Once again, Muriena tended to Joslyn's wounds. A single lantern lit the tent that evening, and the sounds of movement and voices outside reduced to almost nothing. There was always activity in Hag Rock, but it seemed to have reached its lowest point. Joslyn found her vision was no longer hazy and that she was able to sit up. Muriena crouched at her side, mixing ingredients.
"Thank you," Joslyn murmured. There was a pause.
"You're an idiot," said Muriena. "He almost had you half a dozen times."
Joslyn tried to shrug and then found herself trying not to wince at the pain the attempted action caused. In truth, she had almost been killed far more than half a dozen times. Luck had saved her at countless moments in the fight, but it was her skill and her wiles that had truly seen her through. That had seen to the others coming to her aid when otherwise she would have been lying there in torn pieces. All that matters is that Borkul's rotting and I ain't.
"Sorry I got Borkul-brains all over your knife," said Joslyn.
Muriena snorted and said, "Keep it, then. If you're gonna be pulling stunts like that again, you'll need it."
Joslyn sat straighter and shook her head. "Next time," she said, "I'll have an army at my back."
"The Dragonborn?" asked Muriena. Joslyn nodded. Muriena applied a poultice to Joslyn's ribs and looked uncertain for a few moments. "What happened in the mine with her?" she asked.
A deep frown sunk across Joslyn's face and she fought against the memories. Forget her sneering satisfied smile, forget her quick hands and—"She betrayed us. She pretended to be one of us, and she betrayed us."
"And she left you behind." A directness now to Muriena's words. She looked Joslyn in the eyes and waited for a truth.
Joslyn thought of spitting and decided against it. How much truth do I need here? How bare to I need to lay myself? She remembered that final night. Madanach announcing the escape was imminent. The subdued preparations to fool the guards. The gradual departure through the gate. The Dragonborn and Joslyn lingering at the final hurdle. Pushing Joslyn against the rock wall with that smile. Something to remember the place by, she'd said. And Joslyn had responded as she had so many times before. The Dragonborn's hand had come up, toying around Joslyn's neck, running through her hair. And slammed her head into the wall. And left her there, bleeding and slow for when the guards came.
"Picking us off early," said Joslyn, trying not to swallow. I have a dozen lies for this. Just a matter of picking the right one.
"But you survived," said Muriena. She was frowning now.
"Takes more'n a Dragonborn to kill me." She tried for a grin here, and got an internal surge when it took on Muriena's face.
"After today, I can almost believe it."
Muriena leaned in and her lips met Joslyn's.
"Wait," said Joslyn, pulling away. "Almost?"
Muriena let out a quiet laugh and pushed Joslyn onto her back. Joslyn did not have time to think about supressing a yelp of pain before Muriena was on her. Forget the mine. Forget her. There is only now, and Muriena. Joslyn closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the storm of sensations.
"What did you make us take those clothes for?" asked Muriena in the morning, sprawled across Joslyn's body.
Joslyn found her grin came naturally. "Soon," she said.
Within the hour she was addressing her new army. Armed and bedecked like the savage warriors they were. Soon they will be splattered with the blood of our greatest foe.
"Most of you will be heading to Druadach Redoubt," she was saying. "In small groups—we don't want anyone getting wind of this. The hagravens should be there already. I need a small group inside, eight or nine. The rest of you, camp to the west, out of sight. No fires, no drinking. Surprise attacks don't work if they see you coming."
To Joslyn's great satisfaction, nobody else spoke. Watching and waiting for her next order.
"And I need three with me," she said. "We'll need to draw the Dragonborn there."
Before leaving Muriena's tent, she had scribbled a note, deliberately messy. It instructed the bearer to return to Druadach Redoubt once their business in Whiterun was done. She had then slipped it into the pocket of one of the stolen outfits.
Several she had travelled with looked about to volunteer, so she cut them off. She pointed out three she did not know the names of. Three whose deaths I can live with.
"You three with me. Emmard has command of the rest of you. Move fast and move quiet."
They headed east in stolen garb. Joslyn had slipped into the Blades armour. Badly blackened by fire and missing its matching sword, but it would do. The others were dressed as the bard, bartender, and woodchopper from Old Hroldan. The woodchopper's tunic had two holes in the back and the bartender's a dark stain across the front, but otherwise, Joslyn thought they passed well enough. A night and most of a day later, they were in sight of Whiterun.
"Here's the story," she said. "You three were travellers attacked by a dragon, I was the only survivor of the Blades that came to help you. Understood?"
They nodded. She'd done her utmost to not learn their names or anything about them as they journeyed. Now, heading up the path towards the city as evening drew in, Joslyn attempted to remove them from her mind completely. She wondered if the guards at the gate wore sympathetic looks under their helmets.
"You lot look like you've been through a few hells," said one of them.
"Aye," said Joslyn, trying to sound as Nordic as possible. "Dragon attack. Killed the rest of my squad."
"My sympathies," said the guard. "Healer's up to the left as you go in. Or if it's revenge you're after, the Dragonborn'll be around soon."
Joslyn tried not to show interest. Just another citizen of Skyrim with a healthy interest in the legend. "I heard she had a house here," she said, straining for a casual tone.
"Second place on the right," said the guard. "Past the forge. Can't miss it. She had to pop up to Solitude, but she's due back tonight."
Joslyn forced a nod and a smile. "My thanks," she said, and led her infiltrators into the Dragonborn's city.
She sent them in through a window around the side, after checking there was nobody in sight. She lingered nervously for a moment before one of the three's faces appeared at the broken window.
"Empty," they said.
"Then hide yourselves," she said. "And wait. I'll keep a lookout."
The face nodded and vanished from the frame. Joslyn slipped across the main path and found a dark corner to crouch in, alongside the building opposite the Dragonborn's house. Leaning back against the rough wood, she waited.
What she hadn't told the three inside was the simple truth known to all those who had encountered the Dragonborn: three attackers, on familiar ground, stood no chance whatsoever against the woman who had slain Alduin. The massacre would be short and bloody, of that Joslyn had no doubt. The hard part will be not leaping from the shadows to kill her myself.
But there was a trap waiting. The note planted in the stolen clothes would lead the Dragonborn to Druadach Redoubt, where her forces would be gathering even now. Three lives is a small price to pay to see her bleeding out in the dirt of the Reach.
Night had truly settled in before Joslyn's labours bore fruit. She shrank from passing guards and their torches, but was not seen. Then the great gates opened and a woman in ebony armour entered, a helmet tucked under her arm. Joslyn felt a chill seep through her bones. Here at last. She held herself tight and let out a slow silent breath. If she was seen, all would be lost—and her disguise would not fool the Dragonborn for an instant.
Her dark brown hair had lengthened, Joslyn noticed—but of course it had, and she cursed herself for noticing such pathetic things. She watched the woman stomping up the path and wished for the moment when her sword would rend the Dragonborn's flesh. She watched as the door to the house was opened and closed.
Every piece of the plan was now in place. Joslyn darted from her hiding place and hoped to be out of the city before the first dead Forsworn hit the floor. Westward bound, now. To Druadach Redoubt, where it would all end.