TSSC, Ch 7 – Road Trip
AN: I absolutely hated the movie Jungle 2 Jungle, but I liked the tactics whats-his-name used in the fishing scene.
Days passed slowly as Syn waited to hear from Astrid. She wondered how long the bitch was going to leave her to rot in that dull city. Her pastimes consisted of drinking in the Bannered Mare and training with the Companions, the latter of which she was currently doing.
Aela was curious how her skill with the bow was and demanded a demonstration. The willful werewolf was not one to be refused, so Syn had accepted the bow and had been halfheartedly shooting for the past several minutes. Most of the arrows hit the mannequin's abdominal area, others grazed the shoulder. She had no desire to show her true skill lest they suspect her of killing their precious whelp.
"A good shot," Aela commented when Syn finally hit near the bulls eye set over the heart. The assassin shrugged, bored with the test. Aela reclaimed her bow when she heard Vilkas call her.
"Aela, Danica is finished with the dagger. We need to go to Eldergleam Sanctuary in Eastmarch." Addressing Syn, he continued, "Last chance for you to get a piece of the action."
"Sure, there hasn't been anything in the way of interesting work for me lately anyway." The twice-damned order to remain in the city would once again be ignored. Considering who they were, she would be easily found no matter where she was. There was no hiding from the Dark Brotherhood.
"Good," Aela cheered. It had been long since she went out for more that just a hunt. Her last contract had been done with Skjor, and together they were an efficient enough team to wipe out an entire group of Silver Hand in short minutes. "That will give us time to work on your archery."
Tuning up her self-depreciating sense of humor, which further played on her feigned uncertainty with a bow, she questioned, "You sure you want me wasting arrows where it'll be a pain in the ass to find them? They'll blend into the terrain where we're heading."
Aela dismissed her excuse with a soft snort. "I see where you're coming from but you have potential. Your shots are precise. All you need is some adjustment and that will only be acquired through practice." Vilkas had been watching the women's riposte with amusement, imagining Aela's predicament if she were to run out of arrows and be unable to transform in front of someone who wasn't even a new-blood.
"Don't listen to her, Claire. What you need is a real greatsword. Not that pig sticker at your back." The teasing was without real criticism, though he would wait until he saw what it could do before he considered it a decent weapon. As far as Syn's skill he had seen, it wouldn't be surprising if she could use it well.
"You want to hack away with that fat, dull blade you go right ahead. Me, I'll use my 'pig sticker' to slice body parts right off without them realizing it. Fair enough?" If he could endure her taunts from the giant's camp weeks before without cleaving her head off, he could brush off a remark about his weapon. More easily than Syn could, at least. The Ebony Blade was a prized possession, instantly gaining more worth in her eyes than her shrouded armor. That was how protective she was about her entire Daedric artifact collection, the rest of which was in the chest back in the Sanctuary – Vaermina's staff with the mounted horned skull, Boethiah's ebony armor, and Namira's ring. The latter had been her latest acquired item, other than the blade. It remained in the Sanctuary instead of on her, though it would have been easy to carry and relatively unnoticed. Her endeavors to live as a cannibal lost its charm after a few tastes, though she wasn't immensely put off by it. When her mouth watered for flesh, it was out of the more common version of vulgarity.
"Suit yourself. We'll be leaving in an hour."
Traveling with two werewolves, Syn thought to herself. What could be better?
The first day of travel was full of treacherous encounters, the first of which was an ambush by a necromancer and her small skeletal band. The ice hissed from her hands and the bare joints clicked and groaned with every movement from the undead. Aela's arrows made quick work of the necromancer, but the magic around the guardian stone she used as a base continued to sustain the undead. They, too, were felled quickly. Their brittle bones were barely held together. The weight of their weapons alone caused a strain on what was left of their bodies so their strikes were slow and easily parried. One block caused the arm to separate from the skeleton's shoulder, the arm bones fell to the ground. Fingers clean of flesh still clutched the hilt of its sword. The warriors and assassin left the hill when they were the only living things remaining. The rattle of bones rolling down the hill was their farewell.
They passed a veer on the road leading to a giant's camp, indicated by the stones decorated with mammoth leather and broken ribs. One of the massive creatures lumbered his way down, catching sight of the three travelers with mild interest. It grunted loudly, acknowledging visitors to a giant that was further down the path behind him. Syn could see Aela frowning that the giants were passive, but they continued with no open hostilities. They hardly made it five meters further when two towers connected by a bridge loomed over them. A bandit at the foot of the tower on their side of the river captured their attention.
"Hey! This here's a toll road, see? You gotta pay, uh, 200 gold to pass. Each!" The werewolves exchanged glances and Syn rolled her eyes.
"Can you even spell 'toll,' you dimwit?" Syn smirked at the offended bandit when her bow was drawn. Aela was quick to draw her bow to counter the threat.
"You don't want to test me, lass." The bandit's warning didn't phase anyone, but called others in her gang to see if there would be trouble. A brutish thug opened the doors and stood with his arms crossed. A creak above them made them look up, an archer at the top of the tower's wooden deck was peering down at them, bow drawn and arrow cocked though he had not yet taken aim.
"True, I'd rather kill you." The Companions made no argument with Syn's aggressive lead. Vilkas drew his sword and ducked close to the wall, out of the sights of the archer above. Aela raised her bow toward the sun that shone beyond the perched bandit, loosing her arrow at the menacing silhouette. Her shot was less accurate with the distance and her impaired vision, but the arrow lodged in his thigh caused him to fall. His scream ended abruptly when he hit the ground, by the time his body rolled down the side of the road into the river to be dragged past Windhelm by the currents, the archer had already moved on. She was following the thug Vilkas battled, aiming carefully so her comrade didn't step into her shot. Syn toyed with the first bandit they had met, parrying inexpert bashes from the woman's mace and edging her closer to the fire under the cooking pot behind her.
The ground shook as the giants ran down the hill to join the fun. The leading creature stomped a spitting frostbite spider that made the mistake of getting in its path. More bandits flooded onto the road from the tower, eager to gouge the bodies ripe for looting until they saw the giants approach. Their panicked halt gave the Companions and Syn the opening they needed. Three of the bandits fell, one with an arrow between his eyes, another with a greatsword through his gut, and the third went in two different directions – head down the hill, body on the road. Vilkas, Aela, and Syn stepped to the side as the giants closed in on the bandits. The faster of the two kicked the foremost bandit with his frosbite poison covered foot, causing the thug to soar backwards. His head collided with the window on the opposite wall. The area he hit had small bone shards wedged in the cracks between the stone and cherry jam colored muck painted a great portion of the stone.
The giants finished the fight, receiving little resistance that affected their superior strength and more resilient bodies. When the battle was done, they stepped to either side of the road. The one at the foot of the cliff watched the warriors, daring them to attack. Aela met the challenge evenly, waiting for a move that would convince her to send an arrow into the giant's eye. Syn crouched by the few bandits that didn't have a giant looming near them, talking Aela down without having to watch the stare down.
"Come on, Aela. It's not doing us any harm." Vilkas started heading down the road, not looking for another fight, but he would be quick to step in if it came to that. Syn followed his lead, tapping Aela's arm as she passed. Grabbing her and dragging her on would probably earn an elbow to the nose. Reluctantly, Aela followed the others. The giant walked backwards as Aela did, mentally recognizing her as the most aggressive team member, as he was of the pair of giant brothers. The other watched them go while idly wiping blood off his foot.
Cicero twirled the Skyforge steel dagger between his fingers, letting its point dance on his fingertip. He frowned at the moldy table he sat at, envying the other assassins who came and went on minor contracts.
Such is the life of a Keeper, he repeatedly told himself. He could only oil Mother so often when he was bored. Too often did he burst from the room and search for one of his brothers or sisters. At least they were starting to come around, except Nazir. The Redguard would quickly shoo poor Cicero away when he tried to be civil, and the wizard's profuse apologies only consoled him so much. Cicero did not need an apology! Certainly not from Festus, who wronged him in no way thus far. He needed the stubborn Alik'r warrior to listen to him.
The un-child and Gabriela were unreadable on the subject most important to him. They respected Astrid, though Gabriela clearly had a soft spot for the Listener as she was the one who found her, brought her to the Sanctuary after her initiation was complete.
If only the 'boss' would call the Listener back! The Night Mother is silenced while she was away! Crippled! But Cicero can do nothing about it.
"What if…" Cicero muttered to himself, scratching his head. His nails were digging too deep to sate an itch, the grazes along his scalp were more of a nervous gesture as he imagined the worst. His fingers curled around the cloth of his jester's hat, grabbing matted hair in the same grasp, and threw the hat on the ground.
"She killed the Listener. Killed her." Cicero thrashed his arms, knocking the pewter plate and silverware off the table. They collided with the floor with an angry 'clang.' "The Listener is dead… Oh Mother, why do you let this happen?"
"Keeper?" Cicero tensed, the hair on the back of his neck rose and his features twisted into a grimace. It was Astrid calling him. Once again he scratched, though this time at the moldy wooden table. Several deep breaths barely took the edge off of his rage. Yet every bit of hatred was sucked within, and he responded to the mistress casually. His gestures were light, as was his step when he entered the chapel to meet Astrid halfway. A large grin was plastered to his face, though he gave her no verbal acknowledgement.
"There you are. Is everything all right? I heard you talking to someone." Astrid's subtle twitch gave away her true concern, the suspicion Syn told him she operated under constantly. Under long, curled lashes her eyes darted around to see who his company was.
"Oh, no mistress! I was speaking to myself, it's an old habit you see. Though sometimes I speak to the Night Mother. Of course, she doesn't speak back." He pursed his lips, the chuckle had to force its way through. "Not to me…"
"I see." She opened her mouth to continue, but halted when her name was called. The scratchy voice came from none other than Veezara, the Listener's closest friend and confidante. The Argonian entered, bowing slightly at the jester before reporting to his mistress.
"I was told you wanted to see me immediately?"
"Yes, brother. I have a special task for you." Astrid gave Cicero a cold look, forgetting to mask her dislike for his presence. "I trust you'll come to me if you have any concerns."
"Absolutely, boss!" Astrid and Veezara left the small chapel. Cicero closed the door behind them and scurried to Night Mother, protectively placing his hand over the latch that opened her coffin. His fingers caressed the raised design as he rounded the coffin to stand between it and the stained glass depiction of Sithis.
Astrid's form glided through the red tinted glass as she passed by in the chamber below. Cicero wished her body was covered in blood, just as it looked. His eyes grew less focused so it was Sithis he stared at. One had to wonder if blood was at least one ingredient in the paint – that is what Cicero would have done. Tears for shades of blue, marrow ground into a smooth sand to mix with the black.
The jester sighed, shutting his eyes to hang on to the last thread of sanity that was sure to depart any day now. Of Syn's death, he was absolutely convinced. Seeing one family be picked off, one by one, drove him far from what he once was - a rational, skilled assassin of sound mind and soul. That skill was all he had left, but his duties no longer required a blade. The blood that flowed was only his, the Night Mother's had stilled in her veins long ago. She did not bleed or breathe or speak – to him. He was left with silence once again. And the laughter that rang in his ears, never to stop. He opened his eyes and watched Astrid ascend the steps that led to her chambers and the exit.
Mother, forgive me for I am going to sin. I can't stop myself.
Vilkas stood at the edge of their camp with his back to Aela, who was tending to the fire. They had traveled as far as the bend of the river until it veered north to Windhelm when their destination required them to continue east. Syn was thigh deep in the river, catching fish for supper.
Watching her had been entertaining, especially since she removed most of her clothing to fish. Her cloak and armor lay discarded on the bank, she certainly wasn't shy about being seen. At first, Vilkas coughed and turned away awkwardly, thinking she was about to bathe, but realized her true task when he stole a glance back.
The method she used was unlike any he'd seen. Typically they'd spear the fish from the bank, but she was in the water with her arms dangling, submerged up to her forearms with her hands cupped into a channel. Quick jerks indicated when she seized a fish. Vilkas was impressed with the amount she caught that way. He did not acknowledge Aela when she came to stand by his side.
"It is as though you do not feel the tug of the moons, shield-brother." The river was far enough away for their conversation not to be heard as long as they spoke softly.
"I feel the disease," he spat. "How can I not?" Beast blood was restless and always made his urges known. Every one of the base needs – even those he had as a man – were harder to ignore since the beast's indulgent nature became a part of him. It kept him from rest and any degree of comfort was difficult to achieve. The rare times he was able to enjoy himself were usually when he was in the arms of a woman, though it had been a few weeks since that was the case.
The last woman he had been with was Carlotta and she had been more to him than the past several women he had lain with. She was a strong Nord, capable of taking care of herself and her daughter and her attitude earned Vilkas' respect. He found her beautiful since they met, but when he finally grew close to her he found there wasn't much more about her he was interested in. What he liked most was the perfect image of domestic life when she and her daughter sat together in the den. It warmed him at first, but the realization that he didn't deserve to be a part of such a family made him withdraw. Carlotta didn't seem too bothered by it either, so apparently the overall disinterest had gone both ways.
It truly wasn't much of a loss. Their time together was mostly sexual and Vilkas felt guilty when Carlotta grew loud enough for her daughter to hear in the next room. Part of him missed the idyllic life with them, but the comforts of the three being family was something he knew wouldn't last. They would eventually learn his secret.
The only other release from his inner struggle was when he was nose deep in a mug of ale, and even then he was a danger. Skjor once transformed at camp when in a drunken rage and killed a traveling family, parents and child slain alike. Vilkas vowed he would never allow himself to lose control like that. If a man acted like an animal, he should die like one.
Either you are a hunter or you are prey. There is no such thing as innocent or collateral outside of a contract. Skjor spoke with cold indifference about the incident after, but the man's eyes had contradicted him; they held shame. Yet he continued to revel in the powers, as did Aela. They would never want to give it up, even if it meant sacrificing their place in Sovngarde in exchange for an afterlife in Hircine's hunting grounds.
"How can you not appreciate it?" Aela was indignant about him shaving down the glory of their prowess. Vilkas wanted to retort, he had much to say on the subject but Aela was too stubborn to see things any other way. If he admitted beast blood made him feel more like a skooma addict than an empowered warrior she would probably spit in his face, partially because she felt family pride over the curse.
Receiving no response, her green eyes flashed with anger. The stare was averted when she decided he wasn't worth wasting any more time on. The forests called her, the moons were beckoning forth her alternate form.
"I am going to hunt." Grass was trampled underfoot as she stomped away, not bothering to warn Syn of her absence. The assassin had heard them muttering, but couldn't understand what was said. It wasn't hard to guess the topic. She returned to camp with a pot of gutted fish in one hand after she dried off and put her armor back on.
"Aela went to hunt for herself," Vilkas reported. Golden eyes twinkled, reflecting the brightness of the fire Syn squatted near, eyes that held something that made him uncomfortable. It was as if she knew why. "She doesn't really like fish," he explained lamely.
"Oh. Fair enough." She didn't seem bothered by the news, then again there was little he saw that bothered her other than their first night at camp, after the mission Njada was killed on. Their argument had been petty, he couldn't even remember what it was about. All he knew was he had felt rage while the beast inside him nearly clawed its way out of his chest as he was mocked, and the indignant flare in Syn's eyes.
Syn cooked the fish and they ate their supper in silence. Aela had not returned and Vilkas knew she would not until close to dawn. He didn't notice as Syn watched him. It was the first time she was able to really look at length at his armor. Finally he caught her gaze, raising his brow slightly in question.
"The Circle armor is very unique. What is that creature under the collar? A bat or something?" She was able to keep a neutral expression, or as close to one as she could manage when she knew something she wasn't supposed to.
"Or something," was his vague response. Despite the discomfort at having attention drawn to the wolf armor, which was a rather foolish display in his opinion, he smiled warmly at her in an attempt to play off his evasiveness as a joke. It worked well for her when she did so.
"Well that clears it right up. Thank you, Vilkas." She huffed with false aggravation, keeping a slight quirk of her lips to show she didn't truly mind. Her eyes returned to the gaping maw of the wolf on his chest, but briefly. Vilkas was relieved she let it go. The hair at the back of his neck rose under scrutiny, it was disconcerting to say the least.
"Anytime." Syn shook her head, smiling into the fire. Just as she had done to him, he stared at her openly. He admitted to himself her physiognomy was distracting. Another thing he became aware of was that he no longer felt wary of her. She was strange, but seemed light-hearted.
It wasn't easy to pinpoint at what time he had warmed up to her and still found himself wondering why she didn't just join them. She seemed to enjoy their company, even admitted so at times, and they enjoyed hers. Maybe having an outsider around was refreshing. If she became one of them, his life would fully be devoted to the Companions again, and that grew rather dull.
Now he had been staring too long, he frowned into the fire after he jerked his head away from her direction. His thoughts began to wander to the desire he tried to ignore and Gods damn him if he wasn't feeling it physically. He'd be relieved when Aela returned, he didn't want to sleep when it was just the two of them, alone. He felt safe with her, but part of him was protective. Though she was undeniably a capable fighter, she was an outsider – always inferior to some degree. He couldn't help but feel that.
Syn stretched and lay down on the ground, sleepily watching the stars. Vilkas didn't realize he was watching her again until he heard himself blurt, "You should get some rest." She hummed in response, not realizing how dangerous it was exposing her smooth, pale neck to a wolf. The beast within him stirred thinking of the blood pounding in that neck, feeding blood to her tender heart. Vilkas frowned at the fire through his steepled hands, focusing on the embers snapping outside the logs. It didn't seem like she'd give him a real answer for a while but she spoke again.
"I'm so comfortable though. Can I take the fire with me?"
"No problem leaving me out in the cold, eh?"
"Oh, you can certainly come, too." He turned away from her with a half-hearted scoff, hiding the foolish grin he was sure he wore. It wasn't something she could have missed, he knew she didn't when he heard her giggling. Scuffling sounds alerted him to her movements as she stood to go to her tent. "Goodnight, Vilkas."
"Goodnight." After she stilled within her tent, he rose to his feet. He could keep a more vigilant watch until Aela returned, though he wanted nothing more than to crawl inside Syn's tent and sleep… eventually.