“This is your fault, you know.” Swordsinger glanced up at the bluff high above Fort Sungard. It had probably seemed a fabulous natural fortification at the time the place was constructed – it hugged two thirds of the complex like arms holding a child, leaving only a narrow and easily-defended portion available for any would-be attackers.  Alas for the Foresworn who had taken up residence, the designers had not taken into consideration the Nords’ mountain climbing ability – bred in the bitter peaks of the north, they could scale surfaces even a mountain goat would hesitate to attempt.

 

Hammerleaf frowned. “How is this my fault?”

 

“You said this would happen. That makes you either a prophet or a mole for Jaunty.”

 

“What? When did I say…”

 

“Just before we took Greymoor. ‘The sooner we capture Greymoor, the sooner we can move to a real target,’ I said. ‘Like Sungard,’ you replied.”

 

“Greymoor? That was two months ago! How could you remember an offhand comment from that long ago?”

 

“Traitorous comments always stick in my mind. What did Jaunty offer you to betray me? My position?”

 

Hammerleaf snorted. “I wouldn’t want your position for all the silver in Markarth. You have to somehow take the entire Reach with only three companies.”

 

“Oh, it will be easy. ‘Here’s my five-wave plan! Just take everything in this order, which I have changed six times, by the way, and we’ll be done within the year.’ The man has no sense of strategy.”

 

“This, we already knew. It’s why we’re here.”

 

“No, you’re why we’re here. We shouldn’t be fighting the Foresworn at all. Well, not yet. But here we are. So which is it: traitor or prophet?”

 

Hammerleaf grunted his habitual hrmph, and Swordsinger grinned. Poking her second in command was her favorite pastime. Well, second favorite, after being poked by…

 

“Are we going to execute the plan or just sit here all day?”

 

Swordsinger blinked as her mind veered back to the task at hand. She glanced at the setting sun. “Almost. When the sun hits the edge of that peak, it will be at the best angle to blind them. How are the rock squads?”

 

“We got the signal from the last one just a moment ago. Everything is ready.”

 

“All right. It’s close enough. Give the signal.”

 

“As you command, oh fearless leader.”

 

Swordsinger lifted her hand to toss Hammerleaf a very particular salute, but he had already turned away to convey her order, so she drew her swords instead.

 

Moments later, masked by the glare of the setting sun, an avalanche of heavy stones rained down on the walls of Sungard. Swordsinger counted to ten then led a charge toward the gates.

 

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

 

“I hope Jaunty wasn’t expecting us to keep these places in workable order. That rockslide did far more damage than I imagined.”

 

“That’s probably for the best. The Foresworn probably had dozens of boltholes leading into the mountain; now those are covered up.”

 

“That’s a good poi…”

 

A scream cut Swordsinger’s words short; she turned, swords already out, but at first, there seemed nothing to see.

 

That changed when the body of one of her soldiers slammed into the ground a heartbeat later. All eyes took immediate flight just in time to see…

 

“Another bloody dragon?!”

 

“So it appears.”

 

“Dammit, our men are lounging horkers up there. We need to get that thing down here.”

 

“Done.” Hammerleaf snatched a spear from Poke (ignoring his “Hey!”) and launched it skyward.

 

“Dammit, there’s no way you’ll be able to….”

 

The spear met the dragon’s neck midflight. It did not have the velocity left to cause damage, but as it fell back toward the ground, it drew the dragon’s attention with it. With a roar, it twisted and dove.

 

“How could you doubt me?” Hammerleaf sounded wounded. The spear cracked against the ground and split.

 

“Noooo!” Poke ran to the spear and picked it up in both hands as if holding a dying child. “How could you?”

 

“Eyes to the sky, gentlemen.” Swordsinger shifted to bêr êngee as the dragon careened toward them and split its icy breath, though it chilled her hands. “Ah, ice dragon. My least favorite kind.”

 

The dragon rushed overhead and began rising again. Dozens of arrows followed.

 

“I hope those above had the sense to get moving.”

 

“Don’t worry, Wooly and Pride are there. They’ll make sure everyone gets down safely.” Hammerleaf glanced at the body of the fallen Stormcloak. “Well, everyone else.”

 

Swordsinger nodded as she moved to the body and lifted the helmet off the dead man’s head.

 

“Must be from Company N. I don’t recognize him.”

 

“I don’t either. I pity him, though – that is a terrible way to go.”

 

“You think so? Oh good, it’s coming back toward us. Let’s get everyone over to the rockfall.”

 

“Well, I’m not sure what counts as ‘battle’ when it comes to going to Sovenguard.” Hammerleaf motioned to the squad as he began jogging in step with Swordsinger. “Is it a warrior’s death when you are dragon-dropped three-hundred feet?”

 

“Why not? It’s still a battle if you never get a chance to land a blow.”

 

“Aye, that is true. Still, it doesn’t feel…two lines! Get ready to strike as soon as it is range!” He gestured and the company split and rushed to their spots. “It just doesn’t feel the same as a battle against a man and his weapon. Here he comes.”

 

The dragon dove toward them. Swordsinger readied herself then cut through the dragon’s icy breath once again. The chill wind gave her flashbacks to the wraith at Serpentstone Island, as did Hammerleaf’s hammer slamming her enemy out of nowhere. It cracked against the dragon’s arm/wing and the dragon shuddered, cried out, and tried to climb back into the air, but something was off – it yawed to its left as one of its wings collapsed, and a moment later, it crashed into the pile of boulders from the manmade avalanche.

 

The resulting boom and shake began a new shift of stone and the rocks at the top of the pile tipped and completed their fall with convenient aplomb on top of the dragon.
              “I can’t believe that actually worked. Good blow! Let’s finish this thing.”

 

The company rushed forward as one. Swordsinger kept its head busy, splitting its gushing ice as it spewed out, while the rest chopped away at the body. It took only moments to grind it down until it stopped moving, but when the company continued to slice at it, Swordsinger called for a stop.

 

“I know our usual practice is to scatter the bones to keep them from regenerating as quickly, but we have a golden opportunity. It is already covered in stones – let’s try to get the heaviest ones we can onto it, especially the wings. Maybe once it comes back to life, it will be stuck. That’s as good as it being dead.”

 

Hammerleaf raised his eyebrows. “Interesting idea.”

 

“Hopefully it works. Thank the divines for that cat and his wife – they were the inspiration for this.”

 

“I figured. All right, let’s see which of these boulders we can move.”

 

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

 

Swordsinger slept poorly that night. Her mind fluttered from rage to resignation to bitterness, which kindled more rage and began the cycle all over again.

 

The taking of Whiterun should have been the beginning of the end; Falkreath had fallen soon after and it should have been just a push to the north to get this finished once and for all. Instead, they were poking the Foresworn bear. It would take years before…

 

“You’re thinking again. Go to sleep.”

 

“Wish I could.” Swordsinger turned to find Hammerleaf laying on his side watching her. “Dealing with stupidity gives me insomnia.”

 

“What is there to deal with? We have our orders, we follow them. Yes, this course is stupid, but that doesn’t matter. Don’t fret over what you can’t control.”

 

Swordsinger snorted. “I wish it was that easy.” A familiar stern visage floated into her mind’s eye and Swordsinger tried to picture someone sharing the same advice with her mother. The imagined conversation did not end well for the advisor. “I wish I knew where Ulfric is. It was unlike him not to be at the last two war councils.”

 

“He is at the eastern front, isn’t he?”

 

“I assume so, but all the other leaders managed to get back to Windhelm for the meeting. You would think THE leader could do so as well.”

 

Hammerleaf shrugged as one of his hands slid from under the blanket to caress her shoulder. “He who knows the minds of kings knows naught of the minds of men.”

 

Swordsinger frowned, trying to place the quote. “Pervicel?”

 

“Koren.” He winked as his hand moved from her shoulder to trace the swell of her breast. “You just need something to distract you from your thoughts.”

 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back her smile. Or her hands, which reached for him even as she said, “Oh, and I suppose you have an idea for that?”

 

“I do indeed.” He shifted up and she shifted over and moments later, she forgot about Foresworn and wars and stupid orders, at least for a time.