Harald took a moment to settle his thoughts before approaching the officer.
“Commander Drugo? I was told by the lady Merosa that you might be looking for an extra blade.”
“Or two,” Ulkarin added.
The man snorted. “The Empire doesn’t employ the services of simple murderers and thugs.”
“And I look like a murderer or thug to you?” Harald snapped.
“Now, now, Harald,” Ulkarin said, turning then to Drugo. “The boy’s highborn, Drugo. And a damn fine fighter. I watched him help take out a whole nest of those Reds who’ve been trying to make inroads from the river.”
“Hmm,” Drugo said. “My pardons. What I intended to say is that if you’re looking to serve Tamriel – well then yeah. We could use you.”
Harald shot Ulkarin a grateful glance and nodded. This was reassuring. Drugo may have worn an Imperial officer’s armor but he clearly understood that the Empire’s influence meant nothing if one of its greatest provinces was overrun. Ulfric’s rule and the ability of Nords to worship their gods as they saw fit would also mean nothing if the Empire was overrun. The “Stormcloak Rebellion” may have been conducted to ensure that the province could rule itself, but Ulfric Stormcloak and his network of supporters also relied on and worked with the Empire as a trade partner. If any of the provinces fell, they all would follow.
“Tell me.”
“There is a significant Orc population to the west of our hold, and it’s not just a neutral party. They’ve burnt down a small Imperial outpost and built around it. I believe they’ve taken captives. We fear that their expansion may reach Arnima and beyond.”
“Do you have the men to deal with them?”
Drugo sighed. “Our auxiliaries and a few of the town guard may be sufficient to clear the outpost. But after that? We just have to pray they don’t send more through the ravine.”
“So you do need our help,” Ulkarin said.
Drugo nodded. “Go meet with the officer stationed at the ridge overlooking the lake.” He pointed at the map on his desk. “Here. Do what must be done. If you’re still breathing, find your way back and I’ll have a generous reward waiting on the table.”
“I’ll do my best,” Harald told him.
“I hope you’re one that honors a contract. It’s a rare breed around here.”
“I do,” Harald said.
Drugo gave him a small smile. “I’m sure. Now don’t keep my men waiting. May you have good fortune in the battle to come.”
Harald led Ulkarin out of the Commander’s quarters and started down the stairs, only to discover that the Thalmor had been standing just outside the room, listening. Harald clenched his jaw and passed the mer, purposefully ignoring him until he didn’t have to look at the creature’s ugly face. Then he paused, and spoke.
“Is there something you need?”
The Thalmor sniffed. “You’ve received your duties, yes? Have me not suffer your presence.”
“Likewise,” Harald growled as he slipped down the stairs.
Ulkarin followed him out and then approached him, chuckling. “‘Likewise?’ Do I take it that you don’t much like the local color?”
Harald wanted to laugh but couldn’t. “Listen, Tiny. If you’ve figured out who I am you know exactly why I want nothing to do with him. It’s that uniform of his.”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re a better man than I. Anyway, let’s go beat us up some Orcs.”
They’d left the Praesidium when Ulkarin spoke up again. “Heard about what the Thalmor did with the Blades in the great war. Gathered all their heads in a bag and dumped it right in front of the Imperial Council. Can’t believe the Empire ever negotiated with them.”
Harald snorted. “Neither can a lot of other people, but it’s long enough ago now that who knows what embellishments that story may have gathered. Still, I guess when you’re faced with negotiating or death you tend to choose whatever will prevent the latter. Not everyone is as brave – or maybe it’s crazy – as my…” He shook his head as a sudden chill ran down his spine.
Ulkarin chuckled. “So he’s crazy, is he?”
Harald gave him a grim smile. “Look, Tiny. There’s a part of me that wonders what you’re going to do with this bit of information. I can’t help half-expecting to hear ‘look all, it’s Harald Stormcloak, heir to the High King of Skyrim!’ You could probably make some real money that way.” He peered at Ulkarin’s eyes, looking for signs of evasion, or nervousness, or greed. He saw none. “But there’s a much larger part of me that trusts you, and I’ve grown up around court intrigues and province politics, to say nothing of the High King’s Inquisitor.” That got a reaction from Ulkarin, whose eyebrows rose in surprise for just a moment. Harald stopped to think for a second and then shook his head. “He’s not really crazy, my father. He’s just old.” He frowned, thinking of the deep creases on Ulfric’s face. “Before that? He was just passionate and hot-blooded. I never got to see him in those days. I hear I come from a line of great warriors. I wish I’d had the chance to see that first-hand.”
“Seems to me all you need to do is look at yourself. You may be a bit wet behind the ears yet but I don’t mind having you at my back.”
Harald smiled. “Thank you. I’m still learning. Clearly. But I’m very glad of your confidence.”
They ran in companionable silence for a good bit before Ulkarin started to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“They’re going to kill you, aren’t they? Your parents, I mean. You go home at your peril, I’ll bet.”
Harald sighed. “Probably. And if they don’t, Roggi will. He’s the Inquisitor I told you about.”
Ulkarin laughed again and then pointed ahead. “Up there. I see Mek.”
“Don’t you mean Sek?”
“Nope. I mean Mek. He’s Sek’s brother. They’re pretty intimidating standing together.”
The river split into several channels west of Arnima, and the two enormous knights in black armor were easy to spot on the far side of a bridge across one of them. Harald noticed a man in Imperial officer’s armor and made for him, sneaking sideways glances at the two huge brothers as he did.
Why am I so ugly? Probably it’s because I’m so surprised there are two of them. Tends to put an odd expression on a person’s face.
“Commander Drugo sent us to aid in the assault.” But I only see a few men. How can you call this an ‘assault’? No wonder Drugo was anxious to have us help.
“Very well. We’ll soon be cutting a path through these barbarians and taking back that post. Get ready.”
“What will we be facing?”
“The Orc’s capabilities range from small artillery – arrows and such – to the mass of blunt weapons stolen from the sacked depot in Deepcrag. Also, reports have spoken of them fostering great hounds. Avoid these beasts if you want to keep your limbs from rotting. Their incisors are known to be coated in the foulest fluids.”
“People are fond of their poisons out here, aren’t they?” Harald murmured, mostly to himself. He glanced at the sky. The sun had already begun its descent toward the western mountains. He was certain the officer meant to offer them a rest, but he wanted to avoid fighting in the dark again, if he could help it.
“I’m ready.”
“Very well then. We’ll break through their ranks in close formation, shields raised. The knights will deal with the larger Orcs as we strike at the archers.”
And then we’ll all scatter and do whatever we need to survive.
“Keep moving and stay focused,” the officer said, settling his armor into place once more. “Go with grace.”
Ulkarin slipped up beside Harald and whispered into his ear. “Is this where I ask which one of these bastards is Grace?”
Harald stifled a snort of laughter. “I think so.”
They started along the road leading west to Evermore. “Keep close,” the officer called out. “A scattered formation is penetrable.”
This is hardly a formation. There are only a few of us. I guess Mek and Sek count for two each, but I hope the Orcs are more disorganized than we are.
I hate to even think it but the Thalmor might have been right about this enterprise. It feels like a fool’s errand.
A moment later, Harald grimaced as the clouds thickened and water began splashing down on his face. He glanced up and got splattered directly in his eye.
And now it’s raining.
Not only was it raining; it was soon raining hard. From behind him Ulkarin yelled. “We ought to look for some shelter. Don’t want to be outside while it’s pissing down!”
Harald agreed with him, but didn’t answer. The rain actually stood a chance of working in their favor. Nobody wanted to be outside in a downpour, not even the Orcs.
The officer spoke up. “These barbarians are vicious, but simple. Use your wits to your advantage.”
Harald was glad his helmet mostly masked his frown, not that anyone would have noticed. Orcs were hardly “simple” in his experience. They’d survived almost continual setbacks and attempts to wipe them out over hundreds of years. Sure, they weren’t a “pretty” race – but they were a race of Tamriel just like any other.
You fight the ones who are a threat and you leave the rest to live their lives. That’s the thing that’s simple, not the Orcs themselves. This group stole from the Imperials, and that makes them fair game, not idiots.
A few paces short of the gate between Arnima and Evermore, they turned left onto a dirt path hugging the cliffs. The river came up against the mountains here and spread out, creating a lake with a rushing outlet into the ravine the Thalmor had called Deepcrag.
Movement caught Harald’s attention. From the shadows beneath lakeside shrubbery, a pair of skeevers attacked.
“Enemy spotted! Engage!” the officer shouted, much to Harald’s surprise. It took only one strike on each skeever to eliminate them.
“What a chump,” one of the giant brothers muttered.
Agreed. We hardly needed a battle cry to get rid of a couple of rodents. I surely hope this battle will go better than I’m imagining.
Beyond a hanging bridge the path took a sharp turn to the right, hugging the banks of the river rushing through a gap in the stones. They’d just about reached the far side of the bridge when Ulkarin spoke up.
“Something in the air. It just doesn’t feel right.” As if to underscore his words, lightning struck nearby followed by an enormous crash of thunder. A moment later, an arrow flew out of the rain and embedded itself in the trunk of the nearest tree.
“There you are,” Ulkarin said, rushing ahead while Harald raised his shield. Just up the path from them, almost hidden in the downpour, was a pair of Orcs. One was the archer; Ulkarin made for him. The other Orc raised a battleaxe and took a mighty swing at one of the brothers – Sek, or maybe it was Mek – but the huge knight had a warhammer and a much longer reach with which to block. The Orc lost his balance, dropping down on one knee, only to be finished by the other brother. The Imperial officer had jumped clear of their encounter to attack the archer; Harald followed suit and the Orc stood no chance.
Just ahead, a wooden platform extended out over the water. It might have originally been meant for fishing, but now it was being used as a lookout by a single Orc. Harald found himself with the Imperial foot soldiers as the officer and all three oversized men in black armor converged on the Orc, taking him down before Harald even reached the battle. He stepped back out of the way to allow the soldiers to return to the path.
“Keep messing around and you’ll get us all killed,” the officer said.
Excuse me?
Harald was ready to be very angry until Ulkarin shook his head and tsk’d, arguing with the officer. He’d been the one accused of “messing around.”
“But these are a special type of Orc. I’ve seen it first-hand near Wayrest.” Ulkarin shuddered. “So many pikes. So many corpses.”
As they rounded a turn to the left, it became obvious why the place was called Deepcrag. The ravine into which the river and the road spilled was steep and so shadowed from the sky that it might as well have been the middle of the night. Harald caught a momentary glimpse of a human skull embedded in a rock cairn before needing to focus on the two angry hounds and one angry Orc rushing out to attack.
Ulkarin sighed, stepped forward, and handily sliced through one of the hounds’ necks. Harald kept going, hearing the second hound yelp as someone else took it down. He intended to handle the Orc with a battleaxe – the one who clearly thought he was going to handle Harald.
He almost did. Harald raised his shield and deftly blocked the blow, then reached around it to slice at the Orc. This Orc, though, was much quicker than he looked; his battleaxe was on a downward arc before Harald could get his shield into position, and its handle struck him hard on the shoulder. He yelped and stepped backward.
“Come here, prick!” he heard, just as a gigantic warhammer came down onto the Orc’s head. Sek – or Mek – one of them, at least, had rescued him from what might have been a grisly end.
Harald growled, turned, and dashed across the next in a series of hanging bridges without waiting for the others. He could see at least one Orc, maybe two, waiting beneath a stronghold-style shelter next to a stockade fence. But that one was most definitely going to find the sharp end of his sword. He’d almost reached it when an explosion behind the fence drew Harald’s attention away just long enough to miss the fact that an arrow was heading straight for him.
The arrow was poisoned. He knew that the moment it struck him. He roared in pain, nausea and fury and rushed the Orc, smashing his shield into the green face just as hard as he could and following up with a series of vicious slashes. When the Orc laughed and said “stay down” he rolled to the side, suddenly coming back to himself and realizing that if he didn’t do something right then, he’d be another of the untended corpses beside a road in Arnima.
He got just far enough out of reach to cast healing on himself once, and then a second time, somehow making a near-miraculous dodge as a second Orc neared, sneering “Let me hear you scream.”
“Your mistake,” said one of the Imperial soldiers, stepping between Harald and the Orcs, giving Harald the moment he needed to heal again and gather the wits that were perilously close to escaping him. Looking around, all he could see were dead Orcs, but he could hear others taunting the Imperials. The bulk of the battle had moved well away, but Harald heard Ulkarin yell “right between the eyes!” and gratefully followed the sound of that familiar voice.
There was another hanging bridge over another water-filled gully, and rushing toward them from its far side were a hound, an Orc in light armor, and a second Orc, enormous and terrifying in a full suit of heavy armor. That one raised his warhammer to swing at the Imperial officer, and would have killed the man if his blow had connected. Instead, not knowing exactly how he pushed himself forward so quickly, Harald found himself standing directly in the path of the weapon.
“IIZ!”
The huge Orc fell over, frozen. The ice wouldn’t last for more than a heartbeat or two; Harald simply didn’t have enough power to make it last longer. But those heartbeats gave him – and either Sek or Mek – the opportunity to attack with everything they had.
The Orc was up on his feet in no time. The officer and Ulkarin pushed it to the side with their attacks, up against a fallen pillar from the old Imperial installation. Harald circled around behind the Orc, landing several solid hits on him. The others stepped back, just one step, giving the Orc enough space to turn on Harald and sneer. Harald sneered back.
You’re going to die.
He didn’t think. He just Shouted. Once again the Orc fell to the ground, and Harald leapt forward, giving the others no opening to attack. All he could see was red. All he could do was what he had to do – defeat the Orcs who had almost taken them down. Once the Orc was standing Harald struck in a blind rage, over and over again, until it was down on one knee; then, in a blow that had his arm aching, he brought his sword down across the Orc’s neck just as hard as he could. The heavy helm kept the head from separating from its body but Harald heard the bones splintering and saw blood spurting nonetheless.
“Good job, yer Highness,” Ulkarin murmured. “That was Dom-Terag Firstborn. Big kill.”
Harald was about to ask the significance of the name, but Ulkarin took off running, followed closely by the brothers. They all were shouting at someone Harald couldn’t see through the rain; he, on the other hand, spotted yet another archer just past one of the stronghold-style shelters. He charged the Orc, stunning him with a solid shield bash and then landing four rapid sword strikes. Behind him, the sounds of battle ended with one of the brothers sneering “Bet you regret this now, don’t you?”
Harald was tired. As his rage faded, he realized how very sore he was now and would be later. He was out of breath. In the dark, he stumbled around for long minutes until leading the way to the Orcs’ hastily-built stronghold. Past that was a very long hanging bridge, suspended over the chasm that gave this place the “Deep” part of its name. He gulped and dashed across it. It wasn’t any more dangerous than the platform at Hug Rock Mine but in the dark and wet it felt that way. Across it, just at the base of the old Imperial tower, two last Orcs waited for him. For a moment he regretted having taken the lead; but just as he Shouted once more to buy a moment of time, Ulkarin and the brothers rushed past him and made short work of both Orcs.
“Thanks,” he panted to nobody in particular. Groaning with the effort of bending over, he checked the bodies, taking a key from one of them and frowning. It was definitely the key to an Imperial cage. He had spent a lifetime in the Palace of the Kings and knew some of what happened to people in those cages. When he heard a woman’s voice from inside the tower, he nodded to himself, grimly, and plodded inside.
As he’d expected, there was a cell. There were two women there, stripped of all but their small-clothes. One sprawled out on the floor was clearly dead. The other hung, shivering, from wrist shackles. Harald sighed and unlocked the cage.
“Are you alright?” he asked, automatically, and then tsk’ing at himself. “What a question. Of course you’re not alright. Forgive me.”
“Finally someone came!” the girl said, shakily, then coughing. “P-please, get me down from here already.”
“Yes, of course. One moment.” He unlocked the shackles and the girl dropped to the floor.
“Argh. My wrists!” she cried, pushing herself up slowly. “Get me out of here. Away from this place!”
“There are others outside. Officers…” Harald tried to explain, but the girl dashed past him, past Ulkarin, and out the door of the tower.
He followed, to find the girl kneeling over one of the Orc corpses, a look that he couldn’t interpret at all on her face.
“Why did it take you so long?” she cried. “Did you forget about us? The things they did! I can feel it writhing inside me. The Orcs placed one of their evil inside me. Get it out! Please! I can’t raise a damn Orc spawn! No, no, no. I’d rather die than be faced with that burden!”
Harald felt the ice of shock slam through his body.
Placed one of their… Orc spawn? Is she saying that they…?
“Wait!” he yelped, but the girl had risen to her feet and dashed down the steps toward the Imperial officer. She placed herself squarely in the man’s line of sight, but he looked down, unable either to meet her gaze or look on her nearly-uncovered body.
“Have mercy and strike me down, please!” she begged him. “I can’t live like this! I can’t!”
Harald stepped to the officer’s side and leaned toward his ear. “I think. Based on what she said up there. I think they…”
“Yes, I know what they did, the filth,” the officer growled. “They’re no better than animals. I’ll stay here and take care of her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything rash. You head back to Drugo and report our success.”
Harald nodded, numbly, and turned around to look for Ulkarin. The big man was standing silent, somber.
“Let’s go,” Harald muttered.
“Lead on, yer Highness,” Ulkarin said.
“Not funny, Tiny.”
Ulkarin gave him a grim smile. “Not meant to be. If it hadn’t been before, it’s clear you’re highborn by the way you reacted to the girl’s situation. It’s a good thing, Harald. It means you see things the way they ought to be, not necessarily the way this miserable life dictates they are.”
Harald stared at him for another long moment. It was true. He was young, and inexperienced, and headstrong, and while he knew such things happened they happened to… others. To ‘them.’
I guess I just met one of ‘them.’ I don’t much like it.
“Glad I killed the bastard,” he muttered.
Harald trudged up the stairs toward Commander Drugo’s quarters, wondering whether he’d ever feel good about life again. He’d come west expecting to find intrigue, and plotting, and even evidence of the horrible disease rumored to come from here. He knew that there were pockets of poverty, groups of people who were unscrupulous, cruel, and worthy of punishment. But somehow – even though he knew, intellectually, that such things happened – he’d never met someone who had been physically violated in that way.
Harald had thought about it as he and Ulkarin made their silent return to Procul Praesidium Reach. His father had been violated by being tortured. Dardeh had, on several occasions, danced around the periphery of telling him something about Roggi; he didn’t know what had happened to his not-quite-uncle but he knew it hadn’t been a good thing. He knew of other people who had been violated by virtue of being taken to the dungeons in his father’s, or other, palaces.
All of those things were terrible. But they were part of the conduct of life in Skyrim. He knew that. Even the men closest to him, the biggest influences on his life, had made it clear that some things, even terrible ones, were to be expected and even intentionally committed in the conduct of war.
But none of them resulted in a child.
This was the first time he’d ever contemplated the horror that the girl in the tower would have experienced. She’d clearly been there a long while. She knew she was with child – against her will and, even worse, a child that would be an unwelcome half-breed.
He had wrestled with his own thoughts all the way back. His best friends, Chip and Qara, were half-breeds. So was Dardeh. All of them, though, to the best of his knowledge, had been welcomed, desired, lovingly-raised children. But an Orc!
And then he’d been ashamed of himself. He couldn’t look down on Orcs without being exactly what everyone accused his father of being: a self-important racist. Still, there was something horrifying about the girl being forced to bear a child she hadn’t asked for, a half-Orc child, and he couldn’t get past it.
And here was I, so proud of myself for helping the Dunmer in Little Vivec. Not-racist, I told myself. Better-than-Father, I thought. Yet here am I now, wanting to erase these Orcs from the face of Nirn because of the horrible thing they’ve done to this one girl.
At one point he’d laughed, a bitter laugh with no humor in it, and Ulkarin had come up beside him.
“What’s so funny? Cat got your tongue again?”
Harald had shaken his head. “No. Not really funny, either, unless it’s funny to realize how very badly you’ve misjudged yourself. It’s one thing – one ridiculous thing – to have people tell you how good you are, how much better you are than others, for your whole life. It’s another thing to realize they’re telling you that because of who you are and what they might be able to get from you in the future. And that’s what’s funny. I’m not who they think I am. I wanted to stomp on that Orc’s head and splatter it all over the stairs.”
There was a long pause. Then Ulkarin cleared his throat to speak.
“For whatever it’s worth, I would take a leader who’s had a good hard look at himself over one who just assumes that what he’s been told all his life is real. And I’d definitely take that guy over one who’s flat-out crazy, like Mortifayne. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
He’d been more than grateful to Ulkarin for his words. It was hard not to wonder whether they were given because he believed them or because Harald was paying him.
He’d pondered all of it. And as they sloshed down the flooded roadway to the Imperial stronghold a horrible thought had occurred to him.
What if it had been Qara?
He probably looked as ashen as he felt by the time he faced Commander Drugo across his table.
“Out with it,” Drugo said.
“We forced the Orcs out of Deepcrag Ravine, at least for now,” Harald told him.
“Well done. You did what you were sent for; thus you will be rewarded generously.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harald told him. “I do my best. I was only one of many. But why are the Orcs here, anyway?” That was another of the questions he’d been wracking his mind over. It was good that he now had information to share with his father but without an understanding of it, it might as well be the ravings of some fortune-teller.
Drugo tsk’d. “Isn’t that the question we’re all looking to answer. You’d think the Empire’s multi-century stay here would have stifled racial tensions somewhat, but they just keep the old feuds going with no signs of relief. These particular Orcs who sacked our outpost, however: well that’s an even more startling development that has no rational impetus, at least to our knowledge. They’ve dug themselves deep into the middle of the kingdom, surely knowing that we’ll use any and all means to tear them out. That means there must be some deeper scheming at play here.”
“Could it be revenge for Orsinium? I know that happened a long time ago, but still.”
“Could be, yet they’ve had ample opportunity to act on that seeing as it’s been nigh 200 years since its razing.” He sighed. “But since the Great War, we know that the crimes of our forebears will have us suffer the same indictments. Seems we’re all locked into the past, and the future is forever beholden to history. Stagnation predicates itself on the adoration of yesteryear.”
Harald gave him a tired smile. He would have laughed, but somehow none of it seemed funny.
“Trying out your poetry, are you?”
Drugo gave him the same kind of weary smile in return. “In times of relative peace I try to work on my humanity. Makes it all the easier to conduct diplomacy in this land.”
Drugo handed him a large sack of coin. He was about to protest, but decided against it; he could give most if not all of it to Ulkarin with no problem. The man certainly had earned it, both in protection and companionship, and his wisdom and support were worth at least as much as his fee had been in the first place.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Harald asked before realizing that he was, after all, speaking to an officer in the Imperial Legion, someone his entire family would probably just as soon spit on as anything else.
“Actually, not for me, but there is someone who might need a hand. There’s a missionary, Reamonn. You can find him in the church. Go talk to him. He keeps asking me if I can spare men to search for some kind of ancient artifact. I can’t. You’ve seen that first-hand. But maybe you can help him.”
Harald nodded. “After we get some sleep.”
“Hear, hear,” Ulkarin said. “I could go for a pint right about now.”
Drugo smiled. “After a pint, and some sleep.”