It had taken two more days to reach the camp, what would have been a day if they had been riding. Which meant a week of walking back to Whiterun. Nora was finding out just how big this world was. She shouldn't have been surprised. A whole world, and Skyrim was only part of it. A large region of the old United States sized part, approximately the old South, but still only a small piece. Now the horses were tethered in the camp five miles behind, and they were here, at the edge of the woods overlooking the bandit camp.

 

Nora had been worried about the horses. What if something came along that wanted to eat them? There were plenty of predators out there. Large cats, bears, even tribes of goblins. They really had no choice. The horses could give them away and she was determined to take advantage of the element of surprise, her greatest friend in battle. So they had erected a hedge of cut spikes at the entrance to a small hollow and left the horses to graze.

 

The camp was actually another of the old Nordic ruins, some stone buildings, a long row of steps leading up to something at the top, wooden ladders and walkways. And bandits. More than she expected. A least a score in view, some in armor, obvious sentries, while others lounged about or cooked at the big pit at the bottom of the steps.

 

“Should have known there would be a lot of them,” said Lydia, down on one knee beside Nora. “If they sent twenty out on a raid they had to have more than that back home. No wonder the Whiterun guards haven't tried to take them out.”

 

“The guards are just boys and girls playing at soldier,” said Sofia, staring at the bandits. “They take positions of safety, with as little risk as possible.”

 

Nora wasn't sure that was fair. The guards had been fighting dragons, after all. But yeah, they were garrison troops and not front-line soldiers. She knew the type. Useful for some purposes, useless for others.

 

“Okay, there's more than we expected,” said Nora, slipping into command mode. “So we have to use tactics to give us an advantage. Sofia, I want you on the right flank, Toccata on the left. When I give the word send area destruction spells at them. Your choice. Eldawyn, you will do the same in the center, though I expect you will want to use fire spells. Recorder, let me see how many of them you can take down with that bow. I'll use this,” she said, holding up her scoped M16. “When they are weakened we will charge them and finish the job.”

 

“And myself, my Lady?” asked Lydia, a look of concern on her face.

 

Nora hads to think about that a moment. 

 

“I want you to taunt them, Housecarl. Get into the open, but close enough to duck back into the woods. Call them whatever you think will get a rise out of them. Shelter behind your shield if they start sending arrows at you, and the rest of us will have healing spells ready.”

 

She really hated doing this to Lydia, making her the target, but the Housecarl was the only one among them with heavy armor, and though she had a bow, she didn't use magic.

 

Are you sure that's a good idea, Nora?" asked Sofia.

 

"That's not your decision, Sofia," said Nora, feeling a little bit miffed at being questioned.

 

“I will make you proud, my Lady,” said Lydia with a strange look in her eye.

 

“This is not a suicide play, Lydia,” she said in a firm tone. “If you get injured, or it looks like you are about to get overwhelmed, duck back into the woods. Back away and keep your shield up. I expect you to make it through this.” She looked around at the others. “I expect all of us to make it through this.”

 

“How good are you with that thing?” asked Eldawyn, eyeing the rifle.

 

“Very good,” said Nora, patting her old favorite. She had the hundred round drum inserted and didn't expect to have to reload. She would only use full auto if things got really out of hand. Maybe I should have brought the grenade launcher as well, she thought, then dismissed her misgivings. This was going to be fine, just the normal prebattle jitters.

 

*     *      *

 

"People in the woods,” said Farendel, the Bosmer scout, walking down the steps toward the mage leader of the Silver Moon Bandits.

 

“Our scouting party?” asked Enoralyn, the Altmer mage who had ended up leading this motley mass of cutthroats.

 

The Altmer had never wanted to become a bandit, but fortune had led her here, and when given the choice of death or joining, the necromancer had made the easy call. She hadn't wanted to become a bandit, but she also hadn't wanted to become dead, her soul going to Oblivion because of her past deeds. So she had become one of their mages, then their senior mage. When the boss had fallen in battle she had stepped into the leadership role. The loot was good, but the access to fresh bodies, or to the souls she ripped from the bodies of captives, was better.

 

“No,” said the Bosmer, pulling his bow from its holder on his back and swiftly stringing it. He sniffed the air. “A couple of humans, an Altmer, and two like nothing I have ever before smelled.”

 

So, intruders then. And Enoralyn had four black soul gems in her side pouch just waiting for occupants.

 

“Give me a moment before going after them,” she ordered, quickly bringing up the words for a soul cloak. She raised a hand and cast it, and the rest of the bandits perked up, knowing that their boss had located nearby enemies. The soul cloak settled into place, and for almost three minutes anyone killed within hundreds of yards of her would be sucked to the prison within her gems.

 

“There,” shouted Farendel as a human in heavy armor stepped into the open.

 

“Cowards, all of you,” yelled out a human female voice from the fully armored figure. “No match for me. Come at me, you weaklings.”

 

The rest of the bandits roared, many pulling back bows and sending arrows zipping at the woman. A couple of mages raised spells, fire, cold and electricity. More came out of the Moon Forge above, or the quarters below, until there were over thirty bandits screaming for the blood of the woman. Which was when all hell broke loose.

 

*     *     *

 

“Light them up,” said Nora in her best carrying voice.

 

The three mages, Eldawyn and the two spellswords, sent out fireballs, the slow-moving balls of fire arching out and into the bandits, to explode around three groups of archers. Too late to save Lydia from the first barrage, but the Housecarl had hunkered down behind her shield to take the barrage. Still, one hit the warrior woman in the thigh, the arrow punching through the iron armor and into the flesh underneath.

 

Nora zeroed in on one of the enemy archers who hadn't been hit with magic and centered her cross hairs on the man's head. A squeeze of the trigger and the man's head bucked back, the bow fell out of nerveless fingers and the body fell to the ground.

 

“That mage up the steps,” yelled Eldawyn, throwing another fireball into the archers, then turning her attention on a pair of mages who were throwing cold at Lydia. “She’s cast a soul trap spell.”

 

Oh no you don’t, thought Nora. She didn't intend for her Housecarl to die, but she really wasn't about to let Lydia's soul get trapped and Sovngarde be denied. She centered her cross hairs again, squeezed, and sent the Altmer woman into the afterlife.

 

*     *      *

 

Enoralyn stared at the warrior who had come out to challenge them, readying her hands to send a blast of cold into the crazy bitch. Her archers massed their fire on her, but almost all of them bounced from the warrior's shield. One struck an exposed thigh and stuck, and the woman cried out. At the same time a trio of fireballs flew from the woods, targeting her archers.

 

“Everyone scatter,” she yelled. “Don't bunch up.”

 

Her people were not soldiers, worse the luck, and they didn't know how to spread out. Because of that thirteen of her archers were burning, most dropping their bows, all screaming in agony. An archer further up the steps fell dead, a loud retort sounding at the same time. She didn't know what that was, but it killed instantly and from a distance.

 

The sound of a soul being sucked from a body came from behind, and Enoralyn knew that the archer had been harvested. Not what she had planned, but no use wasting a soul that couldn't get into the Nord paradise no matter what. She pointed a hand at the warrior that was no longer being barraged by arrows and started sending a blast of cold into her.

 

Block that, she thought, watching the warrior fold. And then that sound again and her vision went black. Her soul cried out as it was sucked from her body, most of it going into one of her gems, where one necromancer elf named Enoralyn would await her turn to be used in an enchantment.

 

*     *     *

 

Nora kept servicing targets with extreme prejudice, the backs of head after head exploding out as their owners fell. A couple radiated blue energy; soul trapped. Nora felt bad about sending them there, but these people meant the same for her and her people so she didn't feel too guilty. She looked over the camp, seeing that most of the archers were down and burning, dead. She had taken care of any mages in evidence, and all that were left were twelve or so melee fighters.

 

“Toccata. See to Lydia,” shouted Nora, dropping her rifle to the ground and drawing her sword after securing her shield to her left arm. “Make sure she doesn't die.”

 

I never should have sent her out to stir them up, she thought as she sprinted toward the camp. That should have been me. Or we should have come out together.

 

The first bandit she got to, carrying a strange mace, was an easy kill. The man was in shock, and his leather armor proved of no worth against a strongly thrust sword. She actually lifted him from the ground with her thrust, and a twist of the wrist pulled the blade free as she ran past. The next had a sword and shield, and he knew how to use them. What he didn't know how to do was withstand the running bash of one hundred and ninety pounds of compact woman encased in fifty pounds of armor, running into him faster than anyone else on this world was capable of. He flew away, landing stunned on his back, and a quick slash opened his throat.

 

“Fus,” shouted Nora, and the nearest three bandits all staggered back, two going to their knees, the last to her back. Nora knew she needed more power, the other words of the shout, or she would continue to wield a weapon that was too weak. It cooled down quickly, at least, and she felt like she could shout again seconds later. She slammed her blade into the shoulder of the one bandit still struggling to stand, then spun around and took the head off another. The third was still on her back when Nora thrust her sword through an unarmored abdomen.

 

An arrow clanged from her shield, and Nora turned her attention to the one archer they had missed. She sprinted forward, sliding from side to side as she went, and the next arrow was a clean miss. She cut through the bow and sliced the hands from the archer, then cut off his scream with another decapitation. She stopped and looked around, taking in the fight. It seemed like all the bandits were down, and she turned to shout to Toccata, to find out how Lydia was doing, when the wave of cold hit her.

 

Nora forced herself to turn as the strength faded from her body. Her teeth chattered as cold swept over her. The mage stood in clear sight, sending the killing cold into Nora, and the warrior knew she only had one chance. The sword dropped from her hand and she forced it down to pull the pistol from its holster. She tried to aim, but her hand was shaking too badly, so she simply started a rapid fire into the mage. Three clean misses, then a strike to the center of the chest, and the mage crumpled to the ground with a sigh.

 

“Take it easy,” said Eldawyn, coming to her side and putting a hand to her shoulder. Warmth flowed from that hand and into the body of Nora, who felt herself relaxing, on the verge of sleeping.

 

“I need to stay awake,” she said through heavy lips. “Lydia.”

 

“Is fine, my Thane,” said the Housecarl, limping up. “Toccata knew exactly what to do. But next time I would prefer some company if I'm to walk out and draw fire.”

 

Nora felt really guilty about that, and resolved that in the future if someone needed to act as a decoy it would be her. Then guilt and consciousness both fled before the darkness that overcame her.

 

She woke in the Silent Moon structure, laid out on a bed that stank of too many unwashed bodies. Toccata looked down on her, a smile on her face. Nora looked over at the next bed to see an undressed Lydia breathing softly, deeply asleep.

 

“Thank you,” she told the spellsword.

 

“No problem,” said the pretty redhead. “And I must say, I've never seen anyone move like you when you took down the last bandits.”

 

“My weapons?”

 

“Over on that table to your other side. Sword and your magical killing sticks. We only touched them to bring them in.”

 

“What about the camp. Is it clear? And is everyone else okay.”

“Everyone is fine. They're still looting, and we may have to bring in more people to strip this fortress. Gold, gems, fine weapons and armor. Their leader was a hoarder, and kept all the best for herself.”

 

“And soul gems,” said Eldawyn, hurrying into the chamber with a bulging sack. “Seems like their leader had a thing for collecting soul gems. Thirty-seven filled black gems, and four of the ones on the body of the leader were still warm. Filled with freshly trapped souls. One probably her own.”

 

“I can live with that,” said Nora, smiling. “Serves the bitch right.”

 

“There were also several hundred other soul gems, grand, greater, and common, not even counting the petty. Half of them filled. Enough that she could have enchanted the equipment of all of her people. She was greedy and wanted them to sell, it seems. Stupid.”

 

“The horses?”

 

“Sofia and Recorder are bringing them in,” said Toccata, also smiling. “We can load up and be ready to leave in a couple of hours, though I would recommend that you rest for another four hours.”

 

“We'll spend the night here, then,” said Nora. “I don't want to push Lydia.” Or myself.

 

“Sounds good,” said Eldawyn, grinning. “It will give me some more time to go through the alchemy reagents. And another thing, boss.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You were impressive, taking out all those bandits. But Aela warned me that you might outrun your support, and that ice mage could have been the end of you. So wait for the rest of us before you run into a trap like that. Okay?”

 

“You got it,” said Nora, smiling sheepishly. She had wanted to take out the bandits before they could hurt any more of her people, but it did no one any good if she died. She was here to save this world from the dragons, and falling fighting some bandit scum was not the way to do that.

 

*      *      *

 

It took five days to lead the overburdened horses back to Whiterun, over a hundred miles as the raven flew. Unfortunately, they weren't ravens, and the woods were full of hills and rocky walls that required delays. Still, they made it out and onto the plains in four days, Eldawyn complaining at the lack of wine after day three. Nora wanted to tell her that is she hadn't been such a lush they would still have wine. After seeing the power of the fire mage in the battle she didn't want to hurt her feelings and risk her quitting.

 

On the morning of day five there was an incident. It was early and they had broken camp only an hour before, walking down a deserted road. When they came across a troop of four Thalmor walking the other way, two adult Nords and a child in their midst, shackled. Nora was about to lead them past, not wanting an incident with these people in the middle of Whiterun and thinking of the more important matters she had to address. Eldawyn had other ideas, and she walked quickly toward them, fire in her eyes.

 

“What in all the Hells do you think you motherfuckers are doing?” she yelled, her green eyes flashing red.

 

“We are Justiciars on official Thalmor business,” said the leader, a mage from the look of his clothing. He seemed confused at her word choice, though he was quick to figure it out and his face contorted in rage. “Step aside.”

 

The three Thalmor soldiers stood ready, hands on their sword hilts.

 

“Justiciars,” said Eldawyn with a sneer. “As if you Altmer thugs could even comprehend justice.”

 

“You go too far,” said the Thalmor leader, fire coming to his open right hand. “Even one of our own can't speak to us like that.”

 

“One of your own,” shouted Eldawyn, flame flaring at the ends of her fingers. “If I thought I was one of your own I would fall on a sword.”

 

“That's...”

 

That was the last thing the Thalmor wizard ever said, as Eldawyn unleashed a stream of fire that burned his face off. The other Thalmor pulled out their swords, and Nora wondered at the arrogance of the elves that would take on twice their number. Then it was no longer time for thinking as she shouted toward them and was rewarded by seeing them stagger back off balanced.

 

They were wearing good elf armor, which was very good indeed. Nora's sword bounced from the right shoulder of the first one she struck, but the force of the blow drove the elf to his knees. She moved with speed, bringing her sword around to strike another Thalmor sword right after it was drawn, knocking it from the Altmer woman's hand.  The third, still struggling to get up, accepted a side kick to the face and fell back with blood spurting from his nose.

 

The first she had struck was back on his feet, just in time to marry his face to an arrow from Recorder's bow, while Lydia took care of the female with a thrust through the neck. Nora took care of the last, taking his head from his shoulders, then turning to see if Elda needed any help.

 

Eldawyn was still sending fire into the leader, who was lying motionless on the ground. The head was gone, ashed, and their Altmer was working on reducing the rest of the elf to the same state. The robes were already gone.

 

“Elda,” yelled Nora, grabbing her arm. “Stop. He’s dead. Stop.”

 

Eldawyn stopped the flames, turning to Nora with confusion in her eyes. With a shake of her head she came back to the here and now.

 

“Motherfuckers,” growled the Altmer, and Nora had a sinking feeling that she had started a trend in Skyrim. Within a year milk drinker would no longer be the insult of choice in this land.

 

“I'm sorry,” said Elda, covering her face with her hands. “I was enraged, seeing these people taking an innocent family off to torture and execution. All for worship of a God that half of Skyrim still reveres. I, lost control, and let it out.”

 

Nora wondered what it was that the mage had let out. From the inflection of her voice she wasn't talking about her anger. But they had other things to worry about.

 

“Free them,” she told the others, pointing at the Nords, then walking over to one of the horses to grab a sack of clinking coins. “Here,” she told the father, handing him the sack. “Run, hide, seek out friends.”

 

“Thank you,” said the father, bowing, taking the sack, then leading his family into the woods.

 

“You sure it was wise to let them go,” said Sofia, a troubled look on her face.

 

“It might not be, but don't ask me to kill the very people we rescued just because they might identify us.”

 

Sofia looked down, ashamed of what she had said.

 

“Let's get these bodies off the road. Find some ditch or hollow in the woods to toss them in, then cover them in leaves.”

 

“We can take their armor,” said Eldawyn, her face calm once again. “I know some people who would buy it. Other Altmer that oppose the Thalmor, and could use the weapons and armor for subterfuge.”

 

“Very well,” said Nora, clapping a hand on Elda's shoulder. “I don't blame you. I should have ordered them killed myself. And fortunately we were off the beaten path. But next time do nothing until I order it. We have too much to lose to have these bastards on our tails.”

*     *      *

There was a feast on their return. Nora kept quiet, not willing to boast, but her team took up the slack for her. The weapons, armor and other equipment they had brought back had taken in over a hundred thousand septims, with some of the equipment retained for their own use. Everyone would get better armor and some enchanted weapons as well. Even Eldawyn would gain the protection of some enchanted leather that would keep her from getting killed by a single strike.

 

She had turned down Eldawyn’s proposition, and the woman had taken it in good grace, noticing where Nora's attention was focused. For her bard lover from Riverwood, Mikael, had come to the capital to play for the Jarl, and much as she liked a woman's touch, after all the death she had witnessed she wanted a man.

 

The party had gone on longer than she expected, and Mikael of course had duties to attend to before he could attend to her. They finally stumbled into her chamber in the wee hours, laughing and singing. Nora was feeling the drink, but the night of anticipation was making her anxious to feel something else. Something hard and thrusting inside her yielding sex.

 

“I missed you,” said Nora, her lips and tongue questing at the bard's mouth.

 

“You're a hero now, dear,” said the smooth-tongued bard, working at unbuttoning her clothing, tossing it aside as he removed each piece.

 

“You have a smooth tongue, my bard,” she said in a hushed voice. “But you need to stop talking and use that tongue for something else.”

 

A naked Nora lay back on the bed, open to his gaze. Mikael wasted no time, crawling between her legs and lapping at her labia, stopping at her clitoris while vibrating his tongue upon the sensitive nub. Nora went into an almost instant orgasm. She was hornier than she had been in a long time and she needed this to get her mind off the death. Mikael licked her to another orgasm. She pushed him away, then pulled him over onto his back, moving up to kiss him on the mouth, tasting herself.

 

“Your turn,” she said, kissing her way down his body, her hands leading the way and caressing his manhood. He quickly rose to a full erection, soft skin over rock hard shaft. “Did you prepare yourself for a long session?” she whispered, before taking his penis in her mouth and sucking it down deep into her throat.

 

“I'm ready to go,” he said after a gasp of pleasure.

 

“Good,” she mumbled around his shaft as she gently played with the bard's testicles.

 

Mikael must have been horny as well, as it took no time at all before his seed was bubbling up and into her mouth. Nora swirled the semen around her mouth for a moment, then swallowed, afterward moving back up his body, leaving kisses on every part until her lips met his.

 

“I want you inside me,” she whispered in his ear, climbing on top of him and placing the tip of his again hard penis at her entrance. She sank down onto him, crying out as he penetrated her deeply. Again she marveled at his girth, filling her while not painfully pushing past her cervix. She started to move, the wonderful feeling of fucking filling her with pleasure. Setting up a good rhythm she fucked him for the long haul. After twenty minutes, the bard doing a marvelous job of holding back, she felt the tingling stirrings of another orgasm approaching. Now she went fully into the sex, pulling almost completely off, only the tip still inside her, then slamming down until his entire length was buried in her. She wanted to hold on until he was coming, letting them both enjoy a simultaneous orgasm. She had found those to be the rarest of events, and this night was no different. She was already starting to come back from the bliss of her Cumming when she felt Mikael’s penis swell, then the spurting of his semen into her womb.

 

They kept at it for hours. She had never met a man who could keep going so long, and she was wondering if it was her or the potion he had taken that had him going so. It didn't matter, and after the end of the second hour neither had the strength to go on. They lay there covered in sweat, in each other's arms, Mikael periodically kissing her forehead.

 

“I noticed that you didn't drink your potion tonight, love,” he said, looking into her eyes.

 

“Oh, I don't need it,” she said slowly. “You see, I can't get pregnant. Too much damage in cryo. My ovaries no longer produce viable eggs.”

 

“I'm, so sorry,” he said in a hushed voice filled with pity.

 

“Don't be. I'm free to do what I want, and not have to worry about having another child. The first was trouble enough.”

 

“More so than most from what you've said.” She had told Mikael her story, hoping it didn't scare him off. So far it hadn't, and she was hoping she would spend more nights with this lover. She doubted she could fall in love with the footloose bard, but she would make use of him while he was here, and give as much pleasure as she could in return. And from his reaction to their love making she thought she was giving a good return on his investment.

 

“Well, I guess we can let the rest of the castle go to sleep,” she said with a yawn.

 

“At least until we wake up and go at it again,” said Mikael with a laugh.

 

I can't wait, thought Nora, forgetting the dead for a while, and falling into a deep dreamless sleep.