4E 195 Mid Year

Uriel was never excited to head on the water. If anything, setting sail always made him sick. Sailors assured Uriel that he'd get used to it the more he was out on the water. But Uriel came from West Weald. The wettest areas in those parts were shallow rivers and springs, so he never had to worry about tides or whitecaps. Ulia laughed at him for not being able to swim when they first met.

And now he was boarding a boat and going to an island three hours away from the safety of the harbor. His stomach was already churning. That's what he got for marrying a woman from a sea town.

Sitting on the benches next to him were two other guards; a Redguard woman, Atusa, and the youngest of his men, Lionel. The skipper, a man by the name of Feraj, untied the boat. Uirel sat at the stern, arms crossed and face twisted with apprehension.

"You're lucky we're going before the day breeze sets in," Feraj mused.

Uriel groaned, grinning nervously. "Doesn't kill the expectation, however."

Feraj jumped in and gave the dock a push. Uriel's stomach lurched when the boat swayed unevenly in the water.

"I'll never understand exactly why the Count wanted you to come along. Don't you have enough things to keep you busy for the day?"

Uriel and Feraj exchanged a tired look. "Unfortunately, the Count thought this was more serious than your average galleon sighting. He didn't think that my juniors here could handle it." He grinned and gestured to Atusa and Lionel, "The absolute buffoonery of these two are beyond imagination"

The guard captain and Feraj burst into laughter while Atusa rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms with a huff, "With all due respect, Captain, I think you can only speak for Lionel in this case."

Feraj arched an eyebrow and looked back at the guard captain. Uriel shrugged, "What can I say? They were the only two who volunteered to go out."

"As long as there is a bonus along with this mission," Lionel spoke up.

The smile on Uriel's face widened, "I've already addressed it with the treasurer. It should be taken care of-"

Without warning, Feraj jerked the boat out of the harbor. Uriel almost fell off his seat. Sputtering out a weak cough to clear his throat, he pulled a tonic out of his coat and gulped it down. The liquid tasted bitter and dry, but hopefully whatever Ulia concocted up would work. It usually did.

Lionel stared at him as Uriel placed the empty vial back into his coat. He arched an eyebrow, "I could smell that stuff from here. What was that?"

"Something Ulia made for my stomach."

"Ulia?"

"His wife," Atusa corrected.

"Guess that makes sense. More so than you living in that overgrown forest of weeds you call home by yourself."

Atusa groaned and gave her boss an apologetic smile. Uriel returned the gesture then stared pointedly at the younger man. "Call it a forest of weeds when you go visit Ulia for some sort of salve or tincture or whatever you'll need," he said.

Lionel gulped nervously then laughed, though the noise sounded more like a garbled choking noise. Uriel's expression softened.

"We're leaving the bay, Uriel. It's going to be choppier from here on out," Feraj shouted from the wheel.

"Much appreciated, Skipper," Uriel answered. He leaned back against the side of the boat and sighed. He turned his attention back to the junior guards, "You two don't get seasick, do you?"

Atusa shook her without a word while Lionel garbled out a reply, "Nah, my pa's a fisherman so this is pretty normal for me."

"At least not all of us are gonna suffer on this little excursion then." Uriel scrunched his eyes shut. He counted the number of waves before the boat would lurch higher than usual. Almost every third wave was the one that sent his stomach off. Trying to anticipate the waves only made the Imperial more nervous. And then he only felt worse. Realizing he wasn't going to feel better until they hit land, Uriel fought to get a few moments of sleep before they made it to the island.

…

Uriel woke up with a start when the boat slowed. He opened an eye to see Feraj pulling up to a ramshackle dock. Missing planks and broken pieces of wood made the dock look like a less than ideal place to leave the boat. But Feraj knew what he was doing. Or at least Uriel hoped so.

The old man looked over his shoulder and surveyed the island. There was a thin stretch of sandy beach between the sea and a field of sun bleached grasses. A few scraggly trees attempted to call the inner part of the island home. Desolate was the perfect word to use to describe the scenery.

Atusa coughed to get the man's attention. "Hey, Captain, what exactly are we looking for?"

"Any sort of tampering. The Count just wants us to make sure the Dominion didn't leave anything behind that could hurt us."

Lionel hopped over the edge to help Feraj tie up the boat. The planks groaned uneasily under his weight.

"They were here for two days. The elves could have been up to anything."

Atusa rolled her eyes, "Sounds like Count Umbranox is being paranoid. We see galleons all the time and we don't do anything about them."

"Two days, Atusa. The galleons usually just pass by.

Atusa glanced back in the direction of Anvil. The look on her face soured. "Point taken, sir."

Uriel was the second one out of the boat. He nearly slipped on the algae covered planks of the dock. He scrambled to get to solid ground. At least Lionel gleaned some sort of amusement from the mishap. Feraj was content enough to stay with the boat, ready to depart at a moment's notice.

The first thing the older man noticed were the destroyed crates. He picked up a torn piece of wood from the wreckage. A dark blue eagle was printed on the outside. The least the Dominion could have done was pick up after themselves but it seemed even that was below them. Uriel signaled to Atusa and Lionel to start a sweep.

He watched the two junior guards scan the beach for a moment then went into the brush. Pale grass had been trampled down by hasty footprints. More broken crates were stacked next to the week old remains of fire pits.

In the distance he heard Atusa yell. Uriel dropped what he was doing and rushed back to the beach. Lionel was already there when Uriel arrived.

"What in Oblivion happened?"

Atusa looked up from the ground with a scowl. She was kneeling next to a set of short sigil stones poking out of the ground. Unfamiliar runes dotted the face of the stones.

Lionel shot Uriel a worried glance. "What do you think it is?"

"The physical representation of my regret that we didn't bring a mage."

"So?"

Uriel smirked, "I have no idea."

Atusa rolled her eyes, "Great. What do we do with it, sir?"

"Well, for a start, don't touch it," Uriel droned. He kneeled down next to Atusa to get a better look at the stones. Two smaller stones flanked a taller one. "Did you happen to see any others around?"

"No, sir." Atusa tilted her head in thought, "Though I didn't take a lot of time to look."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Uriel sighed. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't just head back to Anvil to get one of the Synod mages. For now, he was on his own. "Let's not split up for now, but we need to see if there's any more of these things," Uriel said.

He waited momentarily for an answer before he glanced over to Atusa. The woman's eyes were almost as wide as dinner plates.

"Atusa?" When she didn't answer, Uriel looked back to the stones in front of him. There was a faint pulsating glow coming from the runes. After a few seconds, a low hum came from the stones and the glow intensified. His chest tightened as he stood up, "This isn't good. Everyone stand back!"

The trio rushed to the edge of the beach. A pillar of light shot up from the middle of the island, bright enough to make Uriel shield his eyes. He took a deep breath in and ran across the beach. He nearly toppled over the stone sigils on his way over.

Halting for a moment, Uriel saw what was causing the pillar of light. In the middle of the island was an Altmer in dark purple robes enthralled in some sort of ritual. More stones carved in runes surrounded him, each one glowing with the same light.

The light pillar dulled but Uriel didn't notice. Instead, he was busy charging the Altmer. They both fell to the ground with a hard thud. The Imperial only had a few seconds before the dazed elf fought back. Before Uriel knew it, he was grappling with the Altmer on the ground.

"Captain? What happened?"

"What the fuck?"

"Atusa, help the captain! I'll go get some rope!"

Atusa was next to him in a few short seconds trying to get control of the situation. The Altmer yelled something intelligible then bit Uriel's arm as hard as he could. The Imperial yelled, letting go of his grip on his adversary's shoulder. The Altmer kicked Uriel's leg from underneath him before bolting for the brush.

Scrambling to his feet, Uriel cursed himself for getting so slack. Atusa threw a stick at the altmer. She cheered when her makeshift weapon hit the Atlmer hard in the shoulder. Uriel continued to meet them when Atusa threw herself into the fight.

The Atlmer yelled when he fell to the ground, but then, much to Uriel's surprise, he laughed. Looking over his shoulder, the Imperial noticed the pillar of light flickering before bursting into non-existence.

Uriel shot the Atlmer a wide eyed stare, "What in Oblivion just happened?" The Altmer wore a smug smile as Lionel came back to tie him up. Uriel knelt down next to the prisoner, "You knew you weren't going back to Alinor at all once this was over. Neither of us have the upper hand in this situation, friend."

"I suppose you're right," the Altmer said. He grunted when Lionel pulled the rope too tight around his wrists. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to get off this island."

Atusa and Uriel exchanged an exasperated glance. "Answer something for me-"

"You're the captain, I'm assuming? Anvil must be getting paranoid."

The smirk on the Altmer's face made Uriel feel sick. He sighed again, "Well, this might be worse than I thought." He stood with a grunt. "Let Feraj know that we'll be having another passenger with us on the way back."

Lionel led the Altmer back to the boat while Atusa and Uriel took their time following behind. Atusa was shakier than usual. She stared at Uriel from the corner of her eyes. "Hey, Captain?"

"Yes, Atusa?"

"Taking him back isn't a bad idea is it?"

"Things will be… fine." He noticed the worried glint in the woman's expression and mustered a smile. "Trust me."

Uriel watched her run farther ahead to help Lionel with their new friend. He took one last look at the island before he left. Somehow, it looked more foreboding than before they arrived. Dark clouds hung over the far horizon and the whitecaps dotted the waves far behind them.

A storm was coming.

…

Out of everyone in the Hayn family, Marco was perhaps the hardest for Vilkas to understand. Valleri, despite recent evidence, was straightforward and to the point even if she did hyperfixate on things. On the other hand, Marco hardly interacted with anyone unless he really had to. Even then, the young man was a person of a few sharp words and perfected the skill of walking away when whatever was happening no longer concerned him.

Brusque was a good word to describe Marco. That made him hard to know. So Vilkas didn't bother interacting with him beyond basic pleasantries.

When Marco abruptly opened the door, he left the older Nord confused.

"Are you busy right now?" Marco asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

Glancing around the room, Vilkas' grimace grew into a scowl. "No, not really."

"Wonderful. I need some help."

"What with?"

Marco hesitated. His shoulders sagged as though he was trying to appear nonchalant about the entire thing. Vilkas saw right through him. Marco wasn't enjoying this. The teenager's voice was close to cracking when he spoke, "I need some help lugging some equipment out of town."

"What for?"

"Digging up some trees," Marco said, squirming just a little.

Vilkas' brow furrowed, "Trees?"

"Look, are you going to help me or not?"

Vilkas glanced down at his feet for a moment. It wasn't like he was doing anything at the moment. He pushed past Marco, "Yeah. may as well."

Marco's eyes went wide with disbelief. "Uh… Right! Yes!" He followed Vilkas to the backyard and threw open the shed doors. Vilkas crossed his arms and watched Marco shuffle through various tools and pots. Compared to Alastaros' shed, this one was much less organized. "Here, take this," Marco shouted, shoving two shovels into Vilkas' arms. He bounded out of the shed with a wheelbarrow filled with a few small pots.

Vilkas exchanged the shovels for the wheelbarrow then followed Marco out to the street. "How far out are we going?"

"A few miles," Marco started. "It's up a few hills so getting there with as much stuff as I need leaves me pretty out of breath."

"Perfect timing then."

"It should be a little easier. I'm not wearing my binder today," Marco continued. Vilkas arched an eyebrow, saying nothing. Marco shrugged, "Started wearing one a year or so ago. Helps with dysphoria."

Vilkas decided not to say anything on the topic, hoping to match the blase attitude of the kid next to him. "What sort of trees are we getting?"

"Strawberry tree."

"That doesn't sound real."

Marco rolled his eyes, "I'm not the one who came up with the name. Anyways, I wanna see if I can transplant a few here in town." He and Vilkas passed through the gate and followed the road north.

Marco was right; the area they were heading to was just hills. Even Vilkas was getting a little winded hauling the wheelbarrow up. They'd been walking for almost an hour when Marco's face lit up. He sped up and stabbed the shovels into the ground next to a short, twisted tree topped with bright green foliage. "This is it!"

When Vilkas joined him, the Nord let the wheelbarrow fall to the ground with a thud. "Now what?"

Marco pulled a neat looking journal from out of his pack. "Take a break for a moment. I've got to write a few things down."

Leaning against the wheelbarrow, Vilkas watched his young friend with disinterest. "How long have you been watching this tree?"

"A few years," Marco muttered. He went around the other side of the trunk, poking and prodding at the wood. "I wanted to bring part of it back with me a few months ago, but no one was really up for it."

"What about Val?"

Marco paused with a grimace. "Eh, she's good for some things. But if you ask her to do anything plant related, she gets snippy." Vilkas shot Marco a questioning glance. Marco frowned, "Don't get me wrong. Val's cool. Like when I first came out as trans, she'd follow people around and play a flute as badly as she could if they dead named me when we were kids."

"You're still a kid, Marco," Vilkas cut in.

"Shut up," Marco groaned. "It's just hard to ask her stuff sometimes. Especially these days." He threw Vilkas one of the shovels and led him to a sapling a few feet away. "Do you know if something's happened to her recently?"

Vilkas shoved his shovel into the ground with his foot. The top layer of dirt broke with a satisfying crack. "I don't really know. I think something did, but she won't talk about it."

Marco sighed, "Well, that's her problem then. I've got other things to worry about."

"Like trees," Vilkas said offhandedly.

Marco only glared back, "Well, no. I'm trying to get into the Synod to study alchemy."

"That doesn't seem too hard. Just go in and say you want a job or something."

"It doesn't quite work that way." Marco sighed and leaned against his shovel.

Vilkas' brow furrowed, "Isn't that what Val did?"

"No," the teenager started, gesturing his hands wildly. "Val's not actually a member. She just works for Alastaros and that gets her an honorary license to access certain resources provided by the Arcane University. What I want is completely different! I need to prove to them that teaching me isn't a waste of time."

"So you're pretty much bending over backwards to do the work of a full fledged scholar just to get in?"

By now, Marco looked deflated. "I only have to go so far because they only take people with either insane magical talent or high political standing. And I have neither. It's a mess but honestly what else am I going to do? It's the only place that offers formal training."

"You're right. The whole thing is absurd," Vilkas said. He knelt down next to the sapling and scraped more dirt from off its roots. "You don't need some sort of fancy degree to grow plants."

"It's more than just growing plants. It's about trying to isolate what makes willow good at easing pain or why some mushrooms fluoresce while others don't. There's only so much I can do here by myself." Marco went glassy eyed then filled one of his pots up with the dirt before Vilkas placed the sapling inside.

"There's probably other places you can go to do that."

Marco almost didn't answer, busy patting more soil around the tree to secure it down. "If there was a feasible option, I'd take it. But right now, I have to focus on what's right in front of me."

Vilkas stared at the boy for a moment. Marco kept his back to him, but Vilkas knew he was wearing a tight lipped frown. Suddenly, Marco stood up and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Anvil.

"Time to head home," the teenager said. He stretched his arm into the air until he heard a popping noise. Silently the two of them gathered the shovels and wheelbarrow and started down the hill. Vilkas had to crane his head to see past the sapling in front of him. He was so lost in trying not to stumble over some rock or tree root he almost didn't hear Marco.

"You're the one Valleri met a long time ago with the cabin in Skyrim, right?"

"Huh? Oh… yeah. Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering really. Valleri's never really talked about what happened on her trip. So…"

"So who in Oblivion did you think I was when I showed up?" Vilkas questioned. He cringed when he realized how scathing his tone sounded. Marco didn't seem to notice.

"You could have been anyone, not that it was really any of my business," Marco answered with a shrug.

"You're oddly nonchalant about everything, aren't you?"

"Sometimes you have to ask yourself what you're willing to deal with wah day. And for me that answer is usually not much."

The two of them walked past the open gate of the city silently. Vilkas' arms were getting tired now. He plopped the wheelbarrow in the backyard while Marco took the sapling. "Do you need any more help from here?"

Marco shook his head, "No. I'm good now. Go do whatever it is you usually do now."

Rolling his eyes, Vilkas left the backyard. He paused at the gate, head turning in the direction of the Alastarim manor. Lexius and Alastaros were packing up the cart once again while Valleri stood nearby. He saw only the back of her head, but Vilkas had a sinking feeling she was in a sour mood.

Tentatively, he approached, stopping only when he reached her side. Valleri didn't react to the newcomer. Vilkas spoke hesitantly, "What's going on here?"

The scowl on Valleri's face deepened. "They're leaving us behind."

"Wait, we got the okay to head back to whatever that ruin was?"

Lexius nodded his head while Alastaros handed him a full sack. "Garlas Malatar. But yeah. The Synod didn't find much there, but they want a few of us down there for a few days."

Vilkas' brow knitted together. "It'll just be you two this time then?"

"Apparently!" Valleri shouted. She took a step back, surprised at her own outburst. She sighed and rubbed her face. Finally she addressed Alastaros, "I just don't get why in Oblivion you didn't tell me as you found out."

Alastaros and Lexius exchanged an exasperated glance. The old Altmer hesitated. "I don't want you with us quite this soon."

"What?" Valleri snapped.

"The Synod aren't sure what that stone was and don't want you near it until they're sure. Valleri… I'm inclined to agree with them."

Valleri turned to Vilkas next to her, silently asking him to take her side. Vilkas stepped away from her suddenly. Panic settled in his stomach. When he said nothing, Valleri had her answer. Her gaze flew to Lexius.

"Just for a little bit, Val," the Redguard said softly. "I'll come get you when it's safe for you to come back."

The woman's shoulders sagged. "You're all treating me like I'm sick. I'm not. I'm completely fine and you all know it. It's ridiculous that you're shutting me out."

"I don't intend to," Alastaros retorted. "I have some documents I want you to look at in the meantime. I know it's not field work. But it'll have to do." The Altmer turned to Lexius. "We're about ready to go."

The Imperial woman mouthed a quick goodbye before turning on her heel to leave. Vilkas followed her without thinking. She unknowingly led him back to her family's back garden. Valleri paused in the middle and rubbed her eyes in frustration.

"They are sort of right to be cautious, you know."

Valleri turned at the sound of her friend. "I'm fine," Valleri droned again.

"What I saw last night—"

"What you saw last night was just me being stressed over nothing."

Vilkas only glared at her. "What about the conversation I overheard? I couldn't see who you were talking to but I knew it was about that island you keep seeing." The Nord watched her pause. She waited for a long time to figure out how to respond, but nothing came. "Saying you were having a nervous breakdown won't help anyone."

"I'm not asking for help. I'm asking to do my job," Valleri stated. "I'm not like you. I didn;t cross half a continent looking for help then clammed up as soon as I mentioned it."

Frustration bubbled up from Vilkas' chest and his fingers curled into themselves tightly. "This isn't about me!"

"Exactly. So don't treat me as though I'm you!"

The both of them paused for a moment. Neither of Valleri or Vilkas were even able to look the other in the eye. The anger in Valleri's face faded to exhaustion. Vilkas took a seat on a nearby bench. He muttered, "Why aren't we being honest with each other anymore?"

Valleri crossed her arms, "Because of the judgment, I suppose."

"You're right. So…"

"So just tell each other what's going on?"

That sent a shiver down Vilkas' spine. His eyes landed on the gate to the street, hoping that Marisol would come back and interrupt the conversation. Alas, the short Bosmeri woman was busy and there was no reprieve for Vilkas.

"You go first, Vilkas," Valleri muttered with a friendly gesture. "I asked you first yesterday."

"Fine. I… uh…" Vilkas rubbed the back of his neck. Sweat began to bead on his skin. "I killed someone. In Whiterun. In broad daylight."

Valleri's eyebrows furrowed together as she stared back at him. Her voice was choked, confused, "What? How?"

"There's some things I have to tell you first," the Nord continued. By now, he was staring blankly at the ground, refusing to look anywhere else. "I don't handle being a werewolf well at all. Changing back and forth feels like my bones are snapping and my body is being torn in two. I hate it. I hate that I let this happen to me. Sometimes, whatever part of me that does that scratches against my insides. It won't stop unless I change over."

Vilkas paused, taking deep breaths in and out. When he was composed, he continued, "I'll black out for a few days after that. I can never remember what happens in the middle. But I always wake up covered in blood. Just thinking about it makes me sick."

His shoulders shook uncontrollably as he thought back on the memory. Valleri made no move to speak or comfort him. Instead she just watched him, listening.

"This last time was a complete disaster. I transformed in Jorrvaskr and ran out into the streets. Everything is just a blur. The only thing I remember was tearing into someone and, and…"

"You don't have to finish if you don't want to," Valleri whispered.

A bitter smile came to Vilkas face, "I won't then. I was chased out of Whiterun. The rogue werewolf was the only thing people were talking about when I got back. No one but Kodlak and Farkas realized it was me. It was me that butchered that person."

"And so you came here to run away from it."

Finally Vilkas looked up. His blood went cold when he saw Valleri staring at him. He couldn't read the expression on her face. Was it contempt or pity? He wasn't sure.

"I did. I didn't… really know what else to do. I don't think I can go back to Whiterun."

"I mean, you will eventually. You're a Companion. That's where you belong."

"Maybe. I don't really know anymore." Vilkas paused, sucking in a breath, "I came here to get some distance, but it's making me feel… foggier."

Valleri cringed but said nothing.

"Val?"

"I'm thinking." After a moment or two, the woman sighed wearily and leaned against a nearby tree, "There's not a lot I can say. You killed someone. I think the legal term would be manslaughter." Valleri gestured hesitantly, "Besides the point though. But I could say it wasn't really you. And I believe wholeheartedly it was a terrible, terrible accident. But you've had months to overthink this and probably won't listen."

"You're not wrong."

"Of course I'm not."

With a sigh, Vilkas leaned his arms on his knees, "That's it. I've told you everything."

"Are you sure?" Valleri said. She glared at him through heavily lidded eyes. She didn't believe him. The look set Vilkas off, the tension in his shoulders growing once again. When she noticed him glaring back, Valleri went to look at the gate.

"Stop talking in riddles, Val," Vilkas spoke in a low tone, almost a whisper. She said nothing. "In any case, I told you what you wanted to know. It's your turn."

Now Valleri reacted. She squirmed. The expression on her face went from surety to hesitance in the span of a second.

"No judgement, remember?"

"I know we said that… but it still doesn't make me feel exactly comfortable," Valleri muttered. Vilkas noticed her nails biting into her forearms. Her eyes darted around the backyard, unsure of where to look.

"Start from the beginning maybe?"

"Right," the Imperial said. Her voice was once again unwavering. Vilkas wondered how long that would last. She continued, "I told you about the island right?"

"Yes."

"Right, right. You know it just shows up sometimes. But these past few days it hasn't left. It just drifts in the bay."

"And the conversation I overheard?"

Valleri scowled. "Whispers. I started hearing them shortly after the island stopped vanishing, I don't hear them all of the time. But that means I usually have no idea when they'll stop or end."

The Imperial looked back over to her friend, only to see the horror on her Vilkas' face. Her own expression turned stony. She cringed when Vilkas spoke. "Is it about anything specific?"

Valleri hesitated, "No…"

"Does it have anything to do with the-"

"No!" Valleri yelled. Vilkas jumped to rapt attention, straight as an arrow. Breathing loudly through her nose, Valleri recomposed herself. Her voice was still sharp when she continued, "It has nothing to do with what happened in Garlas Malatar. Nothing. At. All."

Vilkas' breath hitched when Valleri glared at him when she finished speaking. He couldn't bring himself to comment. Goosebumps rose on the back of his neck the longer she glared at him.

She was lying.

There was so much she wasn't telling him. But Vilkas was too unsure to point out the obvious. It was as though he was lucky she told him anything at all. Was this what it was like when he refused to tell her about Whiterun? It probably was.

Suddenly, Valleri broke her glare and stared at the ground at her feet. "Can you maybe keep this to yourself?"

"Huh?"

"People think I'm crazy enough. If this gets out, even to Alastaros and Lex, things might get…" Valleri trailed off. "I might not be able to go into any ruins at all. I don't quite know what I'll do then."

Vilkas nodded his head. "Yeah. This'll stay with me. You have my word."

Valleri nodded then began to walk out of the backyard. When she left, Vilkas found himself feeling emptier than usual. He couldn't be sure exactly how long he felt like that. Had it been because he told her about Whiterun? Or was it because of the whispers she was hearing? Maybe it was the same emptiness he felt as soon as he stepped foot in Anvil.

Taking a deep breath in, Vilkas went back inside of the house, hoping to distract himself with something else.