Chapter 2: Arrival

It was after midnight by the time they reached sight of Whiterun and the snow was falling faster. The warriors raised a call for assistance as soon as they could see the stables, and did not slow until they entered the yard. The stable hands stumbled out groggily to take the horses' reins and help the men down from their mounts.

One of the nearby guards volunteered to run ahead to the Temple of Kynareth to wake the healers, which Jergen gratefully accepted. By the time the Companions made it through the front gates, they could see the guard running back with one of the brown-robed priests in tow.

As they came closer, Jergen recognized Brother Gustav Ice-Wind, the head of the temple. He called out, "We have two children - one sick, one injured. We did what we could."

Kodlak reached Brother Gustav first, and the priest pulled coverings away from the sickly boy's face. The boy flinched as the cold air hit his face and he cracked open an eye. When he saw the man in robes looking back at him, he let out a scream and fought against his coverings, causing Kodlak to nearly drop him.

Brother Gustav held up a glowing hand, and a green light drifted from it to surround the boy. The child stopped struggling, sagging back into Kodlak's arms. His eyes closed once more.

"Thank the gods, the lad's a fierce one," Kodlak sighed in relief. "I didn't know you priests could cast sleeping spells."

"It was a Calm spell," Gustav corrected. "Where did you find them?"

"Prisoners of necromancers."

Brother Gustav shut his eyes in a grimace. "Kynareth guide us," he murmured. He turned to Jergen. "If they fear mages, they will not be calm at the temple. It would be best if I tend to them at Jorrvaskr instead. "

Jergen hesitated, not sure how the other warriors would react to having children in their midst. Then he looked down at the unconscious child in his arms.

"Aye. We'll meet you there," he agreed.

Jergen had never been so thankful to see Tilma as he was that night. The slim woman with graying blonde hair stopped clearing the main table as soon as the two came through the doors and rushed over to them.

The situation was quickly explained, and Tilma hurried off to get the needed supplies. The boys were taken downstairs to the Circle's living quarters. The injured one was placed in Jergen's bed, and Kodlak carried the other to the room across the hall.

Jergen began unwrapping the injured boy's coverings as Tilma brought in warm water, herbs, and cloths. Some of the wounds had reopened on the ride, and he cringed at the blood on the bandages. The lad had lost so much blood already; he wasn't sure how much more the child could stand. Some of his pale skin was beginning to take on a blue tinge.

"The poor dear," Tilma crooned. "He can't be even four years old." She pushed a small serving tray filled with various items into Jergen's hands. "I'll tend to this one's wounds. You go take care of the other one."

Jergen shook his head. "Kodlak has it well in hand."

"Yes, but Kodlak doesn't have certain... resistances that Circle members have." Tilma pointed out each item on the tray as she gently guided him towards the door. "Two cure disease potions - one for Kodlak, one for the boy. Here's a sleeping draught for the boy as well."

"And the bowl?" Jergen asked.

"Honey. Helps offset the taste. Only a little at a time, though. Use the spoons." She gently pushed Jergen out of the room and closed the door.

Jergen shook his head and chuckled. Only Tilma could get away with that, he thought.

A deep voice spoke from the darkness nearby. "Jergen."

All the amusement Jergen had been feeling drained out of him as he recognized Askar's voice. He turned towards the large bear of a man approaching him. Askar was wearing only cloth breeches, and scars of large claw marks crossed his chest. His messy red hair and bushy beard partially hid his face, but not enough to hide his scowl.

Jergen nodded respectfully. "Harbinger," he greeted. "I was hoping we wouldn't wake you."

"You did." His eyes narrowed at the tray in Jergen's hands. "You're entertaining, I see."

Before Jergen could reply, a man's shout was heard as a small form shot out and collided with the Harbinger's legs. Kodlak appeared in the doorway as the child scrambled back to his feet and tried to escape down the hallway.

Askar managed to catch the boy within a few steps and grabbed him by the tunic. The child yelled "Fakas!" as Askar lifted him off the ground and twisted the fabric, preventing the lad from slipping out of his only covering. The boy snarled and began swinging his arms and legs wildly.

Kodlak stepped out of the room in pursuit of the boy. Jergen quickly stopped him, pushing the tray into Kodlak's hands and pointing out which potion to take. He then rushed over to Askar, who seemed to be studying his quarry with a predatory eye.

The child's earlier snarl had become coughing again, but his struggles didn't diminish.

Askar glared at Jergen. "Yours?" he growled. "Swears like you."

Jergen ignored the comment and put himself face-to-face with the boy. "Calm down, lad," he tried to assure him. "No one's going to hurt you."

"Liah," the boy spat. "Want mah bwuddah!" He kicked his foot in Jergen's direction.

Of course he wants his brother. "Your brother needs healing. He can't see anyone right now other than the healer," Jergen told the boy firmly.

The boy screeched and tried to hit Jergen. Jergen caught the boy's arm and held it firmly. When the child threw another punch, he caught that arm as well and forced the boy to look at him.

"You're sick," Jergen stated slowly, trying to get the child to see reason. "If you see your brother now, you will make him sick too. Do you want to make your brother sick?"

The boy stopped fighting and his pale blue eyes glared at Jergen. His lips pressed together briefly to suppress a cough, then his brow furrowed further. "Want. See. Brudder."

"I can show you where your brother is." Jergen saw Askar's jaw twitch, and the danger in Askar's eyes was more evident. He needed to get the boy away now. "If you take the medicine I was bringing you, you can get well enough to visit him."

"Show me brudder."

Askar snarled "Need a drink" and shoved the lad in Jergen's direction, barely allowing Jergen enough time to change his grip before releasing the boy's tunic. The child quickly clambered for a grip of his own to avoid dropping to the ground.

Askar then turned to Kodlak, who had rid himself of the potion tray and was watching the exchange with an empty potion bottle still in his hand. "Upstairs. You explain why Jorrvaskr's suddenly a nursery."

Kodlak nodded. "Of course, Harbinger."

Askar stomped towards the door leading upstairs, pausing just long enough to bark "Go to bed" at the whelps peeking out of their quarters. Kodlak followed close on his heels.

Once Askar was gone, Jergen let the boy's grip guide him into a more comfortable position, sliding an arm under him to support his weight. He could feel the child's heart thumping wildly, though the gritted teeth and defiant glare towards the doors betrayed none of his fear.

The boy has spirit, Jergen thought.

"We put your brother into my room," Jergen told him gently as he carried him back down the hallway. "We wanted to give him a quiet place to sleep that wouldn't be far from you."

He felt the boy's heartbeat slow slightly, but not much. I'll have to prove it, then.

He walked to his room's door and knocked. The boy twitched as he held back more coughs. Jergen was surprised the lad was doing so well considering the state he'd been in on arrival. Now that he was looking, the boy did seem to have less bruises than before...

The smell of warm herbs drifted out as Tilma opened the door a crack. She raised an eyebrow.

"Hello, Tilma. I have someone here who needs to see his brother." He gestured his head towards the boy in his arms.

Tilma's eyes narrowed. "You know he can't come in —"

"I've explained that to him," Jergen interrupted smoothly. "He needs proof that his brother is with us." He raised his eyebrows at Tilma, almost willing her to humor him.

Tilma seemed to get the hint. "All right." She pulled the door open enough that both could see the other boy laying on Jergen's bed.

A fur blanket covered everything below his waist, and his exposed body was now mostly cleansed of blood and ash. Some of the ash had settled into streaks through his hair and around his eyes, making him look like he was wearing war paint. He was still very pale and bruised, but had regained a little of his proper color - probably from the herbal poultices covering his reopened wounds.

"Fakas," the boy in Jergen's arms sighed in relief. He leaned against Jergen tiredly, as if the fight had gone out of him.

Jergen suspected the child was not swearing after all. "Fakas?" he asked.

"Bwuddah. Fark—" His nose wrinkled as he tried to enunciate, but was cut off as the coughs got the best of him again. He buried his face into Jergen's shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

Jergen concentrated, putting together the syllables. "Farkas." The boy nodded. "That's your brother's name?" The boy nodded again.

Tilma pulled the furs up to tuck in Farkas and picked up the bowl she'd brought in earlier, now full of blackish-brown water and dirty rags. "I'll be back shortly with fresh water. Do you think you two can keep an ear out in case he wakes up while I'm gone?" she asked in a kind voice.

Jergen sent Tilma a thankful look. "I think we can do that. We'll leave the doors open while this one drinks his medicines."

Tilma smiled at Jergen, then headed towards the stairs as Jergen carried the lad across the hall. Jergen spotted the tray of potions sitting on the bar, then noticed an empty healing potion bottle nearby as he set the child on the bed.

So that's how he recovered so quickly. Too bad it doesn't last if you don't cure the cause.

He picked up the tray and moved it to the table nearest the bed, keeping an eye on the boy. There was no attempt to run this time, but the lad kept his eyes towards the doors.

Jergen uncorked the cure disease potion. He worried for a moment about how much to give, but the bottle was only partially full. Tilma must have measured it already.

"All right, lad. First medicine." He handed the bottle to the child.

The boy took a drink and promptly spit it out. He made a gagging noise, sticking out his tongue as if to rid it of the taste.

"I know, tastes terrible." Tilma did her best to keep their potions palatable, but some types of potions were simply beyond help. He spooned up some honey and handed the spoon to the boy, taking the bottle back. "This helps."

The child looked at Jergen suspiciously as he took the spoon, but gave it a tentative lick. An expression of surprise and delight crossed the boy's face, and the child stuffed the spoon in his mouth.

"So we know your brother's name now. What's yours?" Jergen asked.

"Riiraas," the boy mumbled around the spoon.

Jergen sighed. "Tell me again without the spoon in your mouth."

The boy removed the spoon. "Vi… ill… kas." The spoon went back in.

Jergen repeated the name, watching his reaction. "Vi-ilkas." Nothing. "Vilkas?" The boy nodded. "Vilkas. I'll need the spoon back if you want more."

Vilkas reluctantly handed the spoon back. Jergen held out the bottle. "And you need to take another drink." Vilkas's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I know, but the medicine does no good if you don't swallow it. And the honey should help."

Vilkas gave Jergen a dirty look, but took the bottle. He glared at the bottle, then took a quick swallow. Then he shoved the bottle back at Jergen, making the same face as he had on his last sample. Instead of gagging, however, he made an "ugck" sound. Then he tensed as faint blue light briefly swirled around him.

"Well done," Jergen congratulated Vilkas as he handed over another spoonful of honey. Vilkas snatched the spoon from Jergen and refused to hand it back until it had been sucked clean.

As Jergen prepared Vilkas for another dose, he heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall. He got up to look and saw Tilma entering Jergen's room with fresh supplies. Brother Gustav was behind her, dressed in a belted tunic and trousers instead of his normal robes. He quickly nodded to Jergen before he entered the other room behind Tilma, closing the door behind him.

"Good, Tilma's back," Jergen said to Vilkas. He began to close the door, but Vilkas gave a cry of alarm. "What's wrong, pup?"

"Open," Vilkas said. He pulled his knees to his chest, all pretense at bravery gone.

Jergen paused, concerned. He knew Gustav would be casting healing spells on Farkas, and couldn't risk Vilkas hearing the chimes of magic and panicking again. But if closing the door would make the boy feel trapped and he would panic anyway…

"You don't want it closed?" Vilkas shook his head. "Then it won't be closed." Jergen pushed the door mostly shut, but left a visible gap between the door and the frame. "Does that suit you?"

Vilkas looked with concern at the door, but slowly uncurled as Jergen returned to his seat. He took the next dose with the same reactions as the last, and continued watching the door as he cleaned the spoon of honey once again.

"Nearly done. One more swallow, then we go to the other medicine." Jergen knew the healer had to have started casting his spells by now, but heard no faint chimes of healing magic.

The sound must not carry through the doors. Thank the Gods.

Vilkas began coughing again. This sounded different, though; there was more force behind it, as if it had caught onto something. Jergen quickly grabbed a nearby pot and encouraged Vilkas to cough into it. Two good-sized spits later, Vilkas was able to take a deep breath with only a slight rattle.

"See? It's already working," he encouraged as he put the pot back down. He gave Vilkas the last of the potion and another spoonful of honey.

"Now, the final medicine. Looks like there's only one swallow of this." He looked at the bowl, and noted the small amount of honey left. "After you're done with this, you can have the rest of the bowl."

Vilkas's face lit up, then darkened again. "Fakas…" he said with concern.

Jergen smiled encouragingly and uncorked the sleeping draught vial. "I'm sure he'll get his own bowl of honey when he wakes up." He handed the vial to Vilkas, who quickly drank it down.

"Can you tell me about your parents? Your father and mother?" Jergen asked as he traded the empty vial for the honey bowl.

Vilkas winced slightly. "No papa. Mama dust." He ignored the spoon, scooping up the honey with his fingers instead.

Jergen cringed. "Wait." He reached over to the wash basin and grabbed a washcloth. "It won't taste good if your hands aren't clean." Vilkas grumbled, but allowed Jergen to wash his hand. Once it was clean, he dug into the bowl again while Jergen washed the other.

"So no papa. Is your mother dead?" Jergen asked.

"Mama…" Vilkas shuddered and shrank into himself. "Mama dust."

Jergen decided not to push the issue. "Do you know your mother's name?" he asked.

Vilkas nodded, sucking on his fingers.

"What is it?"

"Mama."

Jergen tried not to growl in frustration. "What did other grown-ups call her? Did anyone else live with you?"

Vilkas shook his head. "Just me, Fakas, an Mama." He blinked sleepily.

"You never heard her called by another name?"

Vilkas shook his head again and let out a large yawn. He tried to rub his eyes and smeared more honey onto his face.

Jergen sighed and got up to rinse out the washcloth. By the time he'd massaged the honey off of one hand, the boy had fallen asleep with the honey bowl still cradled in his other arm.

Tilma showed up at the door a few moments later. "Didn't I tell you a little at a time?" she scolded, inspecting the sticky mess Vilkas had become. "Now the boy will need a bath."

Jergen shrugged. "He needed one anyway."

"Yes, but…" Tilma sighed. "I suppose it's for the best. Askar is still upstairs, and you know he is not a patient man."

"Aye, Tilma." Jergen handed the washcloth to Tilma and headed upstairs.

He found the Harbinger sitting at the main table nursing a bottle of mead. He grabbed a bottle of his own and sat down next to him.

"Some warning would have been preferred," Askar admonished.

"It wasn't the original plan," Jergen explained. "We were going to take them to the temple —"

"I know. Kodlak told me. I sent him to get some rest." Askar took another drink. "Bringing two pups here without warning wasn't wise, Jergen. Especially when they smell like wounded wild animals with hearts racing in fear…" He blew out a shaky breath and rubbed his face. "I need a good hunt."

"We all do. We haven't had one since Kjalarr died." Jergen sighed sadly. "The Circle isn't the same without him."

"Speaking of that… the other goal of the mission?" Askar inquired.

"Kodlak argued with me once when we found the boys. Other than that, he followed orders, had my back throughout the mission, and fought well. He has my approval to join the Circle. Has Brynja returned from her mission with Torvald?"

Askar snorted. "Aye, she did. Said if Torvald is allowed to join the Circle, she quits."

"It went that badly?"

"He kept calling her 'woman.' You know how well she reacts to that," Askar grumbled. "He refused to follow orders and kept leaving her to fend for herself. She was in such a foul mood I allowed her time to go see her family so she could calm down." Askar gave Jergen a glare. "Good thing, too. She wouldn't have reacted well to being awakened in the wee hours by a child screaming, mother or no."

"She's not a good woman to make angry, as I'm sure Torvald found out. So if Brynja agrees to Kodlak —"

"She already has. I want to induct him as soon as she gets back. You can be his forebear."

Jergen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm honored, Harbinger, but… you don't wish to wait until Mid Year?"

"No. We're the Circle, not the Triangle. Hircine will understand." Askar took another drink. "When we find another suitable whelp for the Circle, we'll do the ceremony on the proper day."

"That may be quite a while," Jergen replied.

The Harbinger shrugged. "So be it."

Both immediately went quiet as the door to the living quarters opened and footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. Brother Gustav climbed up to the main floor and headed over to the two Companions, exhaustion clear in his eyes.

"So how do they fare?" Jergen asked expectantly.

The head priest sat down with a heavy sigh. "Better, at least." He rubbed his face tiredly. "The ill one had the beginnings of a lung infection —"

"Vilkas," Jergen supplied. The other two looked at him quizzically. "His name is Vilkas."

Brother Gustav nodded in acknowledgement. "...but the potion seems to have eliminated most of it. He will need some time for his body to recover, but he should pull through." He took a deep breath. "His brother, on the other hand…"

"Farkas," Jergen said, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach.

"Farkas… the boy is tough. Most of his wounds were shallow; the person obviously wanted him to die slowly and painfully. But the amount of blood he lost… it is only by the grace of the Divines he is still alive."

Askar clapped Jergen on the back. "Jergen's the best at field medicine we have. The boy's lucky he found him."

Jergen took in the priest's somber expression. "Will he recover?" he asked.

"I do not know. We do not know how long he has been… that much blood lost for that long…"

"You fear damage to his brain," Jergen surmised.

"Aye. He could wake with no damage, or he may have to relearn things he once knew. Or he may never be able to relearn them, or anything else for that matter. We will not know until he wakes." Brother Gustav paused. "If he wakes at all."

"I see." Askar rose. "That will make it harder to find a family that can care for them until their kin can be found."

"That… is the other thing I wished to discuss," Gustav stated hesitantly. "With what they have been through… their minds will take longer to recover than their bodies. It would be best if things remained as stable as possible for them."

Askar raised an eyebrow. "Meaning…?"

"I believe they should stay here for the time being. They know the men who rescued them —"

"You're saying that these children would be better off in a warriors' mead hall than with a family or in a temple?" Askar asked in disbelief.

"If it means faces they know and places they will recognize as safe, yes. They will need the reminders when they wake from nightmares or see things that cause bad memories. I know it is not ideal —"

"Damn right it's not —" Askar snarled.

"Perhaps" - Jergen raised his hands to get both men's attention - "it would be best to discuss this in the morning." Jergen gave a meaningful look at the Harbinger, then turned his attention back to the priest. "Well, later in the morning at least. We all need our rest."

The priest nodded and stood. "I will send Acolyte Danica to check on the boys in a few hours. She has a gift for the Restorative arts, magical and otherwise. Perhaps she will bear better news." Despite his words, Gustav's expression was not hopeful.

"We understand. Thank you for your help, Brother Gustav." Jergen clasped the man's arm in gratitude, then showed him out.

Jergen had no sooner closed the door when Askar growled, "We cannot have them here."

"I know. They feel like prey." Jergen took a deep breath. "But we know what to expect now. And once we find their kin, they can take over their care."

"And if we don't?"

"We'll take it one step at a time. Eyes on the prey —"

"— not the horizon." Askar grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Fine. They can stay for now as long as you watch over them. But any… incidents… and they both go elsewhere." He pointed at Jergen with his bottle. "And I want to know the instant the injured boy wakes."

"Of course, Askar."