The Journey to Morthal

'Is that everything?' Aela questioned.

Razahir nodded his head as finished stuffing the rest of their supplies into the enchanted bag. He tied the drawstring tightly, closing the lip of the bag and he slung it across his armored shoulder. He faced Aela and a small grin appeared on his face.

The Huntress was clad in the armor he had crafted for her. The volcanic glass armor shined from the nearby candle light and belted at her side was a glass longsword and a glass dagger. A buckler rested along her back and next to it was a bow and quiver filled with arrows. All of it was crafted personally at the Skyforge and was one of his proud achievements of the forge itself. She was prepared for their adventure.

'Yes,' he rumbled. 'All of this should last us until Morthal, but I would like to get resupply when we pass through Black Moor. Who knows what we'll stumbled across on the way through Labyrinthian.'

'Trolls have taken up residence there, if I remember correctly.' Aela commented as she backed out of the doorway and Razahir followed her, closing the door to their room. He did not bother locking it, he knew no one would snoop around and Tilma had to clean later; she would probably lock it after she was finished.

'You're right. We should be able to handle it together, don't you think?'

'I never shy away from a fight.' She responded and Razahir's smile grew.

The pair continued through the living area beneath Jorrvaskr, passing by a few others. The fresh-faced recruits and novices that had not gone through with their trials stared at them as they passed by. Razahir and Aela ignored most of the looks; the Circle were used to the looks of awe in their direction and had learned to ignore them, or greet those that had shown promise, a rare smile. Tilma the Haggard was working diligently along with a few other of the maids and servants that had joined the Companions. A warm smile passed over the old woman's face as she saw them and the pair returned the smiles as they walked past her and up the steps that lead to the dining area of the Companions.

Voices carried in the great mead hall: scattered conversations about old battles and great conquests over enemies. Close victories and even a few deaths of warriors were spoken in soft, solemn tomes by others. The great fire pit surrounded by the feast table was crowded with warriors and novices and Razahir took it all in, a feeling of content rising in his breast.

My pack is content, the warrior thought, looking through the hall. He noticed Farkas and Vilkas were speaking silently among themselves in a corner of the room and the twins looked up when they felt his gaze on them. Identical brows were raised as they stared in their direction. Razahir directed his head towards the large, intricate doors that led to the back of Jorrvaskr. The twins took the hint and exited the hall, and the werewolves followed them.

Outside, beneath the loft of the porch, the Circle met once more.

'We are heading to Morthal soon,' Razahir said. 'You both know what must be done?'

'Aye,' Vilkas said. 'I still think it's too soon to be adding more warriors to the Circle and taking in the beast blood.'

'They must accept it at some point Vilkas, all of us know what lurks deep inside of each of us.' Razahir retorted. 'You must let them all know what they are getting into when they accept the blessing.'

'I know,' Vilkas grumbled. 'I just wish we could take Kodlak's choice as well when he… fell.' The warrior frowned deeply at that.

Razahir knew that the old man's death still affected him, especially since his wish was granted when he fell. Luckily for the old man, his spirit had been purged before he had left to Sovngarde. The other Circle members were not as lucky… the witches in the coven had long departed their old cave system in the Reach and they had taken the cure with them as well. He knew Vilkas would still send out missives to find the witches, but that proved ineffective. The Glenmoril Coven had vanished and could not be found and probably never would be. A sobering thought when those who fell would be in the service of a Daedric Prince when they moved on.

He and Aela had long since accepted that when they died, they would be hunting with the Father of Manbeasts for the rest of their lives. The only thing he hoped for was that he would be able to continue to hunt with the rest of the Circle if that happened.

He reached out and clasped the warriors shoulder. 'We know, brother,' he responded empathetically. 'We know.' Farkas remained silent, his hand squeezing his opposite shoulder as well. Aela, surprisingly, joined them in comforting the man, hugging him at his side. The Circle remained silent as they silently comforted the reluctant Nord before the warrior coughed in embarrassment. They stepped away from him as if nothing had happened.

'Athis, Njada, Torvar, and Ria,' Vilkas muttered, pulling himself together. 'They will be taking the blood, right?'

'Aye,' Aela chimed in. 'They've all been here long enough and have taken their trials. Torvar may be a drunk, but he is deadly with that sword of his.'

'That he is,' Razahir commented. He had seen the drunken Nord shrug off blows that would hurt others, and in his drunken state, he felt nothing. It would probably be a problem later down the line, but the Circle needed more members. With all the recruits flooding into Jorrvaskr, the Circle members would be hard pressed to answer all the recruit's questions and grant them different trials.

'Are you still going to separate the title of Harbinger from the Circle?' Farkas chimed in.

'Yes, the Circle would still be even and we would probably never be able to make certain decisions. My title of Harbinger would give one an unfair advantage and with the title of Harbinger having no influence I can truly become an advisor for all of us.'

The members all nodded and Razahir dipped his head. 'We need to expand as well. Hopefully, after the return from Morthal we can expand our ranks to the other holds. Whiterun was the founding city of our order, but if we expand to the other holds, our recruits could be found everywhere in Skyrim.'

'The Fighters Guild of Skyrim?' Vilkas said.

'No, we will be better than those Imperial bastards,' Razahir said with a grin on his face. The gathered warriors chuckled at that. 'We will discuss it more when Aela and I return, just try not to burn down Jorrvaskr while we are gone, eh?'

'Aye' both brothers said at the same time and they both departed into the hall.

'Are you ready, love?' Razahir asked when the door closed fully.

She grunted, already moving off the porch. 'I've been ready; you doing your advising stuff is the reason why we have not left yet.'

They had traveled hard from Whiterun, and ended up in Black Moor on the second day of travel. They had refilled their supplies quickly before going on the move once more. The path from the city built into the mountain was largely uneventful and the only time they received a bit of trouble was in Harmvir's Rest. The undead had risen out of their graves in the small graveyard, but they were no match for the Harbinger and Huntress.

The journey continued for a few quiet days and nights with the occasional roar of a dragon echoing down from the mountains. They made sure to keep their weapons close and their eyes towards the sky as they moved on.

They found trouble as they passed through the old city of Labyrinthian.

'Do you hear that?' Aela questioned, bow unslung and an arrow notched into the bowstring.

Razahir inclined his head, looking at the old gate in front of them. The dark stone was worn away by time and the snowfall. A low bellow erupted from the ruins once again.

'Trouble,' he grunted and made his way forward.

Labyrinthian was a great Nordic city in its prime, but that had been long ago when the Dragon Cults ruled Skyrim with an iron fist. And now all of it was gone and covered in snow. As they passed beneath a broken archway, they found what was going on in the old ruin.

Draugr were being massacred by pale hide Trolls. One of the draugr was pounded to the ground by the hulking monster while another got its head torn off by a backhand swipe of the creature's paw. One of the undead warriors scored a bow with a massive greatsword, cutting deep into the monster's chest. The monster looked down at the blow, watching as the cut sealed itself close. It bellowed as it crushed the monster with a two-handed close-fist blow.

Aela and Razahir watched the battle in amusement.

'You do not see something like this every day.' Aela said at his side. Razahir chuckled.

'That is true. I wonder how long have they been going at this for.' He looked over the battlefield, noticing that undead bodies were scattered across the field of snow. The corpses were torn apart and scattered around the vast ruined courtyard. Razahir only noticed one of the furry pelts that signaled the death of a single troll.

'Looks like it's been quite some time.' Aela responded, looking it over as well. A sigh escaped her. 'We should get rid of the trolls while they're busy.'

'We should. Who knows, who has been trying to use this path to get to Whiterun? Countless of people could have lost their lives just by going this way. Let's get to it then, eh?' He raised Terminus. 'I'll take them close and you get them from afar?'

'Sound like a plan.' She raised her bow and drew an arrow from her quiver. The tip of the arrowhead glowed slightly as she pulled it back and let it fly. When the arrow struck the troll in its hulking back, its body seized up – ramrod straight – as the enchanted arrow did its work, shocking it to death.

Razahir was already moving before she released her bow, running across the snow with a cat-like grace. His movements were unimpeded and sure, not even slipping once as he cleared the ground. The first troll was complete unprepared for his first strike. Its three-eyed head tumbled through the air, its eyes blinking stupidly in its skull.

The second managed to face him before his blade sheathed itself inside its chest, sending it backwards. His next stroke sent the head rolling in the snow as well and he cursed slightly. Terminus only had a lightning enchantment on the blade and while it could do a bit more damage against a troll, the beasts regenerative abilities would still kick in at some point. He would have to use his magicka.

The Harbinger had a decent enough magical talent in his blood. He could cast a few spells from the restoration school of magic, but his real talent laid in two other ones: destruction and enchanting. Destruction spells were rather easy to cast, but the ones that required a higher pool of magicka would prove to be inefficient to him. Once, Elaninde had shown him a spell and wanted to cast a high magic spell… the results had proved rather disastrous and he was lucky to not burn himself out afterwards. And enchanting… well... people were surprised when they found that he could use two enchantments at once to make a weapon.

With that thought, he raised his hand, calling the arcane energies into his palm. His gauntlet became red hot, steaming rising instantly from the piece of metal. He got close to the beast, his open palm thrusting forward. The troll was rocketed backwards, its chest a fiery ruin. Razahir swung his hand around, a ball of fire erupting out of his palm. The next troll screamed as it went up into flames, the fireball erupting across its flesh, searing it instantly.

He did not even look backwards as the draugr approached him from behind, hearing Aela's missile puncture the undead. A draugr with a deadly looking axe charged him silently, blue eyes glittering with dark intent. Razahir grabbed the haft of the ancient weapon with his burning hand, and drove his knee into the fiend's chest. His blow shattered the sternum of the monster easily and he threw the corpse aside with a flick of his wrist. A revenant latched onto his shoulder guard, seeking to pull him down into the snow. With a sneer of contempt, he backhanded the monster, its head tearing off its shoulders from the powerful blow.

He fell onto the rest of the undead with fire and sword, the monsters stood no match against him and soon enough, he stood in the center of the carnage, breathing easily. He kept his sword out and ready, just in case he was ambushed by one last foe. Aela approached him slowly, her bow out and an arrow still notched to its string.

'I think that's all of them,' she muttered, sharp eyes looking over the corpses. She kicked one of the trolls gently, bow trained on the beast. Its body did not respond and Aela narrowed her eyes and released her arrow into its three-eyed head just in case.

'I believe you are correct.' The lycan tilted his head, listening sharply to the sounds around them. He heard nothing and sheathed his sword slowly. 'Wonder what caused the draugr to act like this?'

'I have no idea,' answered Aela, looking them over. It was unusual for the undead Nord's to be seen outside of their barrows. She frowned thoughtfully, wonder just what could have caused all of this to happen. 'Perhaps, we should ask Elaninde if we see her again?'

'That sounds like a plan.' Razahir surveyed the area for just a bit longer. Something about this area felt odd… and he could not put his finger on it. He sniffed the air cautiously, but nothing broke through his senses. He frowned thoughtfully before he turned with Aela as she placed her bow back on her back and they left the ruined city behind them.

Morthal sat on the southern edge of the Drajkmyr marsh. The city was modestly sized; built on both, dry land and over the marshland that made up the city. Fog covered the city in a shroud, and the faint illumination of torch light and hanging lanterns gave the city a foreboding appearance. The twisted trees growing inside and outside the city added to the city's appearance and Razahir felt a ghost of a smile pass over his face.

'Hail, Harbinger,' a guard greeted as they passed beneath the gate of the city. The guard stared up at the giant in his ebony plate mail. 'The Jarlessa's been expecting you. She's waiting for you up at Highmoon Hall.' The guard jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the massive wooden building that was just down the street.

The Harbinger grunted and made his way down the street, Aela at his side. As they made their way down the main street a curious aroma floated into his nose. Aela tilted her head at his side, her own nostrils flaring as she caught the scent as well.

'That is certainly… interesting.' The woman said, her hand settling on the hilt of her glass dagger, Talon.

'I wonder what is going on in Morthal…' Razahir muttered as they continued to approach Highmoon Hall. A pair of guards wielding spears stood at the foot of the stairs that led to the hall. The Harbinger took two steps to clear the stairs and his head brushed against the ceiling of the porch of the hall as he reached the landing. He opened the door for Aela and she smiled at him as she strolled into the hall.

Razahir looked back once more, his eyes scanning the surroundings before he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The Jarlessa's home was largely different from Jarl's Balgruuf's home. It was not as large as Balgruuf's court, for one. Where one could get lost quite easily in the maze that made up the Jarl of Whiterun's manor, the Jarl of Morthal was surprisingly simple. In the entrance way sat a large dining table that was largely cleared of food. The dining hall lead deeper into the main hall of the manor and sitting on top of dais was a simple throne that held the Jarlessa of Morthal, Idgrod Ravencrone and in front of her were two people and surrounding the dais were two guards holding large halberds in hand.

As they approached, one of the men glanced in their direction. 'Ah, the Harbinger of the Companions, glad of you to finally join us. I am Aslfur – steward of Highmoon Hall – and husband of the Jarlessa, pleasure for you to join us.' He pointed at the man at his side. 'And this is Movarth Piquine, thane of Morthal. And, of course, the Jarlessa herself, Jarlessa Idgrod Ravencrone.'

'The former vampire hunter?' Razahir stated as he approached, looking over the vampire. He was bald headed and his face was slightly chiropteran in appearance. His eyes were the color of crimson and his skin was slightly pale. He wore a complete set finery as elaborate as the Jarlessa in front of him with a orcish blade belted at his side.

'You have heard of me?' the blood drinker said with a small smile on his face. Sharp canines poked out of the corner of his lips as he grinned.

'Read about you actually,' Razahir said. 'Immortal Blood was quite the tale and I always wondered what became of the vampire hunter. I see you're still alive, vampire.'

His words brought no reaction from those in the chamber and the Jarlessa let out a crackle. 'We all have our secrets, Harbinger. If what our reports say, the Companions have their own, no?'

'Werewolves,' Movarth stated, tilting his head slightly at the Jarlessa. 'Those that carry the blood of the wolf. Although…' he sniffed the air once again. 'Theirs is more potent than the other rabble that I have come across; Hircine must favor them greatly.'

Aela spoke at his side: 'What do you know of the moon-born, monster.'

Movarth chuckled softly, arching an eyebrow in her direction. 'You have not read the book I take it? I have been walking among mortals since the Second Era, girl. You really think I would not know of lycanthropes? I have had all the time in the world to study every little thing about were-creatures in all of Tamriel.'

'He speaks the truth,' Idgrod spoke up, her head resting on her palm. 'I have confirmed everything that he has spoken of and my vision grants me the untold truth of the matter.'

Aela frowned deeply, crossing her arms over her chest. Razahir shook his head slowly. Aela had guarded the secrets of the Companions for ages from those in Whiterun. She would be understandably annoyed for her efforts of secrecy had been for naught by a vampire of all things.

'Jarl Balgruuf said you had a supernatural problem?' The Harbinger asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Movarth. 'However, now that I am here, I can see you have a vampire infestation.'

The vampire and the jarlessa chuckled. 'Funny that you should say that. We have had an influx of vampires here, but it's not Movarth's coven. These one's are outsiders. They do not belong here.'

Movarth nodded. 'They're part of the Volkihar coven. Met a few of them on my own travels; they're one of the strongest and oldest clans in Skyrim and their led by a man named Harkon.' The vampire frowned thoughtfully. 'Insane bunch, they are, but they have been sniffing around. One of my own managed to capture one of them and interrogated him. When we broke him, he spoke of something going on at the Hall of Vigilant; they're searching for something in the mountains there.'

'Strange, how does this involve you?' Razahir questioned.

The lord of Morthal answered instead. 'Morthal likes to keep its secrets, Harbinger. Just like Whiterun we have an alliance with people that would be shunned by mortals and we would like to keep it that way, especially with the way Skyrim is right now. People are choosing their sides and most flock to Ulfric's banner despite the presence of the Imperial garrison. The vampires have helped us greatly by keeping out undesirables and they have kept us safe, it's about time we returned the favor.'

'Are these vampires that much of a threat?' Aela asked.

'Yes,' Movarth replied, looking past them, a frown on his chiropteran features. 'I sat in one of their count meetings once. They spoke of a prophecy… a way to end the 'Tyranny of the Sun' and as nice as that sounds, they did not think of the ramifications of their actions. Imagine a world without the sun.'

A look of horror fell across Aela's and Razahir's face.

'Yes, you can see it, can't you? Chaos would follow and the world would be torn apart. Vampires would be hunted to extinction while the people in Tamriel would devolve into chaos without the light of the sun. Life would end as we know it. Food would become scarce and all life would end on Nirn.'

'They must be stopped.' Razahir said firmly.

'They must,' the vampire confirmed. 'As much as I dislike the sun and what it does to my skin, it is needed in the long term.'

'So, do we have your support, Harbinger?' the steward questioned.

'Yes, you do.' Razahir confirmed. 'We will go to the Hall of the Vigilant now and hopefully, by the time we arrive there, the vampires have not begun their assault.'

'The journey there will take a few days, do you need a horse? It would cut down the time by a day or two if need be.'

Razahir chuckled. 'As much as we appreciate the offer, no. They will need rest and we will not. Our own method of travel will get us there faster than on horseback. We will return after we have finished this little quest. Hopefully, the world will be down one power hungry maniac when we return.'

'Thank you; perhaps when you return, we can discuss the terms of an alliance between Morthal and Whiterun.' The lady of Morthal offered, a smile appearing on her crone-like face.

'That's very kind of you, milady.' The Harbinger replied with a returning smile. He inclined his head at the vampire and turned away his cape trailing around him. Aela followed his lead, walking with him until they exited the hall.

On the porch, they stared into the misty surroundings. 'This is all so strange, love.' Aela commented, a frown on her face. 'We're thinking about allying with vampires of all things, and trying to stop a power hungry group once again.'

Razahir remained silent, staring down the main street. 'You're correct, and I have a feeling, it's all going to get stranger. The last time we dealt with something like this, we had to slay werewolf hunters and now its vampires? This... Harkon sounds like he'll be a lot worse than the Silver Hand. Matters that involve the Daedra usually are.' He ran his thumb across the wooden frame of the porch, thoughtfully.' Let us hurry. Who knows what these vampires are capable of? We'll change when we get a league away from the city and go the rest of the way.'