Eofel looked at the two women standing in her infirmary for several seconds as she debated how much information she could share with them. She decided finally that these two Companions would be just as familiar with the current state of affairs as their brothers and sisters were.
"He departed with the Harbinger and your brother Companion Farkas, as well as several others. They will meet the Archmage and your sister Companion, whose name I do not recall, at what she believes is the location of the men responsible for the death of Skjor."
Ria and Njada exchange a worried look before returning their gaze to the young healer.
"You deemed him fit for such a duty?" Ria asked.
Eofel did not like having her professional qualifications questioned, and her anger rose quickly, but not so quick that she was not able to bite her tongue.
"My opinion was neither sought, nor offered. In any case, both of you know all too well that Dralof has recovered completely from his injuries."
Any other women might have blushed at the double meaning implicit in those words, but not the warriors who, not finding their lover in his usual domicile, had inquired at the next likeliest location.
"And with Terek and his group still not returned, Soran naturally chose those men he trusted most."
It was true that Terek, Dyus, Urul and Lyra had still not returned, though they were much closer to doing so than anyone could have known. The search for the man who they suspected of being a werewolf had resulted in only the depletion of their supplies; neither the man nor his home had been located in the direction that the man Alan had said his residence lay.
"It was to be expected, was it not, that he would lie about where he lived?" Lyra asked in her usual manner of stating an obvious fact plainly, but in such a way that everyone who heard it took it as a serious question rather than rhetoric.
"I would have been surprised if he had done otherwise," Urul answered immediately, "we cannot be the first to suspect him, or search for him; though none of those half-wits who work the mine seemed the least bit suspicious of him."
Dyus was quick to offer an alternate explanation.
"Or they already know and do not care, so long as he does not trouble them and seeks his moonlit meals elsewhere."
"They were not all addlepated," Terek said in reply to Urul's assertion, "that woman was quite sharp. She is the brains behind that mining operation, directing the brawn of the others. They do a good business in trade."
"Some of that trade was with that man, and some of it was certainly the result of his evening excursions."
"She was very beautiful," Lyra said, "both in her speech and in her looks. I was quite envious of both."
"Your voice is just as pleasing, as are your looks," Dyus said innocently to the young woman who began to blush immediately, "you will only become more beautiful as time passes. All you lack is time to grow into your ultimate beauty."
"Gods, let us stop before she falls unconscious from her saddle," Urul said bluntly, "she has turned a very unhealthy color."
The conversation quickly turned to other topics, chief among them being their dwindled supplies, the prospect of finding more nearby, and the eventual decision to turn north, which Urul was certain would deliver them directly to Morthal, where they delayed just long enough to rest and purchase supplies for their return home. Their path northeast towards Dawnstar once again took them through the Stormcloak camp, who reported that they had seen neither the man nor the werewolf, but had remained on guard for both after receiving the warning from Terek during their first visit.
It was a more subdued mood in the group as they rode towards home; the prospect of an encounter with a werebeast no longer present to keep their senses sharp. In Lyra's case it was also Dyus' recent words about her looks that turned her mind inwards as she imagined him, and his lover Falco, both of whom she thought were very beautiful themselves, as the pair of men shared their love with her and taught her how to share her own love with them, a trio of moist, mingled bodies. She had never experienced the sensuous pleasure of being taken by two men at once, though she had secretly witnessed it one evening as she sat motionless and observed the three figures, the woman on hands and knees, one man at her head while the other was behind her, the light from the campfire bathing their bodies, the shadows moving almost as if they were a forth creature that was also taking pleasure from the pale woman's body, while returning it in kind.
All of her comrades thought of her as still quite young. She was, if truth be told, the same age as Thane Aric's daughter Runa; each woman had seen twenty-two winters. But Runa was tall, and broad in back and shoulders; and those qualities always led anyone who did not know her to believe that she was several years older still. Lyra was slender, and more apt to be mistaken for a boy when she dressed in oversized breeches and tunic and tucked her long golden locks under a wool cap in winter. She had, in fact, disguised herself as a boy for the early portion of her time in Krev's midst. But she found out quickly that boys were in just as much danger as girls were in that company if they could not defend themselves. She had been spared that particular trauma thanks to Falco and Dyus who, while still believing her to be a boy, threatened to cut off the head of anyone who molested her. She knew at the time of the nature of the relationship between the two men, and she had assumed that they had made the threat so that they could lay claim to her themselves. It was only afterwards that Falco confessed to her that both men knew she was not a boy, and that her safety did not come at a price. It was only a short time afterwards that she began to dream of the two men, with her in between; a mirror image of the trio in the woods on a summer evening, bathed in warm light and sweat as the muffled noises of passion came from the woman, and the quite clear gasps from the men as they all reached their climax together.
"You are quiet as a church mouse," Urul said to her, which startled her out of her silent reverie.
"I am sorry," she answered, shaking her head slightly to rid herself of the erotic fog that still swirled in her mind, "I was deep in thought."
"We have all seen too many dead and rendered bodies these past days," Terek said in a calm reassuring voice, "it is natural that you should be affected."
Gods, if only you knew what it was that affected me, she thought.
"It is generous of you to say. Thank you."
"Let us all think of more pleasant things on the journey home," Dyus suggested.
"I agree completely," she answered before her mind went back to its most recent fantasy and began to play it again from the start.
"You took your time getting here," Aela said to the six men as they dismounted and tied their horses near those belonging to Aela, Vilkas and Aric, although her eyes stayed fixed on the Harbinger of the Silver Hand the entire time she spoke.
Farkas' advice to Soran and his men regarding Aela, and how best to behave when she was near, still rang in Soran's mind.
"She will try to bait you. Do not respond, do not engage."
"On the contrary," Farkas replied as Soran kept his face passive, and his mouth closed, a model that his men emulated as best they could, "we made excellent time getting here."
"After you spent the better part of an afternoon with your plaything," she said with feeling.
It seemed that as good as he was at giving advice, Farkas was not so talented at taking it, even when he himself was the source of the advice. His own voice, when he spoke next was equally filled with feeling.
"She is no one's plaything, and neither am I. We all grieve Skjor, but do not toy with me, Aela. Not unless you are ready to be toyed with in turn. I know how you recently spent your time grieving, and with whom you spent it."
Aela's face became flushed with blood and rage, and Soran was convinced that he should step away from the twin closest to him to avoid the impending violence. Behind him the three men and one woman who accompanied him moved hands to weapons as unobtrusively as possible, and shifted their weight in preparation for combat.
"That is hardly fair, brother," Aric said as Farkas' brother Vilkas looked at his twin and simply shook his head.
Gods, have you learned nothing in all the years you have known her? He thought as Aric spoke.
"You are not a plaything either, brother, yet you let her treat you like you are one."
"You are correct, I am no plaything; I am a Champion of Dibella. I bring love where it is needed most, as you well know. Would you stoop so low to deny your sister that which she needed most in that instant?"
Aric had delivered his words in a voice that was calming, and soothing; in many aspects almost hypnotic. Farkas knew it quite well, it was one of the many gifts that Dibella had given Aric, and he knew quite well that Aric was manipulating them all; smothering the fire that was building in Aela and Farkas. Soran and his followers, however, were oblivious to the reason that their heart rates and breathing, which had both been quite elevated up to that point, began to slow and return to normal.
Farkas acknowledged Aric's efforts with a simple glance before he spoke again, his eyes returning to the Nord woman whose face was adorned with green war paint, and whose body wore ancient armor.
"Forgive me. I spoke in haste. I would not deny you anything, not even my life if you required it of me."
"I should not have goaded you," she answered, "you are entitled to whatever measure of happiness you can find, wherever you can find it."
In all that time Soran, and all the other members of The Silver Hand, had not uttered a word, but their eyes and ears took in everything. Three of the four Companions standing with them were members of the Inner Circle, yet they behaved just as anyone would who were caught in the throes of grief.
Can we have been so wrong about the nature of those men, and this woman, who chose to accept the Curse of Terrfyg? Soran wondered
It seemed that the more he learned, the less he knew. The most extraordinary of the four was he who chose to follow the Gods of Love rather than the God of the Hunt. In the depths of her rage and her sorrow, the thing that Aela had needed most, which Aric had provided, was love. In that moment Soran realized in his mind that which he had known deep in his heart for his entire life.
Love is more powerful than any other power.
Aric walked up to the silent leader of the Hand and repeated the warrior's clasp that they had shared twice already. "I am glad to see you again."
"Nothing short of death would have prevented me. I swore that, should a confrontation between me and Krev prove necessary, it would be in accordance with the traditions that can be traced to Saarthal. I should have confronted him shortly after assuming command. I thought that I could placate him, like a parent bridging a recalcitrant child with sweets. Your friend's death may have been Krev's doing, but the responsibility is mine. I cannot bring Skjor back, and my taking Krev's life will do nothing to ease your pain, but my honor requires that I be the one to do it, or to lose my life in the process of trying. If I fall, you may deal with him as you wish. I will beg for the privilege on bended knee if necessary. It must be me."
Aric simply nodded his head as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the man who was just as tall and broad as he was.
"For my part I say, the privilege is yours."
Farkas and Vilkas, each in turn, repeated Aric's actions, stepping up, and placing their hand on Soran's shoulder and repeating the words. It was only Aela who remained then, and it was clear that she was of two minds. She continued to look at Soran, but not as she did when he first arrived. At that time it had been fire in her eyes; not quite hate, but not so far from it, either. Now her gaze was calm as she looked at the man who in many ways (except beauty) reminded her of Aric; and it seemed that it was now her turn to reevaluate the nature of the man in front of her, just as he had done to them a moment earlier. She made her decision finally as she walked up to him, and Soran felt a shiver travel through him as she placed her hand upon his shoulder and spoke the words.
"The privilege is yours."