It took Cry a lot longer than she cared to admit to actually reach the area of Skyrim where the Glenmoril witches made their home. It was mostly because she hated the Reach, and all it included, but it was also because she debated for a very long time on whether or not to bring Lydia with her. Kodlak had said not to bring anybody, but Cry had fought witches before, and she knew how powerful they could be. The last thing she needed was to end up dead on a quest for the Companions when she had yet to hear from Esbern and Delphine.
In the end, however, her honor had won out, and she'd climbed into the back of a carriage set for Markarth on her own. She had only taken the carriage as far as the border of the Reach, and made her way south towards the location of the cave on foot, which had added more time onto her trip. She hadn't been able to convince the driver to change course and head south, however, which meant that she hadn't had any other choice.
Long story short, she made her way up the dirt path to the cave entrance at dawn of the second day of travel, having been able to walk all night because of her werewolf blood. She had to admit, not having to get much rest was a convenience, but when all was said and done, she knew that she'd rather not be infected with the beast blood, and would definitely ask Kodlak if she could cure herself as well. The only reason she'd taken it was to get on the Circle, after all.
She hesitated outside the cave, peering into the darkness on the other side of the opening in the mountain wall. Even with her heightened sight, she couldn't really see much, but she could definitely smell the rotting werewolf head that was stuck to the pyre next to the entrance to the cave.
If nothing, she was going in to get away from that scent.
Cry pulled her greatsword off her back, and headed into the cave.
There was a passage on the opposite side, lit up by a single torch further down. Cry wrinkled her nose. It stunk inside the cave, too. She just wasn't going to be able to get away from it, was she? She sort of recognized the smell, actually, but she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was just the dead things all over the place. Inside the cave, she saw, they were deer, mostly.
She made her way down the passage, ignoring the darker one to her left as she reached a large mouth, which opened into the main part of the cave. For a moment, she didn't think there was anything there, but then something hissed to her right, and something else flew past her head, exploding into the wall on her left. She felt it singe her hair, slightly, but she received no other damage.
Cry quickly ducked into a roll and retreated, deciding that she needed to take this a little bit smarter than she currently was. Inhaling and exhaling, slowly, she steadied her breathing before focusing on her Thu'um, and on the Word that she needed to use.
"Laas!"
Immediately, she could sense the presence of five beings that weren't herself, and were almost human, but not quite, as well as three other beings that were almost definitely spiders, or maybe skeevers. Almost as soon as she was able to collect all this information, the sense faded, and she blinked to get her focus back.
All right, Cry, she thought to herself, tightening her grip on her greatsword. You can do this.
She charged into the main area of the cave again. A spider and a witch were there, and both let out noises of hatred at the sight of her. The witch pointed, and the spider charged, hissing and spitting venom. Cry avoided it, and went after the witch first, knowing it was a worse adversary than the spider.
The witch brought up its hands, which were mostly long, dirty claws, and shot a ball of fire at her. Cry barely spun out of the way in time to avoid getting a bad burn, and she pushed forward again. She dodged three more fireballs before reaching the witch. With a yell, she swung her sword, aiming for its neck.
Thankfully, weeks of using the greatsword had improved her strength immensely. There was a sickening sound as the freshly sharpened blade went straight through the witch's neck, clearing the head of the body. As soon as it was separated, Cry spun around, and stabbed her sword into the spider, which had begun to rear up to attack her from behind.
The spider went limp, and she pulled her blade out again, breathing heavily. "Gods," she managed after a moment, and then she reached down to retrieve the head that she had cut off. The witch glared back at her with a vile expression, and Cry winced, before sliding it into the separate bag that she had brought for that exact purpose.
There was an odd cackle, then, and Cry turned. She gathered that there were several other passages connected to the main cavern, all of which probably led to another room, where there was another witch. If her Shout had been right, there were four more, and two more spiders as well.
I should have brought Lydia, she thought, and then she squared her shoulders and readied her greatsword again. She could do that four more times. It was only four, after all. It could have been much, much worse.
Determined, she headed down the closest passage to handle whatever adversary waited down it.
In the end, it took Cry a lot longer to fight the remaining four witches and their pet spiders than she would admit to anyone. It seemed that each witch was more powerful than the last, and that all of them wanted to kill her even more than the one before it. She dodged flames, ice, and even lightning in order to get to the witches and cut off their heads.
By the third one, her arms were burning from the power she had to put behind her swings in order to slice the heads off. She knew that she would be in a lot worse pain the next day, and she made a mental note to take a health potion as she killed off the second spider, which was a lot bigger than the first one had been.
Still, there was a lesson in all this. All of the witches used the same basic battle tactics, which were to retreat to the farthest corners of whatever chamber they were in, and attack her as they hid behind whatever cover they could find. That made it easier for Cry to circle around and get into a blind spot, and kill them.
As she made her way down the passage leading towards the final witch, she felt pretty certain that it wouldn't take her long to get the final head, and then be on her way back to Whiterun. She was rather hungry, and could really use some breakfast.
Imagine her surprise when a blast of fire greater than any she had seen come from the other witches flew towards her as soon as she entered the room.
Cry yelped, and jumped to the side just in time to avoid it, breathing heavily. That definitely wasn't normal. After scrambling behind a large barrel that was probably filled with deer guts, she took a moment to gather her senses. Clearly, this witch wasn't going to take death as easily as the other four had. Clearly, it had realized that she was coming, and was ready for her. Clearly, Cry would need a different tactic to take this one down.
But what tactic?
She could hear the witch skulking around within the cavern. She had come to realize that they either had very poor eyesight, or were stupid, because it had taken them all a while to find her when she had to hide behind something to avoid their magic. This one was no different, which was a plus, and one that could probably be used to Cry's advantage.
She looked around for a moment, searching for something she could use as a distraction. She decided on a small rock, one that she would be able to throw a pretty good distance. Hopefully, it would distract the witch long enough for her to creep up behind it, and get its head.
Hopefully.
Cry picked up the rock, straightened up just enough that she could throw it, and did so, as hard as she could. She winced as she heard it clatter, and then something else made of glass break. The witch hissed, and Cry heard its movements as it trudged away from her in the direction that the other sounds had come from.
As soon as it was far enough away, Cry slid out from behind the barrel, and darted across the room to where the witch had stopped in front of a brewing station. She prepared to swing her sword, teeth gritted. At the last moment, the witch sensed her presence, and turned around, shrieking, its hands flashing with fire.
Cry wasted no time. She swung her sword as hard as she could. Although she did not get it through the witch's neck, she did manage to cut it right across its chest, which was enough to kill it. The fire flickered out, and the witch collapsed at her feet with a heavy thud.
Cry took a moment, feeling her racing heart in her throat. She swallowed, and pushed some loose hair off of her forehead with the back of her hand, before sliding her greatsword away into its scabbard on her back. She then pulled out a small blade, and sawed the witch's head off of its neck. Holding it up by the hair, she frowned at it.
"You are one ugly bitch," she said, and then she put the head in the bag with the other four, turned tail, and marched out of the chamber.
Cry returned to Whiterun the following day. A Word of Power that she had gotten the location of from Arngeir had been nearby, and so she saw no reason not to go and get it first, before going back to Jorrvaskr. Kodlak had been a werewolf for years; he could last one day more. Retrieving the Word of Power had been easy, and she had been able to take a night for herself to rest up. Even though her own beast blood didn't allow her to get completely rested, it was certainly a relief to have a night of nothing.
Needless to say, as she pushed her way through the gates of Whiterun and headed towards Jorrvaskr, she felt rather refreshed. Her shoulders were relaxed, and the pack of witch heads hung heavily from one of them. She was pleased with herself, and she hoped that Kodlak would be proud of her as well. She also hoped that the old man was right, and that he would be able to cure himself with one of them.
As she neared Jorrvaskr, however, something within her shot up in alarm. There were quite a few citizens gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Pushing her way through them, Cry came to a pause when she saw Torvar and Aela standing over the dead bodies of Silver Hand.
Cry's heart made its way up into her throat, and she walked over to Aela. "What's happened?" she asked, softly.
"What's it look like?" Aela retorted. "The Silver Hand attacked Jorrvaskr. We got most of them, but we think a few stragglers made it out." She kicked at one she was standing next to. "These two won't be a problem anymore."
Cry's heart had been lodged firmly in her throat. She willed it to return to where it belong in her chest as she pushed her way, shakily. into Jorrvaskr, only to walk into what looked like a battlefield. Bottles lay shattered on the floor, plates had been turned over and broken, weapons knocked off of the walls and books off of their shelves. Littering the floor were many different bodies of the Silver Hand, and one body that make Cry gag.
"Kodlak."
She started to move towards where her Harbinger lay still, but someone stepped in front of her before she could take more than three steps. She managed to tear her gaze from Kodlak's body long enough to glance up, and meet Vilkas's furious eyes.
"Where have you been?" he demanded of her, his voice a low growl.
"I… I was on a task for Kodlak," she stammered.
Vilkas looked disgusted. "I hope it was important, because it means you weren't here to defend him," he muttered darkly. "The Silver Hand finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr."
"Vilkas, I swear that I would have been here, had I known…"
"There was no way of knowing, was there? You were gone for two days," he shouted. "Two days on a job that you probably could have done in one, and come back early this morning! Or don't you find your beast blood to be useful?"
Cry glanced around, and saw that several of the other Companions that were inside and straightening up whatever they could, had looked up and were staring at the two of them. Feeling very self-conscious, Cry looked back at Vilkas.
"Could we not do this inside?" she asked, softly. "Let everyone have their peace, and you can yell at me outside."
She pushed her way back out to Whiterun, inhaling the fresh air as soon as she could. Her knees felt shaky, like they wouldn't be able to support her much longer, and she leaned against the side of Jorrvaskr, doing her best to get a handle on herself.
She didn't manage to do a very good job before Vilkas pushed his way through the doors. They closed heavily behind him, and Cry looked at him, not really knowing what to say as he glared at her with a dark expression that she hadn't ever seen before.
"I'm sorry, Vilkas," she finally whispered when he still hadn't spoken. "I… I thought I was doing something important, but nothing is as important as being here in Jorrvaskr to help fight off an enemy. Kodlak asked me to do this, and I did it." She exhaled, and dropped the bag of witch heads at his feet. "He sent me to the Glenmoril Witch coven, to get their heads. He thought that he had found out how to cure himself, and everyone else who wanted to be cured."
Something in Vilkas's expression changed. He bent down to retrieve the bag, and peered into it. His nose wrinkled after a moment, and then he glanced up at her again.
"They're useless, now," he said, dryly, and he tossed the bag off to the side. "We have bigger issues. The Silver Hand took all our shards of Wuuthrad. You and I are going to reclaim them."
"Wait, what?" Cry asked, still not really registering anything that he was saying. She couldn't stop thinking about the fact that she had decided to get a Word of Power rather than return straight to Jorrvaskr. How could I have been so selfish?
"We will bring the battle to their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. We will avenge Kodlak, and they will know terror before the end," Vilkas continued, paying no attention to her. "We leave immediately."
Without another word, he turned and went back inside, no doubt to gather some supplies for the journey to the Silver Hand chief camp. Cry remained where she was for a moment longer, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of all that was happening. Kodlak was dead, Vilkas was pissed, and they were going to go kill off the rest of the Silver Hand.
Great.
She retrieved the pack that carried the heads, and pushed her way back into Jorrvaskr as well. After placing the bag into one of the cabinets in the mead hall, she approached Kodlak's body. Farkas sat beside it, cross-legged and looking exhausted. Cry settled down next to him, and gazed down at Kodlak herself. She wished that she could say he looked at peace, but he didn't. Far from it, actually.
Something inside her threatened to snap in half, but she willed it to stay together at least until she and Vilkas returned. Glancing at Farkas, she saw that whatever it was inside of her had already snapped inside of him, and she placed an arm around his shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, Farkas," she whispered, burying her face against his arm.
His shoulders raised and lowered in response. "In battle, good men die in return for the bad men," he said, softly.
"Isn't it terrible?" she asked, raising her head again, and he shook his own.
"It is that way of the world," he said. "It's the way it has always been, and always will be. The Companions learn this at a young age." He put his arms around her. "You should know it already, too."
"I do," Cry murmured, gazing down at Kodlak again. "Believe me, I do."
They sat in silence for a moment, and then Vilkas called her name. She glanced towards him, and then at Farkas, who blinked, as though bringing himself back to the present.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Vilkas and I are going after the Silver Hand," she said, and Farkas frowned almost at once.
"That is not what Kodlak would want."
Cry furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"
"He was never one for revenge. Vilkas knows that." Farkas looked at his brother for a moment, and then down at Kodlak again. "I suppose he'll always be thickheaded."
Cry let out a short chuckle, and hugged him tightly. "We'll be back soon," she said. She then stood, and made her way over to where Vilkas waited near the doors of Jorrvaskr. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"We must," Vilkas replied simply, and then he pushed his way outside, giving Cry no other choice but to follow him.
