The day proceeded much as the previous as we slogged through bogs, swatted midges, and eyed the Thalmor soldier distrustfully. She forged the way across the swamp, maintaining a similar course to ours which pointed the way towards a set of low hills. Only once did she look back to see if we were following. In her harried steps, I sensed a desire to escape us, while we made no move to escape her.
By mid-morning, we at last reached the foothills that climbed slowly towards the east. Here the ground was frozen under permafrost that crunched underfoot as we walked along. The deadened, wind-blown trees of the marsh gave way to fragrant pines offering green shade. As I crested the first hill, I overtook the Altmer and stood looking about me. Near at hand snows had fallen in the night, and the trees glistened with fresh snow.
"Where's the camp?" I asked, more to myself. The hills fell into a low valley where water collected, stagnant and full of algae. It was here the camp was supposed to be, at least, that's what I thought I'd been told.
"Maybe it's further east," Derkeethus ventured. Worried, I nodded, jogging along the crest of the low rise. The trees thickened, and my head swiveled about as I searched for the tell-tale sign of smoke in the air. There was nary a tendril to be seen.
"I don't see any smoke," I said, anxiety increasing with every step.
"Maybe they haven't lit a fire," my friend ventured.
"In this cold? Nonsense. Hrollod's soldier's may be Nords, but mer don't tolerate the cold very well," I replied, sparing a glance at the Thalmor soldier, who grimaced as she ploughed through the frozen terrain. She looked up for a moment, glaring at me distrustfully.
"Haven't you found my kin yet?" she grumbled. "Surely you're the one to find them out of the three of us."
Her tone left me bristling until I noticed the left-handed compliment creeping through her words. Determined, I swallowed my anxiety and began canvass the area, looking for tracks and signs of sentient passage. At first, I noticed only the muddled tracks of deer from the early morning mingled with the paw prints of wolves chasing their prey. They careened down towards the water. A dead end.
Then, on the ground small and almost invisible, a dried crumb of bread. It was stale and crumbled easily between my fingertips. A little further southeast, I spotted the faint traces of a boot print, almost completely filled in by the fresh snow. The print pointed north, and several vague deer prints ran in the same direction. A hunting party. Emboldened, I stalked the reverse direction of the tracks, finding the signs harder and harder to follow. We descended into a gully and rose up to another, lower roll of earth.
"Look!" Derkeethus exclaimed.
"Blessed Auri-el," sighed the Thalmor soldier behind us.
Below us, in a gully, lay a hastily assembled camp. A smokeless fire burned, thanks to the aid of the mer soldiers, who occasionally cast some kind of spell on the fire that muffled the smoke and kept the camp hidden. I worried for a brief moment that we had come upon a completely different kind of camp, in which the mer soldiers were merely rogue agents ready to fire upon us at the slightest provocation. Squinting, I watched the tents carefully, and out of one emerged the familiar figure of Tormir. Hrollod followed behind her, reading a scroll intently.
"Finally!" I sighed, adjusting my pack and cloak. "We'll be warm in no time. No more frozen fingers!" I flexed my hands trying to bring some life back into them. The cold night had left the joints aching, especially in my right hand, which still bore the spiral-shaped scars from the briarheart. Down the hill we hurried, focusing on the camp ahead and the comfort it would offer. No landscape could possibly be as unforgiving as that chilly marsh. Climbing Hrothgar was less disheartening than plodding through the constant damp mud that was now forever caked into my armor.
As we approached the camp, the Thalmor soldier broke the single file we had naturally maintained to head over to her comrades. They greeted her in Altmeris, and in spite of the stiff politics in their motions, their expressions were ones of barely contained relief. Hrollod marched towards Derkeethus and I, ignoring the Altmer completely.
"Welcome to the Hjaalmarch Camp, or so my men and I have dubbed it," he said with a tired smile.
"How long have you been waiting?" I asked.
"A few days. We left Rorikstead immediately after your carriage departed. I see your meeting with the Thalmor ambassador was successful. Good work."
"Well, I didn't actually meet with the ambassador. I...bumped into a justicar I met in Markarth," I corrected sheepishly.
"Nevertheless, we've received some fine reinforcements."
"Fine reinforcements he says," crowed the familiar voice of Tormir, "They won't eat my food. They glare at us as if we're little more than lowly mudcrabs. They meet in secret and refuse to expose their discussions. Frankly, I think they're going to turn on us!"
Hrollod and Tormir shared a loaded glance. They've had this discussion before, I thought. Derkeethus regarded them in amusement as we crowded near the fire, which felt warm and refreshing.
"When do we leave for Dunstad?" my friend queried.
"We were just about to discuss the matter," Hrollod replied, waving his soldiers over. They leapt to attention and gathered around the fire behind us. The Thalmor forces remained grouped together apart from us, only sparing our meeting the briefest of glances before returning to their discussions.
"The time has come to prepare for our confrontation with our dear friend Constantius. Fort Dunstad is within our grasp. We need only to cross the edge of the great glacial plain that comprises the Pale. The wind will be difficult and you will freeze if you break rank and wander off," he began.
"How do you want us to travel?" Derkeethus asked, warming himself over the flames.
"If you go east, you will find the road that leads to Dawnstar. We'll follow this until we come to the northern face of the mountain the road circumnavigates. There we'll follow the foothills of the mountain, keeping it always to our right until we come to the valley that houses the fort." For several moments I thought on his directions, thinking of how treacherous the footing would be across those snow-packed hills and stones.
Over by the tents, the Altmer conversed in hushed tones. I caught a word here and there, where their language had no phrase and they were forced to resort to Cyrodillic, and where Bosmeris and Altermis shared words.
"...Dragonborn..."
"...dangerous. Resisted..."
"...doom upon us all...
"...should bring her in..."
"...kill her?"
"...after...return..."
"...bring her to Elenwen..."
I turned to glance at them, and the three of them stared piercingly at me. We all knew I had overheard them, though the others were evidently unaware of the exchange. The soldier that followed Derkeethus and I across the marsh looked viciously pleased, while the one donned in the robes of a master sorcerer gazed at me in what might have been pity or concern. I couldn't decide which.
They're going to capture me after the battle. I know it. They'll take me to Solitude and kill me.
Don't say that, Derkeethus thought in response, attempting to soothe my anxiety. I wasn't entirely convinced. My despondent train of thought was broken by Hrollod as he cleared his through and eyed my friend and I sternly.
"I didn't catch that?" I offered.
"Hm. I was just saying that I wanted you and Derkeethus to ride out as our advance guard. Alone," he added, shooting a glare at the Thalmor party. "The two of you know the wilderness better than any of us combined. We'll be able to follow your tracks and I know with both of your eyes, you'll be able to scout the valley before we arrive."
"And when do you want us to do that?" I asked uneasily, suspecting the answer would be less than desirable.
"Within the hour, if possible."
"Don't we get to rest?" Derk interjected.
"Not when you're in my company. When we march, you had better be many miles ahead of us." Biting my tongue, I held in the complaint over our exhausted states. We needed warmth, rest, and hot food, but it looked like we would have to settle for yet another hasty meal before enduring the cold once more.
It's just a little further, Henny. We're almost finished with this. I certainly hoped what he believed was true.
After a quick meal of more salted meat, this time heated over the fire, we sat warming ourselves, trying to enjoy what little pause we had. Until I heard a familiar whinny that had me jogging across the frozen ground towards the source.
In a small crop of trees, Nael stood waiting for me, her eyes bright and hooves dancing with expectation. I hugged her great head tightly, so relieved to see my companion of so many miles alive still. Her nose pushed against me, and while she appeared spirited, my joy was tempered by the faint watery wheeze that echoed behind each breath. She was still unwell, and yet I knew I would be pushing her further still.
"I'm sorry, my friend. We have more miles to ride yet. I could leave you here--" I started. Her hoof stamped the ground dangerously close to my foot and a snort blew hotly in my face. With a sigh, I patted her flank, "If we make it out alive, you're retiring to the plains of Whiterun. How does that sound?" A whicker greeted my suggestion as if in agreement.
Still, with great misgivings I filled the saddlebags with my effects, relishing the decreased weight from my pack, and made the necessary adjustments. Vittles were provided by the soldier who had looked after the horses, and Derkeethus joined me after several more minutes by the fire. Weary all the way down to the marrow of my bones, stretched beyond my own personal limit, I mounted Nael and with Derkeethus and Eater-of-Burrs cantering gamely ahead, we set off for Fort Dunstad.
Comments
Altmer characterization is wonderful...so many ... more