Chapter 1: Rescue
A/N: Trigger warning for aftermath of child abuse and torture. All characters are either property of or inspired by Bethesda.
20th of Evening Star, 4E 171
Jergen and his shield-brother Kodlak stalked down the hallway towards a large chamber. Clearing the cave system of necromancers had been a long and hard battle, but they were finally nearing the end and their goal - the cult's leader.
They heard a man's harsh command echo throughout the chamber. "Go eliminate the intruders! The sacrifice must be completed!"
The two Companions looked at each other in alarm. They had not expected the necromancers to have prisoners, much less be in the middle of a sacrifice. The mission to kill the cult's leader had now become a rescue mission.
The two warriors quickly moved to opposite walls as a spellcaster in black robes ran into the hallway, his hands glowing with bluish-white magic. The mage launched an spike of ice at each, but only the one aimed at Kodlak connected. The one directed towards Jergen narrowly missed him, taking a chunk out of the wall instead. Trusting that Kodlak could take the hit, Jergen took the opportunity to charge. With a loud battle cry, Jergen swung his greatsword into the spellcaster's legs, bringing him to the ground. A quick thrust and the mage was dead.
Jergen moved back to Kodlak, keeping an eye on the doorway. He could hear the same voice from before, now chanting unfamiliar words that raised his hackles. Kodlak had dropped his pack and was holding the ice spike embedded in his shoulder, his teeth gritted in a grimace of pain.
Jergen put down his sword and grabbed the spike in one hand, the other resting on Kodlak's injured shoulder. "Tell me when you're prepared."
Kodlak nodded, then let out a muffled shout as Jergen pulled the spike from the whelp's shoulder. Jergen began to examine the wound, but some of the hair that had pulled free of his brown ponytail fell into his face. He quickly tucked it behind his ears to get a better view.
"It's a clean puncture; no bone," he told Kodlak. "Drink a healing potion and let the wound close. Join me as soon as you can." He picked his sword up again and headed back to the large chamber's entrance.
The chamber was empty, and there were too many openings to check quickly. Jergen struck the hilt of his sword against the wall, and the clang reverberated throughout the room. "Come out and fight like a man, you milk drinker!" he challenged. "Or must all your lackeys do your fighting for you?"
The chanting stopped with a curse and a quick murmur of words Jergen could not make out. Moments later, another black-robed mage charged into the chamber from an open doorway. His entire body glowed greenish-blue with some kind of protective spell, and a snarl curled his lips as he glared at the Companion.
"How dare you interrupt my sacrifice! Molag Bal will NOT be denied his offering!" the warlock bellowed as a icy cloud burst forth from his fingers and spread, freezing everything its vapors touched.
Jergen became a moving target, staggering when the cloud brushed him. Thankfully, his wolf armor protected him from the worst of the spell.
He regained his footing and charged the necromancer, needing to close the distance before the magic user could summon a creature - alive or dead - to help him fight. The warlock cast a ward as Jergen swung, and his greatsword hit it with enough force to make the mage stumble backwards. Jergen pressed his advantage and circled the mage, landing more strikes to break the protective spell and keep the warlock's attention on him.
The necromancer caught him squarely with another icy blast from his hand, and the cold began to slow and weaken Jergen's strikes. Frost lined the edges of his short beard and the joints in his armor began to freeze.
"You fight well," the mage complemented with a sadistic grin as he continued the barrage. "Perhaps when Molag Bal grants me the power, you can become my first undead guardian." Jergen saw the mage's other hand lift, bluish-white light building...
Kodlak's greatsword hit the spellcaster in the back, disrupting his spells. The warlock turned to focus on his new assailant, giving Jergen a chance to shake off his ice and stiffness. The two warriors rained strikes down upon the mage, not giving him a chance to cast again. Jergen gave a final swing to separate the necromancer's head from his shoulders, and the lifeless body dropped to the floor.
Both Companions bent over, leaning on their weapons to catch their breath. Both were no longer young men, Kodlak firmly into his third decade (though his white hair made him look older) and Jergen into his fourth. However, years of combat had made each quite hale for his age.
Jergen left Kodlak to check the rest of the chamber as he approached the opening where the mage had emerged. The blessings of the Circle allowed him to detect the overwhelming scent of blood and fresh ash, but he wished he had the sharpened hearing of the other members. Then he might be able to hear movement or even more importantly, a heartbeat.
Hoping they were not too late, Jergen cautiously raised his sword and stepped into the room.
The first thing Jergen saw was the blood-drenched altar in the center of the room. On the altar, a small boy's bloody and unmoving body was partially buried by a pile of ash spilling onto the floor. Ornate patterns had been carved into the flesh of the pale and naked form. Some of the wounds looked fresh, but they blended into others that were older. The sacrifice had to have been going on for hours. There was no point in even checking the body; a child could not have survived losing that much blood.
"Mara have mercy," he whispered, feeling sick to his stomach. The bastards had died too quickly if they would kill a child like this.
A small whimper and movement nearby drew his attention to a hanging cage partially hidden in shadow. Inside he could see another small boy, probably the same age as the one on the altar. He had dark greasy hair hanging in his face and filth covering most of his body. Like the other boy, his captors hadn't even given him the dignity of clothing.
Jergen ran back into the other chamber. "Kodlak, check for a cage key. There's a prisoner in here. A child."
"Divines… what about the sacrifice?" Kodlak gasped.
Jergen shook his head sadly. "We were not fast enough."
Kodlak cursed quietly and began to search the robes of the dead conjurer.
Jergen sheathed his sword, then went back into the room. The boy was clinging to the bars of the cage, staring at the gruesome sight in front of him. Jergen walked toward the cage, slowing his approach when the child flinched.
"It's all right, pup. I'm not going to hurt you," he softly assured the youth, raising his hands to show he held no weapons. The lad's tear-filled eyes widened and he scrabbled backwards, making the cage rock as he pressed himself against the other side.
Jergen stopped where he was, not wanting to scare the child further, and began to assess his condition as he slowly removed his pack. The boy looked half-starved and pale. He could see bruises peeking out from under the filth, and his breaths were shallow and raspy.
"The ones who did this are dead. Once my friend finds the key, we'll get you out of that cage." Jergen found a shirt in his pack and pulled it out. He slowly approached the cage again, offering the shirt to the youth. "Take this. You need to get covered up."
The lad said nothing, instead turning to look at the altar once more. Jergen saw the boy's lip tremble.
"What's your name, son?" he asked, trying to distract the child from the grisly sight.
The boy's eyes darted to Jergen for a moment. He took a breath to speak, but barely got a sound out before he was interrupted by a bout of wet-sounding coughs. Pain crossed his face as he rubbed his throat and whimpered again.
Jergen tossed the shirt over his shoulder. He unstrapped his waterskin and offered it to the child, who looked at it with a puzzled expression. Jergen took a drink from it and offered it again. The boy carefully took the water skin and mimicked Jergen, surprised when water squirted out. He gulped down several swallows before Jergen took it back.
"Careful now, we don't want to make your stomach sick as well. Take it slow." He watched the lad's attention return to the altar and silently cursed Kodlak for taking so long. He needed to get this boy away from here.
"Hep bwuddah?" the boy whispered.
Jergen blinked. "I'm sorry pup, I don't understand…"
The youth pointed at the altar. Pain and concentration creased the boy's face as he spoke louder. "Help... brudda—" He curled up as another coughing fit racked his body.
Jergen paused, trying to find the right words. How did you tell a child that his brother was dead?
Then he heard a quiet noise, somewhere between a cough and a choke, from behind him. He spun, reaching for his sword, but no one was there.
Only the boy on the altar.
No. He couldn't still be… The thought flashed through his mind, but he had to know for sure.
Jergen moved quickly towards the altar, removing one of his gauntlets. He bent over and brushed ash away from the child's nose and mouth. Then he put his hand in front of the boy's face, hoping for a sign of life.
He felt a breath. Barely, but it was there.
"KODLAK!" he yelled. "Forget the key and get in here! The sacrifice is still alive!" Jergen grabbed his last healing potion out of his pack and pulled the cork, throwing it to the side. He slid a hand under the boy's neck to lift his body slightly, and dribbled a little of the red potion into his mouth. Then he put the bottle down and began stroking the child's throat.
"Come on pup, swallow," he encouraged. "Stay with us. Don't leave your brother yet."
He heard Kodlak's footsteps rapidly approaching the door. He glanced up as Kodlak surveyed the room in shock.
"The one in the cage is sick. Give him a cure disease potion if you have one, or a stamina potion if you don't," Jergen barked, still focused on the boy. "I'll have my hands full with this one."
"Jergen," Kodlak began sadly, "I don't believe that one will —"
"I don't have the time or patience to argue with you, whelp," Jergen snarled, his lips curling back just enough to expose gritted teeth. His silver eyes burned with anger into Kodlak's brown ones. "Either you do what you're told or look for a safe way out. I have to make sure the boy drinks this without choking on it, and that's damned hard when he's not awake."
Kodlak's eyes widened, and he unknowingly took a step back. "Aye, Jergen," he mumbled as he opened his pack and pulled a green stamina potion out.
Jergen took a deep breath to calm himself, and returned his attention to his patient. He tuned out everything else and concentrated on gently massaging the boy's throat. Kodlak might be right about the child's chances, but Jergen was not about to let him die if he had a chance of preventing it.
Finally he felt the movement of a swallow under his fingers and saw a faint swirl of healing energies glimmer briefly around the lad before flickering back out. "Good job," he murmured as he reached for the potion bottle. "Now let's do that again."
The boy on the altar managed to drink the last two swallows of the potion on his own, and briefly opened pale blue eyes glazed in agony before drifting away again. Jergen carefully lowered the child back down, watching the last of the golden light from the potion fade. He took comfort that his patient's breathing was deeper and some of the wounds had closed, but the youth still needed more healing.
He looked up to see Kodlak re-entering the room from another door, his arms full of robes and cloth.
"Any healing potions left in your pack?" he asked Kodlak. When Kodlak shook his head, Jergen cursed. "We'll need to get him to the nearest temple right away."
"The other as well," Kodlak responded. "He has a fever and is unable to stand on his own. He's not said a word since I released him from the cage."
He gestured to the other child, who was huddled in a corner shivering. The shirt Jergen had tried to give him earlier covered him like an oversized tunic, and he had tried to get as much of his body inside of it as possible.
Kodlak knelt down near the boy and dropped his bundle. He pulled one of the robes and began wrapping the lad up for warmth.
"I take it there were no furs," Jergen commented.
"No," Kodlak responded. "These were the best I could find."
Jergen grumbled as he began to clear as much ash off the brother as possible. He thought he saw bruises around the child's throat and on his limbs, but the ash made it hard to tell for certain in the low light. At least there were no broken bones to set.
The warrior reached once again for his pack. He would need to bandage the worst of the wounds before he could bundle the pup for travel.
Each warrior carried one of the boys as Kodlak led the way towards the exit. They had not gone far from the sacrifice chamber before Jergen's nose caught more foul smells - excrement, vomit, and other odors he didn't care to identify. The stench grew in intensity to the point that Jergen had to breathe through his mouth.
He was nearly gagging by the time they reached a small cavern containing two large rusted iron cages. The straw covering the floor of the cages was contaminated with various kinds of bodily filth and dried blood. Each contained bowls with scum-covered water and rotten food that was no longer identifiable.
Jergen turned to the sickly boy in Kodlak's arms. "This is where you were kept?" he asked.
The boy nodded and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted.
Judging from the condition of the cages, it was a wonder to Jergen that the brothers were still alive at all. The blood was thickest where the cages were closest, as if the brothers had tried to reach each other for comfort after their captors had abused them. The cages were just far enough apart that they would not have been able to touch, no matter how much they stretched.
The warrior felt his chest tighten as the urge to rip someone apart for this crime raged inside him. "I want oil and torches, Kodlak. I want to burn this place down to the stone," he snarled.
"As do I." Jergen could hear the restraint in Kodlak's tone. "But that will not help the children. Not right now, at least."
Jergen hated to admit it, but Kodlak was right. Tearing his way through the cave system was tempting, but it would also delay the lads getting the care they needed.
He forced the anger aside and focused on moving towards the exit as quickly as possible, keeping a firm grip on the boy in his arms.
Darkness had fallen by the time the group made it out. It had just begun to snow, and they hurried to where their horses were tied.
Soon the two had managed to mount their horses, each still holding their precious cargo. They began the ride back to Whiterun, urging as much speed from the horses as they could manage. Time was of the essence for both the brothers.