"Forgive me, Harbinger," Arnbjorn drawled, "but I had thought we were tracking Silver Hand. Not Winterhold College flunkies!"

Kodlak Whitemane sighed, "Plans change, Arn. Don't let your inner beast rule your thoughts."

Arnbjorn growled, but resolved to obey by telling his beast he was in the presence of an Alpha, even if he himself did not yet believe it.

"Yes, Harbinger. It's just that I had my hopes on collecting a few more Silver swords for Eorlund to melt down."

"Unfortunately, Jergen was quite insistent that we deal with these rogue magic users immediately. He believes they pose a serious threat to Whiterun. Who knows how long they've had to strengthen, unbeknownst to any of us!"

And with that, Kodlak fell silent. Arnbjorn knew better than to argue. The previous Harbinger had passed away peacefully in his sleep, and even if that sounded like a milk-drinker's way to go to Sovngarde, Arnbjorn would have preferred HIS judgment. Still, he knew that his late mentor would not have named Kodlak Whitemane to succeed him without faith in the man.

The pair moved through the underbrush of a forest with a speed befitting wild creatures and not men. The moon's steady light guided them to put not a single footstep out of place. Finally they came to a break in the trees near the base of a mountain. The area around here was littered with caves, but finding the right one could prove to be a challenge.

Arnbjorn's bitter thoughts were interrupted by the new Harbinger at that moment- "Look!" he exclaimed, "There's Jergen with the signal. He's found the rogue mages."

Arnbjorn sniffed the air's heavy coppery tang with his wolf senses. The fresh blood smells awoke his wolf's hunger. Probably the elder man's wolf was roused too, but Kodlak did a better job of ignoring it.

"And slaughtered them all by his damned self, it smells like!" Arn added with tones of envy.

Jergen rushed through the underbrush of the forest to meet them, a look of grave concern etched on his normally jovial face. Arnbjorn noted that his blond hair was matted with blood and his armor was torn and reeked of old death, not just the recent kills. The nauseating smell of decay assailed the werewolves' noses, but Jergen appeared to have simply gotten used to it.

"Harbinger. Arn." He nodded respectfully.

"How bad was it?" the mentor asked gravely.

Arnbjorn made an air waving gesture. "Certainly as bad as you smell?"

The others chose to ignore the remark.

"Oh Kodlak, I had no choice but to become a beast. I was found out at my camp before I managed to infiltrate the caverns." Jergen gave his mentor a defeated look before continuing with a less apologetic tone. "But, I took every last one of them down."

Jergen hesitated, and Arn knew something had been left out. Kodlak obviously sensed the same thing.

"What say you, Jergen? Would this enclave of mages have put Whiterun in danger?"

He nodded solemnly. "I found a map of Whiterun's walls with the weak points. They have already been harming our city. Those missing people throughout the recent months didn't just wander off. They were kidnapped and harvested for body parts. They were no ordinary mages. This was a necromancy guild."

Despite the hearty constitution that came with being a lycanthrope, Arnbjorn paled. He knew some of the missing people. His own cousin's wife was among them. An aspiring herbalist, she was assumed to have been attacked by a giant or bear while herb gathering for her potion-making side business 4 months prior. Her shop had lain empty for 3 months, but a woman called Arcadia from Cyrodiil had purchased the vacant building. Seeing his kin's shop being run by a foreigner was a scrape to the wound every day. This news of necromancy was like pulling the scab clean off of the wound.

"Kodlak, that's not all. I have found something to show you," Jergen said, his white teeth biting his dirty bottom lip.

The Harbinger smiled at Jergen reassuringly and said simply, "Lead the way."

The men followed Jergen silently back to his own campsite. A tent of skins tied up among trees sat obscured by foliage. The remains of a fire were smoldering as they approached.

Arnbjorn smelled a stranger's scent within the tent, piquing his curiosity. He did not have long to wait, because Jergen immediately pulled the patched hide tent flap aside to reveal two sleeping, nearly identical boys of about 10. Both lads were clothed in new, but overly large tunics and trews tied in with rope. The clothes were a kindness from Jergen to be sure. They also had a sickly pallor that suggested neither had been out into the sunshine in months, although to be fair, caked in as much dirt is they were wearing, it was hard to see skin at all.

Jergen gently lifted the smaller boy's shirt to show Kodlak the bruises along the rib cage, a rib cage that should not be so prominent in a growing boy.

"This lad calls himself Vilkas. He's a ready mind, and was able to fill me in on all of the gruesome details. The bigger boy is Farkas. He kept quiet, and let Vilkas do the talking, but it didn't seem to be out of fear." Jergen smiled affectionately at the boys.

"I had to burn the stinking rags I found them in. I had no other clothing to fit a child, let alone two children."

Kodlak nodded somberly. "You've done well. But by the gods! Where did you come upon these half-starved pups?"

"It was terrible Kodlak. They were in cages. They've told me they were subjected to the cruelest of treatment. They were forced to endure beatings, blood rituals, twin experiments, and to partake in acts of cannibalism."

Arnbjorn whistled through his teeth. "Let's get them to Whiterun. The Jarl's steward will know if someone has an open home for two boys. Maybe we can even locate kin. I'd hate to see them separated, or worse, sent to Honorhall," he said, recalling his own early childhood in Riften's prominent orphanage. And these boys had endured more than the simple cruelty of abandonment. Their little lives must have been torturous.

Kodlak nodded knowingly, but was secretly pleased with Arnbjorn's attitude change from earlier. It seemed to be the first agreement the two had had since Arnbjorn had come to the Jorrvaskr. Smiling, he absently stroked the matted black hair on each sleeping child. Some of it would have to be cut out. Tilma would be able to handle it. And the old woman would love to fuss over the foundlings until a proper home would be set up for them. In this moment, he realized that getting the two to Whiterun to be fed and bathed was now the utmost priority. Only then would the extent of their illness and injury be evident. Hopefully Guira would come over from the Temple of Kynareth to administer a proper treatment to the children.

Only one thing was bothering the Harbinger. Not one to let a problem fester in his mind, he asked, "Jergen? Did either of our young friends here see you in your bestial shape?"

Jergen smiled and shook his head no. "Only by the grace of Talos, I had become myself again before I got near their room."

Relieved, Kodlak nodded at Jergen and Arnbjorn to help him break camp and wake the boys.

Now to deal with the problems at hand and Kodlak Whitemane would sleep better knowing his hometown was safer for not having this Necromancer's Guild in proximity. And of course, the coin the Jarl promised as bounty would surely be welcome around Jorrvaskr.