Joslyn flagged their first destination as Lost Valley Redoubt, an immense ruin to the east that had once been home to dozens of Forsworn. She and Muriena made a careful journey. They stayed off the roads and Joslyn forced Muriena into training every night. She masked it as practice, but in truth it had been so long since she'd held an axe, she was worried her skills had evaporated. But their first sparring proved otherwise; Joslyn was rusty, but still as ferocious as ever.
She took them on a steep, alternative way to Lost Valley. They scrambled up and over rocks to reach Cradle Stone Tower. A small tower and, as it turned out, an empty one. Joslyn remembered when it had been a twisted lair for hagravens, and mentioned as much to Muriena.
"Nobody's seen any of 'em in a long while," said Muriena. The woman always had her bow strung, and was as comfortable in the wilds as anyone Joslyn had met. "Borkul thinks they're all dead."
The Dragonborn was nothing if not thorough. But Joslyn had to keep that concern to herself. Even here, alone in the Reach with Muriena, she still felt the need for a performance. Despite the woman's desire to accompany her, Joslyn was unsure of her motives.
"If there are any, we'll find them," she said. They headed across to Bard's Leap Summit, the peak above the Redoubt. It was deserted, the only occupants bones and a pair of wolves that slinked away when the Forsworn approached. Joslyn walked carefully out onto the stone bridge that extended over the waterfall. Leaning out over the huge drop, she double-checked behind her to make sure Muriena wasn't close enough to push her off. Can't trust anyone.
Her view of Lost Valley Redoubt was clear. It was also clear of any Forsworn. Their old animal skulls and totems had been torn down. It was obvious even from such a height that the Redoubt had been occupied by a large gang of bandits. Joslyn spat off the platform, the projectile arcing and falling, lost in the churning water at the base of the falls.
She turned back. "Too many," she said.
"What, we're not going to kick them out on our own?" asked Muriena with a smirk.
Joslyn shook her head. "We'll be back later. All the old Forsworn places will be returned to us. Come on."
Not good enough. But it would have to do for now. She was glad there were no more followers around to disappoint. However, when they turned to descend back the way they had come, Muriena spotted smoke up to the south-west.
It was another difficult climb, and more than once the pair was forced to go back and find an alternate route. But when they reached the small flat area at the top it was a Forsworn sword that Joslyn deflected from its strike at her head. She looked around. Five, hunched around a pitiful fire, wounded and dejected. Most of them without weapons.
Weak and cowardly. But they contain potential. No doubt these were the survivors from the Redoubt below, forcibly removed when the bandits had taken up residence. They looked at Joslyn and Muriena with something approaching shock.
"Fellow Forsworn," Joslyn addressed them. "You are reborn. An army gathers at Hag Rock Redoubt, and with it your hopes for the Reach. Travel there, and meet with Borkul the Beast. He will form you into the instruments of destruction you were always meant to be."
"Borkul?" mumbled one of the Forsworn. "I heard the Dragonborn killed him."
Joslyn restrained a hiss. If only. "Just get to Hag Rock," she ordered them. There must have been something in her tone, for they kicked dirt over the fire and set about gathering their meagre supplies. Muriena tended to the worst of their wounds, and the pair accompanied them for a short while west.
Joslyn was unable to keep from grinning as she watched the group move off. In one stroke she had doubled the Forsworn's strength. So it begins.
Satisfied with her display of leadership, Joslyn turned north. Muriena was regarding her quietly, and spoke little during their cold evening camps. They left Fort Sungard well alone; it had been claimed by the Imperial Legion during the Civil War. They went on, to Serpent's Bluff Redoubt. Arriving in the early hours of the morning, they discovered the exterior of the camp to be a smouldered ruin, long ago razed to the ground. Another victim of the Dragonborn.
They descended into the ruins, Joslyn with torch in one hand and axe in the other, Muriena with bow drawn. They searched the dank rooms methodically. In a storeroom next to the main hall, huddled in a gap between a broken shelf and the stone wall, was a small woman. They almost passed the whole room by, but Joslyn heard muffled breathing.
The woman's eyes clenched tight upon seeing them. Small, black eyes sunk in a dirty face, framed by wild blonde hair. Dressed in scraps of their armour.
"You're dead," she murmured. "You're all supposed to be dead."
Joslyn signalled to Muriena to lower her bow. She edged towards the woman and returned her axe to her belt to show she meant no harm. The woman shifted and Joslyn got a look at her chest. There was a hole, red scars standing out against pale skin. Briarheart. Better than Joslyn could ever have hoped for.
"Not dead," said Joslyn. "The Forsworn are returning."
"Not dead?" asked the woman. She scrambled to her bare feet, blinking furiously at the new light. "It's been so long . . . I thought the cause was lost."
Joslyn allowed herself a smile in sight of others. "Not lost," she said. "We're back."
Outside Serpent's Bluff, leaving the Briarheart frowning up at the sun, Muriena took Joslyn aside.
"Nobody's seen a Briarheart in a long time," she murmured. "You're just gonna let her trot off back to Hag Rock?"
One side of Joslyn's mouth curved into a smile. "Muriena," she said. "You wouldn't be suggesting we keep our new friend hidden from Borkul, would you?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying," said Muriena.
Joslyn dropped the half-smile and grabbed at Muriena's collarbone. "Don't say this lightly," she said. "Will you support me against Borkul?"
"Of course," said Muriena. "You think I'd let that skunk lead the Forsworn? He only joined up so he could get a shortcut to some killing."
Joslyn nodded. Finally, an ally. And perhaps a second one. She turned towards the Briarheart. Her name, they discovered through much circuitous prodding as they moved on, was Briette. It seemed she'd been in the ruins since the Dragonborn had purged the place, living off skeevers and worse, sometimes heading across to steal from the people of Rorikstead. Her preferred magic was fire, in large quantities. Joslyn had to restrain her several times from attracting attention to their position as they travelled.
Not the sanest Forsworn she'd ever met, but certainly not the opposite either. Their cause had always attracted those on the fringes. Still, Joslyn was glad to have magic on her side, even if it was potentially destructively unreliable. She knew all she had to do was point Briette in the right direction, then sit back and watch the flames rise.
Joslyn made a note of the Old Hroldan Inn as an easy target. Further north, they discovered another pocket of Forsworn in Bleakwind Bluff and sent them back to Hag Rock. Red Eagle Redoubt and the Sundered Towers, however, were empty. Only a single troll crept among the ruins, which Briette incinerated with a fireball.
They gave the Karthspire a wide berth. Muriena told them it had been overtaken by the Blades, their numbers greatly expanding. But at Four Skull Lookout there was a trio of Forsworn fighters who almost took Joslyn's head off when she entered without warning. She had to beat each of them into submission to get them to follow her, but when they did, she knew they would follow her into any fire she could find. No question, then, of giving them up to Borkul. Emmard, Mathane, and Sabsa were their names, and Joslyn found herself quickly categorising them as her 'elites' in her mind.
She felt the need for a true fight. The smell of blood in the air and the taste of death. None of them expected any luck at Broken Tower Redoubt. Of all the old Forsworn hideouts, they all reasoned it was the most likely to have been overrun with bandits, due to its proximity to a main road. They were right, but Joslyn would not suffer another defeat.
She knew the bandits would be watching the road, so the Forsworn came at them from over the mountain, climbing the rocky crags. None of her band complained about the arduous ascent, to her deep pleasure. Twice she reached out to pull Muriena up, relishing both her restoring strength and the feel of the other woman's calloused hand in her own.
Instead of the traditional Forsworn rush, Joslyn made her followers hang back on the peak. The future of the Forsworn will be no different to our past if we do not change our tactics. They peppered the bandits with arrows and fire until all came to them. With the high-ground advantage and the doors as readymade chokepoints, it wasn't long before the bandit chief fell before them, even though they numbered only six.
Briette's magicka reserves were not deep, but her spells were potent while they lasted; huge waving walls of flame that encircled enemies, zooming projectiles that exploded into infernos on impact. Her magic was raw and untrained, just how Joslyn liked it.
They walked through the fort afterwards, restoring old Forsworn icons to their rightful places. But Joslyn knew they didn't have the numbers to hold it, and so continued on.
At Dragon Bridge Overlook their luck held again. It was night when they approached and they'd seen the light of a single fire from a long distance away. It had never been a very large camp, but it had been reduced to a single tent with a single occupant.
That occupant was naked from the waist up, and his muscles bulged. A rippling burn scar blasted his right side. He unfolded himself and rose as they approached, grasping a makeshift mace in his huge hand. He was moving fluidly into a battle-stance when he noticed their armour. A wide grin emerged from his dark red beard.
"Knew some would keep the faith," he boomed, his voice deep and echoing. "Name's Gerrick." He lowered his mace and extended his hand to Joslyn, who was pleased that he picked her out as the leader. They shook, Joslyn pushing back against Gerrick's crushing grip.
"Are there others?" asked Joslyn. Don't sound too eager, you fool. You could take the Reach on your own if you had to.
Gerrick's expression darkened. "Aye," he said. "Cravens. You don't want nothing to do with them."
Joslyn angled her neck and looked him dead in the eyes. I am not weak. I am not weak. "If we're going to retake the Reach," she said. "We'll need all the help we can get."
Gerrick just grunted.
"Where are these cravens you speak of?" pushed Joslyn.
Gerrick spat. "Over the river," he said. "In Bruca's Leap Redoubt." He scratched his beard. "I will follow you," he added, "but do not be surprised if they will not do you the same honour."
Joslyn turned away, positioning in her mind the location of Bruca's Leap. She didn't ask Gerrick how many. Numbers are no matter. They will do me whatever honour I please.
The now seven-strong group made the river crossing to Bruca's Leap that night. Gerrick filled them in on the way. Somehow, it had been a cave the Dragonborn had not discovered. Or perhaps one that she'd purged and moved on from. Either way, a group of Forsworn had fled there, keeping to themselves, only venturing out to gather food. They were led by a man called Dreanan, who Gerrick could not mention without spitting.
"The Dragonborn has much to answer for," said Joslyn.
"Aye," said Gerrick. "She'll taste my mace soon enough."
Joslyn spun, axe in hand, and levelled the blade a hair's breadth from Gerrick's face.
"The Dragonborn will pay," she hissed, "for what she has done to our people. But when the time comes . . . the kill is mine. Understood?"
A grin spread across Gerrick's face. "Understood," he said.
They entered the small cave with Gerrick and one of the warriors carrying torches, and startled the inhabitants into waking. The space seemed to be made even smaller by Gerrick's bulk. The sleepers arose with shouts of surprise, Joslyn counting them as they did. Five, six, nine, ten. The Forsworn live!
The wakened men and women scrambled for weapons, halting when they saw how their wakers were garbed. Joslyn decided she had to have the first word.
"You useless bastards didn't even post a watch?" she asked them. The ten looked sheepishly at each other, everyone wanting someone else to talk. Eventually, a skinny man with a missing left hand did. The look of disgust on Gerrick's face told her that this was Dreanan. A miserable excuse for a leader if there ever was one.
"Nobody bothers us here," he said, sniffing heavily. "We keep to ourselves, stay out of trouble, and stay alive." The other cave-dwellers nodded, pale and thin, though some were unable to shift their gaze from the weapons of Joslyn and her followers.
Joslyn saw immediately what she would have to do. Fear is vital. I must be feared and respected by my own before the rest of the Reach will follow. She stepped casually forward, drawing her axe and burying it in Dreanan's head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Briette putting a spell on hold and Muriena putting an arrow to her bow. The cave-dwellers jumped away from Dreanan to avoid the spray of blood, cringing from Joslyn's violence.
"Now," she announced, seeing a smile on Gerrick's face, "the Forsworn are returned. You're either with me, or"—she gestured at Dreanan's body in its growing pool of blood—"you're with him."
She dispatched one of her elites, Emmard, to lead the cravens back to Hag Rock. It left her with only six, but they could move all the faster for it to their last few destinations. Joslyn held a quiet word with Emmard before he left, tasking him with sowing disdain and dissatisfaction with Borkul among the growing troops. When Joslyn returned, she would need all the allies she could get.
She addressed the cravens—as she was internally referring to them—before they left.
"Do any of you know of other Forsworn still living?"
There was a round of head-shaking. Useless bastards. Fine. They would head north then, to Deepwood Redoubt and Hag's End. Maybe there, given its heritage, she would find the hagravens she'd been looking for. For that was their last resort. Kolskeggr Mine, Muriena informed her, had been taken over by the Silver-Bloods, and Blind Cliff Cave, Gerrick added, had fallen to Falmer. If there were any more Forsworn left, they'd be at Hag's End.