A/N: So, a whole year and four months between chapters… I'll be honest, that hurts to type. A lot has changed in my life since I last uploaded, though; some things for the better and some things for the worse. On top of that, I got stuck with where I wanted to go with this chapter for ages. One month I wanted to take it in this direction, another month I wanted to take it in that one. I quickly lost count of the number of times I sat down and tried to figure out what to write for this chapter only to come up blank, or to make a start and then throw out what I had. But I got there in the end.

So finally, thankfully, here we are. :)

Chapter 5: Bite

The storm was finally beginning to subside.

Snow still whipped past the entrance to the cave, but with considerably less pace and at a less frequent rate than before. The wind continued to howl, but with only a fraction of its former fury, its energy spent. Valorn still had his bedroll wrapped around himself, but while he remained cold, he was at least no longer shivering. Although he was not familiar enough with Skyrim's weather to be completely comfortable hazarding a guess as to when exactly the storm would disappear entirely, he doubted that point could be more than a few hours away. Even if that estimate was correct, though, he did not want to wait that long to get moving. It was already mid-morning, meaning several hours of daylight had already come and gone.

Debating internally whether to rouse his companion or not, Valorn decided to wait another hour to see what sort of difference that would make. The wind quieted even further in that time and the snow outside slowed to a trickle, only the occasional flake drifting past the mouth of the cave now. Glancing at the still-sleeping form of Lydia to his left, Valorn shrugged off his bedroll before rising to his feet. Hunching over to avoid catching his head on the rocky ceiling, he made his way out of the cave before straightening up and surveying his surroundings.

A thick layer of snow blanketed everything around him, save for the river to his left. The occasional tip of a blade of grass could be seen poking out of the otherwise pristine white surface, but aside from those miniscule disturbances, and the occasional tree in the distance, there was absolutely nothing to be seen but snow. Glaring at the sight in irritation as it occurred to him that as admittedly stunning as the natural spectacle was it would slow their progress dramatically, he then marched back into the cave, before crouching down next to his companion.

"Wake up," he said loudly.

Lydia did not so much as stir, despite the volume with which he had spoken.

"I said, wake up."

There was a response this time, a quiet groan heavy with irritation reaching his ears. Several seconds passed, and he opened his mouth to speak again, only for Lydia to mutter something inaudibly before opening her eyes. For a moment, the brown orbs stared at him uncomprehendingly. He noticed immediately that they were still bloodshot, but much less so than before.

"My Thane?" the housecarl managed, her voice coming out as a croak. She raised a hand to her mouth before clearing her throat. Slowly sitting up, most of her armoured form still covered by her bedroll as she did so, Lydia then rolled her shoulders, producing a handful of quiet clicking noises.

"Is everything all right?" she continued, stifling a yawn.

Valorn nodded curtly. "The storm has almost completely passed," he said. "The snow outside is thick, but not enough to make walking impossible." He paused, debating whether to stop there. "Are you rested enough to travel?" he asked finally.

Lydia looked at him in surprise. "I think so," she replied after a moment.

Valorn nodded again. An uncomfortable silence fell between them as they remained there, him crouching and her sitting, before the Nord woman finally broke it.

"Did anything happen during the night?"

His mind flashed back to the memory, of how real it had been. It might have taken place yesterday if not for the fact he knew it had not.

"No," he stated, managing to keep his voice emotionless. "Nothing of note took place."

Lydia nodded slowly, but he could tell she didn't quite believe him. Turning away from her, Valorn opened his pack and rummaged through it for a moment. Finding some of the fruit he had not eaten during the night, he retrieved the pieces before closing the pack again. "Once we've eaten," he began, "we'll set off. The snow doesn't look as though it will melt any time soon, so there is no point delaying here any longer."

Lydia nodded again before replying. "I agree, my Thane, but we should still be cautious. Any nearby predators will have waited out the worst of the storm as well and may be just about to start leaving their shelters." Valorn took a bite of his fruit as the housecarl continued. "Hunger might make them bold enough to venture closer to the road than they normally would."

Valorn swallowed before replying. "It doesn't matter," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Whatever beasts cross our path, if they should attack us, they will swiftly come to regret it."

Lydia shook her head. "The animals here in Skyrim are just as fierce as the weather," she protested. "We should not take them too lightly."

Even though he knew from first-hand experience that she was right, Valorn still could not keep himself from shooting her a look of irritation. "Regardless, we are wasting daylight talking about this." He took another bite of his fruit. "Either eat something or walk on an empty stomach. We leave in ten minutes."

The sound was beginning to get annoying.

Every step he took produced a loud crunch as snow and ice disintegrated under his weight. That which lay on the road in front of him was as unblemished as a fresh sheet of parchment, but that which stretched out behind him was pockmarked by hundreds of holes made by his boots, which formed a trail that extended for as far as the eye could see. An identical trail ran parallel to his own, the result of Lydia's steps as she walked alongside him a few feet away to the right. If anything, though, the housecarl's footfalls were even louder than his own, owing to the armour she wore.

It was currently just after midday. The clouds had cleared enough that the sun was nearly entirely visible, but it was still cold enough for Valorn to be uncomfortable. His earlier prediction had so far held true; it still did not look as though the snow would start to melt for some time to come.

If anything, though, the plains had become even more desolate over the previous few hours, with fewer and fewer trees being visible after each mile. Indeed, if not for the handful of trees that were still present, the landscape could have passed for that of a world other than Nirn, so alien was it in appearance compared with what Valorn was used to. But then, he had to admit, the Summerset Isles would likely appear alien to an outsider too, in all probability.

His feet continuing to crunch through the snow, Valorn allowed his mind to fill with memories of the Isles as he walked. Memories of home. The splendour of the graceful spires of the capital, Alinor, made from stone of such a light shade of grey that it was almost white. The rich green of the trees, so much more vibrant than that of any of the flora he had seen so far in Skyrim. The warmth of the sun and long afternoons spent in leisure simply reading outside.

His mood only lifted for a matter of seconds, though, before a memory of Faeyloa sitting in a chair beneath the late morning sun cut through the other images like a knife. He remembered the context for that moment well. He had awoken to find himself in bed alone and started looking for her, eventually finding her outside in the garden. When she had seen him approaching, her golden eyes had softened and she had given him a contented smile. Surrounded by rose bushes and honeysuckle and with her honey coloured hair being gently tousled by a slight breeze, she had looked so beautiful that his heart had seemed to stop in his chest, leaving him unable to breathe.

"My Thane?"

Valorn returned to the present, his warm and pleasant surroundings vanishing in an instant to be replaced by snow and ice. Realising his pace had slowed considerably, he glanced to his right, his gaze meeting Lydia's as the Nord woman looked at him curiously.

"What?" he demanded.

"I…" Lydia began, before stopping, clearly taken aback by his tone. "I was just wondering if everything was well, my Thane. You seem on edge."

Her dark eyes dropped to his hands, which Valorn only now realised had formed fists at his sides. Forcing his muscles to relax, the Altmer then straightened his fingers, the formerly white skin over his knuckles quickly returning to its usual yellow as he did so. "I'm fine," he replied, struggling to keep his voice level, both on account of his usual irritation with his companion, but also due to just how much the final memory had affected him.

Fortunately, Lydia did not press the matter further, though he could tell she wanted to. Internally, Valorn still winced. She had already managed to work out why he had come to Skyrim the previous night and had noticed how distracted he was on multiple occasions. If he continued to avoid giving her more information, it would only be a matter of time until she confronted him and demanded a full explanation. Possibly, she would refuse to accompany him any further unless he gave her one. And as much as he might have hated to admit it, even to himself, he likely would not have made it even this far without her. After all, had he been alone, he would not have sought shelter from the storm before it hit.

Attempting to distract himself from that unpleasant fact, he turned away from the housecarl, before looking back the way they had come. Although he could still just about see it on account of its size, Whiterun was little more than an indistinct mass on the horizon after the amount they had already travelled. Soon, the hold capital would no longer be visible at all.

"This is the furthest I've ever been from it."

Valorn turned to face Lydia again. To his surprise, he saw that the Nord woman had a wistful look on her face, as though they had departed the city months ago. "I've spent all of my life in Whiterun Hold," she continued, and the Altmer had a suspicion she was talking as much to herself as to him. "I've never left its boundaries and neither has my mother. Even after my father went missing, we never looked outside it."

He had been about to rebuke her for wasting his time, but despite himself, Valorn found his curiosity piqued. For a moment, he silently debated whether to ask any of the questions he now had or not, before his interest finally won out over his annoyance.

"What happened to him?" he asked bluntly.

If Lydia was taken aback by the directness of the question, especially considering how newly acquainted the two of them were, she did not show it. "He ran a small shop in the Plains District selling whatever he could and often travelled to the surrounding villages when his stock started to run out. I always used to ask him to take me with him, but he would say it was too dangerous."

She coughed, before clearing her throat and continuing. "One day he left on a trip to Riverwood and never came back."

Valorn was suddenly aware he had moved closer to the housecarl during her recounting. Returning to his original position several feet away, he waited as Lydia let out a shuddering sigh before again continuing.

"Some of our neighbours said it was probably wolves," she said hoarsely. "The Jarl's men said it might have been bandits. We never found out what was responsible, as his body was never found. Only some torn fabric from his shirt and a few footprints a couple of hours from Riverwood."

"And what do you think?"

"What?"

Valorn crossed his arms. "What do you think killed him?"

Lydia shrugged, but the attempt to seem nonchalant was utterly transparent. "Does it matter?" she asked, before laughing bitterly. "At the end of the day, he's gone. Nothing can change that, so speculating about it now is pointless."

Unsure how to respond, Valorn nodded slowly. There was a quiet crunch of snow as the woman next to him shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the two of them stood there awkwardly. After a moment, it occurred to him that perhaps she expected him to volunteer some information about one of his own parents, though if that was indeed the case she was in for a rude awakening.

A second crunch punctuated the silence a few seconds after the first as he also adjusted his position slightly, before turning away to face the direction they had been travelling in.

"We should get moving again," he said, unable to think of anything else to say. Receiving a nod of agreement from Lydia, he set off, the housecarl following after him a couple of seconds later.

To Valorn's relief, the uncomfortable atmosphere faded quickly as the minutes passed, though in contrast the landscape around them remained much the same as the afternoon wore on. The snow also finally stopped falling completely and the weather warmed a little more, though it was still too cold for any of existing snow to melt. Through it all, the pair of them kept alert for any sign of danger, but it was Lydia who first noticed something was off as evening approached and the two of them reached the top of a slight rise in the terrain, the Nord woman motioning for them to stop before pointing at a large mound of snow ahead of them.

"There."

Examining the mound for a moment, Valorn then found himself rolling his eyes when he didn't notice anything special about it. "And what," he began, "am I looking for? Or do Nords really find piles of snow that interesting?"

Lydia shot him an irritated look before shaking her head. "It's what's underneath the snow, my Thane," she replied, a small amount of strain present in her voice as she attempted to keep it level. "That looks like wood sticking out of the left side, near the top. Someone has been this way recently."

Squinting at the exact point the housecarl had indicated, Valorn finally saw that she was right. The corner of what looked to be some kind of crate protruded from the mound, only a few snowflakes having settled on that part of it. There were no signs of disturbance around the mound itself, however. No foot or hoof prints to suggest anyone had passed this way since the storm had hit aside from themselves.

Wordlessly approaching the mound, Lydia following just behind him, he reached out, brushing some snow away from the object. More wood became visible, but he still could not tell what exactly it was. Determined to discover the truth, he continued to clear away the snow, Lydia joining in after a few seconds. In the end, it took almost half a minute before enough wood was uncovered for Valorn to realise what he was looking at.

It was a small caravan, the one horse kind often used by traders and farmers, which had collapsed to one side and seemingly been abandoned. That in and of itself was odd, given such a tool was vital for transporting goods to market and was costly to replace. Frowning as he began to wonder just why the owner might have left the caravan instead of attempting to repair it, Valorn started to examine it more closely.

It was not until he ran his eyes along a particularly rough plank that he noticed something of interest. A single deep cut had been made in the wood. It was about half as wide as his wrist horizontally and extremely thin vertically, too thin to have been made by a blade of either iron or steel. There was also a strange elegance to the cut, as though whatever had caused it had almost glided through the wood rather than tearing into it.

A possibility suddenly occurred to Valorn, one that filled his stomach with dread. Praying he was mistaken, he crouched down to get eye-level with the cut in order to get a better look at it.

"My Thane, what is it?"

Valorn ignored the question. His mouth dry as he confirmed his suspicions, he swallowed heavily, before unsteadily straightening back up.

"My Thane?" Lydia repeated. Glancing at her, Valorn saw the housecarl had picked up on his fear. Her dark eyes were wide, but her jaw was set with determination as she moved closer to him, one hand on the hilt of her sword. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice low.

It took him a moment to wet his mouth enough to respond. "There was an attack here," he managed. "It must have taken place before the storm began. Whoever the owner of this caravan is, they are either dead or captured. Their horse must have been taken as well."

Lydia nodded slowly as she digested the information. "Do you know who might be responsible?"

Valorn nodded slowly. "This cut," he began, pointing to it and causing the housecarl to peer at it with interest, "was made by an arrow. Someone fired at either the horse or the caravan's owner and missed."

Lydia frowned. "Are you sure? No arrow I can think of could make a mark like that."

Valorn shook his head. "That does not surprise me. An iron or steel arrow would have left a shallower and less precise cut because of the shape of the arrowhead and the nature of the metal. This was caused by an Elven arrow."

"Elven?"

Lydia began to ask something else, but Valorn found himself unable to focus on her words as he tried to force himself to think logically about the situation and not give in to panic. It could just have been a coincidence. Although Mer of all types were uncommon in Skyrim, some still called the province home. It could certainly have been the case that the caravan had been attacked by a group of bandits who had an Elf among their number and there was no more to it than that.

But deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew that was not the case. They were responsible. That meant they were close. Very close.

Turning away from the caravan, Valorn looked back the way they had come as he tried to calm his raging thoughts, only to freeze in shock. For a split-second, he was certain he had to be hallucinating, unable to believe that the sight before him was real. But as the creature a mere ten metres away began to slowly move forward, eerily silent despite the imprints it left in the snow as it advanced, he realised he most definitely was not. His eyes never leaving the animal, he slowly reached for the sword at his hip with one hand while seeking out Lydia's arm with the other.

Even though he had encountered others of its kind during his time in Skyrim and managed to overcome them, the creature was still like something out of a nightmare. Eight legs covered in barbed hairs an inch long supported an abdomen nearly as big as Valorn himself. On the far end of the abdomen was a pair of spinnerets that oozed a thick, viscous fluid the colour of spoiled milk at regular intervals. On the end closest to him, flanked by two short forelimbs, was a face that seemed too impossibly horrible to have been produced by nature. Two venom-soaked fangs connected to gigantic mandibles the size of a person's head, which twitched with excitement even as he watched. Above them sat eight pitiless eyes as black as pitch. As Valorn watched, the enormous frostbite spider lowered itself fractionally towards the ground, as if preparing to launch itself forward.

Time slowed to a crawl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia begin to turn as he finally made contact with her arm. The spider let out a skin-crawling hiss in response to the movement, and its mandibles parted. Transfixed by the unnatural fluidity with which they did so, Valorn didn't see the globule of icy blue fluid sailing through the air towards him until it was too late.

The left side of his face erupted with a stinging, freezing agony as the projectile made contact with his skin, only a last second attempt to dodge preventing it from hitting him directly in the eyes. Even so, a scream of pain left his lips in response as he attempted to wipe away what he now realised to be the animal's venom, only for his fingers to experience the same pain as his face as they made contact with the affected area.

"My Thane!"

Lydia's eyes were wide as she looked at him, her sword and shield at the ready. For a moment, Valorn thought she was about to say something else, to ask whether he was well, or something equally redundant. Despite the creature that was practically right on top of them, he prepared himself to castigate the Nord woman for the stupidity of her expected query.

Instead, a muscle in Lydia's jaw clenched. Time returned to its normal speed as she turned away from him, raising her sword high in the air. The steel caught the afternoon sun, causing Valorn to wince as it was reflected into his eyes. A war cry left the housecarl's throat, being met a split-second later by another hiss from the spider as it answered the challenge.

And then she charged at it.

Valorn watched, unable to believe what he was seeing as Lydia rammed into the spider shield-first, smashing its head to one side and sending a spray of venom through the air in a wide arc. She then brought her sword down in a diagonal blow, aiming for the creature's closest leg, but with a speed bordering on the supernatural, it skittered backwards across the snow, evading the attack by a matter of inches.

The same leg that Lydia had just missed then lashed out, its owner jabbing with it like a spear. The clawed tip struck the housecarl in the centre of her chest, a sharp, pealing note ringing out as it collided with her breastplate and knocked her to the ground. As Lydia desperately attempted to raise her shield over her unprotected face, another leg slammed down, pinning her arm to the ground. The first did the same with her sword arm a split-second later, leaving her defenceless. The spider reared up, hissing in victory, the tips of its fangs gleaming in the sun as it prepared to bring them crashing down upon its prey.

That proved enough to shake Valorn out of his stupor. Summoning forth his magic, his hands filled with fire. His entire frame trembling with rage and pain, he planted one foot firmly in front of the other to steady himself as he released a stream of flame from both palms. The individual columns were reflected with perfect clarity in the spider's eyes for the briefest of moments before they met in the centre of its face, obscuring it from view as tongues of fire swirled through the air around the creature.

The effect was instantaneous. An inhuman screech of pain and fear, so primal it made the hairs on the back of Valorn's neck stand up, echoed across the plains as the spider released its hold on Lydia. Staggering backwards, it raised the forelimbs on either side of its face in a desperate attempt to protect its vulnerable eyes.

Maintaining the flow of magic, Valorn advanced after the spider as it continued to back away. The snow beneath the creature melted, revealing hardy yellow-green grass that burst into flame within seconds of being uncovered. The stench of roasting flesh filled the air, along with thick plumes of black smoke, as the spider's screams grew ever louder. There was a stab of pain in his left hand, but Valorn paid it no mind, too focused on his swiftly draining reserves of energy. Summoning and directing streams of fire was amongst the most basic of destruction spells. But channelling so much effort into the magic, while increasing its potency, was also causing him to tire much faster than he normally would have.

He was vaguely aware of Lydia rising to her feet on his right, her mouth open at the sight before her, but paid the housecarl no mind. A few seconds later, the spider's screeches began to quiet. It slumped to the ground, before rolling awkwardly onto its back. Its legs feebly kicked at the air before folding towards its body with a series of sickening cracking noises. Then it was still.

Valorn kept the stream of flame from each hand going for a moment longer before finally letting go of the flow of magic. He almost collapsed as he did so, his exhaustion even greater than he had expected it to be. As the smoke cleared, revealing the body of the frostbite spider fully, he could not help wincing. The uneven lump of cooked flesh and split exoskeleton was still recognisable as the creature it had once been, but only just. Now coloured a charcoal black all over and surrounded by equally black grass in all directions, it was far cry from the monstrous and deadly predator it had once been.

"Your hand…"

Valorn turned away from the sight before him to face Lydia. She was still standing to his right, her gaze fixed on something at his side. Not understanding why her expression was so grave, he lifted his arm up to waist level and turned his hand over, exposing his palm.

A deep diagonal cut split the skin from just below his index finger to just above his wrist. It was half a centimetre in diameter at its widest point, and the surrounding skin was soaked with blood, which continued to pour from the wound as he watched. Far more concerning, however, was the blue liquid that could be seen mingled with the blood inside the wound itself, given there was only one thing it could be.

As if it had been waiting for Valorn to notice it, the cut suddenly erupted with a pain much worse than the one still plaguing his face. Unable to keep himself from screaming, he collapsed to his knees as his legs suddenly buckled. Lydia crouched down in front of him a second later, a panicked look on her face as darkness began to claw at the edges of his vision.

The housecarl started to say something, but whatever it was, Valorn could not hear it as all sound seemed to drain out of the world, save for the rushing of blood in his ears. The last thing he was aware of was pitching to the side, the snow-covered ground rising up to meet him, before the darkness overtook his vision completely.