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Keljarn

Broken Circle

The Skyforge

"Gods be praised," was all the old smith said as the flames on the pyres rose higher and higher, consuming Njada, Ria and the Harbinger of the Companions. No one else spoke. A few citizens of Whiterun had come to pay their respects, but the events had been kept mostly quiet, so not too many had shown up. Most were people Keljarn didn't know, but the other Companions had greeted them with respect, so Keljarn figured they were the more decent people of Whiterun. Even Jarl Balgruuf had come, Keljarn had noticed when the two brothers addressed him. The only ones he did know were Adriana Avenicci and Ulfberth War-bear, the couple who ran the smithy. Most people had ignored Keljarn, not out of ill will, but simply because they didn't know who he was, but Adriana and Ulfberth had given their condolences to everyone, including Keljarn, with Adriana Avenicci taking his hand in both of his, and telling him, "This doesn't have to be the end. I know the Companions can overcome this tragedy."

"We will," Keljarn had only said.

Aela had stood next to him the entire time, but she hadn't spoken to him, and so he hadn't said anything to her either. She doubtless needed to be left alone now. Yet, there was one thing he had to say to her. He knew she wanted to hear it, but he also knew it shouldn't be right now.

"Go now, brave Companions," Heimskr preached, his hands to the sky. "Let the gates of Sovngarde open before you. Embrace the powerful Talos."

Even Farkas and Vilkas stood mute.

Njada, Ria and Kodlak were now nothing more than charred skeletons. Keljarn felt ashamed for it, but he really, genuinely cared only about Ria. It was sad about Njada and Kodlak, he supposed, but... he just couldn't care as much as he did for the dutiful and kind young fighter who had been impaled to the floor by something or someone with enormous force, crushing her ribs and the lungs beneath, drowning her in her own blood. He felt guilty for only thinking about her, but he hadn't really known Kodlak well, and Njada... well, Njada hadn't made it easy for anyone to care. Still, she'd died in her undergarments, her throat half ripped out, all alone except for her killer, like Ria. No one deserved to die all alone, dishonourably murdered by a cowardly rat.

He would find this rat, and make him pay. And the entire Silver Hand with him. But he couldn't do it as he was now.

"Aela," he said to the woman next to him. She didn't respond but he knew she listened. "I've made up my mind. I want to join the Circle."

Aela said nothing, just kept staring at the pyre, but Keljarn needed no words to know she had expected nothing else.

Everyone had gone, and it was only the four Companions left as the evening grew dark, with Heimskr and Eorlund Gray-Mane, waiting for the pyres to burn out so Heimskr could gather the ashes and consecrate them, before the urns were presented to the remaining Companions to be given a place with the others.

"Forgive us, Njada and Ria," Aela finally said hoarsely. "We are to blame. We weren't careful enough. You were our future, the new Companions. And because of us, you were taken before you could realize the potential we know you had in you. Njada, Ria, congratulations, you are now Companions of Jorrvaskr, with all the honour and responsibility it entails."

Keljarn supposed promoting the two fallen apprentices posthumously was only just, and the least they could do.

The two brothers said, simultaneously, "Hail the new Companions." Keljarn repeated after them.

"It's done," Vilkas told the others. "Njada, Ria and Kodlak are drinking ale with Skjor and all the Companions, at Talos' side."

"Let us not mourn them," Farkas took over, "but rejoice in their lives and their eternal glory in Sovngarde."

The words rang hollow. All of them knew Sovngarde was the reward of only those who had died bravely in battle, or who had lived a lifetime of the same. Not for apprentices who were murdered like cattle. Kodlak had fought for his life, but Ria and especially Njada had been murdered, not died in combat. They all knew promising them Sovngarde was a lie. It made Keljarn seethe in anger. This murdering coward hadn't just taken three members from them, but he had also certainly denied two the honour of falling in combat, and denied the remaining Companions their joy at knowing they were now in Sovngarde.

"I'm ready," he told the three Companions. "I want to become a member of the Circle."

"So it shall be done," Vilkas said. "The Silver Hand will know pain."

"Come," Aela said. "Let us return to Jorrvaskr, and leave Heimskr to his work."

In silence, they descended the stairs to the mead hall, but they did not enter. All four silently agreed that Keljarn's initiation could not wait. Once more they gathered around the fountain in the darkness of the Underforge.

"There is no way back," Aela said to Keljarn. "You must be completely aware of that before you commit to this. Once you set foot on this path, you are in the Circle until you walk through the gates of Sovngarde."

"I'm aware," Keljarn said with a nod, "and it doesn't change my feelings. I have to do this. Not just for myself, but for the Companions. For our fallen." He paused. "I would help you in rebuilding the Companions, as part of the new Circle. If you would have me."

"Then step forward, Keljarn, and drink from the font."

Keljarn's heart beat hard in his chest, but he did not hesitate. Taking a handful of the red liquid in the basin, he brought it to his mouth and drank, the warm, sticky taste of metal in his mouth. Though the texture and taste almost made him dry-heave, he swallowed it, grimacing as it slid down his throat.

The last thing he saw before he was torn apart was the spare clothes Farkas had draped over his arm.

Then the changed. The pain was enormous, and the blood pressure in his skull made him feel as if his brain was about to burst. His bones cracked and snapped into their new form, and the tissues in his muscles tore and wrenched as they followed the bones in the change. There was excruciating pain in his lower jaw and nose and Keljarn screamed from the agony, but what came out wasn't a human scream, but a monstrous, deafening roar.

Then he felt his legs carry him off. The body he now inhabited did as it wanted, guided by a feral instinct that Keljarn found both terrifying and comforting. He knew he could let it do as it pleased, that something ancient and dormant had taken over, channelling his most primitive and natural instincts and sending him on this wild, frenzied, liberating nightly run. His body ran while he could only observe, in a blur, how his new form first left the city, and then crossed the countryside, sometimes on two legs, sometimes on all fours. He smelled and tasted the explosion of blood as his form took down a doe and tore it apart, wolfing down the animal's heart and leaving the rest as a mess of blood, fur and bones.

On his run went, his legs sending him speeding so far he lost all sense of distance. He saw a boar come closer and felt his muzzle clamping down on its throat, shaking it so hard the animal's neck snapped. Another jerk and the boar's throat ripped open, the rich blood spurting into his mouth, dripping down his chest.

And he felt, for the second time, how natural it was for these creatures to die, how they, without anger or protest, humbly and willingly played their role in the great cycle, the cycle which now recognized him as its own, and despite his immense power, he was no more than the animals he had slaughtered – there was none in this cycle who was more important, or more useful than the other. All were equal, all played their parts, and his was the same as theirs, and Keljarn understood. He was them, and they were him. All of them were One. They were all of them the same creature. All of them Hircine, all of them Nature.

And those who opposed Nature would see it tear them asunder.