I know this trail. I’ve never been here and I am sure of that, yet this trail is familiar. I feel like I’ve walked this way before, and right up around the corner here is a… Yes—a wooden stockade. And there is a guard up there on the tower over the gate who will address me... now.
“Greetings, Kinswoman. You are welcome in the Dushnikh Yal Stronghold.”
“What is this place?” I asked suspiciously. I’d recently had a little episode from which I had only vague memories, and I had later discovered that I had harmed or offended several people with whom I had no quarrel. In the end, it turned out I’d gotten mixed up with a daedric lord. I wasn’t eager for any kind of repeat performance of that.
“You’ve been gone a long time if you’ve forgotten the Strongholds. Enter and talk to the chief and the wise woman and remember.”
Still with that sense of repeating something I had already done, I pushed open the stockade gate and went in. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw inside.
The stockade was entirely populated by orcs. There was a female working at an alchemy table, another tanning hides, a male practicing combat against a dummy, a couple sitting under a shade watching the scene, guards on the walls, a smithy, and some kind of beautiful, arching building built into the hillside. It was like I had stumbled into Orsinium, the city where Durz grew up. Yet, I was only a day’s walk south of Markarth.
I needed answers, and the woman at the alchemy table seemed the logical choice for wise woman, so I approached her first.
“I’ve met outlander orsimer before,” she told me. “But I’ve never met anyone who didn’t know what the Strongholds were.”
“I was orphaned and raised by humans,” I explained, not offended. “I’m interested, though! I’ve never seen anything like this.” I indicated the entire scene with a sweeping turn, and found myself looking into the face of the big orc beating the dummy into submission. I yelped in panic and hid behind the tanning rack. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if he wanted me dead?
It was too late. I could tell by the pounding of heavy, booted feet that every orc in the stronghold had heard me. I felt my face burning as a gauntleted hand grasped the tanning rack and pushed it aside.
“Luciana Henriette,” said Durz gro-Ushal. “I thought you were dead.” Behind him, I could see not less than a dozen orcs with weapons drawn, staring at me with blood in their eyes.
A gigantic grin cracked his face and he offered me a hand. “Malacath preserves, and it is good to see you again!” He turned and raised his hands in a calming gesture. “She’s a friend,” he called, “A good friend.” The other orcs sheathed their weapons and backed a few steps away, looking disappointed and still suspicious.
He led me up the slope to a place that overlooked the stronghold, as well as the surrounding countryside of rocky slopes and scrub juniper.
“How on Tamriel did you escape?” he asked. “How did you come to be here?”
“You first,” I replied, shakily. “I want to know everything.” I kept thinking of Swims-in-Shadows. I could not shake the feeling that I had walked this path before.
“All right,” he agreed. “Well, some of my men smuggled me out of my cell. I’d have stopped to let everyone else free, but they wouldn’t let me—stuffed my head in a bag, if you can believe it.
“Well, they knew about this place and brought me right here. Took a while to convince the chief to let me stay—I’m not family, after all, and he wouldn’t normally put up with a rival. After he heard my story, he changed his mind. Honorable service in the Legion, conspiracy involving the Thalmor, betrayal at the hands of unknown assassins… he suddenly recognized me as his long lost brother, and I’ve been Ghorbash the Iron Hand ever since.” He chuckled. “Your turn.”
I told him everything. He didn’t interrupt, but by the end, his jaw hung down like it was broken.
“So what are you doing next?” he finally asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve no idea. After Sovngarde, it’s like I didn’t really have a purpose anymore. I never did find my Ma and Da and I’ve no idea where to look next, so I’ve just been travelling around, tying up loose ends that I’d gathered along the way—delivering a deed to this person, tracking down a missing deed for this other person, gathering alchemical ingredients for several different people, leaving this Imperial girl at the altar…”
“EXCUSE ME?” Durz, or should I call him Ghorbash, roared.
“Yeah, well that was kind of a misunderstanding. Nobody’s fault, really…”
“Okay…” he said tentatively. “So no little missus to go home to then?” A lopsided grin indicated his readiness to laugh at me.
“Nope.”
“And nowhere else you need to be…?”
“Nope.”
“You should stay here for a while,” he suggested.
“Do you think that’d be alright?” I asked. “I’d be really interested, and I’d do my part... And it is..." My voice broke, and I had to force the rest of the words out through tears. "So... good to... see you...”
“Hey, hey, it's alright." He put his arm around me and pulled me close. "You'll want to get that under control before someone notices." He glanced nervously around, but we had, for the most part, been granted privacy. "You’ll have to convince the chief, of course. Since you’re a female, it shouldn’t be a problem. He’ll want to test your mettle a bit. Just let him win and he’ll be fine with it.”
“How will he feel when I kick his ass?” I asked, wiping my tears away.
Durz chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up, Dragonslayer. He’s a seasoned warrior, not some snotty street urchin.”
A grin slowly spread across my face. I enjoy a good challenge, and suddenly the future looked bright. “You’re probably right. What are we waiting for?”
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