Frina had taken a boat from Windhelm to Dawnstar and then run cross-country to the Stormcloak camp, just over the hold border into Hjaalmarch. The run had distracted her from that thing that had haunted her for the entire boat trip. She’d kept reaching up to touch her own lips, trying to quiet the fluttering sensations in her stomach and chest.
It was just a kiss. He’s probably had dozens of women in his life. Or more. It didn’t mean anything.
It didn’t matter, though, whether Ulfric’s kiss had meant anything. Her mind replayed the entire evening over and over until at last the necessity of watching out for Imperial patrols and frostbite spiders took center stage. The snowy areas along the northern coast were dangerous even without a war going on; with it, they were downright hazardous. More than once she’d been grateful that she’d never replaced the Stormcloak armor. It was much easier to look like a simple traveler in her nondescript leathers.
She walked slowly into the camp, heading toward the large tent with the bear-claw banner flying outside it, hoping not to be stopped because of that simple leather armor. She shouldn’t have worried. Not only did nobody stop her, several soldiers looked up at her and smiled, calling her “Snow-Hammer.”
Well, now. Word travels quickly, doesn’t it?
Galmar was muttering to himself as she approached. “That we have forgotten them, this I fear,” he said, shaking his head. “The gods will remember.”
“They know we haven’t forgotten them, Galmar,” Frina said. “I pray to Talos every day. I know that the Dragonborn does, as well. That ought to count for something.”
“Ah, there you are,” he said.
He still looked terribly distracted, as far as Frina was concerned. Something occurred to her then. She’d always known why her sister Briinda and Roggi fought in the war; at least she knew what Roggi had said back then. She’d heard Dardeh speak about it. She knew something of Ulfric’s history. But Galmar – he was a complete mystery to her. She decided to broach the subject while he was thinking of other things.
“Galmar, I’ve wanted to ask. I’ve heard Ulfric talk about why he fights but what about you? What are your reasons for doing this?”
He straightened up, folded his arms, and stared at her. “Reasons? Since when does a man need a reason to protect his family? To defend his homeland? It’s the damned outlanders and Empire that need the reasons!”
His voice had been getting slowly louder as he said these things. While Frina agreed with him, she didn’t want him to be more upset.
“Hasn’t Skyrim always been part of the Empire, though?” she murmured.
Galmar snorted. “Not this Empire. The world’s better without it. Certainly Skyrim is. I fought in the Imperial Army in the war against the Dominion. I bled and spilled blood for the Empire. And for what?” he growled, his eyes flashing. “The Empire to bend its knee before those evil elf bastards? Signing a treaty meant to kill the heart of the Empire itself? To deny Talos? No. I will have no part of any such Empire, and I will gladly gut anyone who says otherwise.”
He shook his head again, and took a deep breath. “Enough talk. There is much to do.”
Frina just stared at him, her mouth open. He was in the Legion? I guess Ulfric was, as well, so I shouldn’t be so surprised. No wonder.
So many of the things she’d heard them say to each other in passing suddenly made sense to Frina in a way they hadn’t before. It wasn’t just some theoretical, political cause to them. They’d both suffered, personally. They both felt betrayed by the Empire they’d originally been willing to die for, the Empire that Talos himself had founded when he was still called Tiber Septim. Knowing those things in theory had always made her blood boil. Knowing two people, now, who had been affected personally by the Empire’s cowardly surrender added a new dimension of hatred to her understanding of the matter.
No wonder.
“Yes,” she finally managed to force out. “There is much to do. I’m here for my next assignment. Ulfric sends his best.”
One of Galmar’s eyebrows rose a bit. “Does he, now?” He studied her for a moment. She hoped desperately that what had happened wasn’t written clearly all over her face, but feared that it was when a corner of his mouth rose as well. “Good. Well. I need you to deliver some false orders to the Imperial Legate in Morthal. But first we need to get our hands on some Imperial orders, to make the forgeries. The inns at Dragon Bridge and Rorikstead are frequent stops for Imperial runners. See if you can’t convince one of those innkeepers to help you. One way or another, get me those documents.”
Frina nodded. “I’m on it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“We all have faith in you.”
She smiled as she turned to leave. “Don’t have faith in me, Galmar. Have faith in Talos, along with me.”
She left the camp and trotted to the edge of the hill on which it rested. It would be easiest to cut south and join the road, but Frina decided instead to descend and skirt the edge of the swamplands to avoid unnecessary confrontations along the main route. She would cut through Morthal, get a feeling for where the Legate was housed, and be fully prepared to find him on the return trip. The swamp, though, was not her favorite place to be.
It was overcast, most of the shrubs were bare of leaves and it was hard to tell the difference between man-made ruins and stone outcroppings for all the gray. The evergreens looked almost black. Even the grasses that poked through the dwindling layer of snow looked gray in the day’s lighting. The wind whispered through them like a great animal breathing. Frina frowned. Even though it was usually bitter cold, she much preferred the crisp whiteness of the snow around Windhelm to this. She had to splash through shallow water at once point and wrinkled her nose at the smell of rotting vegetation.
She turned south to enter Morthal but froze as a sound, and then motion, caught her attention. She had thought it was just the wind moaning occasionally over its own whispering. But to the south, over the mountaintops, a shape was circling.
I must be imagining things.
She ran down Morthal’s eastern boardwalk toward the center of the village, and looked up again as the shape above the mountains came out of the clouds and was clear once more. She stopped still, ignoring the people who pushed by her asking whether she needed something, and simply stared up at the mountaintop.
I’m not imagining. That’s a dragon.
Frina pulled out her bow and stood at alert for several long moments. If the dragon was headed for Morthal, they would need every able-bodied soul to fight it. People went about their business, though, seemingly not noticing the faint roar far above their heads. She waited, trying not to advertise her apprehension; but the dragon did not come roaring down out of the mountains, did not attack the town. She loosened her shoulders, stowed her bow, and then continued on her way casting a wary glance back up over her shoulder every few steps.
On the other side of Morthal she turned north again, back along the edge of the swamp, cursing herself for having gone through the water as her feet squished with every step. Still, she was moving through Imperial territory and didn’t want to risk a problem out here on her own.
Not too long outside the town she was happy to have taken this route. On a low hill to her left was a broken tower, part of an old fortress. She needed to pass fairly close to it to avoid wading through the swamp yet again; and as she neared it she heard the sounds of battle going on inside.
“Talos smite you!”
“Die, dog!”
Frina chewed on her lip for a moment. The urge to run up the slope and help the Stormcloaks was almost overpowering, and yet Galmar had given her an assignment that was probably more important in the long run. She stopped to listen; at least three times she took a step or two toward the hillside, stopped, and turned west again. Finally, exasperated with herself, she forced herself away from the tower continuing along the edge of the marsh and, once she was well clear of the battle, up onto the more solid land just above it.
The road came closer to the wetlands on this part of the route west to Dragon Bridge. She crept up to the edge of it, looked in both directions for threats, and then began trotting along it. It may be more dangerous, she thought, but at least my feet won’t get any wetter. It was a much more comfortable surface to run on, and she heaved a contented sigh as she went.
And then a roar nearby shattered any semblance of contentment she might have had.
It was nearby, nearly overhead. Frina stopped and looked up, but the trees were close and heavy here and all she could see was their black lower limbs blocking the sky. Just ahead of her, a dog stood in the middle of the road, barking furiously into the air. Her heart pounding, she drew her bow and darted in behind a cluster of trees as the flapping of wings grew so close she could nearly feel the sound. And then the great gray dragon dropped to the road just in front of her, the concussion of its landing swaying the trees and rocking her backward. She caught a glimpse of its angry face and squeaked in fear, scrambling to put another, larger tree between herself and it.
What am I going to do? It’s just me and that dog. No Dragonborn. Nobody who is used to fighting dragons. No town guards nearby. Talos guide me!
Frina didn’t care much for magic. She was good at minor healing, but that was the extent of what she did. But one of the Imperial mages she had killed had carried a staff with him, and she had picked it up. She took this staff now, pointed it at the roadway, and prayed that she could make it work.
There was the distinctive hum of energies in a globe over the cobbles, and out of it stepped a ghostly figure that began firing balls of magical energy at the dragon. This was not a standard fire-breathing dragon, Frina noticed as it screamed its answer, nor a frost dragon. Those types of attacks she was prepared for, somewhat, by virtue of potions. No, this dragon fired blasts of shock energy that charged the air around them the same way lightning from a thunderstorm would sear its way through the atmosphere.
Frina prepared her bow; but the dragon lifted off again before she could take a shot at it. It was almost deathly silent for a moment, save for the wind bearing a snowstorm.
Is it gone? Was that it?
She stepped out of the trees for a few cautious steps uphill and then darted back for them as a roar erupted just over her head. The dragon landed on the roadway once more, snapping at the wraith and disintegrating it. Frina was able to sink several arrows into its hide before it leapt into the air again, but she only had steel arrows and they did very little damage. She used the staff once more to conjure another wraith.
The dragon roared, but the sound – and the wraith’s mad dash down the road – told her it was flying back toward the northeast. For a moment Frina thought about making a break to the west, toward Dragon Bridge; but then she remembered Roggi and Dardeh rushing to battle a dragon in Falkreath and knew she would never be able to hold her head up if she ran away. Instead, she darted across the road and followed the wraith toward a tiny shack in the woods.
She couldn’t see the dragon anywhere, but the wraith started firing into the sky and a moment later the great creature landed where Frina had been standing just a moment before. She fired off four or five arrows while it pounded its tail against the earth, snapped at the wraith, and finally disintegrated her.
Frina bolted for the cabin, but scuffed one still-wet boot against a stone and stumbled. That was what saved her. The dragon had lifted off again, and roared its shock magic at the spot it anticipated her moving next, but the stumble meant that the main bolt of magic hit the ground just in front of her, sparing her its full force. Even so, it hurt badly; and as the dragon swooped up out of the trees Frina barreled through the open door of the cabin and then began healing herself. The dragon dropped to the ground again, just in front of the cabin.
“Make up your mind!” she screamed at it. “Fly or land!”
It slammed its tail into the ground again and fired its shock attack at the cabin. The interior lit up – an eerie, bluish light – but the wall between Frina and the outside was solid. She looked around then, and saw the dog that had been on the road, guarding the corpse of a dead man stretched out on a small cot. What she did not see was any way out of the cabin aside from the two openings just in front of her; the two openings directly in front of the dragon.
Great. Now I’m trapped. But I’m not dead, at least not yet. All I need to do is keep myself out of the open window or the open doorway. That means I have to distract it somehow.
Frina considered the dog, briefly, but didn’t know whether it would respond to a command from anyone other than its dead master. Instead, she used the staff once more. The wraith ran outside and began its attack; Frina landed a couple of solid arrow strikes through the window before dodging a shock attack. The dragon leapt skyward once more but landed again almost immediately, this time so near that Frina was afraid its muzzle would reach through the window. But it stayed for only a moment or two before flying off.
The boom of its landing happened again, this time down the road. Frina took advantage of the moment to run out of the cabin. Ducking behind trees was definitely preferable to being trapped in a cabin with no way out. She circled up the hill toward the road and around behind a large stone outcropping. It was then that she realized the situation had suddenly become both better and immeasurably worse.
There was a Thalmor patrol on the road, fully engaged with the dragon.
Damn filthy elves. I hope it kills them all!
She maneuvered around the boulders and through the forest, trying to find a good vantage point from which to fire at dragon and Thalmor alike. The dragon lifted off again, and her heart sank at the next sound she heard.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!! You wish to defeat me? Impossible!”
Damn! They saw me!
She ran for thicker cover, praying that she could avoid the Thalmor’s fire spells. She could hear them getting closer; heard shouts about her life and land being forfeit, when the dragon came to her rescue. It dropped to earth only a few dozen paces in front of her, attacking one Thalmor. A second, who had run into the space between her and the dragon, stupidly ignored the beast and turned to cast his flames spell at her. She shrieked and ran away, around the crest of a small knoll, with the Thalmor at her heels.
“I’ll end your miserable life!” he shouted.
Not if the dragon gets you first, she thought, hearing the beast’s teeth snap together as vividly as though they were right behind her head. She turned to find that it was the Thalmor directly behind her instead, and fired an arrow into his midsection; but it didn’t completely penetrate the elven armor. It did stagger him, though, even as the shadow of dragon wings darkened the area where they stood; and she ran away, downhill into a cluster of trees, just ahead of the creature’s landing. The dragon’s first shock attack killed the Thalmor and its second grazed Frina, putting her muscles into painful cramps, but she dropped to the ground and let herself roll downhill and behind a large hollow stump.
She took a few moments to heal herself and then pulled out the staff, thankful that it had enough power left to conjure the wraith once again. The dragon was fully occupied with the remaining members of the Thalmor patrol. As the wraith raced into the battle Frina fired arrows at the dragon as quickly as she could. It was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the individual bursts of its attacks or see how the patrol fared, but finally the dragon slumped to the ground, dead.
She would have liked to dissolve into a trembling pile on the ground, but she knew she wasn’t completely safe. She crouched and crept slowly sideways, behind some trees; but in spite of her attempted stealth she heard the shouts of the two remaining Thalmor coming after her.
“Elven supremacy is the only truth!”
Oh you think so, do you? Well I have some weapons that say otherwise.
She nocked an arrow and jumped out of hiding, swiveling left and right to find her target. The wraith wandered casually out from behind a tree and approached her.
“Are you kidding me? Did you get both of them?” she said to it. She listened; there were no more haughty elven voices calling out insults. She grinned at the wraith.
“This calls for some thanks,” she murmured, dropping to her knees.
Thank you, mighty Talos, for standing with me on this most harrowing of days. Thank you for helping to slay the dragon and for letting me witness the smiting of your Thalmor enemies.
Frina felt warmth and healing and comfort flood her body as she prayed silently. She thought of Galmar, and how he’d given so much of himself to fight the Thalmor’s betrayal of Talos. And she thought of Ulfric, and the price he had paid, and the warmth of his touch, and the taste of his mouth.
When she realized where her mind was going she shook her head and rose to find and loot the bodies. She examined the dragon, marveling at its size and prying a few scales loose to save as a memento; but when she came to the last Thalmor she stood staring down at it for long moments. She took his armor, and his money, and then she spat at his corpse and left him lying on the ground to rot.
__
The weather hadn’t improved by the time she reached Dragon Bridge, so she was thrilled to see the sign reading “Four Shields” outside the inn. I could use a nice mug of ale or three, she thought, to say nothing of a bed. I wonder how long this will take.
“Come on in!” came a cheerful voice from behind the bar. “Let me know if I can get you anything. My name’s Faida. I keep the inn.”
Frina smiled at the woman, a well-tanned Nord with a friendly face.
“I’d really like to rent a room,” she said, pushing some coins across the bar. “You wouldn’t believe the trip I’ve had from Morthal.”
“Sure thing! It’s yours for a day,” Faida said, smiling and sweeping the coins across and into her palm.
“You haven’t by any chance seen an Imperial courier come by, have you?” Frina said.
The smile froze on Faida’s face.
“I tend to keep my patrons’ … privacy,” she said calmly.
Oh good, it’s to be a challenge, is it?
Frina dropped her voice and leaned forward. “Please. His life is in danger.”
Faida’s eyes narrowed a bit, but the smile never left her face.
“Yeah. Sure it is. You don’t fool me.”
Frina sighed. Damn, I’m an awful liar. It’s a good thing I don’t have to make a living fooling people like some smooth thief. I guess there’s no help for it.
“Ok, ok, I get it. Will this help jog your memory?” She started pulling gold pieces out of her pouch, watching Faida’s face as she added them to a growing pile on the counter. There were well over two hundred gold in the pile when Faida’s eyes sparkled and she cleared her throat, pulling the coins across toward her.
“Well if you insist. He was here, but he left. If you leave now you can probably catch him. Or you can just wait here. He’ll be back soon enough.”
“Ok, thanks,” Frina said, considering her options. Between the cold swamp water, the bruises from rolling down the hill after being shocked nearly to death, and the overall fatigue from having had her life flash before her eyes several times, she was tired. “I think I’ll rest for a bit. Can you show me to my room?”
“Sure thing. Right this way,” Faida said with a grin.
Frina ate some of her trail food and then stretched out on the bed, intending to just rest for awhile. When she opened her eyes again, though, the light had changed. It was easily night, if not somewhere in the wee hours of the morning; she couldn’t tell which. What she could see, though, through the open door of the room, was a man in Imperial armor standing next to the bar, having a meal.
By the Nine, I almost slept through my chance! The gods must be watching over me today.
She slid out of the bed and made her way very casually across the room and out into the inn’s main area. She crossed the room and took up a spot against the doorway on the far side, behind the Imperial, hoping that Faida’s promise that she kept her customer’s secrets would extend to not letting the man know that he’d been asked for.
Now what? I’ve already proven that I can’t lie very well and I’m not awfully persuasive. How am I going to get the orders off this man? Will I have to follow him and kill him on the road? I could do that, I suppose, but…
She stared at him, slowly going over all the details of his armor and weapons, worrying about her task. When she reached his satchel, her eyes widened and she had to stop herself from gasping. The man had flipped his satchel open, no doubt to fish a coin purse out of it, and had not closed it up again. Peeking out of the open top of it was a folded piece of parchment.
The orders! That has to be the orders. I … need to get them.
Frina crouched down and slid to the side just enough that she was out of Faida’s line of sight. She extended her hand slowly; excruciatingly slowly.
I’m not a thief. I don’t have an invisibility potion. I don’t know what I’m doing. I had more chance of sneaking away from the Thalmor than I do of…
Her fingers grasped the paper just as the courier turned slightly. It slipped out of the open satchel as easily as if he’d taken it out himself. Frina’s mouth fell open for a moment in shock; then she snatched the paper to her chest and backed up against the doorway again. She slid the paper into her own bag as quietly as she could manage before rising from her crouch and slipping around the doorway into the vacant bedroom behind her. It took a few moments of slow breathing to quiet her heart. She waited, peering out into the main room, until Faida had her back turned; then she sauntered down the length of the inn and out the door into the dead of night.
She blew out a long breath.
I’d rather be fighting a fortress full of Imperials than do that again.
—
Galmar was more than pleased to see her when she entered his command tent.
“Believe it or not, stealing this paper from the courier was the easiest part of the job. Oh, and you might find it as satisfying as I did that there are four fewer Thalmor in the world, now, than there were when I left.”
“Good work!” Galmar said, grinning. “Now let’s see what you’ve got.” He scanned the parchment and frowned.
“Hmm. They know more of our plans than I thought. Not good.” He read for a moment longer. “Oh, what’s this? ‘Fort Snowhawk is in need of reinforcements.’”
“If that’s this fort, I’m not surprised,” Frina said, pointing at the map to the place she’d gone by earlier. “There was a lot of fighting going on there when I passed it.”
“We’ll make sure they won’t be getting those,” Galmar growled. “Give me a moment while I make a few, um… corrections to these reports.” He placed the document on the table and bent over it, working carefully to remove some words and replace them with others. After a few busy minutes he folded the paper again and handed it back to Frina.
“There we go. Make sure that those forged documents get to the Legate in Morthal. They should give them the wrong idea and us the advantage. Watch yourself out there.”
__
It was nearly full light by the time she arrived in Morthal, and hunters were making their way out into the wilderness. She turned to climb the wooden steps up to the Legate’s quarters and stopped; the guard was changing, and she had to wait while half a dozen large men made their way out of the building. Inside, Legate Taurinus Duilus was still resting, but he rubbed his eyes and nodded when she tapped him on the shoulder.
“Can’t wait to kill another of Ulfric’s boys,” he said as he pushed himself up off the bed.
Well lucky for me then that I’m Ulfric’s girl, not his… No, that doesn’t sound right.
“I have important documents for you, sir,” she said, holding out Galmar’s forgery.
“Is that so?” he said, peering at her more closely. “Lost your uniform along the way, did you, soldier?”
Frina chuckled. I did, but not the one you’re thinking of. And I’m still glad of it. “Oh, not at all, sir,” she told him. “This is purposeful. I wanted to look like a regular courier. There are a lot of skirmishes on the roads right now. It’s a lot easier to get in and out of places in regular clothing.”
He nodded slowly. “I suppose it would be. Good thinking.” His face relaxed; he unfolded the parchment. “Thank you soldier. Let’s take a look at these reports. I’m waiting on word about reinforcements for the fort.”
Frina trusted that Galmar’s years in the Legion would have informed what he’d written, but she was still nervous watching the Legate’s eyes skim the document.
“Good,” he said. “They’re on their way. And we have some information on enemy troop movements. Excellent.” He looked up at her and nodded. “Stormcloak scouts are making it difficult to move around. It’s good you made it here in one piece. Why don’t you have yourself a drink at the Moorside before you head back?” He slipped her a thin coin purse.
Likely won’t make up for what I had to spend to bribe Faida, but who knows. I did earn it, though.
“Thank you, sir! It was my pleasure,” she said before giving him a short bow and leaving.
It was seriously cold outside, but it had finally stopped snowing. Frina stretched her arms out behind her and cricked her neck to either side, wincing when it popped. She sighed.
“Back to Galmar, then. Once more down the edge of the bog it is.”