas stops me with an arm around the waist. He pulls me out of the tent with his vice like grip. "Stop, Mjoll." His voice is harsh and commanding but I am brash and desperate. I shove at him. He holds strong.
"Mjoll." He pulls me down in his lap and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"Gods above, your eyes are pure fire." He whispers when my fight starts to subside.
"Let me go! We need to go to them. I won't let her kill him. You know she wants revenge on me. She certainly wants him dead." Tears threaten, but they only make Vilkas close his mouth in a fine line. Whatever my eyes look like must be daedric.
"Use your head, pup. Remember your power. Reach out to him." He whispers.
Him, not them, he knows whenever Aerin is in trouble, I will do anything at the drop of a hat.
Try it. He says to me.
Aerin? I ask.
Nothing comes back to me. I begin to struggle but Vilkas just holds tight. "Your powers are wonky. Give it a moment. Clear your mind."
I control my breathing. Sit, and think of my good friend. How he looked when I left him in Jorrvaskr to go slay the Night Mother. He wanted to come with me so badly.
Mjoll? He asks.
I slump and lean into Vilkas with my relief. He only holds me tighter.
It's me. Has she hurt you? Where are you?
It takes moments to get the response. I hear boots digging into the dirt and Galmar's harsh breathing behind Vilkas. "Boy, what is it we need to do?" He begins. Vilkas just shushes him.
I keep my own breathing calm and controlled.
We're fine. Just at this huge banquet hall with the Night Mother and Ulfric Stormcloak. Where are you?
His voice, even in my mind, is strained. Something is going on.
Headed your way. I say and with that I force Galmar to take us to our temporary home. Even if we have to ride all night long.
Galmar is ahead of us on horseback. I see the Palace of the Kings in the distance with the giant walls of Windhelm fast approaching. I wanted to run as a wolf, but Galmar convinced me otherwise, saying I would be perfect target practice for any Imperial nearby. I might also not have the ability to change back. My powers were too finicky.
Vilkas kept a good hold on me on horseback. I was in the front and him behind me. I let this be for a while but when I see the walls of Windhelm, I begin to squirm.
"Not yet." He whispers.
Galmar looks back to me, "Careful, she no doubt has a trap set up for you. If I were you, I would do my best to talk to Ulfric over her. Even though she has his balls in a vice, she won't be able to sway him completely."
"What makes you say that with confidence?" Vilkas asks while digging his hand deeper into my waist. I am so close to falling off this horse and running the rest of the way.
"I'm going to do what I should have done from the start." His face is grim, but I see his mind is made up. "Things might get hairy, but I can't let him go on like this."
We all approach the city with caution but determination. The gates are opened for us allowing us to ride our horses to the front of the city. From there, we get off and follow Galmar. Vilkas has to keep hold of my hand so I won't run off. But he doesn't have anything to fear now.
I need to stay behind him. Once we enter the city, most eyes turn towards us. Dark Elves, Nords, anyone nearby turns to look in our direction. I hear faint whispers among them. The feeling is odd. It is like we are strangers in our own city.
Galmar forges ahead. He shoves open the doors to the Palace of the Kings, their momentum allows them to swing open, so we see exactly what is going on inside all at once. I feel Vilkas bristle next to me, but he only goes for his blade. I have Grimsever in one hand and Dawnbreaker in the other before she can speak.
The banquet table is open for once. A few plates are scattered around. On either side sits Aela, Farkas, and Aerin, all bound with silver chains and gagged, but still clothed. They sit as if waiting for food. Only Aela turns her eyes to our entrance.
At the head of the table is a mage woman I have never seen before and next to her, in the large chair, sits an incapacitated Ulfric. He has no scars. He appears as if he is just sleeping. Behind him stands the Night Mother herself. Her grin is positively evil. She holds a dagger to Ulfric's neck.
She leans down, as if speaking in his ear, but I know her words are just for us. They are loud enough, "I would be very careful what your next words are. You wouldn't want my hand to slip, if so, then the position of Hight King shall remain vacant."
Cicero's Journal Entry
15th of Hearthfire, 4E 202
Fighting the tentacle…thing is no use. So, while Cicero waits for Listener, he ponders. Does Mother still love him? Is he everything she ever wanted? Love for Mother has always been elusive from the start. Why, I don't think she ever felt it in her heart until Sithis. And then he went and tore it right out…what sacrifices she must make for him.