Arc 3—Uncivil War—Chapter 6:

The Sea of Ghosts is a cold, murky place where lost souls are said to dwell.

Legend is that those who perish in its waters remain there until they have pulled others into the depths. When they've enticed the correct number to their deaths—which seems to vary with the teller—they are said to be released to travel on to Sovngarde or whatever their ultimate destination is. However, considering the number of souls to buy their ransom is always greater than one, I've always had my doubts since it sounded far too much like one of the pyramid schemes run by very enterprising but completely crooked swindlers in the Imperial City.

In the dark of night, such doubts vanished as I felt those deathly hands pulling me down into the murky depths. I fought to rise up, above the top of the water, but, in the dark of night with my equipment waterlogged, it was too much and I was too confused, not completely sure what was up or how to escape. My lungs were near to bursting from lack of air and the cold as I continued to struggle, knowing my time was almost up.

My confusion grew as I saw a dim light in the water some distance in front of me. It was a woman with long, blonde hair and a glowing bracelet swimming toward me; she was moving fast. Only as she pulled up in front of me, with her hair billowing around her, did I realize it was my long-dead mother, coming to take me to my eternal home.

"Aerik! Come!" she said to me as clearly as if we were back home in the village of my youth, though I didn't think her voice sounded anything like my mother's. She took my hand and was pulling me into the darkness when my eyes grew dim and I could think no more.

~ESV~

Infinite blackness...

No...parts seemed a charcoal gray. Not blackness, it was only darkness...

Oooh! A sense of great pain...

The mind of my soul, if the soul truly has such a thing, slowly cleared, though that darkness and the incredible pain remained. I wasn't certain but I suspected that I would soon be joining the souls of those searching the sea for my replacement. Perhaps, having been to Sovngarde once before, I would not be allowed to return.

Somewhere in the distance, though, the charcoal became slate and, slowly, lighter still, but I had no means to go toward it. I was trapped beneath a crushing weight, never, I figured, to move again, never to reach my heavenly reward.

It was then that I fully awoke, wet and freezing, on my belly between men rowing frantically on the deck of a vessel. Indeed, a very heavy weight was on my back, pushing my chest down, but then was off again, over and over, several times, as I coughed frantically, trying to get the water from my lungs. Slowly becoming more aware of my surroundings, I heard shouting in the distance and saw some of the soldiers from my group holding shields over themselves and the rowers.

"Dragonborn! Get under cover!" ordered Tribune Shondar, pushing another shield a few feet across the deck toward me.

Unsteadily, I reached for it, but another hand reached over me from behind and pulled it toward us. It was the half-Fay woman I'd helped, her long blonde hair soaking wet but surprisingly ordered for someone who must have taken a swim similar to my own. She flipped the shield over and brought it above us, providing some protection from the arrows that were still being fired from the beach. Probably because they couldn't see our vessel, the Stormcloaks were firing individually, wildly, instead of in directed volleys and with our ship getting further away by the second, they didn't rain down on us as they might have. While a few hit the ship and at least one hit someone, the danger soon lessened.

"All clear. Rowers! Four speed," called someone I was later to learn was the vessel's captain. "Speed four."

At the same time, someone else called out, "Surgeon! To the rear"

The oarsmen immediately slowed where they could catch their breath and maintain a steady pace for long periods. A man brushed past me and there were sounds of pain and suffering over the next few minutes as he attempted to remove arrows from a couple of people who'd not been as lucky as most.

Finally getting my bearings, I realized my weapons and armor were gone and my outfit that I normally wear under it for warmth and down time was soaked and causing me to chill. Still, it was the surgeon's business that caused me to remember how I'd been struck in the back just a short time before. I reached my hand over my shoulder toward my back when another hand took mine and gently directed it back down.

"The arrow went through Hrebror, the wounded man on your back, and the tip scratched you, but it's not bad," said the blonde, half-Fay woman. "He didn't make it, but he did his duty protecting you even as you tried to save him. He cried out something—Sovreign?—as he died."

"Sovngarde," I replied. "It's called Sovngarde, the afterlife where Nord heroes go."

"Hero he was," she said solemnly, "and hero he died. Here, let me help you out of those before you freeze to death and join him in your realm of heroes."

"Thank you." I looked at her wrist as she tried to unfasten my clothes; a bracelet circled it. "Wait...it was you, wasn't it? The one who swam to save me? How'd you—"

She nodded as she peeled the wet shirt off of me, but a finger touched my lips when I started getting too nosy. At only a whisper, she said, "My mother, remember? She was a water nymph. While I don't look that much like her, she did grant me a few of her abilities but without the restriction of being limited to a single pool. Now, get these pants off, too, before you freeze."

Shondar stepped up at that moment and draped a blanket around me. "Private Sela, thank you for saving him. General Tullius will hear of your bravery...and of your promotion, corporal. Congratulations. Go now. The Dragonborn and I must speak privately."

She gave my hand a squeeze before moving back in the vessel.

"Sorry about your armor. Everything had to be cut away for us to get you into the vessel. Corporal Sela must be one hell of a incredible swimmer to have gotten you there in the first place."

"Yeah, she was just telling me she comes from a long line of excellent swimmers."

As we were speaking, the captain of the vessel was ordering two small lamps with shades to be lit. Placed below the bulwark, they would not be seen in the distance but the glow would allow the surgeon to finish his work and the rest of the crew to do their work more easily.

Shondar, crouched down next to me said, "Thank you for saving my squad and trying to save Hrebror. If you hadn't killed that Stormcloak, we'd have never made it to the coast and we'd all be dead."

I practically bit my tongue to suppress my retort. I was fortunate that I hadn't been able to really see my victim's face in the darkness, but the glints of her dead eyes would haunt me for years.

"Get dried off the rest of the way and into a clean set of dry clothes. We'll be to Solitude in a few hours, so get some rest. You've earned it."

~ESV~

I had a difficult time getting to sleep, with Wraeva's lifeless eyes continuing to haunt me, but exhaustion eventually overcame my guilt and I fell into a troubled slumber.

When it finally came, my mother came calling in my dreams, though it could have been Sela, the half-nymph, with her blonde hair billowing around her in the depths. I tried to escape from her only to find her in front of me, wherever I turned, leading me to awake with a start.

Sela was shaking my arm and quietly calling my name as I woke. "Quickly, Aerik. Captain Shondar said for you to equip in this. A Stormcloak vessel is pursuing us."

"Where are we?"

"Just off the islands west of North Cape, where the Brinehammer was lost. The Stormcloaks don't usually venture this far west, so they may have heard of your presence."

Looking at the sky, I saw the morning twilight, just before dawn. As I thought about it, I shook my head. "Not this quickly, they didn't. There's no way someone could have gotten word from where we were to here before we arrived."

She nodded in agreement as I quickly put on a set of Imperial light armor favored by the sailors.

"Two hundred yards," called someone at the stern. "And closing."

"Rowers, speed eight!" called the Captain. "Eight speed."

Our little ship seemed to practically skim across the top of the water as they picked up their pace, but the Stormcloak vessel was a sleek, narrow vessel, longer with over twice as many oarsmen. Despite our speed, they were moving faster. The good news was that they didn't have a lot of room for other soldiers.

"Captain Shondar," I said. "How many abled-bodied soldiers do we have?"

"Fourteen of our group, plus the sixteen oarsmen."

"Their oarsmen will be their soldiers, correct?"

He nodded. "Yes. They may have a small additional squad aboard, but there wouldn't be room for many."

"As fast as they're moving, those guys are going to be really tired when they catch us."

Shondar smiled. Turning, he said, "Captain Medoan, can we increase to maximum speed for a bit?"

The sea captain frowned at the army captain for a moment but then relented.

"Rowers! Speed ten! Ten speed!"

Whereas eight was normally their maximum sustained speed, they could bump up their pace for a short time. Approximately three minutes passed and the oarsmen were starting to visibly tire. "Rowers, speed eight. Eight speed," called Medoan, starting to look nervous as the sleek Nord vessel still bore down on us.

Shondar's troops were armed and crouching, but he and I stood watching in the rear. "Squad, prepare to repel boarders," he called to his troops. In a much lower voice he said, "Contingency plan D. Don't show yourselves until they board. Plan D. Pass it back."

Medoan nodded and gave a brief smile. He moved to his oarsmen. "Starboard rank, prepare to reverse course, speed four, on my mark. Portside rank, on my mark, brake stop. Steersman, rudder hard to port on my mark. It will be a short count, gentlemen. Be ready and be alert!"

Even as Medoan was saying this, I saw a man step up in the prow of the Stormcloak vessel. There was something about the way he looked and stood.

Wizard, I thought to myself. Turning to Shondar, I said, "Bow! Quickly!"

"Do it!" he said to one of his soldiers who had a bow next to him on the deck.

I took the bow and arrow handed to me, drew, and hoped that I would be as lucky as Lydia's storied wonder shot with the dragon as I let the arrow fly. A second arrow followed and then a third.

My guess as to his being a wizard was confirmed right then when a ball of flame appeared in his hands and started to grow. He was getting ready to launch it at us, a massive fireball, it seemed, when it suddenly sputtered and died as the second arrow struck his lower leg—or possibly his knee?—breaking his concentration and probably his will to face more incoming missiles as he fell sideways. He was dragged toward the rear of their vessel as I grinned to myself. I returned the bow to the soldier still hiding in the aisle.

Our ship had been angling to the right with the Stormcloak vessel approaching to intersect on our starboard side. The sun rose above the land to the east as the ship neared, with the first two ranks stepping their oars and preparing grapnels. They planned to bring us together for boarding, while those in the rear of their vessel continued their efforts to close the distance. They were barely ten paces away when the grapnel corps started their hooks spinning. Just as they released, Medoan called out, "Mark!"

The Imperial vessel wasn't as fast as that of the Nords, but it proved its nimbleness as it came to a sudden, near halt and started to turn, backing to the left. As it did, the Nord vessel shot by. One of the Stormcloaks spinning a grapnel, anticipating the leap to our vessel, was so surprised that he fell into the sea. The Nord captain screamed for his men to stop, causing a clatter as some of their oars crashed into each other. There was a commotion as they tried to disengage and be able to bring their ship around.

As this was happening, two of the other three grapnels missed but the fourth caught one of our oarsmen and pulled him tight against the bulwark where he screamed in pain. Shondar's axe cut the rope and the oarsman and the grapnel fell to the deck.

"Forward ramming speed!" yelled Medoan as all but one of the oars dipped back in the water and our rowers pulled for the now exposed rear quarter of the Nord vessel. Most Nord vessels weren't equipped with a ram but some Imperial vessels from the south, like this one, were.

It wasn't a good hit, but was enough to cause the Stormcloak ship to shake as a few of its clinkered planks stove in right at the waterline from the force of our ram. Medoan had us reverse course immediately to avoid being caught and trapped in their vessel, but our brief engagement still gave time for several of the Stormcloaks to swarm over their rail to board our ship. They realized their mistake quickly once on our vessel.

Instead of being met by equally tired oarsmen, they were surprised to encounter a well-armed, somewhat-rested Imperial squad. Two of the Stormcloaks fell almost immediately. The others attacked and had some success as our oarsmen near the front scampered out of the way to let the soldiers do the work. One oarsman took a sword in the back and one of our soldiers staggered back, an axe buried in his armor at his shoulder.

With most of my gear lost in the Sea of Ghosts, I stepped up with a borrowed broadsword and blocked a thrust that would have taken one of our soldiers in the side. As her sword slashed down on the attacker, I realized that I'd at least partially repaid Sela for saving me earlier in the night. Her sword failed to penetrate the Stormcloak armor, so I slid the man's sword upward and slashed in with my dagger in my left hand. The Stormcloak looked at me in surprise as he fell sideways, dying.

"Thanks!" she said as she tried to move forward against another opponent but it was too late. With the sun now fully above the horizon, we'd backed far enough away from the Stormcloak ship to see that it was dead in the water as they tried to repair the hole and stop more water from entering. Seeing that no more help was coming, the last three Stormcloaks standing surrendered, their weapons dropping to the deck.

"Tie their hands," said Captain Shondar. This was accomplished in seconds, but Captain Medoan was shaking his head.

"No prisoners on my ship," he said. "Stormcloak traitors give us no quarter at sea, so they get none in return. Plank!"

The first mate brought out a wide, thick board that he secured on the side as I was shaking my head. "Captain, they surrendered. You can't kill them."

"On my ship, we do. If the situation was reversed, do you think they'd grant our men quarter? Not on your life."

"Maybe not, Captain Medoan, but somebody has to make the first move for peace. Show them you give quarter, and they'll learn. They can see us from where they are."

"They can see us, all right. They can see what we do to their ilk. You," he said, pointing to one of the prisoners, "on the plank."

"No, please," replied the Nord, but the first mate used a trident to force him on the plank and a moment later, a stab of the point forced the man into the sea. Wearing his armor, he sank from view even as those on the ailing Stormcloak vessel screamed at us.

I looked at Shondar when the first mate started forcing the second prisoner to the plank, but he shook his head apologetically. "Dragonborn, I have no authority here."

"Go, go, go, you rebel scum," yelled the first mate. The prisoner did a nice job dodging the prongs for two thrusts, but the mate dropped the point and stabbed his leg, leading the Nord, his hands still tied, to cry out as pitched over the edge. The mate laughed, but I wasn't. I think, like Hrebror, the prisoner had tried to call out "Sovngarde" before he hit the water.

As the mate stepped toward the last Nord, I stepped in the way. "That's enough. There will be no more killing here today."

"Out of the way, Nord scum. You're on an Imperial vessel so you'll go by our ways or you'll walk the plank, too."

He stabbed the fork toward me, not forcefully, but enough that he assumed it would get my attention and my compliance. Unfortunately for him, he'd underestimated my anger and my resolve.

I diverted the fork with the broadsword and hit him with a shout. "Fus Ro!" He was pushed back several feet and tripped on something, ending up on his back on the deck. While most, if not all, of the squad knew my identity, the ship's crew did not so there was surprise and fear at my action. I picked up the trident and drove its point deep into the deck.

"Enough," I said firmly to the mate, who was shaking off the shock before looking to Medoan.

"Captain, we've defeated them. All of their boarders are dead except for this one. Let me do this to make a difference."

The ship captain stared at me for several seconds before nodding. His gaze turned to the first mate; he gave a wave of his hand to call the man off.

"You know who I am," I stated to the Nord prisoner before me.

"The Dohvakiin," he breathed. Whether he was more surprised at my presence or to still be alive, I couldn't tell.

"Yes," I said, "and you are an Imperial prisoner, meaning that you are a dead man."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said and there's still a chance but only if you listen closely and go along with what I say."

This time, he shook his head. "No! I will not be a traitor to Skyrim. Kill me now."

I smiled. "Ah! So you consider yourself an honorable man?"

He looked at me with anger in he eyes. "Always."

My smile grew. "Perfect! That's the answer I was hoping for and it doesn't involve either of us being a traitor. I'd never ask an honorable man to do that, ah—I'm sorry, what was your name?"

He was so taken aback by my question that he responded before he could stop himself. "I'm Blan. Of Riverwood."

"Nice to meet you, Blan, and great area, Riverwood," I replied. "I have some friends there. With that in mind and taking into account that you're an honorable man, here's the way this is going to work. We're going to release you with a parole in a few minutes after you promise to lay down your arms and not fight again until you've been swapped in a formal prisoner exchange."

The confusion was clear on his face. "Ahem, what do you mean?"

"See, if you stay on this ship, the rules say someone has to kill you. Therefore, for me to go through with what I said, that means we've got to get off this ship, but we can't do that unless you promise to stop fighting until the Imperials swap you for someone on their side who's also agreed to the same terms: stop fighting until they're swapped."

"I've never heard of that," he said. His confused expression told me he thought I was making it all up.

"Well, most people around here haven't, but they use it down south in Cyrodiil sometimes. See, we're going to put this all in writing, that you've been paroled and can't fight again or support the Stormcloaks by giving them arms, armor, or money until there's a swap with a similar Imperial prisoner from your side. That's all there is to it."

"Really? What's to stop me from fighting anyway?"

"That's why I asked if you were honorable. If you really are honorable, you won't betray your word."

The idea struck suddenly. While Blan of Riverwood claimed to be an honorable man, he was also a Stormcloak who might be even more swayed by his honor to his cause than to his promise to me. Therefore, my thought was to give him a bit more incentive.

"Besides," I said in a low, conspiratorial voice, "if you betray your word, I'll know and I'll come hunting for you."

It was a devilish idea worthy of Lydia. My hands made a couple of ominous-looking passes in front of him as I said a few words under my breath. When done, I added, "That would be a real mistake, one you'd regret until your dying day. Which, incidentally, wouldn't be all that far off. So, do we have your word of honor that you'll live up to these terms?"

His eyes didn't leave my hands after I'd apparently cast a spell on him, but he slowly nodded.

"Say the words," I instructed, hoping that my hokum had actually passed for real hocus-pocus.

"You have my word," he said forcefully, finally looking me in the eyes. "I promise to abide by your terms."

"Great. Captain Shondar, please write that up and make two additional copies. Blan of Riverwood is to sign or make his mark on each, and you're to seal two up in a bottle for him." Turning back to Blan, I added, "You're to give one to your commanding officer and to keep the other until you're swapped. Your officer will need their copy so they can use the same wording for any Imperial prisoners they take and release under the same conditions."

Blan nodded again, finally understanding, but it was only then that one last question hit me. "By the way, Blan—you do swim, don't you?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Good. Sela, cut him loose, and Blan, you need to strip off your armor since the Stormcloak version isn't any more buoyant than the Imperial kind. Well, hurry it up, we don't have all day." As much time as this was taking, I was concerned that the wizard in the other vessel might recover enough to make a surprise reappearance, though I noted that Tribune Shondar did have four of his troops, each equipped with a bow, watching.

Fortunately, it didn't take too long before a small bottle was tied to a string placed around his neck. I approached him again, this time with a knife, given to me by one of the Imperials. He looked at it nervously, as if expecting me to use it on him.

"Blan, you're ready to go," I said. "There's your ship. I'd suggest you get there with all due haste because the water is freezing and because there can be dangerous creatures about. I can't help you with the cold, but here's a knife in case you run into anything dangerous on the way. Go, but don't forget: if you go back on your word, I will find you. The Nine go with you."

Free of his bonds, Blan took the knife and set it in his teeth before stretching his hands and arms for a few moments. He nodded to me with a look of appreciation in his eyes and then dived overboard into the water. I watched him swim for a while before turning to an angry Captain Medoan, who'd just given the order for the oarsmen to start rowing, and a leery Captain Shondar.

"What the hell was that?" growled Medoan. "And saying the Nine? Let's hope the bloody Thalmor don't find out about that."

"It's a way to keep the two sides from having to kill practically everyone in my country," I retorted in a similar voice. "As for the Thalmor, they won't find out...unless someone tells them."

Shondar continued to watch the other vessel as we pulled farther and farther away. He was silent until he saw Blan of Riverwood being pulled out of the water onto the Stormcloak vessel. He then turned to me and said, "I've heard of a parole and exchange system being used on prisoners in the south, like you said, but I've never heard of it being used, or given, in Skyrim."

"I hadn't heard of it being used in Skyrim, either," I agreed, thinking of how many young men and women of our land it might save if the war would only end soon. "But it is now."

~ESV~

Author's Note: Thanks for reading and a very special thank you to the new favorites and follows! Thanks, too, to the person who sent the really nice PM about the story. I really appreciate your support!

A parole and exchange system similar to what was described herein was used for some time during the American Civil War. Paroled prisoners weren't able to return to the fight until they were "swapped" in a formal prisoner exchange.