Arc 3—Uncivil War—Chapter 5:

The dead were buried, but with the wounded we found ourselves trapped. While on the border between Hjaalmarch and The Pale, we were on the east side of the mountain range and were effectively behind enemy lines.

A force of several hundred Stormcloak soldiers had settled into the farmland north of Whiterun's Whitewatch Tower. With Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun being nominally neutral in the war, the army served to block Imperial access to the northern areas under Ulfric's control while reminding the jarl of the situation without actively threatening Whiterun. The company that Serana and I had encountered on the western border of the Pale a few days earlier was acting in a similar capacity on the western flank and was actually just one of a number of such groups dotting the landscape. With a cold, dark camp that night, the tribune stood looking at the map as our group hid in a small copse of trees.

"Do you have a plan?" I asked.

He gave me a dirty look in reply before answering. "Plan, yes. It's the much-sought-after 'actual, workable' part that's sadly missing."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "That sounds quite familiar. I encounter that situation all too frequently in my own travels."

He drew back in surprise at that admission. "Really, Dragonborn? That's not what your reputation says."

"You mean my carefully cultivated reputation? It's intended to lead people to the wrong conclusion with the hope it will occasionally give me some minor advantage."

"Does it?"

"Very rarely," I replied with another laugh. "But one never knows when some small advantage will be important, though."

"True enough. The plan was to get back to our camp in the Pale. We have a small outpost there with a safe route back to our forces in Morthal. With our wounded, though...we'll never make it."

"What's the backup plan?" I asked.

Again, his eyes stared at me in frustration before he replied. "Here," he said pointing on a very rudimentary map that I recognized as being of the northern coast of The Pale. "If we can get there, we have a way out."

He wasn't giving any more details, but I trusted him in what he was saying. Looking at the map and considering the route, I pondered for a few moments before saying, "You have three that have to be carried and the wounded that can walk will move slowly. How many able-bodied men do you have?"

"Seventeen, plus the sergeant, me, and...well, you."

"While I'm not planning to fight, I can help with an evacuation, Captain—ah, sorry, Tribune. You'll need four men carrying each of the invalids and will have to do it in swing shifts since you don't have two full rotations. Your walking wounded won't have to carry anyone, but there won't be anyone to carry them either, so they'll have to walk. I'll see if I can help some of them when we're done here."

"Sounds good, Dragonborn. We appreciate the help."

"Don't get me wrong, Tribune. I'm not doing it by choice. I just don't want to see wounded men, on either side, slaughtered. I'd do the same for the Stormcloaks if I was being held in their camp."

"But we're not holding you," he said, objecting to my statement.

I nodded. "Not physically, but my word to you is keeping me here. Without it, I'd have been long gone."

"Fair enough." Turning to his assistant, he added, "Sarge, tell the troops to get some rest. We'll be moving out at dark."

"Yes, Sir. The men will be ready."

When the sergeant moved off to give the orders, the tribune looked at me and said, "We can get at least two thirds of the way there tonight, hole up during the day tomorrow, and, if we're lucky, arrive before midnight tomorrow night. You think that's reasonable?"

Looking at it again and considering the terrain in front of us, I slowly nodded. "Reasonable? Yes. Easy? No."

~ESV~

I used some healing spells and a couple of potions to do what I could to help the invalids and two of the worst of the walking wounded, but it wasn't enough. My spell-casting ability had improved considerably over the past couple of years, but still left a lot to be desired. If nothing else, it helped those on the stretchers avoid crying out and let the others rest a little better in preparation for a long night of hiking.

Knowing there were Stormcloaks nearby, we kept two scouts a couple hundred paces ahead of the rest of the group and had two trail behind by 15 to 20 paces to do what they could to guard and obscure our trail. While they couldn't keep anyone from seeing that we'd passed by, their work with the branches did serve to keep them from learning our numbers.

As morning approached, we found a suitable wood. On hiding our presence as well as possible, we made a cold camp and most of the soldiers fell into a deep sleep. It was only when I was dispensing a few healing spells that I realized that about a third of the force was made up of women.

"Why are you in the Imperial army?" I asked one as I rested for a while to restore my magicka strength before trying to help her.

"What else is there to do? My man was killed and Ulfric the Traitor will force me to leave Skyrim. I've been here for almost twelve years. It is my home but because my blood isn't the red of the Nords, I'm not good enough for him. I live on a farm near Solitude, but he will take my land and force me away, or perhaps worse, if he wins."

"Do you really think that's true?" I asked.

"He killed the High King, didn't he? What else would he do?"

When I had no answer, she continued, "We know he doesn't like Elves, Khajiiti, Argonians, and the Fay, the faerie folk. In truth, those of us who aren't Nords don't know where that leaves us."

Something about her look led me to put a finger on her chin and gently turn her head to get a closer look at her features. "You included the faeries in your list. I sense that your fear may be deeper."

Her gaze snapped back to me but she saw no malice in my countenance, leading her to slowly nod. "My father was a druid in southern Cyrodiil, but my mother was of the Fay peoples. My brother favors her, whereas I, my father; my brother is much better looking than I am."

I doubted that very much but said nothing as she went on with her explanation. "Ulfric's actions and his rants against the 'lesser races' leads me to worry on all fronts, which is why I feel I must do something to oppose him. Doing nothing until it's too late..."

She trailed off as she felt the bit of healing I could provide slowly begin to course through her. The tension and pain in her face eased and she transitioned to a contented smile.

"Thank you, Dragonborn." She sighed and repeated, "Thank you. Tell me, is your heart taken?"

I nodded in reply. "My heart, very much so. Her mother acceptance of that, on the other hand..."

The woman laughed. "Mothers tend to be like that, forgetting for their daughters how they themselves were when they were young. Perhaps you should use your hands like that on her mother."

~ESV~

The tribune, a man I'd finally learned was named Shondar of Anvil, spoke with me as the sun set that evening.

"Dragonborn, there will probably be many foes between here and our destination. If I fall—in fact, if all of us fall—you must go on. The general must speak with you."

I looked at him with more than a little skepticism. "I find it hard to believe that he'd dispatch you out to find me and that one of your men would just so happen to spot me at a backwoods inn. How'd you figure out to find me there?"

Despite being near exhaustion, he chuckled. "You don't get it. The general didn't dispatch me to find you. Ten days ago, he sent word to every officer in Skyrim to be on the lookout for you. Whatever our mission, if we came across you, our new mission was to get you to Solitude. When the general says it's important..."

He pulled out his rough map that we'd looked at the previous day and placed it between us. There were no names or markings, only a few lines that might be roads, rivers, mountains, and coast. He rotated it and said, "North."

I'd spent enough time mapping Skyrim in recent years that I immediately recognized our approximate location. "I'd say we're right about...here." I pointed but was careful not to touch the parchment. I didn't want to leave any smudges that might give anything away.

"That's about right," he agreed. "We're only a few miles from here," pointing to the final destination for the first time. "We track up this way, over, and then up. If all goes well, we'll avoid the Stormcloak patrols and be able to get you out of here. If it doesn't go well...well, make your way to this point right here, no more than three hours after midnight." He told me the signal. "If you don't make it by then, you'll have to do your best to get to Morthal on your own. We have troops there in the north who can help you."

"I've seen their camp, though I've avoided being seen—I believe, anyway—or saying hello, for what I now realize were very good reasons."

"Let's hope this works so you won't have to find out if you were right."

~ESV~

We departed just after dark and made our way generally north, though sometimes more westerly and sometimes more easterly. Hidden behind some bushes, we were silent as a Stormcloak patrol marched by, blissfully ignorant of our presence just a few feet away. When they were past us, we resumed our slow, quiet march, always carrying our unfortunate comrades in their stretchers, which took more time to avoid noise and doing anything to injure them further. Tribune Shondar said nothing, relying only on hand signals in what little light was available from Jode's still thin but waxing crescent. Still, I suspected I understood his growing concern as our time to his deadline continued to run down.

I was on the right side, rear position on the lead stretcher, just a few paces behind the tribune when he gave the signal to stop, and just a second later, to drop. The invalids on the stretchers knew the importance of maintaining silence, but Hrebror, our poor soul, was dropped harder than the guys up front had intended and he let out a little moan as all of the Imperial soldiers around us dropped prone to avoid being seen.

Perhaps it was just Lydia's personal philosophy but she'd taught me early in our adventures that a prone man, if discovered, is a dead man.

"Aerik, it takes too long for most people—and particularly those wearing armor, any armor—to get up and draw a weapon before the standing discoverer can finish him off."

"Him?" I asked.

"Yes, of course," she replied. "You don't seriously think a woman is going to willingly lie down in the muck and give up whatever advantage she has, do you? When we lie down, we're doing it because we want to do so."

She'd taught me how to effectively become a snowberry bush by the path or something similar by crouching rather than taking what she called the dead body pose. Therefore, when I went down, I was in a crouch with my head tucked down and my cloak swept around me so I was largely hidden but could still see out of my left eye. I'd drawn my dagger under cover of the cloak and thus I waited, hoping the Stormcloaks would move on by.

Or rather, Stormcloak.

It was but a single soldier, apparently part of a squad that was spread out searching for something but, based on the distance between searchers, not seriously appearing to be expecting to find anything. This man's sword, reflecting Jode's gleam narrow gleam, was being used to poke and prod and, essentially, rattle the bushes as he approached us. That was all for naught as he passed by the tribune, missing him by all of three or four feet. As he drew closer to those of us with the first stretcher, it looked as if he was going to miss us, too. However, he turned a little more to his right, looking down, directly at the bearer in front of me and, it seemed, at the stretcher.

"Hmm?" he sounded to himself as he brought the sword close to Hrebror, our invalid. Still not sure what he was seeing, he nudged the tip sideways, bumping the carrying pole, When he heard the unnatural sound, he drew his arm back as if to thrust the sword into what it was he thought he was seeing.

With the others prone, I was the only one who had a chance. Moving silently, I rose and took one step forward and throttled him with my left arm to prevent him from crying out just before I brought my dagger across his throat with my other hand.

I held him upright in those few seconds as he shook, knowing his life was leaving his body, but it was necessary since allowing him to fall would have made a clatter that would have attracted more of his compatriots and led to many more deaths on both sides. That, at least, was how I attempted to justify what I'd done. While I'd killed any number of bandits and those wanted by the jarls for their crimes, I'd just killed a man I bore no ill will, someone who was only there because he was a soldier in a war I detested and wanted no part of. I wasn't an active combatant in that war, but had joined the group of Imperials as a matter of circumstance rather than desire. Feeling sick at my stomach, I told myself it was a matter of self preservation, but doubt was strong as I slowly eased him down while the bearer in front of me grabbed the dying man's sword to keep it from falling. When he was down, I held him until he was still, and then attempted to wipe the blood from my hands on his cloak.

The tribune waved to us to silently move forward. The other searchers were only 15 to 20 paces away on either side, and they could discover their missing comrade at any moment so I understood the need to move and do it quickly. As our soldiers rose to their feet, I caught Jode's reflection on the dead man's eyes, so I closed his eyelids only to accidentally disturb the corpse's hair. The dead soldier, I discovered, was actually a woman and that realization made my revulsion at what I'd done even worse.

How could a woman be mixed up in this mess? Even as I was asking myself this question, the half-Fay woman in our squad came to mind. She had her reasons for joining in the struggle, just as, I suspected, the poor, dead woman lying in next to me.

I resolved to say a prayer for her, but there was no time for prayers, second thoughts, or remorse, for any noise at all would have given us away and led to many more deaths. Moving as silently as we could, we picked up the stretcher with our paralyzed comrade and moved out, with the others in our group just a short distance behind us.

We made it to the rocky beach where the waves swept in and out, time after time. I realized then that high tide was probably the reason for Shondar's deadline. Just feet from the water, he had three soldiers line up and he lit a hooded lantern with them acting as a screen against those searching for us less than two hundred paces behind us. He pointed the lantern at what I believed to be an island just off the coast and operated the shutter a few times. He blew it out immediately on finishing the task and then stared watchfully, hopefully into the darkness.

"Wraeva's down!" came a shout from behind us. "She's dead! Someone killed her. Get a torch over here, now!"

The commotion was loud, with screams and shouts as the Stormcloaks attempted to find the person or persons who'd killed the woman. Many had lit torches and some were moving our way when we heard the sweep of oars a short distance out in the icy waters.

Our troops made their way toward the vessel, but the desire to get to safety aboard the little ship was too much for some, leading to splashing followed almost immediately by the cries of the Stormcloaks who heard us.

An arrow came flying in from the distance, a lucky arrow, it seemed, for it hit the bearer in front of me in the back of his thigh, causing him to stumble and fall into the surf. The stretcher crashed down and Hrebror would likely have drowned within moments if I hadn't scooped him up on my back and made my way into the deeper and deeper waters of the frigid sea toward our rescue ship.

Still, it was too far. Despite my innate Nord resistance to cold, my teeth were chattering uncontrollably as the water reached my armpits. I was trying to keep Hrebror's head above the incoming waves as I heard another arrow whiz just past my head. The cold was making it difficult to concentrate when another struck me in the back. It was so cold that the deadly point caused me no pain, but it knocked the breath out of me and sent me pitching face forward into the cold, dark water.

~ESV~

Author's Note: Your views, comments, favorites, and follows are appreciated.

On a personal note, with publication of this chapter, this story becomes the longest of my stories published on this website.