Chapter 41

Skyrim

Greetings, to the glorious Paravant, leader of the Nedic liberation of Cyrod, from the indomitable High Kingdom of Skyrim.

Some months ago, you requested an alliance with our kingdom. At that time, much as we wished to acquiesce, we were unable to lend you our assistance due to the unfortunate timing of your message. We also assured you that after winter had passed, we would once again consider your request. Now, we may answer you properly. By the time this message reaches you, the worst of the mountain snows should have fallen, so the weather shall no longer hinder us. As such, we formally accept your proposal for an alliance.

We wish to present to you two options that shall determine the manner of our arrival into Cyrod. Traditionally, those traveling between Cyrod and Skyrim have utilized the Pale Pass, as it is the widest and least dangerous route between our two regions. However, the pass also leads directly to the Ayleid kingdom of Rielle. If you have conquered Rielle, or at least ensured that we shall not be attacked by their warriors once we enter Cyrod, we shall use this pass. If not, then it is highly unlikely that the Ayleids shall politely allow us to enter your realm with a full army, and as the Pale Pass is quite defensible, we are likely to suffer heavy losses attempting to cross there.

We are also aware that your forces have conquered the city of Sancre Tor. As it happens, Sancre Tor also lies near a pass through the Jerall Mountains. Admittedly, this passage is narrower and more treacherous; however, since your army holds one end of the path, we may at least be assured that we shall be able to cross into Cyrod without fearing retribution from our enemies.

We wish to advise you that the nearest settlement to Sancre Tor on the northern side of the Jerall Mountains is the town of Falkreath. At the time of the writing of this letter, Falkreath is held by a band of Ayleids that have turned the settlement into a slaving camp. We have attempted to liberate the town, but our forces were rebuffed, and so it remains in Ayleid hands. Know that if our army approaches Falkreath before it is liberated, we suspect that we shall once again suffer a humiliating defeat. We would like to request that, if you choose this path, you first commit your forces to liberating the town to facilitate our safe passage into Cyrod.

We leave the decision about which route you wish for us to take in your hands. We also extend our regrets and apologies that we must request your aid before we can lend you ours. Nevertheless, you and your men have proven most adept at defeating the Ayleid scourge, and we are confident that you shall prevail once again. Please inform us of which path you intend for us to follow, and we shall march to meet you immediately. Together, we shall drive the Ayleids from Cyrod and ensure its eternal freedom.

May Shor watch over you.

-Vrage Haraldson, High King of Skyrim

Telepe was unable to keep a sardonic smirk from tugging at the corner of his mouth as he rolled up the scroll and folded his hands behind his back, before gazing around at the men and women assembled in Sancre Tor's throne room. He stood beside Edanu, who was sitting on the throne, resting his chin on his hand. Pelinal stood with his arms folded near the eastern wall, apart from the centurions that were arrayed in front of their new legate. Tari also lingered near the entrance to the throne room, her eyes darting furtively from Edanu to Telepe as she chewed on her lower lip.

"How droll," Edanu remarked, his tone utterly unamused. "Is that all? We must simply take yet another Ayleid settlement before Skyrim will ally with us? I'm pleased that they're asking such a low price of us." He sighed, then and leaned forward on the throne, resting his elbows on his thighs and folding his hands in front of him. "Very well. Let us consider this message one part at a time. The first question that King Vrage has posed is whether we should advise him to take the Pale Pass or the bridge to Sancre Tor." He paused, then asked simply, "Are we all agreed that we should tell him to meet us here?"

There was a chorus of affirmative murmurs and nods from his centurions. Telepe silently agreed as well. Though the Pale Pass was said to be the easiest path between Cyrod and Skyrim, Rielle likely still held the pass. It was possible that Perrif and her forces had already liberated Rielle, or at least allied it, but there was no way to confirm that without waiting weeks for a response. The sooner the Nords joined them, the better.

Edanu nodded, satisfied, and then he motioned to the scroll that Telepe was holding. "Second: what do we know about this alternate pass that King Vrage mentioned? The letter claimed that it was more dangerous than the Pale Pass?" he asked, turning to Golbrom.

Golbrom stepped forward, his thumbs hooked into his belt. "It is," he confirmed. "Where the Pale Pass is wide and expansive, the pass between Falkreath and Sancre Tor is narrow and deadly. The terrain is rocky and difficult to traverse even at the height of summer. At this time of year, it is also likely to be covered with snow and ice. There are sheer drops and deadly pitfalls that will prove lethal to the unwary. We shall have a difficult time if we choose to bring wagons with us, as even the safest path can severely damage the wheels of even the sturdiest carts."

"Indeed? If this pass is so deadly, why would the king suggest it?" Edanu frowned.

"Expedience, most likely," the Nordic mercenary captain, Thornir, suggested. "While it is difficult to bring wagons, Sancre Tor and Falkreath are not far from each other. The journey would be relatively short, and it would be a simple matter to establish supply lines from Skyrim to Cyrod. Even if goods can only be transported by beasts of burden rather than full wagons, it should suffice.

"If we liberate Falkreath," Edanu countered, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Which brings us to the next part of this message – are we committed to freeing the city?" There was a brief murmur among his centurions as Edanu turned to Telepe. "In his message, King Vrage mentioned that he attempted to free the city and failed. Is there any indication of why he was unsuccessful?"

"There is not," Telepe answered, unfurling the scroll again and briefly scanning it to be certain. "It's rather surprising, particularly since the Nords are said to be arguably the mightiest warriors in Tamriel," he added drily. "It's heartening to know that their vaunted army cannot take a single settlement inside their own borders." He then noticed the glares of some of the Nordic mercenaries, and he flushed with embarrassment as he realized he had said too much.

There was a brief, awkward pause as a heavy silence filled the room. Then, Golbrom mercifully spoke up. "Admittedly, Falkreath is not truly part of the Kingdom of Skyrim," he remarked. "As it isn't King Vrage's domain, he is not compelled to defend it."

"It isn't?" Edanu asked, frowning slightly.

"The men-of-'kreath are not his subjects no," Golbrom explained. "The city is populated by both Nords and Nedes that escaped from Cyrod. Many of us have the blood of both peoples running through our veins. In a way, it makes us…." He paused, searching for the correct word.

Mongrels?" Telepe supplied with a wry smirk, tapping a pointed ear.

"…Of a sort, yes," Golbrom agreed with a chuckle. He then turned back to Edanu and added, "Until now, he left Falkreath be, treating it as an independent jarldom. That's why the Ayleids were able to take it in the first place, without suffering retribution from the Nordic Empire. If King Vrage marched on Falkreath, it suggests that the townsfolk themselves pleaded for his aid."

"That is surprising," Telepe remarked, choosing his words carefully when he noticed the Nords glowering at him again. "King Vrage has pushed as far west as the Bjoulsae River, and he has conquered large swaths of Dwemereth in the east. Why is Falkreath not part of Skyrim, then?"

"Because he does not wish to subjugate a people he considers his own kin," Thornir explained in an even tone. "While the men-of-'kreath are not fully Nordic, they are at least cousins to the people of Skyrim. If they wish to join Skyrim, they shall do so of their own will. Until then, King Vrage shall respect their sovereignty."

Telepe resisted the urge to scoff as he saw the Nordic mercenaries nodding in agreement at their king's apparent grace and magnanimity. He resisted the urge to retort that the king apparently had no respect for the sovereignty of his own people, despite their Nedic and Nordic blood.

"Enough," Edanu announced, holding up his hand. "We are losing focus. So, we don't know why the Nords failed to liberate Falkreath. The question is this, then – do we march to liberate Falkreath ourselves?" He brought his hands up and rested his chin on them. "I would hear your thoughts."

"Our thoughts?" Pelinal scoffed from his position by the wall, almost spitting his reply. "It is not worth even debating. We have been asked to slaughter a band of Ayleid slavers. Our mortal enemies. In doing so, we shall secure an alliance with a king who is willing to offer the aid of the most powerful human army in Tamriel. Why are we even hesitating?"

Edanu's centurions began nodding and murmuring to each other in agreement. The legate considered them for a long moment, then turned to Telepe. "What say you, emissary? Is there a more peaceful way to secure Skyrim's cooperation?"

Pelinal turned to glare pointedly at Telepe, as though daring him to disagree, though Telepe ignored the knight's furious stare. He lightly gripped his chin, the short bristles of his beard tickling his fingers. "Perhaps there are other ways that we could convince King Vrage to ally," he mused slowly, ignoring Pelinal as the knight growled at him. "Furthermore, acquiescing to this demand may suggest to him that we will accommodate any request that he makes, which sets a poor diplomatic precedent, as it could allow him to make greater demands in the future, with no assurance that he will uphold his own oaths in return. We do not wish to appear weak, after all." He then looked up and shook his head. "However, pursuing other diplomatic routes would take time, and there is no guarantee that our efforts would prove successful. Conversely, King Vrage has provided us with a straightforward task to complete, with the promise of an alliance in return. It is as simple an offer as we could hope for, and one that is well within our abilities to fulfill. In this case, I concur with Whitestrake," he concluded, giving the knight a pointed look. "There is no reason for us not to liberate Falkreath."

Pelinal's eyebrows rose briefly, and then he snorted and glanced away. "So even elves can see sense on occasion," he growled.

Telepe chose to ignore that jab, returning his attention to Edanu. "What's more, if we secure Falkreath, we will do more than simply free a town from Ayleid occupation," he continued. "This shall provide us a trade route with Skyrim, which will grant us access to the kingdom's vast wealth and resources."

"To say nothing of the threat these Ayleids pose anyways," another one of Edanu's centurions added, her voice echoing through the throne room. "So long as they hold of Falkreath, they are a dagger pointed at our backs. Perhaps one might think they pose little threat, trapped as they are between our territory and Skyrim, but I fear they could become a cornered rat, which may lash out at all sides and cause us more harm than we expect, especially if we continue to allow the elves to gather their strength and reinforce their defenses. It is better to remove this boil now before it festers."

"And let us not forget the most important reason," Golbrom growled. The mercenary paced slowly back and forth in front of the throne, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes burning with rage. "They have taken men as their thralls. That alone should be cause enough for us to storm the city and put every one of these cursed elves to the sword."

As the throne room echoed with cries of agreement and assent, Telepe gave Golbrom a sidelong look. He knew that this matter was personal for him. Not only would their success mean the liberation of his homeland, but he also undoubtedly hoped that after they retook the city, he might discover his family's whereabouts. Of course, that didn't diminish the fact that the man made an excellent point, and his words clearly resonated with Edanu's Nedic centurions, who were likely remembering the horrors and pains of their own captivities.

"Then we are decided?" Edanu asked simply. When his centurions began shouting in agreement, Edanu smiled and sat back on his throne. "Very good," he stated calmly. "I wish for ten centurions to volunteer for this expedition. Order your men to pack as much food as they can carry, and to prepare themselves to travel through the mountains."

"My men shall accompany you," Thornir chimed in. "We have more experience fighting in Skyrim, after all, and we know the terrain. What's more, it has been months since many of us have returned home… and we cannot resist the opportunity to free our kin." He smirked slightly. "I'm certain that you can sympathize."

"Of course. We would be honored to have you join us," Edanu nodded. He then turned to Pasare. "Would you be so kind as to scout the pass before we depart? I would particularly like to know if we are likely to encounter Ayleids guarding the roads."

"Naturally," Pasare grinned, inclining her head.

"It's unlikely that they'd be able to station more than a few warriors in the pass," Golbrom remarked. "It's quite inhospitable. However, it is wise to take that precaution nonetheless."

Edanu glanced at the mercenary and nodded shortly, then turned back to Telepe. "If you would be so kind as to draft a message to King Vrage, informing him of our intentions and asking him to meet us near Falkreath…."

"Not at all," Telepe replied with a slight smile.

"Very good. Is there anything else?" Edanu asked.

There was a momentary pause, and then a voice called out, "I do have one more suggestion." All eyes turned to the back of the room, where the elven mage, Farilel, was holding up her hand. The crowd parted to let her move forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You recall that I have been training a few students in the art of battle-magic?"

"Of course," Edanu said, his eyes widening and a grin spreading across his face. "You mean to say…?"

"I believe that my apprentices are ready for their first foray into combat," Farilel nodded, unable to keep from smiling herself. "Four of them have adequately mastered elemental spells, and I would like for them to join you."

"We shall be honored to have them," Edanu agreed quickly.

Telepe shot a quick glance at Tari, worried that she would be crestfallen by the news that "her" students had progressed so far without her. Thankfully, he was pleased to see that she was beaming with pride, and when Farilel caught her eye, the mer gave her a wink of approval.

"Then I shall ask them to join your muster immediately," Farilel said with a bow.

"Excellent," Edanu nodded, pushing himself up. "Now then, let us make ready!"

As the crowd began to disperse, Telepe tucked King Vrage's scroll into the leather pouch on his belt and began making his way towards his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a tiny figure lingering in the shadows of the door, its bright green eyes fixed on him. When it was certain that it had Telepe's attention, it turned and padded through the door, evidently telling him to follow. Telepe chuckled lightly to himself as he fell into step behind it.

The small, black creature led the way to his room and parked itself on its haunches in front of the door before giving him a pointed look over its shoulder. Telepe obligingly opened the door, and the small creature strode confidently into the room as though it owned it. As Telepe shut the door behind him, it jumped up onto his bed and turned around, sitting back on its haunches. Its green eyes stared at him, unblinking, and its tail twitched lightly behind it as Telepe took a seat at his desk, turning his chair to face his guest.

"It's good to see you again, Ra'karra," Telepe greeted the Khajiit, inclining his head.

"This one is pleased to see that you have returned unharmed," the cat purred, leaning forward on her forepaws.

"As am I," Telepe replied with a chuckle. "I trust your stay has been pleasant thus far?"

"As well as can be expected, considering that this one has not revealed herself to any other," she remarked absently. "At least your companions are kind, in their own way. There is no shortage of water, though a meal more filling than scraps would be greatly appreciated."

"I shall see to it as soon as I can," Telepe assured the feline. "However, I suspect that you have something you wish to discuss first."

"You are correct," Ra'karra nodded, seeming impressed by his insight. "This one was intrigued by your conversation in the great hall. You intend to depart for Skyrim soon, yes?"

"We do," Telepe confirmed. "I'm uncertain when, but as soon as possible, preferably."

"Very good. This one would like to accompany you," Ra'karra stated calmly.

Telepe regarded her quietly for a few moments. While he didn't intend to deny her request – nor could he, he realized – he was curious about her reasons. "May I ask why?" he asked, careful to keep his tone politely intrigued, rather than accusatory or suspicious.

"I would like to witness how you conduct diplomacy," Ra'karra replied simply. "Particularly when you are attempting to secure an alliance with a kingdom as vast as Skyrim."

Telepe chuckled lightly and sat back in his chair. "You were welcome to accompany us during our trip to Vahtache," he pointed out.

"You did not extend an invitation," Ra'karra replied drily. Telepe opened his mouth to apologize, but then the cat shook her head. "Nor did this one request it, nor wish for one, so I am not insulted. In truth, there was no reason for me to join you. You were sent to win a siege, not to negotiate a peace treaty."

"We did negotiate peace, though," Telepe pointed out.

"After you had emerged victorious," Ra'karra countered. "It is easy to conduct diplomacy from a position of strength. This one is interested in how you negotiate with an entity equal to yourself, if not superior."

"Indeed?" Telepe asked.

"Yes. After all, if you wish to secure an alliance with Khajiit, we would first know how you treat prospective allies," Ra'karra chuckled.

"A fair point," Telepe conceded, grinning back. "Very well. I cannot prevent you from accompanying us anyways, and it shall be good to have you along. Though I must warn you, Skyrim is likely to be much colder than even this fortress."

"There is no need for you to concern yourself with my well-being," Ra'karra replied, a slight smirk pulling at her lips. "While this one does not care for the cold, I can adapt to it. I even brought my own furs for just such an occasion."

Telepe quickly covered his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

The sky was overcast on the day that they were set to leave, and the pale grey clouds looming overhead made Telepe nervous. The last thing that they needed was another snowfall, especially after King Vrage had assured them that the pass would be relatively clear of the deepest snow at this point in the season.

"Why didn't we simply wait until spring?" Telepe murmured to himself.

"It would actually be more dangerous to cross the mountains in the early spring," a voice answered from behind him, making him jump. He looked over his shoulder to see Golbrom approaching him, sitting astride a heavy brown horse, taller and more muscular than Emero. "Once the weather becomes warm enough and the ice and snow begin to melt, we would need to worry about avalanches, landslides, and flooding. You would not wish to travel under such conditions. Besides, you needn't fret about the weather. It won't snow today." He glanced up at the sky, suggesting that he had guessed Telepe's thoughts from the way he was staring, then noticing Telepe's confused look, explained, "The air doesn't have the telltale stillness that comes before a snowfall. You have nothing to fear."

"Not at all. Aside from bears, wolves, the cold itself, and a small army of Ayleids waiting for us on the other side of the pass," Telepe quipped drily in reply.

"The Paravant claims that Kyne is watching over us, yes?" Golbrom countered. "If she controls the skies and the rains, and she has a vested interest in seeing us safely through the pass, then she won't make our journey any more dangerous than necessary." His cool expression suddenly darkened. "Nor shall I allow her to prevent us from reaching Falkreath."

Telepe's humor faded quickly at Golbrom's low tone. "We'll do all that we can to discover your family's whereabouts once we arrive," he assured the Nord in a soft voice.

"I've no doubt. If there's any sign of them to be found anywhere, it shall be in Falkreath," Golbrom replied shortly. After a few moments, his expression softened, and he let out a slow breath, evidently to calm himself. "But even if we don't, I shall at least take comfort in the fact that my homeland shall be purged of those damned elves."

"Of course. Whitestrake himself shall make certain of that even if we don't," Reili remarked as he rode up beside them on a bay horse, wrapped tightly in his furs, his long spear hanging loosely from his fingers. He nodded to Telepe by way of greeting, then asked, "Are we certain that we have enough provisions, though? I understand that we can't bring wagons through the pass, but I cannot help but worry."

"There is no reason to fear starvation," Golbrom assured him. "Falkreath is only a few days' journey from here, even in poor weather. You shall need no more than what a horse can carry."

"Perhaps, but if we must besiege the city…." Reili pointed out.

"Since Falkreath is so near to Sancre Tor, we needn't worry about our supply lines being cut," Telepe replied calmly, giving Reili a reassuring smile. "If we must besiege the city, we can have our allies supply us with more food by bringing it through the pass. What they can provide might be scant, true, but it shall be adequate."

"The woods also offer more food than you might think, even in the winter," Golbrom added. "Under the snow, you can find buried nuts, tubers, edible roots, and some winter mushrooms. Furthermore, we can hunt. Some animals are still active, even in the cold, such as elk and deer, while those that are hibernating have dens that we can seek out. If one is willing to take the risk, bear meat can be quite excellent, for instance."

Reili grimaced and glanced away. "I… would rather avoid that, if possible," he remarked.

Golbrom gave the keptu knight a shrug, then turned his gaze towards Whitestrake, who was sitting several paces away astride his white stallion, pointedly ignoring everyone else. "In any case, I do not feel a lengthy siege shall be necessary," he stated. "We have enjoyed remarkable success in sacking Ayleid cities, and Falkreath is not even a quarter as fortified as those are. Rather than stone walls, it is only protected by a wooden palisade, and there are no underground passages for them to retreat into. If we turn Whitestrake loose on the city, the elves shall be as cattle trapped in a corral."

"If we must," Telepe cautioned him, giving Golbrom a sidelong glance. "Whitestrake is not known for his restraint, and I fear that if we allow him to run rampant, he may inflict more damage on your home than on our enemies."

"A fair point," Golbrom admitted, his confidence evaporating instantly as he considered Telepe's words. "But I've little doubt that even without Whitestrake, our army could take Falkreath with little resistance from the elves."

"I'm concerned that it won't be that simple," Telepe replied evenly. "I'm certain that the Nords that arrived to liberate Falkreath were also confident that it would not be difficult to take the town, yet the Ayleids somehow repelled their assault." He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully for a moment. "Does Falkreath have any additional defenses that we aren't privy to?"

"Perhaps, though I don't know how they could fortify the city so well in such a short amount of time," Golbrom admitted. "So far as I'm aware, they've held Falkreath for several months at most, which is hardly enough time to turn it into a fortress." He shrugged helplessly, then suggested, "Perhaps they have sorcerers wielding powerful magics, or their garrison is larger than we realize?"

"It's possible. However, there's no use speculating," a voice interjected cheerfully. "We shall only know for certain once we arrive."

Telepe glanced over to the other side of Emero, where Tari had been waiting patiently for him to notice her. When she caught his eye, she smiled up at him and held her hand out. Telepe grinned and took her hand, then half-lifted her onto Emero's back while she clambered on behind him. The motion jostled Emero's saddlebags, whereupon Ra'karra poked her head out and let out a plaintive meow of protest. This drew both Reili and Golbrom's attention.

"You… are bringing your cat?" Reili asked incredulously.

"I hadn't planned on it," Telepe bluffed, pretending to scowl down at her. "Get out of there!"

Ra'karra noticed the sly wink he gave her, and she responded by burrowing deeper into his bags, pretending to dig through his belongings. Telepe let out a snarl and reached for her, only for the Khajiit to bat his hand, claws extended. He let out a sharp cry of pain and scowled at the bright red lines on the back of his hand.

"Fine!" Telepe snapped. "If you stay in there, though, you're coming with us to Skyrim!"

Ra'karra glared up at him and hissed, then curled up comfortably against a spare blanket, apparently settling in for a nap. Telepe glared down at her as he nursed his lightly wounded hand, turning back to Golbrom and Reili with a helpless shrug. "I suppose she's coming," he remarked drily.

The pair traded bemused looks, and then Reili shrugged. "As you say. Far be it from me to judge your decisions." Golbrom nodded in agreement, and the two turned to walk off.

"My apologies," Ra'karra murmured from within the bag. Telepe looked down again to see her bright eyes upturned towards him. "This one feared that if the wound was not real, they would disbelieve our deception."

"There's no need to apologize," Telepe muttered, running his thumb over the throbbing marks.

"I can make you a poultice if you wish," Tari offered. When Telepe shook his head, she looked down at Ra'karra. "Will you be comfortable in there?" she asked. Telepe had already informed her of Ra'karra's true nature, and Ra'karra was aware that Tari was privy to their secret. At first, she had been furious, until Telepe assured her that Tari was trustworthy. He had also pointed out that, as close as they were, it was inevitable that Tari would discover her sentience eventually anyways, which she was forced to reluctantly concede. So long as Tari kept her silence, the Khajiit assured her that she did not mind, though she asked Telepe to tell no one else.

"Comfortable enough. Though I fear the jostling shall be unpleasant, I shall undoubtedly be far warmer than you two," she remarked smugly.

"You could ride on horseback with us," Telepe offered in a dry tone. "I would not wish to sully your dignity."

"Alas, at times I must lower myself for the sake of maintaining my ruse," Ra'karra sighed dramatically, before snuggling closer to his blanket. "But I shall endure."

Telepe and Tari traded amused looks, just as Edanu blew his horn and announced that they were to set off.

Their journey began around mid-morning, once the centurions had assembled their men and ensured that they had all brought adequate supplies. Telepe rode near the front of the column, a short distance behind the legate and Pelinal, who were riding side-by-side and speaking to each other in low voices so that no one behind them could hear. Telepe was a bit surprised that Edanu had elected to take command for this campaign, leaving one of his centurions behind to oversee Sancre Tor in his absence. When they had a free moment shortly after noon, he approached Edanu and politely asked about it. Edanu explained that just as Telepe had taught him the basics of administration and then left Sancre Tor in his care, he had begun teaching his centurions how to oversee a city garrison. The man he had left behind was one that Edanu felt was ready to accept more responsibility, and he had no reservations about delegating the task to him. What's more, Edanu pointed out, he had just been given a promotion, and he intended to remind his men that he was a warrior, not a noble. He had spent too long governing Sancre Tor, and he had no intention of allowing his body or his blade to rust any further. If he was a legate, then it was his duty to command his legion.

As usual, the journey through the cold mountains was slow and miserable. Though the last of the season's major storms had supposedly finished, the path was covered with deep snowdrifts that hindered their progress. Edanu had sent men ahead to clear the path, but while they did an adequate job of shoveling enough snow aside to allow them to travel, they could not break the thick ice that coated the rocky slopes. The remaining snow provided them some traction, but the men had difficulty maintaining their balance. It was far worse when one of the horses would slip, as the contents of their bags frequently spilled into the snow, and they were fortunate that none of the horses broke a leg. Telepe felt his heart catch in his throat every time he felt Emero stumble on a hidden patch of ice. Fortunately, the horse recovered every time, and Telepe and his companions managed to keep from being pitched off of his back. Silently, Telepe thanked the stablemaster of the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae. Before he had set out on his journey, the horsemaster had recommended that he take Emero, who was not the swiftest or strongest horse in the stables, but the most reliable and sure-footed. Despite his mount's stubbornness, Telepe had never once regretted his choice of steed.

Even so, Telepe eventually grew tired of nearly being tossed from Emero's back, and he finally dismounted and took the reins, walking beside the horse instead. After a few more minutes, Tari followed suit. Emero shot them both a disdainful look when he saw his riders walking in front of him, as though he was insulted by the suggestion that they would have better luck traveling on foot. Telepe, of course, blithely ignored the horse's occasional, irritated snorts. He also wasn't the first one to dismount his horse, nor was he the last. Eventually, most of the cavalry was traveling on foot, and while this slowed their progress, they also suffered no injuries.

The army slowly ascended the narrow mountain road, until finally, they reached the entrance to the pass, nestled between two massive mountains with high, sheer cliffs on either side. By then, dusk was nearing, so Edanu ordered the army to make camp for the night. That evening was miserable as a cold, blustery wind blew across the snow-covered peaks, and Telepe and Tari spent the night curled up tightly with each other as their tent billowed around them, while Ra'karra slept deep in their blankets. Fortunately, they were able to keep each other sufficiently warm, which was more than some of the other warriors could say. When morning came, he learned that at least a dozen men had suffered frostbite, and they spent some time the next morning thawing out their frozen fingers and toes. Thankfully, Tari had anticipated that the cold would be a problem, and she had already concocted a balm that the men rubbed on their deadened limbs. Within minutes, most once again had feeling in their extremities, though a few were still suffering. Edanu, however, decided that they had wasted enough time, and reluctantly ordered the men to soldier on despite their injuries.

As they entered the pass, the high cliffs narrowed the path even further, so that the army was forced to walk in a column only four men wide. The cliffs forced them to move in one direction, though thankfully, the trail remained surprisingly level. At times, Telepe felt more like he was traveling on a poor road with high walls than through an untamed mountain pass.

"Is this why they call this route a bridge?" Telepe asked Golbrom, motioning to the high walls surrounding them.

"It does evoke that image, doesn't it?" Golbrom remarked. "Though it's also called that because it's seen as a bridge between Cyrod and Skyrim. I trust you also see why this is considered a more dangerous route than the Pale Pass as well?"

"Indeed," Telepe agreed, narrowly avoiding tripping over a stone poking out from the snow.

"There are tales about a traveler who once sacrificed a hundred oxen to ensure safe passage through these mountains, though the stories differ about whether he was successful or not," Golbrom mentioned. "Little wonder, too, as the poor condition of the path is often the least of one's worries. Aside from the danger of a heavy storm and the impossibility of escape or shelter, one might also be unlucky enough to suffer the wind. At best, a breeze blowing from the north can make the journey uncomfortable and frightening, as it sounds like a wraith stalking you on your travels. At worst, a particularly powerful gale can stir loose ice, snow, and stones, blinding unlucky travelers… or worse."

"Indeed?" Telepe repeated, in a far more agitated tone.

"Quite," Golbrom replied almost conversationally. "To say nothing of the path itself giving way-" He abruptly paused when he noticed several hostile eyes turned towards him. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then looked up at the cloudless sky. "Thankfully, it seems that Kyne does indeed favor us," he added quickly.

"If she does, then perhaps you should remain silent," Reili snapped. "I have no interest in testing her patience."

Wisely, Golbrom decided to follow Reili's suggestion.

Unfortunately – especially after Golbrom's recounting of the dangers of the mountains – they were unable to complete their journey through the pass that day, and Edanu reluctantly ordered them to make camp for the night. Thankfully, the calm weather persisted. Though the air was still bitterly cold, the wind remained calm, and the chill was bearable. They resumed their travels the next morning, and before noon, the walls began to widen, and the trail started to descend. When the walls had separated enough that the army could march eight abreast, Golbrom stepped off to the side and closed his eyes, taking a moment to slowly inhale the icy mountain air. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed Telepe and Tari watching him, and he motioned to the path before them.

"We have left Cyrod entirely," he announced. "Welcome to Skyrim."

"And welcome home," Tari replied with a grin. Golbrom glanced at her, then responded with a rare, faint smile of his own.

As they descended further into the valley, Telepe noticed that their rocky surroundings were gradually becoming dotted with conifers and patches of tough grass. There had been pine trees on Cyrod's side of the Jerall Mountains as well, but when they reached a vantage point overlooking the valley below them, Telepe realized that they were approaching a forest of evergreens. The fresh, crisp scent of the forest carried on the cold mountain breeze caused something to stir in the back of his mind, and a wistful smile spread across his lips. Tari noticed his nostalgic expression, and she tilted her head up at him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Strangely, this reminds me of my home a bit," Telepe admitted, motioning to the trees in the distance. "The mountains near the Bjoulsae River are not so much unlike these. Admittedly, the air is a fair bit warmer and carries the scent of river water, and there are more flowering trees than evergreens, but I spent much of my life in a valley similar to this." He let out a soft chuckle, then remarked, "It's strange that I feel so at home in such a foreign land."

Tari regarded him quietly for a few moments, then tilted her head curiously. "Then you would like to settle here someday?" she asked.

When Telepe turned to her, he gauged from her expression that she was slightly worried. He gave her a reassuring smile as he replied, "Well… no. For one, the wind is a far too cold, even for my liking. Also, I feel that the natives wouldn't take too kindly to me," he added, grinning wryly as he pulled his hair back to reveal his pointed ears. "At least, if the first meeting between Nord and Manmer was any indication." When Tari grinned ruefully in return, he added, "What's more, while I still find its climate too warm, I've recently found myself rather comfortable in Cyrod as well."

"Is that so? I'm pleased to hear that," Tari murmured, looking away and covering her mouth slightly to hide her grin. When she turned back around, she had a more serious expression on her face. "However, while I wish to see Cyrod liberated first, once the war has concluded, I would like to see your homeland as well."

Telepe's eyes widened slightly, and then he grinned warmly at her. "I'd be glad to show it to you," he replied softly. "In truth, I think that my mother would adore you."

"Would she?" Tari asked, seeming pleased. "What of your father?"

"My king?" Telepe looked up at the sky thoughtfully for a few moments, then replied slowly, "It's difficult to say, especially since he is an Altmer king, and as such, he typically does not openly display strong emotions. What's more, while Nedes are technically free in Malabal, they are also of a much lower caste, far beneath his station." Tari's enthusiasm seemed to fade slightly, until she noticed a sly smirk spreading across Telepe's lips. "However, given that he seems to have a predilection towards intelligent, independent Nedic women, if his affection for my mother is any indication… I believe that he would swiftly grow quite fond of you."

Tari glowered at him for briefly leading her on, and he had to avoid a playful swat of her hand while she giggled. "Then I look forward to it… so long as my own fondness for a certain cheeky Manmer has not been exhausted before then," she teased him. Telepe grinned in response.

"At last. Look there!" Golbrom announced, interrupting their conversation. Telepe looked away from Tari and turned his gaze in the direction that Golbrom was pointing. As they finished rounding a steep curve, he spotted a settlement far below them, half-hidden in the snow-covered conifers, which he surmised was the town of Falkreath. Surprisingly, rather than a town built in a clearing in the middle of the forest, Falkreath almost seemed to be a part of the forest itself. The boundaries of Falkreath were clearly marked by a high palisade, within which rested several dozen wooden buildings. However, so many tall pine trees still grew within the city's borders that Telepe could almost imagine that the denizens of Falkreath had eventually tired of felling the trees and instead chosen to reach a compromise with the forest, allowing it to continue to thrive as part of the city. It was absurd, of course, but the thought brought a smile to Telepe's face.

Telepe's brief amusement at his observation quickly faded when he noticed something glinting atop the distant palisade. He leaned forward and squinted, and after focusing his eyes for a few moments, he recognized the telltale gleam of bronze armor shimmering in the midmorning sun. He let out a slow sigh of disappointment as he stepped back and turned to Golbrom.

"I don't suppose that your kin have a preference for bronze armor, do they?" he asked his Nordic companion grimly.

"A few, perhaps. Most favor fur or leather, however," Golbrom replied gruffly. He folded his broad arms over his chest and glared down at the distant town. "If you were hoping that the Ayleids no longer retained control of the city, then clearly your hope was in vain."

"A pity," Reili commented blithely as he two stared over the edge of the mountain road. After a moment, however, he glanced up and frowned. "Even so… while Falkreath certainly does seem to be occupied by a fair-sized garrison, I once again fail to see why the Nords have not simply conquered it. What you said before was accurate, Golbrom – the city's defenses seem far weaker than any Ayleid kingdom we've already bested. It even lacks stone walls. Why, then, did the Nords fail to take it?"

"Perhaps the forest makes the city more difficult to attack?" Tari suggested.

"That can't be it," Reili disagreed, frowning as he folded his arms over his chest. "If anything, the forest would provide the attackers with additional protection. Archers stationed on the walls would have a far more difficult time targeting enemies that could use the surrounding forest for cover."

Tari opened her mouth to retort, then rethought her response and closed it again, before replying with a helpless shrug. Telepe stared at the city for a moment longer, then shook his head.

"Let's just press on, then," he suggested. "We'll likely learn more when we draw closer."

The warriors continued their descent down the rocky slope, struggling to maintain their balance on the snow-covered path. As the trail grew steeper, Telepe noticed that Emero was having difficulty maintaining his footing, and his horse nearly slipped on a loose rock, he brought the horse to an abrupt halt and stroked his nose.

"Easy," he comforted the horse in a soft voice. "There's no hurry."

Emero snorted at him and shook his head. Telepe frowned slightly at the response as the horse started trying to pull away. His mount was typically stubborn, of course, but he had rarely seen Emero so agitated. It was as though he was trying to flee down the path, and Telepe couldn't fathom why.

As Telepe continued to try to calm his horse, a shrill, chilling screech echoed through the mountains. Emero immediately stopped struggling and froze with fear. The sound made the hairs on Telepe's arms stand up straight, and he immediately began glancing warily at the surrounding mountains, his heart pounding with fright. He wasn't the only one – many of the warriors were drawing the weapons and readying their shields as they frantically looked around, trying to find the source of the terrifying cry. Something about the sound filled Telepe with an instinctive dread. He felt very much like a rabbit that had heard the cry of a hawk, and he half-expected a shadow to fall over him, as if some great beast was about to swoop down and carry him off. Eventually, the last lingering echoes of the sound faded into the mountains, but the expressions of worry and confusion didn't fade from the men's faces.

Telepe slowly exhaled a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his breath misting in the cold mountain air. He then turned to Golbrom. "What was that?" he asked. "That didn't sound like a bear or a wolf. What else could-?"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that the older Nord had turned pale, and that his mittened hands were tightly gripping the reins of the horse standing behind him. To Telepe's surprise, the man seemed even more frightened than anyone else in the party.

"It… can't be," he murmured to himself, so softly that Telepe almost didn't hear it. "One couldn't be this far south, could it?"

"One what?" Telepe asked anxiously.

Golbrom's head snapped towards Telepe, as though suddenly realizing that he was also there, and after a moment, the Nord relaxed his hold on the reins, apparently forcing his fingers to unclench. "It's nothing," he replied shortly. "I'm certain that I'm simply assuming the worst."

"What are you assuming?" Telepe pressed, his stomach starting to churn at the Nord's tone and evasiveness.

Golbrom stared at him for a moment, then turned and resumed walking down the slope without answering. Telepe's eyes widened with a combination of anger and fear, and he started after Golbrom, but then he took a slow breath and calmed himself. There was clearly no point in pressing the Nord for an answer, and short of magically charming him, it wasn't as though he could force Golbrom to talk. Besides, there was no guarantee that he wasn't simply letting unfounded fears get the best of him. While he would prefer to know what had their guide so worried, fretting would undoubtedly compound his fear, as whatever he could imagine was likely far worse than any actual danger they might face. After taking another slow breath to calm his heartbeat, he clicked his tongue at Emero and resumed guiding the horse down the trail, ignoring his mount's protests.

As their slow descent continued through the morning, Telepe took the opportunity to pull a few handfuls of nuts and dried berries from Emero's saddlebags. As he did, he noticed Ra'karra gnawing on a hard piece of dried jerky that had been smeared with currants. He raised an eyebrow at the Khajiit, but she ignored him and continued happily chewing the sweetened meat. Shrugging, he closed the bag up again, taking care to ensure that there was a wide enough hole for her to breathe, and then he returned his attention to the trail.

In the distance, he could see a group of figures approaching the column. Edanu held his hand up, and those at the head of the column readied their weapons. Telepe rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, until he recognized one of the figures as Pasare, and he concluded that the rest were her scouts. Edanu lowered his hand as Pasare hurried towards him, her fur boots barely making a sound on the snow-covered path.

"Legate!" she announced breathlessly. Edanu nodded to her, and she continued, "We were approached by a man who claims he's from Falkreath. He would like to speak with you."

She motioned to a young man who seemed to be a Nord, though his build was somewhat slighter than most of the northerners that Telepe had met. He had a short beard and long, tangled, tawny hair that fell into his brown eyes. His lean body was covered in a patchwork of furs, and he carried a strung bow across his back, along with a quiver of bronze-tipped arrows, suggesting that he was a hunter. Telepe was still considering the man when Golbrom let out a joyful laugh and ran forward.

"Arnhelm!" he exclaimed, grabbing the young man and pulling him into a fierce embrace. The young man's eyes widened with shock, and then he let out a barking laugh of his own and clapped Golbrom on the back. As they pulled back, Golbrom exclaimed, "What are you doing out here, lad?! I would have expected you to be back in Falkreath!"

"I'm glad that I'm not!" Arnhelm replied, beaming at Golbrom. "If I was, I would be in chains."

Golbrom's smile evaporated immediately, and a somber silence fell between the pair. It was broken when the Nordic captain, Thornir, approached them and asked, "I presume that you two know each other?" Edanu sidled up beside the captain, gazing at the pair with polite curiosity.

"We do, sir, yes," Golbrom nodded, pulling away from the younger man and motioning to him. "This is Arnhelm, a lad from Falkreath. Arnhelm, this is Captain Thornir and Legate Edanu. We've come from Cyrod to help liberate Falkreath."

Arnhelm's eyes briefly widened with fervent hope, but then dimmed. "I certainly hope that you can," he muttered. "Those damned elves have put every man-of-'kreath in chains. Some are being used for slave labor, while the rest are waiting to be sold to kingdoms in the south."

A grim scowl settled over Golbrom's face, while Thornir folded his arms over his chest. "Yet you managed to escape," he pointed out.

"I and a few others, yes," Arnhelm nodded. "The guards were careless one night and did not properly lock some of our manacles before putting us in the slave quarters for the evening. I and a few others were fortunate enough to escape into the trees before our captors could pursue us. We have made camp higher in the mountains, and we've been watching the city ever since, waiting for a chance to attack. Sadly, no opportunity has presented itself… until now, perhaps," he added, craning his neck to see the army snaking its way down the mountain trail.

"How many of you are there, and how many men remain in the city?" Edanu asked.

"Roughly two score of us managed to escape," Arnhelm replied. "As for Falkreath, I believe that a couple thousand men-of-'kreath remain, guarded by perhaps three hundred Ayleids."

"Only three hundred?" Thornir frowned, trading a bewildered look with Edanu. "How did so few elves capture an entire city? And more importantly, we heard that an entire Nordic army was defeated and forced to retreat. How did a garrison that small repel an entire Nordic army?"

A look of despair darkened Arnhelm's face, and his gaze lowered to the ground. "It was not the Ayleids alone that defeated the Nordic army," he murmured.

"Then who?" Golbrom demanded, snarling. "Surely there were not traitors among our own people aiding the elves."

"No. Far worse than that," Arnhelm replied. He looked up again, his eyes wide with terror. "The Ayleids are being aided by a dragon.

A stunned silence followed Arnhelm's proclamation. Golbrom's mouth fell open, and Edanu and Thornir traded nervous looks. Telepe's blood froze as he warily scanned the nearby mountains again, wondering if that was the origin of the shrill cry they had heard earlier.

"A… a dragon?" Thornir repeated in disbelief. When Arnhelm nodded grimly, he asked "And you are certain that it's aiding the Ayleids? That it's not simply a wild beast that made its home nearby?"

"I am certain," Arnhelm stated firmly. "Falkreath has been under the Ayleids' control for months, but their position has always been tenuous at best. We men-of-'kreath make poor slaves, and they've punished us frequently for our attempted rebellions and escapes. What's more, though our village is not beholden to the Kingdom of Skyrim, King Vrage has no love for the Ayleids either – especially since they have not only been enslaving men-of-'kreath, but Nords as well.

"According to some of the Nord prisoners that I spoke with, King Vrage was most displeased when he heard that the Ayleids had defeated Falkreath's garrison and taken control of the city, but he was more focused on a campaign in Dwemereth at the time, and chose not to intervene. However, the Ayleids then began stalking the roads near Falkreath, where they abducted and enslaved traveling Nords. King Vrage would not suffer his subjects being enthralled, so he first called upon adventurers and independent warlords, promising great rewards to any who could slay the elves and free Falkreath, up to and including backing a claim as Jarl of Falkreath. However, the elves' sorcerous magics were sufficient to defeat these small warbands, and Falkreath remained under their thrall.

"Eventually, King Vrage tired of the Ayleids' defiance and decided to instead send an army led by the Jarl of Whiterun to attack Falkreath. The elves evidently caught wind of this, however, and as I recall, they retreated into the town longhouse for three days, where I presume they discussed how they were going to combat the approaching army. It seemed that they had not yet devised a solution when the jarl's army arrived and demanded the surrender of the elves. In truth, we all thought that our liberation was at hand, especially since Falkreath's defenses are, frankly, rather pitiful. However, before the jarl could issue his demands, there came a great shriek from the sky, and a vast red dragon swooped down on the army from above, spitting fire and burning the forest around his army.

"In truth, we had long been aware that there was a dragon roosting nearby, since we could hear its cries from the mountains. We even know the very cave it dwells in. However, it never ventured near the city, and we presumed that it was simply making its home nearby, so man and mer alike were content to leave it be. As such, we were shocked when this dragon chose to attack now. Most horrifying, however, was that the dragon focused its attacks solely upon the Nordic army. It left Falkreath wholly unscathed, and not a single Ayleid was slain in the brief battle." Arnhelm sighed despondently and looked away. "With the forest burning around them and hundreds dead already, the jarl's army retreated. We have not had any word from King Vrage since, and there has been no sign that he is sending another army to aid us." He looked up at Thornir again and added, "That's why I was so surprised when I saw you approaching, captain."

Telepe sighed as Arnhelm finished his story, and as Thornir and Edanu began muttering to each other, he turned to Tari and muttered, "How shrewd of our potential ally – he cannot best a dragon and has no interest in losing more men, but he's happy to sacrifice our warriors in exchange for the promise of an alliance. How very kind of him, as well, not to warn us of the danger we would face."

"Perhaps he feared we'd turn tail if we knew what awaited us?" Tari suggested, though she was clearly displeased as well.

"An alliance is built upon trust," Telepe snarled. "And one does not earn trust by demanding another fulfill a task without telling them of the dangers ahead."

Tari quirked her mouth and silently nodded in agreement.

"Did you escape after the dragon attacked?" Thornir asked Arnhelm, and Telepe quieted down so that he could hear the conversation. When the boy nodded, he asked, "It's watching the forest for the Ayleids, yes? How did you avoid the dragon?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it deemed me and the others too insignificant to pursue," Arnhelm shrugged. A cold breeze washed over them, and the young man lightly shivered. "In any case, we should not linger out here. While the dragon might not have noticed a few slaves escaping, an army standing in the open will soon attract its attention. I can take you to our camp, if you'd like."

"Is it well-hidden?" Edanu asked warily, eyeing the surrounding mountains. "And is it large enough to accommodate a full army?"

"It should be," Arnhelm assured the legate. "It's a deep cave that runs far into the mountain, and I've little doubt that you and your men can settle into it comfortably."

"Very good. If you could lead us there, we would appreciate it," Edanu nodded. He then turned to Thornir. "In the meantime, we should consider our strategy. If there is indeed a dragon to contend with, we cannot simply besiege Falkreath, unless we wish to suffer the same fate as the jarl's army."

"Could we not simply attack this dragon?" one of Edanu's centurions asked as they resumed descending the mountain, following Arnhelm. "Even if we were to suffer some losses, we are all prepared to give our lives, and surely there are enough of us to slay it."

"I would not recommend that," Arnhelm replied, glancing over his shoulder. "The dragon makes its roost high in the mountains, where it can see the entire valley. You would have a very difficult time approaching it without being spotted, and if it catches you on the cliffs, it will simply remain out of range of your arrows while scorching you with its breath. Attacking it directly would be suicide."

"What's more, some legends claim that dragons cannot truly be killed, save for a select few heroes," Thornir added, folding his arms over his chest as he frowned to himself. "I don't know for certain how true the tales are, but I'd rather not test them with our men's lives."

"Perhaps we could send Whitestrake after it?" Edanu suggested, glancing over his shoulder at the knight, who was walking a few paces behind the two leaders, seemingly indifferent to their conversation. "Would you be willing to face a dragon, sir?"

Whitestrake tilted his head thoughtfully as he considered the question, then shrugged indifferently. "I would not refuse, if you were to request it of me, legate," he replied.

"Would we not encounter the same problem, though?" another centurion asked. "If Whitestrake managed to climb the cliffs without attracting the dragon's notice and faced it in its lair, he might have the advantage. However, what if it escaped? If it took to the air, even Whitestrake would not be able to fight it. Worse, what if it turned its attention to us, or even to Falkreath itself?"

"Then are you suggesting that we simply let this menace live?! That we do nothing?!" yet another centurion demanded.

A heated debate began to break out between Edanu's officers, with some calling for caution while others demanded that they march on the dragon's lair immediately to slay it. Telepe ignored the argument entirely, walking with his arms folded over his chest as he considered the dilemma. When a thought struck him, he quickened his pace to catch up to Arnhelm. "A question," he said, once Arnhelm had noticed him. "How are the Ayleids controlling the dragon?"

"Controlling it?" Arnhelm repeated, frowning in confusion.

"Are they influencing it through magical means? Sorcery, perhaps?" Telepe pressed.

"So far as I know, no," Arnhelm said slowly. "I didn't see any of the elves casting spells while it was attacking, though I don't know for certain."

"Then how did they secure its aid in the first place?" Telepe asked.

"I… would suspect that they struck a bargain with it," Arnhelm said slowly.

Telepe raised an eyebrow. "Dragons can communicate?" he asked, surprised.

"Perhaps not all dragons, but it seems that this one can, yes," Arnhelm insisted. "From time to time, while I was scouting in the wilds, I've witnessed Ayleids standing at the mouth of the dragon's lair, and while I could not hear what they were saying, I could hear them shouting into the cave, and replies echoed from within. I've no doubt that they were conversing with the dragon."

Telepe raised his hand to his chin, thoughtfully stroking the short stubble on it as he turned his gaze towards the distant mountains. "Indeed?" he asked quietly.

Tari shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. "Telepe, no," she warned, immediately deducing what he was considering.

"You said that you know where this dragon makes its lair?" Telepe asked, ignoring Tari's glare.

"I do…." Arnhelm admitted slowly, frowning. Edanu likewise stopped his conversation with Thornir to look over his shoulder at Telepe.

"And what do you know of this dragon?" Telepe continued, a smirk spreading across his face. "Specifically, what do you know of its desires, its fears-?"

"Telepe!" Tari snapped sharply.

"I… know little, but I shall share with you what I can," Arnhelm said in a curious tone. "Might I ask why?"

Telepe chuckled softly as Tari's eyes widened with fury. "If fighting is futile, perhaps we might try reason and persuasion instead," he explained slyly, before turning to Edanu. "With your permission, legate, I would like to speak with this dragon."

A/N: I'm going to admit that I'm taking some liberties with this and the next few chapters. I've pored over the lore extensively, but I can't find a single indication of where Hecatomb/Heldon Bridge actually is. There are a few theories, and a couple articles in the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages even claim that the Heldon Bridge is the northern bridge into the Imperial City. However, I cannot find a single quote or reference to back that claim up, and I think whoever wrote that was making a baseless assumption.

To me, it makes more sense that Heldon Bridge is a mountain pass between Falkreath and Sancre Tor, which was showcased in this chapter. Since the battle on the bridge took place shortly after a foray into Skyrim, it stands to reason that it's somewhere in the north. I'll freely admit that have no way to back this thought up, and as such, I won't be referring to this pass as Hecatomb/Heldon Bridge. However, there will be a few scenes ahead that will seem very familiar to people who have read the Song of Pelinal. If (and when) future lore contradicts the chapters ahead, we can simply say that Telepe witnessed a few events that are remarkably similar to Pelinal's stand on Heldon Bridge, and that he simply was never at the bridge itself to witness Pelinal's deeds. Until then, I'll leave it up to you, the reader, to decide whether this pass is Heldon Bridge or not.