Pride rested her hands on her hips and tilted her head at the distant fort. “Looks like our job just got easier.”

 

Swordsinger watched the dragon make another fire-spewing dive. “How so?”

 

“Well, that dragon is going to take out their defense for us.”

 

“True. But then we’ll have to fight the dragon. I’d rather take my chances with the Imperials.”

 

Pride raised her eyebrows. “You’ve already killed one, haven’t you?”

 

“Yes, and I almost died while doing it.”

 

“That’s because you jumped on its back like an idiot,” Hammerleaf interjected.

 

“There wasn’t any other way to stab it. Which is why I’d prefer…ah, looks like it’s over.”

 

All eyes turned toward Fort Neugrad as the dragon swooped low, grabbed a defender with one of its massive…talons? Hands? Swordsinger wasn’t sure about dragon anatomy. Whatever it was called, they could hear the man’s screams as he was carried away toward the mountains on the left.

 

“Well, if it’s just going to leave, then you’re right – this will be easy.” Swordsinger strapped on her helmet as she called out, “Squad leaders, ready your squads! Although it looks like the dragon took a chunk out of the defenses, we don’t have clear eyes inside the walls, so we’re going to assume the fort is still well defended!”

 

It was not. They crashed through the front gate, itself previously broken and only leaning in place, to find nothing but the smoldering lumps of ex-soldiers. There were Imperials in the interior portions but they were already demoralized by the dragon attack and were swiftly killed or captured. It was while they were putting their new prisoners in the fort’s cells that they discovered…

 

“Jaunty?!” Pride ran forward and peered through the prison bars. “Fallow! Brie! What are you doing here?”

 

“Pride? Oh, thank the Divines.” One of the prisoners, a sallow-faced reed of a man stood and moved to the bars. “Stormcloaks. We’re saved.”

 

Swordsinger raised an eyebrow. “Friends of yours?”

 

“It’s Company D!” Pride moved to the table along the far wall and dug through drawers until she found a ring of keys. “Or what’s left of them. What happened?”

 

The man shrugged. “We were ordered to hold this fort but…we were defeated.”

 

One of the other prisoners snarled. “Yeah, because of your incomp…”

 

“Shut up, Fallow, or I’ll have them keep you in here for insubordination.”

 

Swordsinger sighed as Pride unlocked the door and swung it open. “We aren’t going to do that. These cells are for Imperials only. I take it you’re Jaunty, Commander of Company D?”

 

“That’s right. And you are?”

 

“Swordsinger. Commander of Company A. Do you know if there are any more of your men around? No?” She glanced at the Imperials. The ones closest by shook their heads at her implied question. “Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.” She glanced at Pride, concerned for her friend who had just learned almost her entire former company had been wiped out. “Um. Okay. Well, you can stick with us if you want, or…”

 

“We are going back to Windhelm. You want to look down on us, you can do it while watching our asses leave. We don’t need your pity, Commander of Company A.” Somehow, Jaunty made the title sound like an insult.

 

“Look down on you? What do you…’

 

“Save it. We know you all think we’re the weak link. Your company wouldn’t have done any better, I promise you that.”

 

The two others exchanged glances but neither said a word.

 

“I…” Swordsinger blinked, then shrugged. “Whatever you decide. We can give you provisions for the road, of course.”

 

“Keep your charity.”

 

“It’s not ch…”

 

“We don’t need anything from you. Come on!” Jaunty stomped forward and, after a few seconds, the remains of his company followed him up the stairs.

 

Swordsinger watched them go, then shrugged. “All right, ladies and gentlemen of the Imperial court, your accommodations await. We’ll get some food and wine down here as soon as we can. Squad C, stay here and finish this up. I’m going to check on A and B.”

 

She left to the bevy of salutes of acknowledgement and went back up the stairs. The sunlight was blinding after the darkness of the cells, so she didn’t see the dragon until it was already upon them.

 

“Fodder!” She started sprinting as she waved toward the man who was supposed to be watching the road but was for some reason facing the interior of the fort instead. “Behind you!”

 

Fodder pulled his hammer as he turned, but it was far too late. The dragon opened its mouth and fire spewed forth, catching him in its full blast. He had time to emit a lone sharp scream before his body was engulfed.

 

The dragon continued forward and Swordsinger jumped to the side as the fire strafed the ground in the middle of the courtyard. Stormcloaks streamed from the nearby buildings, so she screamed, “Find cover! Get those arrows flying!”

 

She sprinted toward the gaping hole that was supposed to be the front gate as the dragon wheeled above and began another descent. There was something niggling on the edge of her mind; something about the sound the dragon had made when it spit its fire. She was certain she had heard something similar before.

 

Well, of course she had. They had killed a dragon with a similar fiery attack early on. But that wasn’t what she was thinking of, she was sure of it. What else could it have been?

 

The reached the arching gateway just as the dragon began another pass. None of her Stormcloaks were in the middle of the courtyard, so they were safe from most of the pass, but huddling against walls lent its own danger – there were limited options to get out of the way. Two soldiers got caught in the tail end of the pass, though Swordsinger could not tell who it was or how badly they had been hurt. The cries of pain told her they hadn’t died, so that was something.

 

She eyed the broken gate doors. They had been solid, heavy wood wrapped with metal. One of the doors was still whole, impossible to move without the use of ropes and pulleys, but the other had splintered enough that, just perhaps, it could be useful.

 

She sprinted across the bailey and reached the other Stormcloaks just as the dragon made another sweep. They were more prepared this time; everyone in the path of the flame scattered as it approached, and arrows followed it as it ascended over the wall.

 

Swordsinger glared after it. “This is why I would have preferred to fight the Imperials.”

 

“Understandable.” Hammerleaf shifted his hammer to his shoulder. “So what’s the plan?”

 

“What makes you think I have a plan?”

 

“You think I don’t know how you look when you have one of your ideas? Hurry up, woman, tell us what it is.”

 

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t realize I was so easy to read. I do have a plan, as it happens, and it’s perfect because we’ll finally get to see if all of your male bravado is actually justified.”

 

“Oh, aye?” Hammerleaf laughed. “Now I’m intrigued!”

 

“Good to know. Hammerleaf, Flea, Poke, Wooly with me. The rest of you, distract that thing – without getting killed – as much as you can. Keep it away from us.”

 

She turned from the salutes of assent and began sprinting again as the dragon apexed high above and began another run. They were in the gate tunnel by the time it started its next attack. This time, the soldiers were more aggressive, shooting and yelling, parting like a school of fish from a predator when it got close.

 

Swordsinger listened as the dragon opened its mouth and this time she caught it; a cadence, of sorts, just before the fire began to spew. It wasn’t exhaling; it was speaking. Or, rather, the exhale was the long held tone of the last syllable of its words.

 

When viewed from that way, something clicked in her head and she realized why it had sounded familiar.

 

As the dragon rose above the walls once more, Swordsinger led to way to the broken gate door.

 

“All right, you Nords who like to talk tough, let’s see you put your money where your mouths are. We need that,” she pointed at the splintered partial door, “up there.” She turned and pointed to the battlement just above the gate.

 

Hammerleaf looked at the door, then at the stairs to the battlements, then at Swordsinger. “And what are we going to do with it up there?”

 

“Drop it on the dragon’s head, of course.”

 

“That’s your plan?”

 

“Yes. We need to get that thing out of the air or it will just pick us apart. Can you think of a better way to do that?”

 

“How do you plan on getting it to the ground for us to drop this door on it?”

 

“That’s for me to worry about. Stop bitching and show me if those muscles you all seem to be so proud of work.”

 

The familiar sound of rushing wind told Swordsinger her time was up. She turned away from the men as they shrugged and began to lift the broken door and drew her swords. Then a thought occurred to her and she glanced back.

 

“Hammerleaf!”

 

He looked up and their eyes met for a moment; a moment that grew longer as sound faded away and she remembered the feeling of being entwined in his arms, of his hands hot on her skin, of passion and lust and…

 

The dragon’s roar snapped her out of it and she shook her head. “If this doesn’t work, get everyone inside until reinforcements show up. Winning the war is more important than killing a single dragon.”

 

He frowned and began to stand up as his mouth opened to speak, but she turned away and stalked forward, into the middle of the courtyard, and faced the diving lizard.

 

“All right, snake boy, let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

She crouched, shifting her stance to bêr êngee. It had worked against the draugr’s shouts in Korvanjund, and those shouts, though of different meter, bore a striking resemblance to this dragon’s roar. She recalled, as the dragon swept down toward her and opened its mouth to speak/breathe, that bêr êngee literally meant “dragon’s bane.” Perhaps this had been its purpose all along, and there just hadn’t been any dragons to use it against!

 

It was a terrible gamble. If she was wrong…well, she wouldn’t have to live with the disappointment. She wouldn’t be able to hear her mother’s lecture if she died. So maybe it wasn’t such a bad gamble after all.

 

Then the time of thinking was gone; the dragon spoke, fire blossomed and poured toward her, Swordsinger slashed…

 

…and the fire parted around her like a river around a stone. She was already shifting to vod enmê as the swing ended - feet shuffled to a stronger angle, shoulders squared – and as the fire dissipated, she found herself facing the startled (it had never occurred to her that dragons might be able to appear startled, but this one managed it) and quickly approaching dragon’s head.  She cried out as her off-hand sword slashed down in a modified âj beewmeb.

 

The Heavenly Strike cut a deep channel across the dragon’s snout and it screamed in what Swordsinger presumed to be pain and fury as it swept upward. She dove to the side to avoid the claws that slashed at her as they passed.

 

A moment later, there was silence. Well, a relative sort of silence. The dragon roared as it rose into the sky and the soldiers…

 

Swordsinger looked around as she got to her feet to find all of the Stormcloaks staring at her including, she was very annoyed to see, the men who were supposed to be putting her plan into action.

 

“What are you all doing?!” She waved with frenetic hands at the ascending dragon. “You should be halfway up those stairs by now!”

 

They all jumped, as if her words had released them from some spell, and bent to the door. Swordsinger rolled her eyes and made her way across the bailey to the rest.

 

“Okay, this is the plan: that thing is mad at me now so I’m going to get it to chase me toward the gateway. Once its close enough, those lunkheads will drop the door on it, pinning it to the ground. Then everyone chops it into tiny bits as soon as possible. Any questions?”

 

All of them raised a hand. Primrose spoke up. “How did you do that?”

 

Swordsinger frowned. “If, after this war is over, you decide to travel to Hammerfell and make your way to the Shûyaa Shî Yee Y̌êz and are allowed to take the trials and manage to pass them and ascend through the first eight Kaavemnyi, I will be allowed to tell you.”

 

The hands went back down. Primrose bit her lip. “That sounds…complicated.”

 

“You have no idea. Everyone ready?” At their nods, Swordsinger turned and stepped back into the courtyard

 

It all went smoother than she had dared hope. The dragon, as expected, zeroed in on her. When she was able to slice away its fire again, it resorted to physical attacks, and she stayed just beyond the reach of the teeth (that she tried not to look at too closely) as she lured it toward the gate. The door didn’t get its head, but it did manage to pin one of the creature’s wings to the ground, which kept it immobile enough to finish it off without more than a few singes and scratches.

 

Hammerleaf landed the final blow, a two-handed slam that split the dragon’s skull. A loud cheer erupted as it shuddered and stilled, and Swordsinger found herself hugging him without remembering choosing to – throwing her arms around him just seemed the natural thing to do. Just as her mind was catching up to her body’s actions and began to grow concerned, his arms were around her and it felt so right, her mind gave up and stopped thinking about it.

 

******************

It was the first funeral she had ever headed, and somehow it was more nerve-wracking than facing the dragon had been. She looked in the faces of her company as she stood over the small mound that held the charred remains of Fodder, and her mind went blank.

 

After a moment, she felt a squeeze on her shoulder and she glanced back to see Hammerleaf nod to her. She tossed him a smile and tried to ignore the fire that kicked in her groin – now was most definitely not the time! – and opened her mouth.

 

“Here lies Deadeye, the best archer I have ever had the honor to meet. He could take out a target from 400 feet and…” she paused as tears blurred her vision and something caught in her throat. She cleared it and blinked away the blurriness. “…and he could kill a flea from fifty paces. But…” she paused to clear her throat again, “…he was not just a great archer and a great soldier. He was also the world’s most…generous lover.” A laugh, slight catharsis “The brothels of Windhelm may never recover from this loss.” A larger laugh as she lifted her ale. “Deadeye – a true Nord!”

 

The soldiers raised their cups and shouted, “Deadeye!” and the drinking began. Well, it continued.

 

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Hammerleaf patted her shoulder and it took all of Swordsinger’s willpower not to crumble into his arms. She took a deep breath and said, “Make sure squad B doesn’t drink too much. They still need to man the walls tonight.”

 

Hammerleaf raised an eyebrow but nodded as she began to move way. “As you say, oh fearless leader.”

 

She took a moment to turn her head back enough to stick her tongue out at him before going into the keep.

*****************

Five days later, Swordsinger heard hurried steps and whispers outside the door of the room she had commandeered to use as her office. The door opened and Poke hurried in. Swordsinger set down her pen, ready to berate him (jokingly) for interrupting her, but his expression, which was some combination of shock and...fear? stopped her. She stood up, reaching for her swords.

 

“What is it? From your expression, it’s not the bloody reinforcements.”

 

Poke shook his head. “No, it’s…uh…”

 

His eyes darted to the window, so she looked in the same direction, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She turned back as she tightened her belt.

 

“What? Out with it, already!”

 

“The dragon…”
 

“There’s another dragon?” Swordsinger cursed as she hurried out from behind the desk. “Quick, get…”

 

“Not another one. The…the same one.”

 

She stopped and stared at him. “The same one? What about it? Stop puffing around and just tell me, dammit.”

 

“It’s…gone.”

 

“Gone? How can it be gone?”

 

“It…” he stopped and his voice few very (very very) quiet. “…flew away?”

 

A long silence as they stared at each other, though Poke didn’t seem to want to meet her eyes.

 

Finally, “This better not be some sort of practical joke, Poke, or I swear I’lll…”

 

“It’s not! I swear! It just…it was laying there, as it has been for days. I was just telling Flea how it was beginning to stink, and how we needed to find some way to move it, and then…”

 

Another silence, so Swordsinger waved a hand in a “get on with it” gesture. “And then?”

 

“Um. There was a wind. Out of nowhere. And…the dragon started to…um…glow a little. And its wounds healed and it…it got up and….um….flew away.”

 

Another silence, longer than either before, as Swordsinger looked for any traces – any at all! – that this was some sort of stupid elaborate joke designed to make her look foolish. But if he was lying, he was the best actor Tamriel had ever known.

 

“Are you suggesting that the dragon just….came back to life?”

 

“No. I’m not suggesting it. I’m telling you, that’s what happened. I saw it. Hells, everyone saw it, just about.”

 

One last silence, then Swordsinger turned and strode out the door as her mind turned over this information. The dragon had come back to life. How? Did that mean all the dragons that had been killed were coming back to life? What did that mean? How could it even be possible?

 

As she exited the keep and walked toward the very-dragon-free gateway, the questions piled up, but she saw no path to answers.