Chapter 40:
Clearing out the problem at Mistwatch took about a week and a half. In the absence of Stormcloak authority, Tariq became the one to organize the local hunters and miscellaneous soldiers to hunt down stray bandits, sort through the bandit treasure room and assets, pay out rewards to the volunteers, and arrange for safe transport of goods and reports to Windhelm to let them decide on what to do with the bandit records of victims.
He left, leaving in charge the mine owner of Darkwater Crossing to handle any official reply received from Windhelm.
They got to the mining town of Shor's Stone. Valdimar was there.
So was Kodlak Whitemane, Vilkas, and Aela.
"How went the delivery?" Tariq asked Valdimar.
"The priestess was dismayed at first. But once I explained your actions, she understood your wisdom. The old tree will removed, and the wood given to artisans to create blessed tokens for the faithful."
"Very nice. And the Companions?"
"Word spread how you found the sapling for the new Gildergreen. They told me they were coming with me to meet you." Valdimar's expression twitched. "They kept up quite well with galloping the horses, even the old one."
"Only the Circle are affected," Tariq assured him.
"So I guessed."
"Oh?"
"Lydia had said you left the Companions because of a disagreement with the Circle. I understood once I saw them change. Yet, you had no animosity towards the young Companions with the rogue giant contract. Even better, Cairo, a trained daedra killer, let Companion Ria pet him. If any of those young Companions had Hircine's touch on them, he would have kicked their heads in. I am frankly surprised he didn't try to attack the Circle."
Tariq remembered the day Cairo had kicked him in its attempt to attack Aela. She always had some excuse not to travel with him if Cairo was present.
"Go have dinner. I'll go talk with them."
Shor's Stone didn't have any place to host guests. There was a long cabin where stormcloak guards slept. They would've made room if the Companions requested it since there would be empty bunks from the guards on duty, but the Companions preferred to camp outside.
He sat down opposite Kodlak. Vilkas scowled and shifted away from him while Aela stayed where she was.
He still felt a measure of respect as he looked at Kodlak. Meeting those eyes, he thought he saw weariness and the longing hunger of someone still searching for something.
In Vilkas, there was anger and impatience.
Aela still had that aura of satisfaction that Tariq had always sensed from Skjor. He suspected Skjor was the sire who gave her his blood to turn her. That one reveled in the demonic blood and was Hircine's willing dog. He'd infected Aela with that same smug delusion.
Yet, Tariq acknowledged he was attracted to Aela. She, however, was naturally blood bonded to Skjor. Wooing her away from the older man was challenging. He hadn't managed it before discovering the Circle's secret. Just as well.
Liar, he chided himself now as he looked at her. Her red hair glowed in the firelight. He fancied he saw sadness and affection in her eyes when she looked back at him.
While looking at her, he said to Kodlak, "Valdimar says you have words for me. You've come a long way. So what is there to say?"
Kodlak harrumphed, drawing Tariq's eyes. "I was happy when I heard Ria's report. Your guidance to her group is appreciated. I would also like to express my gratitude to the lady bard. Ria's voice is much stronger. She can stop the twins in mid-attack now — when they are not in their other form."
Tariq grinned, glancing at Vilkas, who stiffly nodded in confirmation.
"Rodina would be happy to accept. She will extract her reward, however."
"The curiosity of the court bard is well known. I am prepared," said Kodlak, smiling.
Tariq smiled back. He would remind Rodina to play gently with the old dog.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"Yes. Are you thinking of investigating the Dawnguard?" asked Kodlak. "I have spoken with the Orc wandering about Whiterun Hold recruiting for the Dawnguard. Durak. He said he's spoken with you before about joining the Dawnguard."
"It sounds a noble enough cause," said Tariq. "I've been encountering and unusual amount of vampires lately. The uniform I sent you — Mage Falion in Morthal has named them the Volkihar clan. An ancient Atmoran clan of ice vampires that seems to have made an unholy alliance with the Thalmor at Fort Northkeep."
"I have heard unsettling rumors of that area," said Kodlak.
"I managed to get Idolaf Battle-Born to talk to me about the accusations the Gray-Manes have made against their family," said Vilkas.
Tariq looked at him, tilting his head in curiosity at this change in topic.
"Gray-Mane's sons, Thorald and Avulstein, went and joined the Stormcloak army," explained Vilkas. "Thorald has been missing in action. Idolaf was once good friends with them. He wrote to every friend in the Legion to find out what happened to Thorald. Got a letter from General Tullius himself that the Thalmor had taken Thorald to Northwatch. End of the matter. Idolaf hadn't the courage to tell the Gray-Manes that. Turns out I don't either," he admitted, looking away.
"So that's why you've been snappier than usual. And we know that you recently went to Warmaiden's to have your weapons sharpened and your armor repaired," said Aela. "You couldn't face Eorlund."
"That is not good," said Tariq quietly. "When the Thalmor at Northwatch are done with their prisoners, they sell them to the Volkihar. A vampire thrall has no secrets from its master. I would watch the safety of the Gray-Manes. The secrets of the Skyforge, the Companions, should not be known to vampires. Should a Thorald-faced puppet show up, it should be slain. Or, take it to Falion in Morthal. That one claims to know how to redeem vampires. He seemed able to break a vampire's control over their thralls." Of course, the broken thrall may still need the mercy of death, but he didn't think he needed to say that.
The Companions stirred, unhappy at the dark possibility of such a tragedy for the Gray-Manes.
"The secret of our were-blood should not be known to Thorald," said Kodlak. "Eorlund is not one to discuss Companion secrets even with his wife, much less his sons."
"He would have to discuss it with his successor," said Tariq.
"Ah, but he has none to the Skyforge. His sons should have been training to work the forge but joined the Stormcloaks instead. If this war drags on and they do not return, he may be forced to ask the Warmaiden to become his successor.
"But back to purpose," Kodlak declared. "The Dawnguard. I have spoken with that Orc that comes regularly into our territory recruiting for the Dawnguard. He appears to me to be an honorable warrior. But I worry the more I hear about Isran, their leader. A Redguard by blood, but born within the Empire and raised within the cult of the Vigilants. To my ears, he sounds like an intolerant man with an aggressive, abrasive nature. So much so that an Orc is his choice recruiter for the order."
Tariq interrupted, saying, "Does this Isran also not show tolerance by allowing a proud Daedra worshiper like Durak in the Dawnguard ranks? From all I've heard, the Vigilants would have driven Durak away."
"Yes. The extremism of the Vigilants and lack of empathy and mercy is such that the temples of Stendarr will not acknowledge them. The Orsimer may not have the greatest political presence, but they are invaluable members of the Legion. Why were you so friendly with Durak?" Kodlak asked.
Tariq thought about it. Ra Gada history, the time of the Red Wave, was filled with the slaughter of Orsimer and Nedes, the original natives of Hammerfell. Humanoid-shaped monsters and barbarians. Redguards learned to tolerate the presence of Orsimer legionnaires. Emperor Tiber Septim long ago made it clear to everyone that the only person to fear was him and not other races.
Personally, he generally regarded Orcs as uncouth barbarians. But Durak impressed him as intelligent, civilized, and well-spoken. "Malacath may be Daedra," he said aloud, "but he does not recklessly create were-bloods like Hircine and vampires like Molag Bal. Orsimer — if I have read the lore correctly — were created through Prince Boethiah's victory over the Aldmer Ancestor Spirit Trinimac. This one was Auri-El's champion. I think he was to Auri-El what your god Tsun is to Shor.
"When Boethiah was done, Trinimac was reduced to a twisted, vengeful mockery, and so were his followers. It is a testament to their fortitude and strength that they were not utterly destroyed. The Orsimer are not weak. They are not the smartest or most refined, but they are not weak. I respect that. I don't like them in general, but I have met exceptions. The loremaster of Winterhold College is one such exception. Durak is another."
Tariq was frowning now. He felt the old wolf was being uncharacteristically evasive. It was not the way of the Companions that he had come to know — their primary tactic was to charge in, weapons waiving and loud warcries. Intimidation and impact.
This was not dealing with an issue head-on.
"It's getting late," he said curtly. "Will you tell me now what concerns you, Kodlak? Is it that you fear they may turn into an enemy should they discover the Circle's secret?"
"That is a concern," admitted Kodlak. "The Dawnguard seems to focus on vampires. We have not seen or heard of them hunting for werewolves. I was hoping that after you have met them, you would return to me and give me your impression of their organization and leadership. The Silver Hand, as you know, will kill any Companion regardless of were blood or not. The Vigilants, too, should they ever discover our secret. The Dawnguard, can they or will they make that distinction? You owe the Circle nothing, we acknowledge this. But I am hoping you have some feelings for our juniors "
"I see. But as long as the Companions are raising future weres I hesitate. Future hopefuls for the Circle should have the freedom to reject the blood and not be denied the promotion they have earned."
"You would have the Companions weaponless before our enemies?" demanded Aela.
"Listen to yourself!" Tariq snapped. "I told you Hircine's so-called gift is demonic possession. Are you Nord warriors or Daedra lapdogs? Were you worthless and unskilled before taking the blood? Do you choose your successors from the weakling and dishonorable? Back in Hammerfell I hunted and killed vampires, daedra, and were-creatures. And now, in Skyrim, I hunt dragons. Do you dare call me inferior for refusing Hircine? I worship HoonDing and Tall Papa. Hircine is a wild, diseased dog they would kick from their camp. Will you tell me Shor and Talos welcome werebeasts in Sovngarde? If that is the case, perhaps Jarl Ulfric is right to say let the dragons take Skyrim if its heart and honor have become the licking dogs of the beast master."
"Aela, peace," said Kodlak before Aela could speak. "The Companions have existed for thousands of years while this aspect of Hircine has troubled us for a few hundred. We of the Circle hold ourselves to such rules and discipline to hide our blood because we know and we fear the rejection that would surely come from our fellow Nords. Even Skjor knows and fears this. You know my feelings. If Skjor and you wish for Hircine's hunting grounds, that is your choice. I must accept that. But I long for Sovngarde. There will be no welcome there for such as me. And it is bitter knowledge, Aela. I will live as honorably as I can, but because of one choice, I will never see it."
Aela snarled. When she spoke, her voice retained the hoarse, feral edge. "You are not weak, Tariq. You're a proven, strong warrior. Perhaps you have the right to be insulted when Skjor says taking the blood will make you better than you are now. But you can be as offensive as a Silver Hand at times.
"Kodlak, I respect and love you like a second father. If you find a way to rid yourself of the blood, I will help you to achieve your dream. Even Skjor would help. But, Kodlak, you would no longer be the Harbinger.
"Surely you must know it is all or nothing for the Circle. Part of the gift means full trust in the Pack. It is our nature, our bond, our trust — our strength. I don't deny the animal impulses. And because we understand this, we can hold each other back and enforce accountability. A non-blood in the Circle is to break the Circle and that strength. We can't trust non-bloods to hold us back from the worst of our nature. You know this in your heart."
"Yes," said Kodlak, his eyes closing in weary acknowledgment.
"Vilkas, if you and Farkas follow Kodlak… You know this. In my mind, I know you will have your skill with the sword, but in my heart, I know you can never match me in strength, endurance, and speed. You've become inferior. The wolf in me will no longer recognize you. You must either kill me and Skjor or drive us from the Companions if you will not accept our leadership, the only home we know and love. Who is to blame if we go feral?"
"Dammit. Yes," admitted Vilkas.
Aela glared at Tariq. "So... have we lost your help that we came all this way to seek? Will we now have to watch for Dawnguard hunters in addition to the Silver Hands?"
He stared steadily back. "I will tell no Companion secrets to the Dawnguard. However, if I find they already know this and contemplate actions against the Companions, I will send a warning."
"Thank you, Tariq," said Kodlak. "We will not ask more than this."
Tariq nodded curtly and got up without another word.
… … …
"NIR" was the word the Northwind mine dragon was sitting on. It was the last word that completed the shout that showed the auras of living and undead creatures and even the active artificial life of Dwemer automatons. The first word showed things in the immediate vicinity, the second extended the sight and held for seconds longer, and this third word should go even farther. They spent the rest of the week there mining ebony and using the old smelter of the past mining operation.
When they returned to Shor's Stone after the battle with the dragon, the folk advised them to take the eastern woodland road instead of the main road that went through Fort Greenwall. A Stormcloak unit had come to deal with the bandits holed up at the fort. The folk were already on edge, watching for any fleeing bandits that might come their way.
However, Tariq decided to go west through the woodlands towards Lake Honrich and travel along its shoreline to Riften.
But first, he got it in his head to visit the Sarethi farm. Avrusa Sarethi had been living at Breezhome for the past year, using her alchemy skills to nurse Argis back to health. He wondered how much of her precious fields of nirnroot survived her young sister's indifferent care. He's paid a lot of gold for neighboring farmers to help Aduri, but they couldn't help with the nirnroots.
They arrived to find Sarethi farm bustling with activity. Unfortunately, only a third of the nirnroots were holding on. Aduri was tending to the nirnroots, and neighbors were weeding out the wheat and vegetable fields, their children tending the chickens and goats.
During lunch with the farmers, Rodina picked up news of undesirables coming and going to the remnants of a burnt-out farmhouse southeast of here. An underground bar, it seemed, but one to be avoided. Nothing wrong with a good drink, but more customers went in than came out. And those that came out looked worse than hung over. Hollow legs were fine, but on one's "last legs" was troubling.
The next place to revisit was Treva's watch. The shoddy security was the same from what he could see as he rode up the low hill at the back of the settlement. A sentry sounded a horn, and archers below readied their arrows. Lydia snorted and said, "At least they're building a proper front door to the keep." To the people running up the ramps and hill towards them, she demanded, "Well? Have you at least put solid doors and a gate at the cave entrance?"
"First thing as soon as I got back," answered the man climbing up the hill with a half dozen armed men at his back. Their weapons were tools of hammers, rakes, and shovels, but enough to start a fight with. In addition, the man's left hand held a respectably sized fireball. "Who are you?" the man demanded.
Lydia nudged her mount forward, taking a position between Tariq and the wizard. "If you are the lord of this place," said Lydia, "your lady may have mentioned Companion Tariq as her savior. My thane has decided to visit this place while we were in the area."
"Tariq? Of the Companions?" the man repeated, his expression changing to surprise. "The Dragonborn of Whiterun? If you are, indeed, he, then welcome! I am Stalleo."
"Well met, sir," said Tariq, nodding. "I am Tariq, the Dragonborn, as those of High Hrothgar call me. And how is your lady wife and children since last I saw them?"
"They are well, thanks to you. Come, allow me to show you my hospitality."
"Tea would be fine with me," chimed in Rodina, coming forward and staring pointedly at the fireball. "Hot soup and fresh bread would be wonderful." Stalleo started and then hastily shook his hand, and the fireball disappeared.
"I can certainly offer more than that," he said. "Come, come."
Centuries ago, Treva's Watch was merely a large farm. The upper-level prison floor was originally a cellar for crop storage, hence the door in the shed. The underground levels were slowly built by his ancestors to hide their growing wealth from whatever jarl reigned in Riften. A token defense wall was built for the jarl's forces to laugh when they came at tax time to claim crops and herds from the ignorant farmers. Horses and other animals were stabled in the cave to hide the entrance to the underground keep.
But ever since Brurid's invasion, that lie was exposed. Tariq and his group hadn't managed to kill all the robbers. Some had been outside and escaped the slaughter. They'd blabbed all of Treva's secrets, so Stalleo was forced to make this a proper fortress. Gods know the jarl made sure his taxes increased now that she knew his property wasn't a simple farm. He was trying to build a proper fortification before he and his men had to report back to the Stormcloak army. At least this time, they would be deployed locally in The Rift and not sent out again into The Reach.
He didn't mind telling this to Tariq because the Dragonborn had made it clear he was politically neutral like the Companions.
He asked what Stalleo knew of this mysterious tavern he'd heard about from the farmers at Sarethi. Stalleo hadn't heard about it, but he passed the question to his people.
There was a soldier who tried to go in. The outside guards weren't interested in talking with him. They didn't seem to like locals unless they had money to spend. He was eventually allowed to go down the cellar door. At the bottom of the stairs was a small room with a guard and an adjacent room with a weapons rack and chest. The smell of skooma was strong here. The guard warned him not to cause trouble and let him go down another set of stairs. At the bottom of that, he knew this floor was large. He saw ahead a caged area and a barmaid polishing small bottles. She welcomed him. He made the mistake of trying to small talk because he felt unaccountably nervous, and she was a pretty woman. Then he asked what kind of drinks were served, which alerted her that he was not a regular customer.
She'd started asking him about any family and connections he had. That got him suspicious about their reasons. Why would a secret tavern want to know all that? Was this a tavern being run by the Thieves Guild or something worse? Ultimately, a dark elf floor attendant was ordered to escort him out.
Tariq asked the fellow if he'd seen any of the customers. The man hadn't. The guards had told him to go away with their hands on their weapons. So he'd left.
It definitely sounded like a shady business. But should he get involved? All the clues sounded like a drug den to him. Skooma, hashish, krokodil — hook 'em, use 'em, bleed 'em dry. Troublesome problems, but not his problem to take care of. If the Riften jarl wanted this taken care of, she should send out her own people to resolve it. But from all he'd heard of her, she would turn a blind eye to the problem unless her nobles pressured her. Black-Briar could do it… if she wanted to, he thought cynically. After all, was not Black-Briar the one with connections to the Thieves and Assassins Guilds? Unless Black-Briar had an investment in this operation.
And it could be the owners of this drug den also knew Black-Briar and kept their operation small so as not to attract her attention. So they made sure customers had no local connections, no one to care if they just vanished.
The matter was taken out of his hands the morning after when the women informed him they'd heard about this mysterious den. Tariq hadn't taken the soldier aside to talk to him privately. Others had overheard and afterward pestered their fellow to repeat his story. The women heard it that way. Rodina and Idgrod decided they would investigate. Tariq objected, but the women didn't want him or Valdimar along because they were scary and obviously trouble. Who would bother taking out their weapons and readying for battle when faced with a tipsy bard and a socialite with the brains of a butterfly? They agreed to Lydia, but she would have to stay outside, ostensibly guarding the horses these rich women would be riding on.
Very well. Then Tariq and Valdimar would stay out of sight. Stalleo, who had been listening with interest to their arguments, suggested a whistle. "Invaluable when we were in The Reach," Stalleo explained. "Best way of signaling each other when you're hiding out of sight. Still carries a good distance in the woods. That underground bar sounds like bad business I don't want it anywhere near my family. I'll help you with this."
The whistle was a good idea, but not that wooden thing Stalleo offered. He loaned them Cairo's whistle. He would be hiding further away out of sight from the guards, but it should still be close enough for Cairo to hear the signal — unless they went past the first two levels.
But that wasn't needed. Not too long after going in, they were carried out by a large Redguard man in farmer's clothing. Rodina was dramatically sick on the grass. The man shielded Rodina from the indifferent gazes of the club's guards, and Idgrod appeared to be having mild hysterics as befits a noblewoman.
"What's going on?" Lydia demanded, rushing to Rodina's side.
"The bard got sick. Must've been a bad bottle of Black-Briar mead," the man said curtly after glancing at the guards. He picked Rodina up and threw her onto the nearest horse. Lydia moved to intercept him, except Idgrod threw herself on Lydia, crying, "Oh, this is so bad! How awful! Dearest Rodi just suddenly vomited all over the door guard, and he made such a fuss, drawing his weapon like that. How rude! Help me get on my horse, Liddy." Lydia meekly went along with this silly play.
Lydia led the horses around a clump of trees and a low, rocky hill. The stranger followed behind. They came to where Tariq sat on his horse, ready to charge in if he heard Lydia whistle. Stalleo and two of his men, all mounted, also waited with him.
"Vampires," announced Idgrod. "An ancient desecrated temple. I could hear the wailing of the dead priests calling to Arkay."
"Lengeir's Feast," grunted the stranger. They looked at him. He was a big guy with broad shoulders and arms of someone who regularly swung around a heavy weapon.
"Who are you?" he demanded, suddenly putting out an air of authority. Naturally, he was addressing Tariq.
"Just travelers exploring Dragon Cult ruins," answered Tariq.
Rodina put herself in front of the stranger. "I'm Rodina, a history scholar of the Bards College. The other lady is Iddy, a fellow historian researching the Dragon Cult. So, who are you? You're obviously not a farmer or general laborer. And what is this 'Lengeir's Feast?'"
The stranger dared scowl at her. Hesitating only long enough to be mildly insulting, the man admitted tersely, "Dawnguard. Lengeir's Feast is an old legend. Arkay priest turned vampire. Went insane. Turned against his god and slaughtered his fellow priests, turning their sacred fountain with blood.
"So the story goes. The temple ruins were lost in the earthquakes during the Third Era.
"Normally, old stories like that wouldn't interest me, but we've been alerted to a vampire lord that escaped Summerset and came to Skyrim. Venarus Vulpin is the vampire's name. The Bosmer tracking him came to us when he heard about us. He lost the trail in Riften. So we started researching places in The Rift that would attract vampires and found the legends of Lengeir's Feast and the Bloodstone Chalice."
"You think he's behind this skooma den?" asked Rodina.
"The tainted red water is said to increase a vampire's power. If it's buried in a ruin, you'll need slaves to dig it out." The stranger glanced between Rodina and Tariq. To Rodina and Idgrod, he said, "I owe you for the rescue. The guard was about to call reinforcements until you interfered. I guess they didn't believe I was a dock worker just looking for a little skooma."
"You look too healthy," said Rodina, shaking her head, "and not desperate enough. You were also asking too many questions for an addict looking for his next dose."
"Is that so?" The man smiled. "What about you? Are you so desperate to satisfy your curiosity about old ruins that you'd willingly walk into a vampire's nest?"
"Where is this Bosmer?" asked Tariq.
"Unfortunately, dead. He went into that den a month ago and never came out. I've been watching this place for the past week. This kind of place naturally attracts bandit types looking for a good hideout. The few coming out are tame guards or baits sent out to lure others in. But it's not just bandits. They do get others drifting in from Riften."
"Were you just going to scout the place?" asked Rodina. "No weapons except a common knife. Are you a battlemage?"
"I could ask you the same. A bard and a lady. Neither of you looks stupid."
The man fixed his gaze on Tariq. "You match the description of the Dragonborn I got from Durak. A Crown that could pass for an exceptionally tall Nord, Dwemer armor, and riding a Yokudan charger. Your housecarls, Lydia from Whiterun, Valdimar from Hjaalmarch. You, Rodina, court bard of Whiterun. You, Hjaalmarch accent, visions characteristic of the Ravencrone witchblood. 'Iddy,' right. You, I don't know."
"Nobody important. Just a local lord and a concerned neighbor to this place," said Stalleo, smiling mirthlessly.
"Good for you. The jarl won't act unless Black-Briar tells her to, and she doesn't care since the Redwater skooma isn't her business competitor."
"So, you must be Isran that Durak told me about," said Tariq.
"You heard right."
Tariq turned to Stalleo. "Might we impose on your hospitality for a bit longer? Clearing an underground fortress of vampires requires careful planning and preparation."
"And supplies," said Stalleo, nodding. "All for a good cause. I want nothing like that existing near my family."