Joslyn ran most of the distance back to the Reach, two moons watching her every jagged step. Somewhere west of Rorikstead she collapsed into unconsciousness and dreamed of the dead. Come the dawn, she was on the move again. Everything must be in place. Everything must go as planned.
When she knew Druadach Redoubt was over the next hill, she halted and tried to steady her breathing. It would not do to enter her camp looking as though she'd run half the width of Skyrim in sheer terror. It was a struggle, but she closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands, and when she looked up, she could believe she was fine. She tossed the Blades armour into the river as she crossed. Underneath were her true colours, Forsworn colours.
The camp was where she'd ordered it to be. No fires, no noises. Looking from the north or east, the Redoubt seemed as uninhabited as ever. But just around the ridge to the west was her army. Camped tightly together, eating cold meals, murmuring hushed words. Silence fell as Joslyn's entrance was noted. She waved Emmard over and smiled at Muriena.
"Everything's ready?" asked Joslyn.
Emmard nodded. "There's some inside, like you said. Hagravens are making new Briarhearts in there, too."
Joslyn felt a flush of fear. Every piece of firepower against the Dragonborn would be helpful, but Briarhearts were too powerful, too hard to control. After this job was done, she would have to keep them in check. A problem for another day. A day when our scourge is lifted.
"The others aren't with you?" asked Emmard.
"No." There was hesitation on Emmard's face, so Joslyn added, "They'll back soon enough. All part of the plan."
She thought her tone was too jaunty, and indeed Emmard did not look convinced, but he said nothing. That was good enough for Joslyn.
"Get the hagravens out of the cave," she said. "I want them to be part of the surprise when the Dragonborn gets here."
Emmard nodded and moved off in the direction she'd ordered. She noticed most of her army was looking at her.
"Keep your weapons ready," she announced. "And be ready to move at my order."
She felt her words rushing out, felt herself losing interest in this moment. She felt her feet carry her towards Muriena.
The Dragonborn arrived that night. Joslyn crouched behind the rocks and watched the torch bob across the river, watched the wood being arranged and the fire spark. Watched the shadowed figure sit and eat. She watched long after her sentries had changed and changed again. But still the Dragonborn did not enter the Redoubt.
"Perhaps she's waiting for someone?" ventured Gerrick.
Joslyn sneered. "She has no allies, not with her traitor's blood."
But a day and half later, when her troops were growing wearisome and she was wondering how much food those inside the cave had, her words were proved wrong. Two figures joined the Dragonborn at her camp in the early hours of the dawn: a Khajiit and an Altmer. Joslyn strained to hear the conversation but could discern nothing. It was clear enough that they were allies, however. And they appeared almost as formidable as the Dragonborn.
"This part of the plan too?" hissed Emmard from further behind the rock where they lay hidden. Joslyn glared at him.
"We are Forsworn," she said. "We can take two of her craven whelps." Unless she attracts her own kind. The formidable. The unpredictable. The indestructible.
The now-three outside the Redoubt sat and ate. Joslyn watched the easy way their limbs moved, the smooth way their mouths formed words. By the time they stood and moved towards the cave, she was audibly seething. The Khajiit fitted an arrow to her bow and pulled off a shot that Joslyn would have thought impossible: across the river, through the spiked barriers, and into the throat of the Forsworn sentry.
Joslyn looked at those behind her in their hiding place. None had seen. Better they not know what we're up against. Who are these people? When she looked up again the three figures were vanishing into the Redoubt itself. She signalled her followers. Noise now, but no matter. She drew her sword and led them over the rocks to the open area around the cave. In short orders, Emmard ordered them into a loose half-circle. Then, they waited.
They numbered almost thirty. Two hagravens, two Briarhearts (one new, a third inside), numerous warriors and archers all ready for the moment their hated foe would emerge and find herself up against impossible odds.
Still the Forsworn waited. There, after so much preparation, so many years, such waiting seemed interminable to Joslyn. She found it difficult to restrain her movements. Soon, she calmed herself. Soon it will all be at an end.
Joslyn was close to the river, at the rear of the force when, suddenly, she appeared. The figure of the Dragonborn, in bloodied ebony armour, at the cave entrance. Yes. Yes! Joslyn spread her arms wide.
"Do you see my army, Dragonborn?" she called out. "This is your end! I will watch you bleed out alone and the Forsworn will once again rule the Reach."
The Dragonborn, too, spread her arms. "Oh, but I'm never alone," she said.
Joslyn expected the Khajiit and the Altmer to appear, but instead the Dragonborn Shouted into the sky. The Forsworn flinched. Tales abounded of frost, fire, and wind emerging with that voice. But nothing happened. The sound echoed off the rocks of the Reach and Joslyn laughed. She signalled her archers and Briarhearts. The Khajiit and the Altmer appeared now. All the better.
"Leave nothing of her!" yelled Joslyn. It was at that moment that an immense red dragon landed in the middle of the Forsworn forces, crushing several—including Emmard—under its scaly hide and bowling half a dozen away with a sweep of its tail. More importantly, it blocked Joslyn's way to her vengeance. The Shout had had an effect after all.
The Dragonborn leapt from the cave path into the melee. Joslyn could see the Khajiit and the Altmer treading down the path, launching arrows and lightning bolts respectively, into her people. She gestured frantically at Sabsa.
"Get those!" she spat. One of the hagravens joined the small group that splintered off. Arrows were loosed at dragon and Dragonborn, but few seemed to have effect. Joslyn saw Briette preparing a huge fireball, but more ancient words came, this time from the dragon's throat. Flame streamed forth from his throat. Briette and at least five others were incinerated.
Others were fleeing the destruction. Cowards, all of them. In the Forsworn's hour of need they desert us! None got far; the arrows of the Khajiit were many and quick. Most of her army was routed. The Dragonborn was cutting towards her with ferocious speed. Joslyn took a step back and found the river barring her passage. Only Gerrick and Muriena remained by her side. Still hope, still hope. Even among this failure and treachery.
The dragon crunched a Forsworn between its jaws. As the screams died, Joslyn identified the figure as Mathane. When she looked forward again, the Dragonborn was upon them. Gerrick leapt and was cut down, their foe's pace never slowing. Muriena's axe was turned aside and her blood splattered across the dirt. A huge dwarven axe was clasped in the Dragonborn's gauntleted fist and Joslyn saw it cut through Muriena's flesh and bone with equal ease.
No, no! That body she had lain so close to, so merged with, fell broken and empty. The Dragonborn hesitated. Joslyn gripped her sword and felt the bones in her knuckles straining against the skin. Still time to make this right. Still a future, still a death.
She moved and knew she came in fast. But her sword shattered on the Dragonborn's shield. The impact sent her rebounding backwards. Still time. Joslyn went for her knife, Muriena's knife. But she saw the axe coming for her neck. There was a moment, a fraction of a heartbeat, where Joslyn could fall into an abyss of pain. Physical pain, to match the pain of failure and absence ratcheting around her soul. Then, the moment was ended. Then, there was nothing.
Joslyn's head rolled a few paces before settling. Its swift blood soaked deep into the soil of the Reach. There was a gap, a decisive silence that settled over the Redoubt. Then the Dragonborn kicked Joslyn's corpse into the river and turned back to her allies. The body of the last Forsworn snagged on a rock, denied its slow journey towards the sea.