The First Camp

I should have supposed it was too much to hope that after slipping in quietly to my bed at Jorrvaskr that night that my first day not secretly running Thieves' Guild errands as a full Companion would be a peaceful one. No, it was definitely too much to think that after being injured (twice, though at least partially repaired the second time) that I wouldn't have some member or other glaring down at me as soon as I woke up.

First it was Njada who startled in alarm when she awoke and saw me sleeping. My trip back had happened well after the sun had gone down and even the hardiest of my bunkmates had called it a night. Apparently, she was the first one awake, and more than a little irritated.

"What are you doing here?" she said, her voice a little too high pitched.

My eyes flew open at her cry and question, instantly spotting how Athis's hand had went toward his sword even as his eyes flashed open as well. I would have been proud of unsettling the Nord with my sneaking skills (even in heavy armor and injured, so that was an accomplishment) had she not woken me up after the first good couple of hours of sleep I'd had in two days. Not to mention, she had awoken the rest with her initial cry of alarm.

"I live here?" I asked, my voice hoarse with sleep.

"Go away Njada," Torvar groaned into his pillow, rolling over to face the wall.

"You weren't here last night."

"I got in early."

"In heavy armor?"

"No in my under things."

At that Torvar very quickly rolled back over, and I glared at him. Still, I refused to sit up, I needed the sleep. The nord grinned goofily at me before shrugging and turning back over to face the wall.

"What's the matter?" Ria asked, her sweet voice trying to diffuse the situation.

"Apparently I broke curfew," I said, groaning, and taking a page from Torvar, I rolled over.

Sleeping too late is frowned upon in the Companions. It isn't written down anywhere and there's no official rule against it, but unless you were too injured to hold a blade (and in the Companion's mind, that meant you were literally bleeding out on the floor), they expected everyone up by a certain time. There were exceptions.

But today was not one of them for me.

Skjor eyed me and gave me the briefest lecture I was to receive that day. "Wake up earlier pup, or you'll find yourself at the wrong end of the hunt."

The thought of him in his wolfy glory hunting me down as I ran for my life flashed before my eyes and it took a long while for me to dislodge it.

It was too late for breakfast, though almost time for lunch. I knew that before long I'd be expected to report in to a Circle member (and I hoped to find Farkas or Aela first) to see if any new duties awaited me. But I was hoping to sneak off to see a healer first.

But it's harder to slink out in broad daylight, when Vilkas is literally waiting just outside the front entrance of the meadhall.

"Where were you?" he demanded, wasting no time.

"Sleeping. I already got the talk from Skjor so if you're -"

Vilkas leveled a glare at me that made my stomach flip, which wasn't fun since it was achingly empty. It struck me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. I tried to stop myself from dry heaving.

I watched as his glare faltered for a second as I leaned down, bracing my hand against the front wall. Quickly I straightened and Vilkas's angry expression took up it's rightful place.

"You're first day as a Companion and you disappear. Farkas tells me you had no sleep, nothing to eat, and refused to inform him of your whereabouts. And then you don't sneak in until the cover of darkness. Do you have any explanation for your behavior?"

"I didn't think I'd take so long?" I questioned.

Vilkas's face didn't waver as he stared me down. "I repeat, where were you?"

"A friend came in to town. From Riften. I owed him a favor. I thought I'd be back by mid-afternoon. I apologize," I said.

Partially I told him this because I was in the wrong (in more ways than I could tell him) and also because I had hoped it would bring about the swift end of the conversation.

"I take it then that you are healed enough for combat," he said. I opened my mouth to answer but he didn't give me the opportunity. "Because we will be very busy the next couple of weeks."

"Let me guess with giants. Wait, did you say we?" I asked.

"Yes, I will be your shield-brother, though we may occasionally take others with us. As Skjor suspected, several isolated groups of vampires have placed themselves around the city. They will attempt to enter here at night, perhaps through infiltration. But we will stop them before they get here."

"The Silver Hand?" I asked.

"No. Not the Silver Hand, at least not directly. It appears these are...creations of your vampire."

"He's not my -" and then I realized what that meant. "For me? Already? But why?"

"He marked you and he died for it. My brother took one of theirs, and in return, they seek to take one of ours. We must take the fight to them before they can organize together," Vilkas said.

By his straightforward nature and lack of glare, I realized that our work was imperative, and constrained by time. I nodded, all thoughts of healing priests and food gone.

"Allow me to retrieve my things," I said.

Vilkas nodded, giving me leave. As I walked in I saw lunch being served. In Torvar's hand I saw an uneaten chicken leg and snatched it. Torvar protested but I smiled, not stopping as I bit into it and headed downstairs, quickly devouring the food before I made it to my trunk. I reached inside, quickly swallowed half a health poultice (it wouldn't heal them anymore than they had, but it would provide relief), and gathered it and a couple more for the road, adding a small mana potion as well and sheathing a few extra daggers to add to my already equipped swords.

Vilkas spoke very little as he led me to the first settlement, which was new. The walk was long enough for my mind to wander from the vampire camp we were headed toward to what had happened between him and I the last time we'd spoken. I also wondered if Farkas had told him of our talk at dinner.

Part of me also wondered at the fact that I hadn't spotted Farkas that before we'd left and I found it odd that he had not volunteered to be my Shield Brother on the task. But I wasn't about to inquire to Vilkas about any of that, we had a job to do, and I found his company bearable when he wasn't speaking or glaring at me (much to my surprise, it was one of the first comfortable silences I'd experienced in some time).

The vampires were camped in the open, their thick dark tents must have been able to keep the sun from frying their skin. It was impossible to discern any shape despite the sun being directly overhead so we couldn't tell if and how may were awake. A quick scan of the area as we approached didn't indicate that there were any other sentinels outside the large structure (apparently vampires traveled in style).

"Are you ready?" Vilkas asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I scouted no more than six vampires in this group yesterday as they made their way here. I do not know if they have gained more, so be on guard. I want you to attack from the front, lure them out slowly. Do not get dragged in. I will go through the back, slashing it open to catch them from behind. Understood."

"Yes?"

"Very well. Give me five minutes before you draw them out."

He didn't wait for a response, rather stalking off in an eerily quiet manner (considering it was obvious he was not attempting to be so silent) as I waited. After five minutes I approached the tent. It would be dangerous to simply pop a head in, and I would risk being dragged inside and surrounded no matter how I would broach the tent. There was no subtle way to enter the front flap.

"Hey you vampiric cowards!" I said.

It wasn't exactly witty but it was the best I could come up with. I could hear movement inside the tent though, very quiet. Still no one approached.

"You want me? Here I am!"

It occurred to me that they no doubt suspected this to be a trap.

"Come on, you really think I want to be a dog? You know how much those men smell?" I said loudly.

A chocked laugh abruptly cut off but still nothing. I rolled my shoulders, which was a bad idea because it reminded me of my injuries that needed re-attending. But at least I no longer had the burns...And that's when it hit me.

Or well, that's when the fire ball hit the tent. I had aimed for the top. If they couldn't be lured out without me risking getting dragged in then surely their weakness to the fire would.

And indeed they did run out. All six of them. Two women and four men of varying races and size, all pale and swift and glaring at me, even as steam rose from some of their skin. I raised my swords.

The first attack was simple, a lackey. Too sure of his new his powers and grace to consider that a mortal in heavy armor could be quick enough to slice his head from his neck. He wouldn't be making that mistake twice, his body turning to dust.

Then two more approached, moving out from the tent that was now slowly burning just inches behind them. A short dark elven girl, maybe only fifteen when she Changed, was the threat. The other, a lean khajiit was somehow slower and less graceful. But then again, it might have something to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten in some time, as was evidence in the steam rising from his fur. It wasn't long before a cut to his hamstrings had him crawling away, as I had kicked his sword out of reach.

It was then, however, that they decided to attack all at once. An arrow flew past me, missing my shoulder by inches. A second darker arrow, caught my right one but only managed to lodge itself into my armor, not my flesh, as another melee fighter took up the fallen Khajiit's place. This one was a nord and even taller than Farkas. There was a greenish tint to his skin that eluded to the reason for such a height, and a sloping large forehead.

I managed to lead them a bit away. The tent was in raging in flames behind the vampires and I had to wonder where Vilkas had gotten off to. Surely he wasn't so daft as to have gotten caught in there. He should have made his way out long ago. Where was he?

The fighting wore on as I attempted to dodge arrows, two swift daggers, and a waraxe in heavy armor. I sorely missed my destroyed gift from Brynjolf as the battle continued and I was too slow to dodge the blunt end of the axe as I dodged the dunmer's daggers. I was thrown to the ground. Before I could get up the girl stabbed through the leather trousers, and deep into the ground as I tried to yank my leg away, too slow again.

Desperately I withdrew one of my own daggers, and threw. It lodged itself into the young girl's throat (though who knew how old the vampire really was) and I felt my stomach twist in guilt to see her fall. I had no time to reassure myself that she was a vampire, immortal, and I couldn't view her as a victim as they continued their onslaught.

I quickly reached down, yanked the blade out and jumped to my feet, having to dodge another blunt-side throw from the half-nord. After dancing around the blade and trying to place him between the archers and me, I managed to find a weak spot in his heavy armor (he being the only vampire that chose not to go with the light leathers of his fellows). It would be fatal, I knew, if he were mortal. But he wasn't. I quickly used my other sword to behead him as he fell to his knees.

Which left me exposed to the archers. Before I could devise some weak magical barrier or attempt to find some cover in the open plain, an arrow shot through my armor of my other shoulder and into my flesh. I hissed in pain, but managed to break out in a run towards them. It wasn't exactly the safest strategy but there was no cover to be had.

I managed to somehow avoid arrows, steam barreling into one archer. I didn't have the weight or strength of a nord, but my momentum did enough to knock the smaller archer, a bosmer of about my height back and into the fire where she screamed and attempted to get out. She managed to but not in time to safe herself as her body quickly turned to ash and by then I'd turned my attention to my last opponent, a proud looking altmer who had sheathed his bow and was holding up his hands defensively.

I hesitated for one second and a twisted smile found its way on his face. I knew an instant my error, so many of mother's friends and guild members had been altmers. They were by far the most adept mages. It was a stupid mistake, and I paid for it by a large blast of wind to my face that knocked me several feet back and onto the ground.

I instantly tried to get up but found I couldn't, that my shoulders were caught on something. I looked down, not something, someone. I had forgotten about the Khajiit who had one deceptively strong arm wrapped around my chest, and a dagger pressed to my throat.

He rasped out one word, the breath from his lips brushing against my neck, "Finally."