Of Snow and Bone - Part Two

19th of Last Seed, 4th Era 201

I have had a stroke of luck. On the way north to Falkreath, I met two women, calling themselves 'Vigilants of Stendarr'. They claimed to spend their days hunting down Deadra, the unnatural, and the undead. They said that they had discovered ancient corpses risen in the dark, forgotten halls of Skyrim, an ill omen. They were travelling north to the headquarters of their order, to give news of this important discovery.
I asked if I might join them, to see this order for myself and perhaps join, an idea to which they were quite amiable. Our trio then made way to Falkreath, where my two companions stopped only to gather supplies, for they wished to make it back to their order with all hast. We travelled until the moon was almost overhead, and then made camp in a stand of trees off the road (to Riverwood, one of my companions with a map claimed.)

After a long days travel, and a belly full of heavy bread and salted fish, I was exhausted. Sleep took me quickly, a light rain pattering on my hastily erected tarp and hissing on the logs of the fire.
I was awoken as I heard a rope twang, the side of my tarp suddenly sagging. A thump as someone crashed to the ground, followed by a string of voices. I groped for my sword and shield, the only light coming from the guttering flames of our camp fire.
"Bandits!" cried one of my companions, the sounds of frantic combat arising around me. The dirt and soot stained face of a Nord man appeared around the edge of my tarp, and I lashed out with the point of my sword. My reach was short, and he pulled back, the blade drawing a drop of blood from under his eye.
I rolled out the back of my tarp, wearing only furs and leathers, armed with shield and sword. I spotted five figures in the dark, four of them fighting each other and the fifth staring at me, a dagger in each hand, tattered furs hanging from his gaunt frame. He circled around my tarp; I held my ground.
The man swiped for my face with his right hand, the left held close to his chest, a testing strike. He would get no standoff from me. I ducked my head down, entering a half-crouch, and swung up and out with my shield, striking his arms and turning them aside. My sword whipped around in follow, and arced across his left arm, cutting bicep and forearm to the bone.
The pain blinded him to the opening I had presented, and I flicked my wrist and turned my body the other direction, bringing the iron blade of my sword back across. The brigand had folded his body down around his wounded left arm; his head was down. My sword bit into his skull, cleaving several inches through before sliding out in a fan of blood.

His body crumpled at my feet, but I paid it no mind. The clarity of battle was upon me now, my eyes searching for more enemies of their own accord. One other bandit had been cut down, as had one of my companions, the broken haft of a simple wooden spear jutting from under her left breast. The third bandit, seeing me still standing, fled into the damp night.
A moment later my only surviving companion fell to her knees, the dark glimmer of blood flowing from where she held her stomach with one hand. The steel mace she had been wielding fell from her other. I went to her, and bid her lay down, examining the wound. Blood streamed from the split flesh at an alarming rate. I did not know how to heal others; only myself, and the weak healing potions in my supplies were not enough for such a grievous wound.

"You are going to die." I told her simply, for it was the truth. I had seen others die in our stronghold before, one of a terrible infection from a wound taken to the leg while hunting boar, another a slow death from a blow to the head in a sparring session, but I had been young, and not known them, and not understood. This was different, somehow. This was real.
Her pale face trembled, the wavering flames of our fire shining off the beads of rain on her cheeks. She shook her head, "No. No. Please... no..." she whispered. There was nothing I could do. I took her hand off the wound in her stomach and held it, sticky and wet with blood.
"It will be alright." I whispered back, thinking of what to say. It occurred to me that I didn't even know her name, or that of our other companion. What a sad thing. "Stendarr will see to you." I assured her, but she was already dead. I let go of her and stared at the cooling blood on my hand, coating the olive skin. This was it, then; this was death.

This was the simple, ugly thing we all fought so hard against. What a strange notion. It was, or could be, painful and frightening, yes. But in the end the pain lasted only a short while, and then it was over. It did not seem so terrible to me. It was simply there, and then it was done.
I wiped my hand off on her pants and stood. Perhaps it was all the time I had spent with Largdaz that made me feel this way. She had always said that death was something that came to all living things, even the elves. What reason was there to fear something inevitable?
It was still drizzling, slow and cold, but the smell of blood would attract animals, and the bandit who had fled may be back with others. The panic and cold flame of battle had left me feeling shaky and tired, but I needed to break camp and move on quickly.

I dragged the bodies into a row, side by side, and closed their eyes and crossed their arms over their chests, draping the sleeping furs of my companions over them. Wolves would surely find and ravage them, but for now it was all I could do. I gathered my things onto my pack, said a quick prayer as best I could to Stendarr for my companions, and headed back up the road. I hoped the Divine had heard me.
They had no supplies that I needed, save for the cloth map one of them had carried and their coin purses. It had the locations of a few major towns and holds marked on it, along with some roads, and far to the north was marked an X, with 'Vigiliants Order' written beside it. I would do my best to reach it and give news of the awakened dead, and what had happened here. If only I had gotten their names. Who would remember them now, but me?