Heroes' Blood
Michéle Kijeski and M. Chronister
Chapter One: Shifara's Tale
Her name was Shifara, which in the language of the Alik'r desert folk meant Nothing. She had once proudly borne another, but now all she had was nothing. Her home had been left far behind and she was a stranger in a strange land, every hand turned against her. There was more, much more, but the animal mind that rode her could not comprehend it. All it knew was fury, hunger and fear.
All of these things were directed now at two forms that stood in a circle of lantern light before her. A man and a woman, both familiar and unfamiliar at once, stared aghast at her. The woman struggled to quiet a frightened horse before it smashed free of the wagon it was pulling. The scent of fresh horse flesh made her mouth water, but most of her attention was fixed on the man, who had drawn a straight, shining blade from his back. She snarled as the animal in her mind raged to attack, but the part of her that was still human held it down much as the other woman held the horse. She had not yet spilled innocent blood, and today would not be the day she did.
Shifara backed away, but her legs betrayed her, collapsing under her and she fell to one knee.
At this sign of weakness, the man advanced on her, grim determination in his face as he raised his blade.
"No! Talin, no!" the woman cried. "It's no threat! Can't you see how weak it is?"
Shifara met his eyes, supplicating him for her very life, and she saw them suddenly soften. He let the tip of his sword drop a fraction.
"Yes, perhaps you're right."
Relief and misery in equal parts flooded through her and she threw herself on the ground and wept bitterly.
"Oh!" cried the woman. She released the horse and surged forward, hands outstretched. "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you!"
"Ro!" cried the man, catching her by an arm. "Are you crazy? Keep back!"
Dread washed away the misery and she scuttled backwards. If either of them got too close, it might well be impossible to control her monstrous instincts. But she knew she shouldn't run, either, for that could be interpreted very badly and force them to do something foolish. So she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, locking her arms around them, making herself small and shaking her head emphatically.
The woman's response was to turn to the man and look at him pleadingly, as though she expected him to be able to solve this dilemma easily. He sighed at her and unslung the water bottle at his hip, tossing it gently to Shifara.
Oh, by the Aedra, how thirsty she was! But she knew better than to drink from it. Hircine alone knew what would happen to someone who drank after a werewolf; the curse might pass on that way, as well. So she tossed it back at him and tried to communicate the only possible choice, pointing to herself and then out into the darkness.
Talin shrugged, picked up the water skin, and tucked it back into his belt. "You want to go? Go," he said, lowering his sword.
"What? No! Talin it needs our help," Ro said. "It's weak and exhausted. What if someone hurts it?"
"Well, we can't take it with us," Talin said. "It's not exactly a puppy dog, Ro. You can't keep it."
"That's okay," said a third voice. "'Cause she's mine."
And that's when the werewolf hunter stepped into the light of the moons.
With a low growl, Shifara rolled into a crouch, the bristles rising along her spine. Agrenthir! It had been months since her last encounter with the half-Elf Breton and his bloody-handed band of killers. They had run her down right on the border of Hammerfell, lassoing her from horseback and binding her. At first she had thought them brigands; who else would attack what seemed a harmless traveler on the road in broad daylight?
Then they told her the awful truth. They had tracked her lupine rampage through the unpeopled wilderness the previous night and knew her for what she was. And they were professional hunters, whose self-appointed duty it was to rid Tamriel of the scourge of lycanthropes.
"The only reason you aren't dead now is that you managed to evade us until the sun came up," Agrenthir proclaimed. "And it sits ill with me to kill a human being, even one as debased as you, in cold blood. So I will give you exactly one chance—find a way to cure yourself, if you have any honor left. Or the next time my men and I meet you, we'll kill you without compunction!"
And they had left her there, trussed and helpless as they rode away laughing.
Well, it wasn't as if she hadn't tried to find a cure! She'd made the attempt as soon as she had realized the curse that was on her. After Agrenthir's ultimatum, she tried again. But both attempts led only to a seemingly endless maze of clues and dead end after dead end. She had finally given up in despair.
And now he had tracked her down again, meaning to make good his promise. Even so, she didn't attack. She would not let the beast have its blood, even Agrenthir's! Keeping her eyes on the hunter, she started backing into the darkness.
But then Ro drew a pair of gold stilettos—dwarven metal, by the look of them—and put herself firmly between the hunter and Shifara. He drew a bow and nocked an arrow, pointing it at Ro.
"You'd best get out of the way, miss. I'm after the beast, but I'll kill you if I have to."
No! thought Shifara, horrified that her curse was causing evil in yet a new way.
"That's my sister you're threatening," Talin said then. There was something both powerful and dangerous in his voice, though the tone was almost conversational. "Don't. If you want to live."
Seeing these good people put themselves between her and her tormentor, Shifara's most human side came fully to itself. She burst into motion around the brother and sister and leapt toward the hunter. By design, she landed next to rather than on him, and tried to swat him away using her closed fist, no claws. Her paw connected solidly with Agrenthir's head, staggering him. She wheeled to sprint away, hoping to lead the terrible man away from the innocents, when an arrow whizzed out of the dark, burying itself in her ribs. By the terrible burning of her flesh, she knew the head was pure silver. Gasping, she went down, her legs too weak to hold her up, her head spinning.
She smelled them before she could see them: half a dozen hunters—four men and two women—closed in on them. She tried to rise, but the effort nearly caused her to black out.
Ro crouched and raised her daggers. Talin merely smiled.
"Kill them," said Agrenthir. "Kill them all."
In the time it took for Ro to bury her knife in the half-elf's throat, Talin twisted in a graceful arc, his sword whistling through the air, leaving a glimmering trail of moonlight in its wake as it cleaved through flesh on all sides. At the same time, he whispered a word, and lightning burst from his left hand, eliciting multiple screams accompanied by the smell of ionized air and burning flesh. In moments, it was over, and seven bodies lay scattered about the rocky ground.
Talin sheathed his sword and moved towards Shifara. Instinctively, she tried to draw back. The arrow shifted painfully in her side, and she could no longer hold back the darkness.
When she woke up, it was light outside. She was laying in a wagon, covered with what appeared to be the cloak the man had been wearing. As her change always forced her to shed her clothing, her first instinct was to clutch the cloak around her nakedness. Then memory returned, shockingly clear compared to the usual murky nightmare that came after her transformations. Once again, she was overwhelmed by what she had witnessed, his remarkable power and skill.
Hard on the heels of awe came the memory of pain, and she instinctively clapped her hand to her side. The arrow was gone, as was the hurt. And though she could detect no sign of a wound, she suddenly noticed a silver ring on her middle finger. It glowed softly, even in the bright Hammerfell sun, and there was a feeling of power about it.
Shifara took several moments to be glad she was alive. The outcome itself was welcome, but even more so was the feeling of gladness. For many weeks, her thoughts had dwelt in dark places, her own life a torment to her. It was very good to know that she still had the will to live, in spite of all.
Slowly, cautiously, she raised herself to a sitting positon and looked around. She feared she had been taken far away from her usual range. The cave she used for shelter was miserable, but it contained the bulk of her worldly possessions that she had not left with her family. Most vital was her sleek ebony sword, Embershard, enchanted with the power of fire. Only slightly lower on the list were her clothes and armor. But her fears were quickly allayed. Her rescuers had set up camp not far from the entrance to the cave. The man—Talin, she seemed to recall—crouched next to the fire, balanced on the balls of his feet, tending to breakfast, while the woman—Ro?—brushed down a bay mare. Dark-skinned, with high, prominent cheekbones, they made a striking pair.
Softly, she cleared her throat and then said the first civil words to other people she had spoken in months.
"I… have much to thank both of you for." As their eyes turned towards her, she directed her gaze especially at the woman. "First above all your compassion for a creature that must have seemed beyond redemption."
The woman laughed, tossing the brush onto her pack. "Not at all. If I'd thought you were beyond redemption, I wouldn't have taken up your cause." She strode over, extending a hand. "I'm Ro, by the way. Ro Nubo." She jerked her head at the man. "And that's my brother, Talin."
The man rose gracefully to his feet, his warm brown eyes fixed on Shifara, and nodded in greeting.
Shifara cautiously reached out and took the woman's strong, calloused hand, her own nearly as rough from years of wielding a blade.
"I am glad to have met you both, but I fear I no longer have a name to give you." She drew back, then, wrapping her arms around herself. "You're Redguards like me, so you'll understand that I have no wish to dishonor my family by attaching their name to any ill deeds I might commit when I… lose control."
Her eyes dropped in shame, unable to bear the regard of good, untainted folk like them.
"It's better if you don't become further mixed in my affairs. You've brought me to my camp, somehow, so I will wish you good speed on your journey, and part from here."
Talin narrowed his eyes in apparent speculation. "If your behavior last night was any indication, I'd be willing to wager that you don't have many ill deeds, if any, with which to shame yourself or your family. Am I right?"
"As well as I can remember, I've kept the beast in check and harmed no innocent person. But it has been a struggle and one day I may well lose that fight. That's why I'm living in the wilderness in a cave. At the very least, my opportunities to do evil are few out here. Which is why I must insist the two of you put as much ground between yourselves and me as is possible. The wolf will return soon enough, and I don't want it to find you."
The man grinned. "I'm not worried." There was no arrogance in the statement, but Shifara understood instinctively that he meant what he said, and that he had good reason to feel that way. "Come. Have some breakfast, and at least tell us your story."
She hesitated, then gave a genuine smile for the first time in a very long while. It felt good.
"You saved my life; the least I can do in return is grant your request. But I really must insist on making myself presentable first!"
She wrapped the cloak more securely around her then rather shakily hoisted herself down from the wagon before heading to the cave mouth, eager to be clothed again. She found her weapons, clothing, and gear just as she had left them.
Shifara dressed, regaining some dignity in the process, and lovingly strapped Embershard to her hip. The wilderness being what it was, she also strapped on her breastplate, but left the rest of her armor stored in its bag. Fighting her curse had left her too weak to wear it all these days, and she swore bitterly at Hircine again for the plague he had set loose on the world. A comb restored her black, shoulder-length curls to a semblance of order, and then she returned to the campfire with straight shoulders and head held high.
"I'd like some of everything, please! I'm hungry enough to eat a horse!" she said as she sat down, then grimaced. "Just so we're clear, that's only a figure of speech."
Talin obediently served up a plate laden with sizzling boar meat, lizard eggs, roasted roots, and a large slab of bread. Ro poured a mug of herb tea for Shifara as Talin handed the small feast across to her. After serving their guest, he doled out portions for Ro and himself.
The food was amazing! It would seem that Talin Nubo, whoever he might be, was a glad hand at campfire cooking.
Shifara was too hungry to be polite, and began scooping food into her mouth, ignoring the scalding heat. It was good, so good, and she wolfed down most of it before she knew it. Finally, she took a good long pull at her mug of tea and then focused on her companions.
"Excuse me," she said, "but I really needed that! It was delicious, after living on rabbit and wild goose for so long." She paused to eat the last bit of bread with great relish. "How I've missed civilization! Now then, I owe you my story."
She paused, marshalling her thoughts, then drew a deep breath and began.
"I am a daughter of a house of good standing, a minor branch of a greater noble line. When I came of age, I proposed to my father that I set out on errantry and seek a position in a knightly order so that I could do worthwhile deeds to earn a name for myself and bring honor to my family. He was pleased by my choice and gave me arms and armor, as well as a horse. So, I made my way to Daggerfall itself, hoping to assist them somehow with the ghost of King Lysandus. That task fell to someone else, as it happens, but I found many other tasks that needed doing."
Talin and Ro continued to eat slowly, both of them giving her their full attention.
"The Fighter's Guild was my first patron, and under their auspices, I rooted out the deep lairs and haunted towers that roosted in the dark corners of High Rock, and many other lands. When I had earned enough esteem, I traveled to Wayrest and applied to the Order of the Rose, where I did quests such as rescuing a kidnapped child, ending a mummy's curse and important courier work for various royalty. My star rose high—giving me that much farther to fall.
"I took what seemed an ordinary enough quest to rout out another lair of monsters, only to find these weren't mere walking dead or hobgoblins. No, this was a threat of another magnitude. This dungeon was full of werewolves. And not the common variety; these stayed monsters day and night, their humanity utterly lost. But I couldn't leave—the threat was too great. If they grew any more numerous, an army of the creatures would pour over the countryside and threaten every nearby town. Too many lives were at stake. So I stayed, and I fought them. I was good, and I was smart, and over the next several days, I slaughtered the beasts and evaded their hunters. I had magic protections, and potions of healing. But eventually, the odds were too great. I left them dead, but they had conquered me as well. One night in the dungeon, I dreamed of the moon and a man that was not a man… then three days later, the curse claimed me."
Ro refilled Shifara's tea while she spoke, and the young outcast sipped at it for a moment, meditating on the past.
"I changed into the creature you saw last night, right in the middle of a public inn. I was full of power and fury and lust for killing the harmless as though they were prey animals, and I very nearly murdered the innkeeper on the spot. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, I remembered he was a friend, and by exercise of great willpower, I managed to hold back. Then, horrified by what I had almost done, I ran away, out of the city into the wilderness and rampaged like a mindless animal until dawn finally came to release me.
"At length, I limped back to town, clad in the rags that had been my sleep shirt. And everyone knew. They hid from me, whom they had celebrated only the day before. The innkeeper barred me from the inn and only finally relented enough to throw my possessions into the street. The temples wouldn't allow me in. And my own Guild presented me with my banner, rent in two, and told me I was disgraced and cast out. So, I traveled to my family home only to leave most of my belongings, including my horse, and then banished myself before they had to do it to me, which would have only been painful for all. That is when I became 'nothing.'"
Shifara closed her eyes, fighting the pain that still felt so raw.
Talin and Ro sat in respectful silence for a time, allowing Shifara to grieve. Finally, Ro asked softly, "Is there no way to rid yourself of the curse?"
She opened her eyes, in control once more, and shook her head.
"I don't think so, not anymore. I tried, certainly. My first thought was that I might turn the curse to good account. I had great power and strength at my command and thought perhaps fighting the wicked would satisfy the bloodlust. It quickly became apparent that it wouldn't. It was nothing but evil and had to have innocent blood. I refused to give it that, of course, and soon became ill and weak until such time as I would either succumb to it or die.
"So then I began to chase down every rumor, every clue I could find in a book, hoping and praying to be rid of the affliction. One book in the College of Winterhold in Skyrim hinted there was a way to remove it, but only at the cost of transferring it on to someone else. As you might imagine," she interjected with heavy irony, "I didn't pursue that avenue. Finally, in a tiny village outside of Evermore, I met a witch who claimed to know the cure. She sent me off to quest after the materials she needed, but each line of investigation merely led to other leads, or dead ends, and I finally despaired of ever finding what I needed. So, I've come here, to the barren wilds of Hammerfell, where I am least likely to be able to do harm, and wait…"
Talin sat a little straighter and tossed the remnants of his tea onto the ground, where it was immediately soaked up by the rock, leaving a small, dark stain. "Perhaps your cause is not as hopeless as you think. There may be other avenues you haven't explored." He paused, staring hard at her as if trying to make up his mind. Finally, Ro elbowed him in the ribs. He spared a brief, sideways glance for his sister, but his expression was more amused than annoyed.
"Come with us." His tone was as much command as offer. "We will help you in your quest. I can keep you safe and keep you from harming others."
The words were like a blow across the face, not cruel but sharp and shocking, setting her heart to pumping. She stared at him, for the first time looking closely and assessing the man that he was.
His age was hard to determine. His face didn't bear the marks of advanced years, but there was something in the set of his jaw—a strong jaw, she noted idly—that spoke of great experience. It was there in his eyes, too: a vast intelligence coupled with a strong will. He was well-muscled beneath the light chain armor he wore, and his long hair was pulled back out of his way in rows of tight braids. She thought back to the way she'd seen him move, not just in the heat of battle during the night, but the litheness of his motions around the campfire. The man was clearly powerful, and clearly dangerous. But dangerous to whom?
She watched him, watching her, waiting for a response. And as she looked into his eyes, she realized that there was more than confidence in them. There was kindness. And bravery. And honesty. How she knew these things, she couldn't say. All she knew for certain was that this Talin Nubo was, at heart, a good and decent man.
"And I thought I had no faith left," she said softly. "Certainly not in myself. But I will trust you, Talin Nubo, to stand between me and the rest of the world and keep us from harming each other. Here is proof: my true name is Khalila al-Sharron. Keep it safely."
She held her hand out for his, clasping it firmly in a way that was not quite a handshake but something more personal.
His hand was warm as it wrapped around her fingers, and he smiled, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "I think you will find, Khalila al-Sharron, that you have just made a very wise decision."