Here we go again. Things will get a little more exciting now, and most questions should be answered within the next 2 chapters.
First of all I want to thank Zevgirl for keeping up with my grammar, style, & spelling mistakes and untiringly giving me advice when I don't know what to do. You rock!
Everybody out there should go and read her stories (especially A New Kind of Family) right now! I consider myself blessed to have someone as patient and talented as Zevgirl look over my work. Lucky me :D
Thanks also to my loyal readers and for all the lovely comments. Please, don't stop commenting. Your reviews keep me going.
Now have fun with chapter 6!
The chase had begun.
It was still daytime when the three wolves left Whiterun to the southeast, following the quickly fading scent of blood to the nearby mountains. Too much time had passed since Vilkas' disappearance and their chances of finding him were small, yet none of them wanted to give up.
Skjor, being the most experienced of them all, chased ahead, followed by Aela who had the best sense of smell and finally Farkas who was too distraught to be much help.
It had taken him a while to calm Mahri down, but with the help of Aela and Ria, he was finally able to convince her to rest for a while. As soon as the door closed behind her, he sprinted to the Underforge where Skjor was already waiting.
A slim trail of blood led down the Skyforge to the east, as if Vilkas had fallen down the mountainside. Even though the Companions were not able to find any trace of his blood outside the city walls, the smell showed them the way.
Farkas' head was spinning as he followed his friends. The story Mahri had told him could not possibly be true, or could it? Without his ring, Vilkas was unpredictable; the beast in his brother was strong and constantly fighting for dominance. Was it possible he had lost control? But if he had, would he not rather have attacked Mahri and tried to rip her to pieces?
Farkas did not know enough about his brother's beast, but his own only thirsted for blood, not sexual satisfaction. Also, a part of him refused to believe his twin capable of such a horrible deed. All their lives they had been honourable and would never have touched a woman without her consent. Never.
They tried to avoid the nearby farms and streets. Travelling in beast form was dangerous enough as it was, but in bright daylight, it was almost suicidal. Yet, they had no choice. They needed to find Vilkas, and soon.
Farkas was glad he did not have to focus on the way. His friends would keep a cool head and lead him to his brother, or so he hoped. He was barely able to smell the blood anymore.
Suddenly Aela came to a halt. It took Skjor a few moments to realize she was not behind him anymore, yet as he turned around, he noticed her sniffing the air. Had she lost the trace?
Finally, she turned left and started to run up the mountain. The two other wolves followed, knowing if Aela couldn't find their brother, no one could.
After a steep climb, the Huntress once again stopped. Sniffing the air one more time, she let out a loud howl; she had found something.
Farkas eventually caught up to his shield-sister and looked down into the crevice. It took him a few moments to notice the opening in the rockside down there. A cave obviously, and a whole lot of blood in the snow before it.
Without a second thought, the Companions jumped down into the unknown, determined to find their brother.
Mahri took a deep breath of relief when the annoying wolf-boy had finally left. Now she needed to hurry, her time running short. She only hoped the twin was dead. It might buy her some time. Should they for some unknown reason find him alive, her entire mission was jeopardized.
She got into a thinner, tighter dress and brushed her hair, making sure the curls fell around her shoulders and framed her face. A quick glance in the mirror made her smile. This should do nicely.
The young woman opened the door to Farkas' room and glanced down the hallway. No one was there. All the members of the Circle were gone, and Kodlak's room as well as the whelp rooms were far off. She quickly crossed the distance to Vilkas' room and locked the door behind her.
With a few glances around, she decided to begin her search in the chest at the end of his bed.
Nothing to be found. Getting a hold of Kodlak's journal was lucky, Mahri was well aware of that. Yet she had hoped to find another journal or maybe a letter in any of the other rooms.
All she found, though, was a stamina enhancement potion on the table beside his bed. Mahri just rolled her eyes. Men. That was so typical.
She wanted to check Aela's and Skjor's room before their returns, so she'd have to hurry.
The girl silently left Vilkas' room and walked down the hall towards the other two private rooms. But this time she was not so lucky.
"Hey, you okay? I heard you were attacked, you hurt?"
Mahri suppressed an annoyed growl and forced herself to smile up at the drunk whose name she forgot. "I am fine, thank you for asking. Just a bit shaken. So much has happened..."
Torvar just nodded in agreement, his eyes focused on her cleavage. She was able to smell the mead off him. It was just about midday and he was already drunk. The young woman tried not to look disgusted, but then again he probably would not have noticed anyway.
"Aye... but don't you worry, we'll look after you. There is no safer place in the world than Jorrvaskr."
"Thank you, I already feel much safer knowing there is at least one strong warrior left here to protect me," Mahri replied with her sweetest smile, just in case Torvar decided to lift his eyes and actually look at her face for a moment. She went a little closer than necessary and straightened her back to offer the Companion an even better look. Maybe she could use his interest to her advantage.
Torvar, oblivious to her plans and obviously encouraged by her words, crossed his arms over his chest in his best attempt to look like the strong warrior she expected.
Mahri just smiled. Things were starting to look up for her.
Neither Aela nor Skjor had even seen him cry before. Even when the twins were no more than pups, they faced every situation with resolve, courage and discipline. Not a tear, even on the day of Jergen's death.
But today was different.
The ice troll, which inhabited the cave, was disposed of quickly. Not a problem for three experienced warriors. But the bloodstained wolf armour they found in the back of the cave, together with the pile of bones, broke the Companion down.
The only family he had ever had was dead. The scent of the blood was unmistakeable. Farkas would know that smell anywhere, his own blood smelt so similar after all. There was no doubt in his heart. Vilkas would not come back.
After the quick battle with the troll, Farkas had changed back to his human form. Naked as on the day he was born, he broke down in the snow, screaming as loud as his lungs would let him. He never noticed the tears falling from his eyes, neither did he realize his sobbing.
There was nothing but pain and emptiness. His brother was gone.
Aela and Skjor had turned back as well, looking at each other helplessly. After a few moments, Skjor just shook his head. Aela understood. Without another word, she turned around and headed back towards Whiterun. Skjor would look after Farkas for the time being, but she needed to deliver the news to Kodlak and the rest of the Companions.
They had lost one of the best they ever had. Yet, Skjor had a nagging feeling this was only the beginning.
Vilkas' eyes opened with a start. Someone was calling for him.
His brother! He just knew it; he felt it in his heart. His brother was calling him.
He tried to sit up, but found himself unable to move. That was when he noticed the dull ache in his shoulder and stomach and the painfully fast beating of his heart.
He tried to look around, but even his neck would not obey him, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of what seemed to be some sort of cellar. Candlelight illuminated the room, as there were no windows. He smelt death and mould. The place almost reminded him of a tomb. His tomb, maybe?
He tried one more time to move his body. His arms shifted a little, but the pain in his shoulder made him give up the futile attempt to move any further. He uttered a resigned sigh.
He heard shuffling sounds behind him. Something was being placed on a table. A book maybe? Then the rustling of clothes and a few footsteps.
He was not alone.
How did he not notice? Why could he not smell anybody else?
"So, you are finally awake."
The female voice was smooth and sounded teasing. Vilkas grunted in reply. Some people just had a way of speaking that angered him. They talked as if they were constantly mocking everybody else, and this stranger was no exception. He had no idea who the woman was, but he already disliked her.
Vilkas tried to say something, but his mouth was dry and no coherent sound would escape his lips.
His saviour chuckled as she took another step in his direction. She was now bent over Vilkas, and he was graced with his first look at her.
"You are paralyzed for the moment. I will gladly provide you with a potion to cure your immobility, but only if you promise to be a good doggy and do exactly as I say."
A Dunmer. And an arrogant one as well. He had no love whatsoever for all these elven folks, but beggars can't be choosers. So he tried to nod as well as he could.
"I interpret this as consent."
Her clothes were dark, leather by the looks. But he was not able to smell leather. What was wrong with him?
Her hand carefully lifted his head and supported his neck as her other hand produced a small bottle. For a second he felt like an infant being fed by his mother, but as soon as the warm liquid passed his lips, he felt the strength return to his body.
Vilkas sighed in relief as the Dunmer slowly laid his head back on the pillow.
"The potion will take a few minutes to cure the paralytic poison out of your body. It might tickle a little."
Vilkas understood exactly what she meant. He felt pins and needles in his entire body. The uncomfortable sensation distracted him from the pain radiating from his stomach and shoulder though.
His body felt like his own again. He was far from comfortable, but at least he was alive – which was much more than he expected to be. Finally, he found the strength to speak.
"Who are you?"
"A friend," came the short reply. He could almost hear her smile.
"Friends don't poison each other." Vilkas gathered his strength and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the makeshift bed. He instantly felt sick. His head spun and he wanted nothing more than to lie down again, but he would not show weakness in front of this person.
"Take it easy, your wounds have not yet healed completely."
Within a second, she was kneeling beside him, checking a bandage that was wrapped around his shoulder. It was only then Vilkas realized he was almost naked, except for a pair of rugged trousers and the many bandages wrapped around his torso. The one on his shoulder was drenched in blood, and the Dunmer started to inspect the wound. Vilkas had not the strength to stop her; he also did not really care at that moment.
Even though he did not like the elf, he knew he'd be probably dead without her. Yet, he wanted answers.
He was just about to ask her where they were when he noticed the silver necklace she was wearing. Or rather, the ring hanging on it. Vilkas took a deep, surprised breath, which the stranger mistook for a sign of pain.
"Don't whine. I need to change these bandages. I thought you warriors were supposed to be tough."
Vilkas gathered all his energy and used his healthy arm to grab the Dunmer by the collar. She let out a surprised yelp, obviously not expecting an attack from his side.
"Let me go!" He heard the panic in her voice and felt the beast inside of him respond. Yet, he kept control.
"Where did you get that ring?" he hissed dangerously. The Dunmer stared at him in confusion, but then realization set in and her eyes began to sparkle. She let out a low chuckle that annoyed Vilkas beyond belief.
His arm felt weak and he had to release her. The woman took a step back and sat down on a chair opposite of the bed. Vilkas just glared at her, goosebumps forming on his arms as he realized the Black Hand symbol on her garb.
As she calmed down, she looked him deep in the eyes. "You don't remember me at all, do you?"
Vilkas was lost. If he were friends with a Dunmer woman, he'd surely know about it. His confusion must have shown in his eyes because the stranger chuckled again and shook her head.
"So be it. I shall tell you my story."