The moment I realized that I was a rat in a trap, it was already too late.
You stupid women, Ásleif. How could you have allowed this to happen?
About a dozen or so Silverhand surrounded me in the front and the back. I could easily count their heads from atop my blue roan, who tossed his head and turned 360s on the spot, rolling his eyes and snorting in alarm, tail thrashing behind him. "Easy, Gunnolf, easy." I whispered to the stallion, but to no effect. He could feel the apprehension rolling off of me in waves.
I had been heading home to Jorrvaskr from the Throat of the World after a conference with Paarthurnax. Even after the defeat of Alduin, my soul was not at rest and day to day life was becoming more and more taxing on my mind and body. My past as well as the present haunted me at all hours. Shame. Hurt. Sorrow. Regret. I constantly felt that living at this point was more than it was worth. I had asked the old dov for guidance.
Rather than take my usual road back to Whiterun that ran round the northern side of the Monahven, I had decided to take the scenic route through the mountain pass to the south, and head up to Whiterun from the Helgan road instead. My senses were dulled by the war-zone that was my head and I hadn't realized till it was too late that Gunnolf and I were surrounded by the Kin-Killers.
"We've been waiting for you, Companion. Our trackers have been following you for some time, and you came right to us, like the dog that you are." A tall orc Silverhand with a two handed silver sword pulled my conscience out of the black pit that my mind had become. He was wrapped in a hide that had deep, black coarse fur. A quick intake of his scent on the wind told me it was werewolf. In fact, all their scents were so strong on the wind that I was deeply disturbed that I hadn't smelled them before being trapped in the pass.
You're losing yourself, Dovahkiin, you stupid wolf.
As I continued berating myself in my head, I drew my Skyforge steel sword from its scabbard strapped to Gunnolf's saddle. When he heard the ring of metal, the stallion squared up, awaiting my command. The small round shield that also hung from his saddle was quickly in my left hand. As an instinctive reflex, I looked about me for my companion, but with a sickening clench of my heart, I remembered that I was alone.
Always alone.
Forcing myself to focus, I growled lowly in my chest. "Who are you, scum, to hunt me like an animal when you should turn to yourselves? Though it would bring me great pleasure and satisfaction, save me the trouble of spilling your foul blood and slit your own throats while you have the chance, Kin-Killer." I spat the last word out with as much venom as I could. The odds were stacked against me.
Laughter rang out amongst the silver-armed company. Chills ran like ice down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. I suddenly wished I hadn't forsaken my heavier armor that was currently in the saddle bags for lighter leathers that served for quicker travel. "Oh, this should be fun, a cocky she-wolf with no pack in sight. When we are done disposing of your wretched life, we'll go ahead and cut the head off the serpent. Heard your mead hall is nice and cozy this time of year. Perhaps we'll all pop in for a drink, eh lads?"
Shouts of agreement rose up from the group. Spinning my sword in my hand, I fought the anxiety building up inside me. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"
Driving my spurs into Gunnolf's flank, he sprang forward off his hind legs. Luckily, the host of scum around me weren't anticipating such a forward charge, and were caught off guard. This bought me a few seconds of precious time to gain the upper hand. Slashing down with my sword, I clove the orc's head in two like a hot knife through butter, for he wore no helmet. Blood and bone shot out, coating anyone in the vicinity. The metallic smell encouraged the Wolf and the dovah within me, and my senses sharpened as my own blood began to pump with renewed vigor. Left. I turned my steed sharply round and blocked an incoming sword attack with my shield. The wielder stumbled back. Turning my head to the right, I let the power that was my soul well up at will.
"FUS!"
The Shout pushed three assailants onto their rumps, one rolling back from the force and sweeping a fourths legs from underneath him, sending him to join his fellows on the ground. On reflex, Gunnolf kicked out a hind leg, catching one of the fallen fighters square in the face. A sickening cracking and crunching sounded out and blood splattered all over the ground. A wave of excitement flooded through my body at the sight of the gory mess that was now the dead Silverhand's face.
Well done, my sweet, I praised silently.
Unfortunately, the rest recovered their surprise, and the upper-hand was lost. They closed in around us, weapons up and screaming taunts. I threw a fire ball at an axe-man that decided to break ranks. He fell back, but another quickly took his place, followed by a swordsman from the other side. Moving Gunnolf's hind quarters away, I struck out at the axe-man, who parried my blow. I faked left and slashed right, moving his guard over and opening his neck from ear to collarbone. Bringing Gunnolf round again, I kicked out my foot, catching the swordsman in the face. His sword came out, the tip cutting a gash into my left thigh. Pain roared up my leg into the rest of my body, and the Wolf howled in pain along with me, which I voiced for both of us through my own mouth.
"AGGGHHHHH!"
I could feel the flesh burning and blistering from the contact with the silver blade. An arrow from an unseen archer jerked me backwards in the saddle as the missile made contact with me chest, the leather I wore doing little to slow it down but enough to stop my life from ending. Fire burned up inside my chest and the silver arrow head burrowed deep in my upper left breast.
Struggling to draw breath without screaming or howling, I lashed out with sword and shield, turning Gunnolf round and round. My cloak whipped around me as I sent more flames with a shout, luckily igniting the furs of two of my assailants. They flailed about, crying out and trying desperately to shed themselves of their flaming garments. The scent of burning flesh permeated through the air. One managed to rid himself of the death trap, however his companion was not so fortunate. She desperately fell to the snow to try and smother the flames that were consuming her. Agonizing screams pierced the air, ringing off the rocky walls of the pass. Her flesh bubbled and blistered till she finally lay still, a blackened and charred mess upon the pure snow.
My satisfaction at her horrific demise was cut short by another arrow, this one in my left shoulder. The archer was aiming desperately for my heart, but failing at his set task. Breaking the shafts of the arrows off as fast and gently as possible, I bit back more howls of agony and rage. Conjuring ice up in my right palm around my sword hilt, I threw a well-aimed ice spear at my nearest opponent, driving it through his chest. His eyes bulged at the pressure that was now in his chest, coughing up blood as his body gave one last effort to clear the obstruction before he keeled over dead.
Even with the success of my kills, there was no use. I was taking in silver like it was the new fashion in the Imperial City, and it was boiling the blood in my veins. Turning Gunnolf's head back up the pass, I pulled as much air into my lungs as I could in my current state. Standing unsteadily up in the stirrups, I Shouted:
"FUS RO DAH!"
Focusing my voice over the stallion's head, the wall of force blasted the Silverhand that stood in my way back from the path. Desperately, I kicked my mount forward, and he took off, having no qualms with leaving our adversaries behind in the blood and snow. He flew past the fallen warriors and back up through the pass. So relieved was I to have thought us now safe, I almost missed the lone archer upon an icy rock. His bow was strung and nocked with a gleaming silver arrow pointed at my head. The world seemed to slow as I made eye contact with the marksman. Even above the wind and the pounding of Gunnolf's hooves, I heard the bow string twang deafening loud as the arrow was released.
This is the end, then. This is how my demons are finally slain: through my own death.
A bright flash of light engulfed me and my ever faithful mount, and we were thrown forward into blinding white surroundings.
Hello! This is the first chapter of the second story I am publishing here. This is MUCH darker then my first little Brynjolf romance story, and will be much much longer and developed. Just a quick note, Asleif's story and background may seem a bit confusing at first but I promise things will become clearer as the story progresses. Another note, Kin-Killers is just another name I made up for the Silverhand. Seems fitting for a werewolf to call them that. As always, review and please excuse any grammar or spelling errors.