9th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 198
While I was used to hauling my clients' extra gear, I could never get used to feeling like a common pack mule. Especially when the men who hired me rode aback horses while I carried their things and led their beast by the reins.
"Have you ever fought Forsworn before?" asked Israal, the Redguard man who had hired me back in Markarth. For a self-proclaimed adventurer, he was dressed in fine armor made more of expensive silks than steel. His dark, shoulder-length hair was roped and held loosely by a leather strip at the nape of his neck. He wore no helm, and the only weapon he possessed was a sword with silver and other finery laid into the hilt.
Clients like him were my least favorite: men who strutted around in fine robes, boasting about their daring adventures. They often told of the foes they had slain, the lands they had seen, and—to my disgust—the women they had conquered.
Clients like that were always the first to turn and run the moment trouble arose.
"Did you hear me, Wilma?" my client asked after I had refused to answer his question.
I ground my teeth together. How many times do I have to tell him my name is Ylva? "I've made it a habit to avoid them when l can."
"You're wise to do so. They're fierce creatures, barely more than animals. Wildmen." He sat up straighter in his saddle, hand wrapping around the pommel of his sword. "When we reach their camp, Wilma, you must be prepared for a fight. I won't leave without my heirloom."
"All due respect, why didn't you just hire the Companions? They do things like this all the time."
"Why pay their high price when I can hire you? You're far less expensive than a Companion."
I suppressed a grumble. Maybe I should raise my rates. Then only the serious adventurers would hire my help. "I see."
He chuckled under his breath. "I must admit, you're a cut above the brutes I've had to hire in the past. You're intelligent. For a woman, at least."
If it weren't for the fat coin purse weighing my satchel down, I would have dropped his gear and hightailed it back to Markarth. I reminded myself it was just part of the job, and no matter where I would go, insults would follow me everywhere.
Night had fallen by the time we reached the Forsworn's encampment. It was situated near an ancient ruin labeled Lost Valley Redoubt on my map. Israal instructed me to tie his horse to a nearby juniper bush before we moved in.
"I see sound traps ahead," he whispered to me, drawing his sword. The blade was freshly polished and glistened in the moonlight. I wondered if he was aware of just how bright it was shining, and how it would affect our odds of sneaking in and out undetected. "Be aware."
I nodded and unsheathed my own sword. "I'll take point."
With me in front, we followed the dimly-lit trail leading up the mountainside. Things like bone chimes and tripwires had been set at random intervals along the path, which made navigating the already-rough terrain that much harder. I almost set off one or two of the tripwires, earning a patronizing scoff from Israal.
Some ten agonizing minutes later, we made it into the main part of the camp, where some of the Forsworn were gathered around a small bonfire. They were talking in soft voices, probably to remain undetected from the main road. A few tents made of animal skins were scattered here and there near the fire, and a long table with an assortment of weapons and armor was just in view behind the fire.
"There's my heirloom," whispered Israal, pointing to the table. "That silver helm, it belonged to my great-great-grandfather. It's been in my family for far too long to let some wild vagabonds steal it away."
Part of my wondered how the helmet managed to be stolen in the first place, if it was as valuable as he said. However, smarting off to Israal would undoubtedly be ill-received. He would probably dock some coin off my pay, which was something I could not afford.
"I'll retrieve it for you," I said. "You stay here."
As I started to move forward, Israal laid his hand on my shoulder. "No, I'll get the helmet. You distract the Forsworn."
"It's too dangerous for both of us to go in. We'll be seen."
"And I don't trust you enough to let you go after that helm alone. How am I supposed to know you won't run off with it and pawn it to the nearest shop?"
I scowled at him. "I'm not a thief."
"I can't take any risks. You mercenary types are always greedy. Do what I've ordered. Dispose of them if you can, but keep them distracted at all costs."
I started to protest, but the look on Israal's face was enough to quell any argument.
Without another word, the pair of us split up, I going to the right, and he to the left. I crept along as silently as possible; it may not have offered as much protection as steel or ebony, but my leather armor was a perfect fit for me. It was supple and quiet, enabling me to run without alerting anyone to my presence.
Only when Israal was a few feet outside the Forsworn's circle did I shout and stamp my feet. "Hey! Over here!"
All of the Reachmen jumped to their feet and drew their weapons. They bellowed deep within their throats as they charged me, wicked bone swords and axes held at the ready. These people had truly earned the name wildmen.
Taking a moment to see where Israal was—about to grab his helm from the table—I darted to one side and further away from the camp. My leather-clad feet flew over rough stone, loose hair flying behind me, and the thundering of half-a-dozen feet trailed just behind me.
I knew better than to fight them; just one of these men could cause me serious harm if I slipped up just a little. Their swords were designed not to slash cleanly, but to rip flesh from bone. Their axes had chipped edges, meant only to inflict the greatest amount of pain possible. I certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of such cruel instruments.
After running away from the camp for some time, I circled back to rendezvous with Israal at his horse. The Forsworn were still pursuing me, but if I had Israal's help, perhaps we could finish these men off together.
In the moonlight, I spotted Israal up ahead. He was mounting his horse, his retrieved helmet sitting on his head. He did not act like he could see me, which I did not understand how that would be possible. I had a crowd of Reachmen chasing me. How could he not see me?
"Israal!" I cried, hand tightening around the hilt of my sword.
He turned my way, but instead of riding to my aid, he remained in one place. "Thank you for your aid, Wilma. You've served your purpose." And with that, he wheeled his horse around and galloped away.
My jaw dropped, eyes wide as his silhouette faded over the horizon. Why, that dirty, rotten skeever!
Now I absolutely did not stand a chance against the Forsworn chasing me. I had no choice but to run back towards their camp and hope to lose them over the mountains. Swerving up the path, I used my sword to set off as many of their traps as I could, hoping to at least slow them down.
Through their encampment I ran, their angry shouts rising up behind me. I weaved around the tents and other sound traps, raced up a long flight of stone stairs, and across a bridge over a rushing stream. All I had to do was outrun them for just a little longer. If I could do that, I would be safe.
My plan, however, was thwarted just as I crossed the bridge over the stream. A blood-chilling screech knifed through the air, and a white-hot fireball exploded within inches of my toes. I skidded to a stop and turned towards the source of the fireball. There I saw three hagravens, all with Fire spells swirling in their clawed hands. Standing beside them was a Briarheart, with his chest ripped open to reveal the small briarheart bud where his heart should have been.
Oh, sweet Talos.
Now both of my paths were blocked. No way forward, and no way back. Heart pounding beneath my breast, I darted away from all of the Forsworn, down another stone bridge leading straight over a waterfall. Maybe there was a ledge I could jump to, where I could at least get away from the certain death I was now faced with.
I knew I should've told Israal no.
Perched over the edge of the bridge were some old wooden planks, and many, many feet below was a pool of water. How deep it was, I could not say. The waterfall thundered beneath my feet, shaking the stone I stood on.
There was no way I could survive a fall from this height. Even if I landed in water below, I would die.
I looked over my shoulder at the Forsworn now barreling towards me. If I stayed much longer, I would die. But if I jumped, I would die. Neither choice was desirable.
But I had to choose.
As the sound of footsteps grew over the sound of the waterfall, I took two steps back, then sprinted full speed towards the bridge's edge. As soon as my feet touched the wooden boards, I jumped.
I hung in the air for a moment. Just one silent moment that seemed to last an eternity. Everything around me faded; the world stood still, and I just hung there, neither rising or falling.
Then the moment ended and I was sent plummeting towards the pool of water.
A scream lodged itself in my throat, and I could not even breathe. My hair whipped my face. My stomach lurched and knotted, and I felt as though it were going to float straight out of my body.
I looked towards the sky, at the stars and moons shining above. The northern lights danced in all sorts of blues and greens. It was a sight I never grew tired of.
At least that would be my last glimpse of Nirn before I went to Sovngarde.
I did not even feel myself hit the surface of the water. I only heard an almighty splash before everything went black.
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10th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 198
Gooseflesh crawled over my bare skin, sending shivers through my body.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. Above me, sunlight shone through tanned animal skins. Beneath me, soft furs tickled my back. My hair was damp, and my entire body ached.
I groaned and pressed a hand to my head. What on Nirn happened?
I remembered jumping off that bridge. I remembered falling towards what I thought was certain death. But how did I end up inside a tent, wrapped in furs, and where were my armor, weapons, and gear?
Just then, someone pushed their way into the tent. He was a young Nord, probably some eight years older than me, with blond hair and stubble. Unlike most Nords, though, he had deep brown eyes and tanned skin. His armor was made of black leather and steel, with some sort of family crest engraved into the chest plate.
I sat up on the hide pallet, trying to scurry away from him even though my legs were still tangled in furs. "Who are you?"
He shushed me. "Take it easy. I found you in the pool of water beneath Bard's Leap Summit. Most people who make that jump don't survive, so you're lucky to be alive."
"Where is my stuff?"
"Your armor is drying by the fire, and your weapons and gear are right here." He scooted aside, revealing my satchel and sword. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."
I looked down at my body, noting I was still wearing my sleeveless black tunic and leggings. At least this man, this stranger, had not stripped me completely. He would have earned himself a knife to the throat if he had. "Who are you? Where are we?"
"I realize you asked me that earlier and I didn't answer. For that, I apologize. My name is Jaydar. Jaydar the Lonely. You are?"
I narrowed my eyes warily. So far, he had proven trustworthy, but I knew better than to trust anyone completely. "Ylva."
"Just Ylva?"
I nodded. "Just Ylva."
Jaydar returned my nod. "Pleasure to meet you, just Ylva. As for your second question, we're a few miles east of Lost Valley Redoubt."
I ran my fingers through my damp hair. I wondered just how long ago Jaydar had rescued me. It could not have been long, since my hair was still wet. "Thank you for saving me. I wasn't alone at first, but my client abandoned me as soon as trouble arose. He didn't even pay me half of what he promised. Just... mounted his horse and left."
Jaydar raised a brow, a curious look on his face. "Are you a sellsword?"
"Personally, I prefer the term 'mercenary,' but yes, I am."
He cracked a small grin and leaned back a little. "Well, that's certainly coincidental. You see, I've been looking for a traveling companion. Someone who knows how to use a sword, and someone who can protect me should I need protection."
"Well, considering you saved my life, I think the least I can do is travel with you. No charge."
Jaydar chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll pay you. But not until you start earning it, which will probably take awhile, since you should recover from your fall." He extended his hand to me. "Deal?"
I nodded and clasped his hand in mine.
"Deal."
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This part ended up being way longer than I intended, but I like how it turned out. I've had this idea for awhile now, after I was playing Skyrim and exploring the Reach. I've been to Bard's Leap Summit before, but I always enjoy going back. What did you guys think? Was it cool to see some of Ylva's mercenary misadventures? Should I do more of them in the future?
Also, Jaydar will come in again, and you will be learning more about him, so be looking for that. I'm excited to develop his character more and share him with you guys.
That's all for now! Be on the lookout for a new update in Victory or Sovngarde soon, because I'm really going to buckle down and work on that story this week.
Love and sweetrolls!
~WG 💙