Chapter Twenty-Two:

Onward and Upward

My companions (plus Aela) were back in the shack where Arnand had taken me to. I could hear them talking inside, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I put my hand against the door and hesitated to enter. I didn't want to meet their eyes. It was really too bad that I was so polite; I would've just left if I wasn't.

My hand curled into a fist on the door. The new scar on it, impossibly pale against my already white skin, was just another reminder I didn't need about what I was about to do. My side still hurt, even though Javin had healed it with magicka, but it was numbing at least.

I took a few deep breaths and then relaxed my hand. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the door open and went inside, closing it quietly behind me. Milos was leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. Hiemdall and Aela were standing in front of the fire, whatever they were talking about forgotten as soon as I got inside. Cha'qim was sitting in a corner, observing everyone with her blue catlike eyes. Aldren and Javin were standing silent across the room from Aela and Hiemdall, though Aldren would occasionally glance over at Cha'qim.

I only took a few steps inside before I put my back up against the wall across from Milos and gently slid down it into a sitting position. I deliberated what I would say while I watched them, and they watched me. The only person who wouldn't meet my eyes was Milos.

"I'm not entirely sure how this happened," I admitted quietly, "but it has. I'm big-time confused about it too. I need to ask you a few questions Hiemdall, and if anyone wants to leave the little party we've somehow come to create, I won't hold it against you. In fact, I'd recommend it."

No one moved, not even Cha'qim. She was just watching me attentively, enough to make up for Milos at least.

"Hiemdall, did you know?"

Hiemdall sighed and crossed his arms. "Only after Kodlak told me, the time you got sick in the Jorrvaskr." I kept my gaze on him, unwavering. Hiemdall shifted uncomfortably, and then smiled apologetically. "Those, um, little potions that Kodlak's supplied? It wasn't until after you took it the first time that Kodlak told me what he suspected you were, and how he dealt with your sickness. Actually, you weren't sick at all. See, in the Jorrvaskr, the Circle—the inner-group of warriors in the Companions—are all Werewolves. Aela and I are part of the Circle, and so is Kodlak." Hiemdall cleared his throat. "Anyway, Kodlak told me that the little potion he'd given you was to stop your Wolf Spirit from taking over. All Werewolves have it. It's the reason we can transform at all. Yours felt the presence of mine, of Aela's, Farkas', Vilkas', and Kodlak was just the cherry on the cake. Our presences overwhelmed you, and your Wolf Spirit wanted to come forth to challenge us. The potion only works for those who haven't partaken in our ritual, namely those who have been bitten, or those who have parents who are Werewolves."

I rubbed my temples. I just got another great reason to hate my parents, because I knew for a fact that I'd never been bitten.

"Surprisingly though, from what we've gathered, you should have transformed on your very first full moon," Aela said. "The fact that you didn't speaks volumes."

"Must be the Dragon Blood," Javin suggested. "The Dragonborn houses the soul of a Dragon inside of themself as well. That must have been what suppressed it for so long."

"The second time you got sick was my fault," Hiemdall continued. "Prolonged duration of time with me and my Wolf Spirit got you sick again, and you very nearly transformed that time. See, when the blood was coming out, it wasn't because you were dying; your Wolf Spirit was trying to weaken you in an effort to take over. Two hours is a long time to hold on, and Javin (when he'd made that potion for you) had given you wolfsbane, only weakening you further. This last time... well, it's obvious that it succeeded. Aela and I getting there to help you only worsened your condition, especially since Aela was in her Beast Form. When we left the Jorrvaskr—you, Milos and I—Kodlak had asked me to keep an eye on you, in case he was just overreacting. When you were sick in Riverwood, I told him that it was happening again, and he gave me more potions, but I had a feeling that it wasn't going to work a third time." Hiemdall shrugged. "I was right."

I clasped my hands together and rested my arms on my knees, which were close to my chest. I sighed. Even though Hiemdall had wanted to go on the Pilgrimage, he'd just been a convenient factor for Kodlak. I felt that I needed to talk to the Harbinger of the Companions, if not for some closure, then to find out why he'd even bother trying to help me.

"So, now for the big question..." I breathed slowly. "Full moon or no? And please don't suger-coat it. I want it straight."

Hiemdall took a minute to think. "I'm actually not sure. Perhaps you're like us, and can transform at will, though I'm doubting that you'll want to try. We'll just have to check at the next full moon, now won't we?"

I covered my face in my hands. "Crap..." Sighing, I looked back at Hiemdall. "If we have to, then we need to find a safe place. I don't want a repeat of what happened last night. It could probably get even worse."

"Do you even remember last night?" Aela asked.

I shook my head. "No, thank the Nine."

A frown tugged at the corners of Aela's mouth. "What's to be thankful for? You're missing out."

"If I have to 'miss out' on remembering that I've turned into a big, hairy, smelly, mindless beast, then I'll 'miss out' as much as I can, thanks."

"You're missing the point—."

"No, you're missing the point! I don't want this! I don't want any part of it, and I've been forcefully dragged into it!" I snapped. "I didn't get a choice like you two! Turns out that this is just a great l'il parting gift from my parents, who didn't bother to let me know about it, even in a note!"

Aela snorted. "You're starting to sound like Kodlak, pup."

"Don't. Call. Me. That," I growled.

The atmosphere inside the cabin, for just a moment, was dangerous. Everyone was tense, but I wasn't sure if that was because they were afraid of what could happen, or if they already thought it had gone too far.

Huffing, Aela strode past me. "Hiemdall, I'll be in the Jorrvaskr," she said. "Maybe you should come back too. The Silver Hand is getting bolder, and they've been spotted near Whiterun. Your Pilgrimage is done, and you've got the necessary information that Kodlak will want. There's no reason to stay with these people any longer."

She closed the door a bit roughly behind her and left. I wondered briefly if Hiemdall would follow, but he stayed put. It was like he'd ignored every word of Aela's.

"Now, about the reason we're all here..." I cleared my throat. "Milos, you probably don't remember, but the day before you left for Black Marsh, a new orphan came to Anvil."

"I don't," he murmured.

I nodded. "Arnand Bienne was—is—two years older than us. Remember how all the younger kids used to flock around us a lot?" Milos slowly nodded as he remembered. "Arnand didn't like that little trait of mine. When you left, I decided to do my best to help those younger kids. Arnand ignored them. He wouldn't even be in the orphanage a year, since he was already halfway through his seventeenth year. He didn't care about the kids. When I turned eighteen, I left the orphanage, but I had no idea what to do. I didn't even have the money to go anywhere. Not even onto a ship." I sighed. "So I did what anyone in that situation would; I started to steal. Course, I marked my targets and took only what they wouldn't miss, and pawned it with the Thieves Guild for some gold, but then the kids I used to take care of... The Madame was making them leave the orphanage at seventeen. I taught them how to survive and take only enough for it. Eventually, I had an entire little group. Arnand became a part of it when I invited him, just because he'd been a part of the orphanage. That's... Well, that's when things went downhill."

I hated the memory of it. The look that Arnand gave me, the faked smile that I couldn't see through... I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been.

"In our group, I made sure to punish those who broke the rules. It was nothing extreme, but it wasn't light either. I tried to be as fair as possible, for old time's sake. One night, Arnand, who had assumed the role of second-in-command, told me that a newer member had stolen from a beggar and murdered him when things went south. I was... I was livid. If anyone found out about the little gang I'd made, everyone would be in danger, and the murder would be investigated. Arnand told me that he had captured our new recruit and had him waiting for me, so I didn't hesitate to follow Arnand. We entered our hideout, and he was sitting in a chair, his hands and legs tied to it and a burlap sack over his head. He didn't talk when I talked to him. I got angry. I couldn't believe he'd do something so stupid... I had an ultimate punishment that I'd never had to use before. I threatened to cut their chest with a single stroke, but they'd still live. It was just something to keep everyone in line, but I had to do it then. I started to bring the blade across his chest when Arnand..." I hung my head. "Arnand pushed me. I lost my grip on the blade and stabbed him. I was scared. I yelled at Arnand and pulled the burlap sack off of the guy's head..."

My fists clenched at the memory. Arnand's look... It was like he had been hungry for something. Craving it. And I had played right into his hands.

"It wasn't the new recruit," I grumbled miserably. "It was the Count of Anvil. And I'd just stabbed him. Arnand yelled something, and the next thing I knew, the Thalmor were sprinting from hidden places only known to those in the group. I'd been set-up. Played. I started running and never looked back, and while I was running, I decided that Skyrim was my best bet for safety. No one would know me, and the brimming Civil War would hide me well. I climbed the Jerall Mountains, got scar number one, and the rest you all mostly know."

Milos' brow furrowed. "You attacked the Count of Anvil?" he repeated.

"It wasn't on purpose—."

"You attacked the Count of Anvil?!" Milos' body was tense. "How many chances did you have to find out who he was without attacking him?! Are you completely insane?!"

"Look, I admit that I did a really, really, really stupid thing, but I can't take it back now." I waited for Milos to say something else, but when he didn't, I continued. "Guys, is there anything else I should know about anything? You know all about me now, even though I didn't. Now that it's all in the open, is there anything that anyone wants to add?"

There was a resounding silence in the room until it quieted when Javin spoke up. "Well, first-off, in the days of my youth I grew arrogant and angry at the Arch Mage, left the College, and began to worship any sort of Daedric Prince I could find. I also studied Nercromancy."

"You worshipped Daedra?" Aldren repeated in disbelief.

"Sheogorath was a very interesting fellow." Javin shrugged. "I later returned to the College, seeing the folly of my ways, and eventually rose to the Arch Mage's position after his tragic end at the hands of a Thalmor who sought power, but in all the wrong places. I helped to save the College and was made its leader."

Aldren rubbed his chin. "For starters, I was once a priest of Mara," he admitted. "I was in Windhelm once and encountered a boy preforming the Black Sacrament, an ancient ritual to summon the Dark Brotherhood. He mistook me for one of them and asked that I kill the Madame of his orphanage who was terribly cruel to him and the other children."

"So you just happened to become part of the Dark Brotherhood? Even though you were a priest?" Hiemdall asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

"I decided to investigate and perhaps talk the hag down," Aldren explained.

I smiled. "Did she happen to live in Anvil? Please tell me she lived in Anvil!"

Aldren shook his head, much to my disappointment. "She lived in Riften, where, incidentally, my home as a priest was. So I went to the orphanage. 'Grelod the Kind', her name was. She shut herself in her room after yelling at the children. I snuck in and killed her."

"Just like that?" Hiemdall pressed.

"Know of any other way to kill someone, dog?" Aldren leaned against the wall. "I received a message later from the Dark Brotherhood and was kidnapped by their leader, Astrid. She held me in an abandoned shack with three others. In order to leave, my task was to kill one of them. The first was a large man who boasted his fighting skills, but after I spoke with him he proved to be quite the coward. The second was a mother who was quite… demanding. The third was a Khajiit who admitted to bedding many women and then leaving them."

Hiemdall grinned. "I bet you killed the first guy."

"You're right." Aldren examined his nails. "And the other two."

I facepalmed.

"Most of my escapades are not well-known, but the highlight of my time with the Dark Brotherhood was the assassination of Emperor Tidus Mede II. A good man. I killed the man who employed our services later because the Emperor asked me to. I'm a sucker for a dying person's wish." While we all stared at Aldren in shock, he continued. "Oh, and one of the members in the Dark Brotherhood bit me. I'm a Vampire, but I haven't drank anyone's blood. Except Javin's."

"Why just mine?!" Javin demanded.

"Two here are Werewolves (no offence, Taryn, but your blood reeks like Hiemdall's), one is an Argonian whose blood doesn't satisfy me, and I've just met the Khajiit. You were the best choice. Honestly, you should be flattered."

"You drank my blood you Elven bastard!"

"My blood 'doesn't satisfy you'?" Milos repeated.

Aldren rolled his eyes. "You were bleeding once, so while I was tending to your wounds I had a little taste. Don't overreact."

In the corner, Cha'qim was grinning at us. "Cha'qim is a thief," she said simply. "She is good at what she does, and she enjoys it. She is a Nightengale, and leads the Thieves Guild. Her life is just that simple."

"Lucky," I grumbled.

Hiemdall rubbed his stubble. "Well, I came to the Companions when I was a young lad. Kodlak was like a father to me and taught me all I needed to know. I grew up with the current Companions, so we're all like a family." He shrugged, much like Javin had. "That's about it."

Aldren had definitely told his story the best of all of us.

"Now that we have gotten to know each other," Cha'qim said, "it is Cha'qim's wish to follow this strange band. She will offer whatever aid she can for you. What is it that you are all doing, anyhow?"

"We're fighting Dragons and saving Tamriel, basically," I explained bluntly.

"She likes this endeavour!" Cha'qim stood up. "Cha'qim has many friends who owe her many debts. She will look into them and see if she cannot get everyone a horse for a decent price. Also, a safehouse would do well. If Taryn really does change at the full moon, it will be needed. Many safehouses, perhaps, just-in-case."

"The Companions can always supply one," Hiemdall agreed.

"The Dark Brotherhood is no stranger to Werewolves. I will let my second-in-command know to keep something at the ready," Aldren chipped-in.

Javin smiled. "Werewolves are a mystery to the Mages, but I can possibly supply a safehouse. My own house, to be exact. If you do turn at a full moon, then it will give me a chance to study and examine you and try to think of a cure. Hircine is not one without a back-up plan, after all."

"Kodlak's been looking for a cure for years," Hiemdall offered. "You could collaberate with him."

"Good idea." Javin rounded on Aldren. "And you, Aldren! Drink the blood of a rabbit, for Stendarr's sake!"

"Do I look like a veggie-Vampire? That's like asking a Nord to give up mead!" Aldren argued.

"I might as well turn you into a vegetable if you keep drinking my blood!"

Aldren sighed. "Fine. I'll find something else."

Cha'qim grinned. "See, Taryn? Everything is fine. You do not have to look so defeated. Until your bones are dust and your blood is dry, you cannot be defeated, yes? Cha'qim is sure of it."