Skyrim: The Last Dragonborn (The Dragonborn Saga: Book 1)

Chapter 13: Egil

Egil and Ocellina followed the rutted track along a gully till they found the gap and crossed back onto Kilkreath road. When they emerged from the woods, charcoal-colored clouds had rolled over Haafingar. Sleet dripped from the clouds as their mounts moved at a walking pace further up the Kilkreath ridge towards Solitude. They followed the posts that marked where the road was during the winter in case it was covered. They twisted and turned around boulders and craggy cliffs. Egil saw Solitude. He turned the road around a cliff, covered in roots and dogwood shrubs.

On the largest stone arch in the world that pierced the mouth of the Karth River. The Capital of Skyrim, surrounded by black mountains, their peaks slopes dotted in frozen pine and their peaks shrouded by the clouds. Ocellina stopped at the side of the road.

As her horse relieved itself, she gaped in awe off the ridge.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Egil said as he stopped his mare beside her mount.

From the ridge, they could see all of Hjaalmarch and more. The Hjaal river, seeping down from the mountains that created the border between Hjaalmarch and Whiterun, braided through the flat floor of the valley creating the Drajkmyr marsh till it joined the Karth River mouth and the Ghost Sea.

"I can't see Morthal from here," Ocellina said squinting.

"Follow the Hjaal, there, like that, down. See what looks like thorns? Those are the walls of Morthal."

"Oh, okay, I see the raised houses. I see the bridges that connect them over the gorge now too."

"Come on, the sun is getting low," Egil said.

They made their way further up the road towards city. They passed lodging camps along the way, houses with cattle and sheep pens, and enclosed farms the size of gardens. The sun poked holes in the clouds low over the mountains. Townsfolk returned home from their daily labors.

They reached the fork in the road. One trail led north further up to the city gate. The second, ribboned down to the bustling port. Two thousand people lived in its port, all lower class folk trying to get buy. Tendrils of smoke belched from adobe kilns and makers. Inside and out of the Port's walls were leather works, carpenter workshops, dye makers, mills, bakeries, tap rooms, a renown alehouse and the loosest brothels.

"Where are you going?" asked Egil.

Ocellina had guided herself to the right towards the Port. She blinked at him oddly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You want to stay the night there?"

"Why not?"

"You want to stay at the Moon and Nausea? No thanks! That place reeks, it's filthy and full of some very unsavory characters." He cocked his thumb at Solitude. "I have a reputation in Solitude and I can afford us the finest accommodations."

"That reputation is exactly why I would like to stay at the Port. I don't want to attract attention."

"Nonsense," he waved his hand. "You don't want to the attention, for whatever reason, but we have been traveling for days sleeping in the cold and rough. My back aches for a good bed. Up there we can get the best supplies, relax, and calculate our next move. For free. Can you get that in the port?"

"With some elbow grease," Ocellina said as she mimicked a charm spell through her gloved hand.

"Oh, right," he grimaced. "I'll be staying up top, whether you are coming or not."

Ocellina cursed and followed Egil up the road.

Three guards were stationed at the gatehouse. They huddled by the braziers and let their spears and large round shields rest against the stone wall. One donning an iron helmet fitted with a pair of elk-antlers and a riveted black vest over a quilted scarlet gambeson peered up from the fire.