He scrambled to his feet, trying to run even before he properly stood up.
The arm fell first, landing right next to him. The tremors it caused sent him tumbling to the ground again.
He skidded to a halt just far enough not to get crushed by the head. Not having enough strength to pull himself up, he crawled as far away from the rancid juices as he could.
Just when he thought he could rest, skeletal hands grabbed him. All over his body, cracking bony fingers tore at him, pulling, scratching, hitting. The bones were filled with deathly blue light, the same the wraith had let out in its death.
He tried fighting back.
There were too many.
Ancient teeth broke on his bracers, but the ones biting into his unarmored fingers hurt.
Bones slid under his helmet and pulled it off.
Vilkas kicked one brittle looking skeleton in the head. It crumbled, losing the magic animating it.
Another jumped right in, biting his knee. Sharp bones clawed at his face and throat, leaving bloody scratches. Vilkas thrashed around, trying to free himself. Too many hung on his arms and legs.
One forced his head to the side, exposing his neck.
An empty skull turned to him. It opened its jaw, clearly aiming to tear his throat out.
Not like this!
He grunted in effort, trying to pull away.
The skull descended.
CRACK!
A lead sling shot went right through its skull, shattering it and releasing the magic holding it together.
Crack! Crack!
The tide of skeletons eased up somewhat. Several turned away from him to Helgi.
"Hold on, chief!" her voice, heavy with desperation, broke through all the clacking of bones. "I'm coming!"
It was enough for him to avoid death by gnawed throat. He managed to free an arm and a leg. Too exhausted to fight properly, he curled into a ball and covered his head and neck with his arms.
The commotion of fighting exploded in his head. He curled up even more. Everything was too loud, too strong. Everything hurt. Hands grabbed at him, pulled at his hair, teeth gnawed at his armor and the unarmored parts of his legs.
With each explosion of sound the pressure on him eased.
In the end, all the hands touching him fell off.
"Chief? Chief! Can you hear me, chief?"
He uncurled a bit. A weak sound of assent was all he could muster.
"Thank Kynareth," Helgi breathed out. "Come on, let's get you out of those bones," she gently tapped his shoulder. He reached out, grabbing at her blindly. The Beast had slipped away some time ago, leaving him without any energy to spare.
Helgi pulled him up. With great effort, they stumbled to a piece of land that was clean of anything undead.
"Anything hostile?" Vilkas breathed out.
"No, chief. All quiet. Not even a bird."
"Great. Help me out of my armor," he wobbled, but managed to remain standing. Once Helgi finished, he collapsed into the grass.
"I just...just give me a...moment..."
His eyes closed and the world went black.
XXX
"How long-?" Vilkas started awake.
Helgi, sitting by his side, looked at the sky. "Two hours, roughly? Hey, easy, chief," she pushed him back down by the shoulder. "Lie down some more, will you? Maybe have one more potion? Or two? You're black and blue everywhere."
"What about you?" he obeyed. Breathing hurt. Everywhere. Chest, stomach and throat.
"Good enough," she managed a smile. Exhausted one. "Better than you. Not as many bruises. And the damn scythe didn't open anything large. My old scars were never too dangerous."
Memory of agony in his stomach flashed through his mind. "Did it-" he touched under his shirt.
"I bandaged it for you, chief," Helgi slumped. Vilkas noticed she was shivering. "You were bleeding. A lot. Sorry. I know you hate it when people touch you, but..."
"Thank you," he put his hand back down in the grass. The cuts caused by hanging on the sharp metal pieces called for attention as well. "I don't mind if it's people I trust."
Her gaze snapped to him. A disbelieving joy flashed through her eyes, but it did nothing for her trembling.
Vilkas decided not to press her. She would let it spill sooner or later on her own.
The wind changed direction. Foul stench covered them for a while, up until the wind danced away.
"We'll need the court mage to take care of this," Vilkas breathed out. The smell almost made him vomit, and even now, after it had dissipated, left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. "You should go-"
"I'm not leaving you alone like this," Helgi protested. "Besides. I caught a courier passing by. I cut off a piece of the...thing...and put it in a container to bring with a letter I wrote. For the jarl and his court mage. Thought this was...little bit too large to just leave around."
"Good job."
"I hope they'll come...they should, right? No one would just leave shit like this in their Hold, right?"
"We'll see soon enough. Jarl Balgruuf is sensible, and if nothing else, that wizard of his will want to study this," he weakly gestured over to the rotting mass. "But I believe rampaging necromancers are enough to catch their attention."
They grew silent.
After a while, Vilkas carefully pulled himself up, hissing in pain as he did. "Can you hand me my satchel?" he asked as he slowly pulled his gloves off, caked and ruined with the blue ooze. The leather was so thin it was a wonder they still held together.
While he looked through the items in his satchel, searching for the ointment and cleaning liquid Mori had left him, Helgi finally let out her thoughts. "Hey, chief...will I ever be able to not be scared, just like you? If I train and get good enough?"
"Not be scared?" he arched an eyebrow. He finally found what he was looking for.
"I feel ashamed," she pulled her knees closer to her chest and hugged herself. "I...I would never be able to do what you just did. I was too scared to fight the wraiths, almost. Let alone that...thing."
"I remember seeing you wailing at them quite angrily," he pointed out. "It's not your fault you didn't have proper weapons for...ethereal stuff." He started cleaning the cuts on his hands with the clear liquid.
"I froze. I cried. I didn't...couldn't..."
"Helgi," he stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "I was scared too. Fear is normal."
"What?" she looked utterly confused, as if he told her the sky turned green.
"Actually, if you weren't scared, I'd be concerned. Sounds like something demonic to me. Those shits just get reborn, if that's true, so what use do they have for fear?"
"But-"
"Fear is a natural reaction. You can't stop it. It just happens to people. What you can do is decide what to do with it."
"But you couldn't have been afraid. I saw you with that colossus. I could never do that."
"I did that because I knew we wouldn't get away otherwise. No point in fleeing and regrouping if you have no chance to succeed."
"How can you do things if you're frozen by fear?"
"That's one of the reasons why I want all of you whelps to learn to control yourselves masterfully. Not just your body. Your mind too. It is different for everyone. Farkas," he grimaced, "just ignores everything in unshakable faith that he can take care of it."
He sighed. "You know what everyone in Whiterun likes to call me, no?"
"Iceheart?"
"The other nickname," Vilkas grumbled.
"Stone-face, then?"
"Aye, that one. That's what I found effective. I learnt to cage the feelings I can't deal with for the moment and not let them affect me when I can't afford it. During battle? Caged. Afterwards?"
He lifted a hand. It was shaking a little. "After everyone trying to kill me is dead, I can be scared as much as I need."
"But until it's safe, you put on the stone face?"
"Correct."
Helgi somewhat relaxed. She didn't stop hugging herself, however. "But...how do you do that?"
"Practice," he chuckled and returned to cleaning the cuts on his hands.
"I hate that word."
"Mhm. But it works. Let's just say growing up with pissed-at-you-just-for-existing Skjor around wasn't fun."
"Why would he be, though?"
"From what I've been told, he dislikes children," Vilkas, now satisfied with the cleanliness, started putting the green ointment on. It left behind a nicely refreshing, albeit slightly cool sensation. "Can you help me bandage my hands too?" he reached out to Helgi.
"Sure thing, chief," she unfurled and took out clean bandages from her pack. Looking at his hands, she winced. "I guess those metal pieces weren't made for holding on."
"Nope," he gently shook his head. "I will need new gloves. And boots."
She threw a look at the pile of desecrated armor. "New everything," she grumbled. "I don't think that is salvageable."
"Maybe the rest of the metal if the goo can be cleansed?" Vilkas looked too. The skyforge steel got thinned, its outer layer eaten by the blue liquid, and the rest blackened. A significant amount of the armor set was still covered in a dried out, rancid blue layer.
The light padded tunic he wore under the chainmail was full of holes. The blood of the undead monster must have seeped through the mail.
"The other hand now, chief," Helgi tied a neat knot on the bandage. He reached up. "What do you think it was?" she wondered after another look at the unmoving pile of rotting meat.
"No idea. Something from Oblivion for sure. Didn't you see the portal?"
"I did. And I heard chains. I think it might have been Molag Bal. Necromancers often worship him."
"Oh? You are knowledgeable," he shot a questioning look her way.
She shrugged. "My parents are very religious. My siblings and I grew up listening to stories about the divines, but also the demonic daedra. To know what to watch out for, you know?"
"Anything about...that?" they turned back to the mass.
"No. The stories were always vague." She finished the second bandage with a knot as tidy as the first one. "The court mage might know something."
Vilkas scoffed. "Aye, and then use it to do weird things." He stood up, slowly and with pained hissing. "Let's go look at the dead necromancer on the altar. I want to make sure there's nothing our fine magus could use to replicate the scene."
"Can you walk?"
"Slowly."
"What about your feet? Your hands were quite the mess."
"Good enough. Boot soles are thicker than gloves."
She gave him a look, but didn't argue. Vilkas could tell she didn't really believe him, but decided to indulge him and watch over him.
She's a good one. I'm glad she's my shield-sister.
There wasn't much they could pick up on the altar. Dead necromancer. Candles. Chalk. Lines of a ritual circle, already smeared by the dead body and the dried blood under it.
Several alchemical ingredients lay scattered around. Helgi's attention turned to those. "Looks like deathbell," she muttered as she went through the bowls. She started looking around for any more, possibly thrown around by the fighting.
A pile of rubble drew Vilkas' gaze.
There were books.
He left Helgi to her scavenging and sat down on a rock. From there he could comfortably reach the rubble and pull the books out once he cleaned a bit.
The one on top was titled Liminal Bridges. He went through a few pages, but it seemed casual enough. He even found printing information on the cover. No worth hiding this one.
The other book, though...
It was handmade, he could tell. Parchment, not paper. He had to stop himself from grimacing in disgust.
Who knows what they used for this. Might even be human skin.
I should not let Helgi see this. Or anyone else.
After turning a few more pages, he slipped it into his pack. It was full of strange writings he didn't understand, spells, ritual circles and more terrifying things.
Just as he was turning away from the rubble, he spotted something. A flash of sinister darkness among the rocks.
His eyes widened.
"Hey, chief-"
CRASH!
Helgi yelped in surprise. Vilkas had hurled a soul stone against one of the ancient nordic statues. It shattered into innumerable pieces, sending void-like shards flying everywhere.
As it did, a soul escaped its prison. A ghostly visage of a man appeared for the briefest of moments. It scattered to the winds with a faint breathy sound.
"...wasn't that the dead necromancer?" Helgi was the first to break the stunned silence.
Vilkas realised violent shivers seized him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He could feel Helgi's burning gaze on his back.
He was in no mood to explain.
"Sure looked like it," he growled after he managed to get some semblance of control over himself. "Stuck his nose where he shouldn't have."
"I found three dug out graves over there," Helgi's voice dripped with suspicion, worry and curiosity. "I think he summoned the wraiths from those. And then they killed him. Did you find anything?"
"Just the book and soul gem," he pointed towards the purple-bound Liminal Bridges.
She picked it up. "I don't understand any of thís," she groaned after a while. "Do you think anyone will want to buy it?"
"Try old Sam. I think I saw it in his shop once."
"The weird old dude?" Helgi shut the book. "The one in the Plains District? In the poor area?"
"The very same."
"Does he even have any money?"
"You'd be surprised," Vilkas sighed and looked up to the sky. It was bright blue, with only a few fluffy white clouds sailing on the horizon.
His whole body ached. Remnants of the chill of the grave still lurked in his chest, making every breath hard to draw. "Let's keep guard here for a while. I can heal a little. If no one comes in a couple of days, you'll go to Whiterun to convince them yourself. I'll keep guard after."
Helgi wanted to protest, but he shut her by raising a finger. "No arguing. You'll be the one doing the guarding now, because I need to rest. When I'm better, I'll do it. Now if you'll excuse me...I can hardly keep my eyes open."
XXX
Several days later
"Hey, chief, I know you wanted to split the ectoplasm..."
"But?" Vilkas looked up. They had amassed the spoils of their kill some time ago and now was time to split it.
"But I know you have a deal with Arcadia. Can you sell it and then split the money?"
He chuckled. "Unbelievable. Sure, why not. How about this, though?" he pulled the gleaming elven sword from the small pile. "Will you leave that one to me?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it without a sound.
He could see the desire in her eyes as they slid across the golden hilt, resting on each carving for a moment.
"You already have a nice sword."
"It got eaten by demonic ooze," Vilkas shrugged. He drew the blade and waved it around. His muscles still protested the movement. "It's got great balance. Still sharp, even after rotting in a grave for who knows how long." He ran a finger along the blade. "Enchanted, I think. It has this tingle to it."
He had a hard time holding laughter in as he watched the changes in Helgi's expressions.
"But you use a longsword. This one is an arming sword. It's too short for you."
"I can use one perfectly fine. Many other weapon types, actually. That's why I'm the weapon master," he looked at her as he sheathed the blade. "Besides, weren't you into axes only? Didn't you say something about hacking the virgin swordsmen-"
"Stop it, chief!" her face turned bright red. She hung her head. "Just keep it. I'll stick to axes."
Vilkas raised an eyebrow. Time to cut the teasing.
He reached with the sword, hilt forward, under her chin. He gently angled her head so she had to look him in the eyes.
"And here I was hoping to hear you promise to train with it every day to be able to use it as well as an axe."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Are...are you giving it to me?"
"You earned it," he shrugged. Still, he withdrew it when she reached for the hilt. "I'm waiting for that promise."
"Has anyone ever told you you're insufferable?" she narrowed her eyes at him in displeasure.
"Manytimes. Come up with something new next time."
She huffed. "I promise I will train with this sword. On my honour as a Companion."
Vilkas smiled. This time, after her fingers wrapped around the hilt, he let go of the sheath. He was expecting her to gush over it, look at the details and give it a few swings, but instead, she looked at him with astonishment. Astonishment and the same joyful puppy face she had shown many times already.
"What?"
She quickly collected herself. "Nothing. Are you going to train with me?"
"When I'm available."
"Drat."
"Don't look so devastated," he quipped at her. "I'm going to stretch."
"You should give it more time!"
He pretended not to hear her as he walked over to a little spring they found not too far from the hilltop. It was removed enough from the fight not to get contaminated by the undead ichor.
As he slid into his routine, slowly, carefully but with determination, his thoughts began wandering. As much as the bruises healed a lot faster than they did before the Blood, the reopened scar on his stomach was doing badly.
Very badly.
It was not bleeding as much as it did a day or two after the fight, but it still shed bloody tears from time to time. It closed and reopened time and time again.
Helgi's much smaller wounds behaved in the same way.
Cursed necromancers and their hellish spells. Will I have no choice but to go to the Temple?
I don't even want to imagine what it would look like without Yvaine's ointment. The potions did nothing to improve it.
I can feel the strain. I'm dizzy. Weak. Weaker than I'd like.
Blood started trickling down his nose. He cursed under his breath and stopped exercising. Nosebleeds were another annoyance left over by the cut of the ghastly scythe.
Both he and Helgi suffered from them a few times a day.
He knelt by the spring and filled his bottle with water. Then he walked away to cool his nose in hopes of stopping the bleeding.
Steps from behind informed him of Helgi sharing his suffering.
"The nose again?" he called out.
"The damn bloody nose again. Literally," she grumbled.
"Here, it's still cold-" Vilkas reached to the left with the bottle. His sentence was cut in half by an arrow piercing his right shoulder. The power of the hit twisted him backwards and jerked him away.
Had he not shifted towards Helgi, it would have gone right through his chest.
Heartbeats later, horrible pain consumed him. It burned with frost. It stung, like a nettle, made his flesh tingle, but also grow numb. It filled him with the need to scream and scratch, to stop it, just stop it!
Summoning all willpower he had, he forced himself back from the stumble. With a cry of pain, he broke the shaft. As it clattered on the ground, figures emerged from the tall golden grass.
"Lookie, boys," a filthy looking Nord, clearly the leader, called out mockingly. "We've got 'arselves a nice surprise with a bow on it! One of the smelly mongrels, alone and hurt! Krev will definitely reward us for 'is head."
Helgi slid her shield off of her back and stepped in front of Vilkas. "Who the fuck is that?!" she hissed at him.
"Silver Hand," he gritted through his teeth. Hot blood seeped out of this new wound, making its sticky way down his body.
I'm going to bleed out pretty soon at this rate.
And I don't even have my sword. Damnit!
"The mercs who are out for us? I thought Erika said this place was safe!" she unsheathed her new, glittering blade. There were ten, slowly circling them.
Vilkas shook his head. "Plans change. Theirs and ours."
He grabbed Mori's bow. He only kept it and the arrows around for reassurance, not being able to use it properly with how sore his body was. It didn't even have the string on.
At least I can try to deflect hits with it. It didn't break against wraiths, so maybe spriggan wood will withstand steel as well? Silvered steel...
Another flash of heightened pain coursed through his shoulder. His legs trembled and almost buckled as he cried out in pain.
He heard a faint thud.
Did Helgi block another arrow?
"Hey, lassie, drop the shield. Did ye know ye're protecting a gods forsaken werewolf? It's just a matter of time before 'e rips yer throat out."
Helgi remained silent. Her shield was up and her blade ready to strike.
The bow's leaves started emitting a gentle glow. They grew larger and warmth spread through Vilkas' left arm.
It wasn't much, but it helped. His hazy sight sharpened and he straightened up.
"Chief, I'm drawing a blank," Helgi's shaky whisper reached his ears. "What do we do?"
"We hold out as long as we can and hope to gods the jarl will arrive before we're both dead," Vilkas hissed in response. "Back to that rock. They won't be able to shoot us in between the shoulder blades."
As they moved, the Silver Hand drew closer. They looked shabby and tired, but now renewed vigour shone from their eyes.
"Oi, boss, look at that!" one of them gestured wildly. The curve of the hill had revealed the enormous rotting corpse.
"What in the fuck," the leader whistled. "Did just the two of you kill that? Bravo. Is 'ar kill now. We'll get paid twice!"
"Is that why he's so fucked up?" another aimed an arrow at Vilkas. Helgi caught it with her shield once more.
"Who cares! The lassie, tho...oi, pretty girl! Come join 'as! Som'un as skilled as ye will do well wit' 'as! Plenty o' money, plenty o' men," he made an unruly gesture with his hips, "an none of 'as man eaters."
Someone chuckled unpleasantly. "Except Krev."
"They don't have many arrows left," Vilkas leaned closer to Helgi. "They won't want to waste them. Be careful with openings." He looked at the few men at the front. They were twitchy. "Those three will storm us soon."
She nodded.
Vilkas breathed in, then out. If he used just a miniscule amount of the Beast, his eyes wouldn't turn red.
Can I even do that with silver in my shoulder?
The burning is spreading, while the impact point is getting completely numb...
He tried pulling the Beast. Horrible pain spread through his veins along with howling in the back of his brain, but...some vitality sprung back to his limbs.
It made the arrow wound worse.
"Oi, lassie, 'e will change soon! Watch yer back!"
The three jumpy men charged before the leader's words fully rang out. Helgi shield-slammed the fastest one right in the face, forcing him to stumble back with a sharp cry of pain. That disrupted the second one, who had to swerve not to run into his comrade.
The third ran at Vilkas instead.
Vilkas swung at him. The spriggan wood bowstave landed on the man's head.
Slow and weak. Damnit!
He swung it again, this time aiming for the man's hand. The impact forced him to drop the silver sword.
Helgi had just chased the second man away. Vilkas moved the bow into his right hand and grabbed the silver sword with his left.
It amplified his headache. Strange ringing filled his ears and his hand burned with frost, just like the arrow wound had.
With gritted teeth, he pushed the sensation to the background. He stepped forward and slashed. The Silver Hand's throat opened with the red bloom of blood.
"How's 'e holding that sword?!" the leader screeched in outrage. "It shoul'da burnt 'is hand!"
"Back, chief!" Helgi shouted and reached out with her shield. She barely managed to catch the arrow meant for Vilkas' chest.
The Silver Hand she had been fighting immediately hit her in the opening the manoeuvre created. His blade hit her side, then slid down her plate.
"Don't save the arrows! Just fuckin' kill 'im!" the leader drew his sword and ran at them. "Swarm 'em!"
Helgi slashed at her assailant. The enchanted elven blade cut through his shabby leather armor like a knife through butter.
Vilkas barely dodged a hit from the leader. As another silver blade whooshed too close to him, the ringing in his ears grew louder.
His legs wobbled.
The little he had of the Beast and the bow were making all this possible, but he was arriving at his limits.
He tried to counterattack.
The man evaded easily, laughing in Vilkas' face. Helgi tried to step in, but another blocked her.
The leader body slammed Vilkas against the rock they used as backing. He cried out in pain. The arrow in his shoulder moved, forcing him to drop the bow.
Before he could react, the leader grabbed his head and smashed it against the stone.
White filled Vilkas' vision. The ringing in his ears turned into a deafening roar. His fingers gave out and the silver sword fell into the grass.
Blinded, deafened and at the precipice of losing consciousness, Vilkas reached for the last defense he had - the saex.
The leader was too preoccupied with the glee of tormenting him.
Vilkas stabbed with all remaining strength he had.
He could feel the blade sinking into flesh. Good. As he twisted the blade, a fist landed on his shoulder. He could feel himself screaming, but...it was as if he was observing someone else.
Observing from a great distance...
XXX
His eyes fluttered open. Warmth was flooding in, helping raise his chest with breaths.
Huh.
"Ah, he's awake," an unfamiliar, yet somehow known male voice called out.
"Good job, Farengar."
That's the jarl's voice. They arrived in time!
"Continue, please," the jarl turned away. Vilkas tried to focus his sight. He could make out the jarl's regal figure, and in front of him...Helgi.
She must be giving him a report.
He was leaning against something hard and cold. The stone he got slammed into? Next to him, a robed figure sat, hands hovering above Vilkas' body.
"Fascinating," Vilkas caught the court mage's murmurs. "The necromantic energy was blocking the natural healing of the body. That's not something a novice could do. Are the necromancers still around..."
"It was a wraith," Vilkas' voice was hoarse and weak. "Not a necromancer."
"A wraith you say? What kind? Those are rare to come around. Did you catch any more details?"
In his excitement, the mage stopped his spell. Immediately, Vilkas' nose started bleeding.
"Oh my, I see the curse is not that easy to lift. Let me..." his voice lowered so much Vilkas couldn't distinguish words anymore. Farengar tried several strange combinations of gestures, and, finally, the bleeding stopped.
"A-ha!" the wizard noted something into an open book next to him.
Vilkas turned to look at his shoulder. His shirt had been cut and the arrow removed. For now the heavy bleeding had stopped, but the wound wasn't looking too dapper.
It still burns. But at least the numbness is now only right around the wound. Would it paralyze me if it had stayed in for too long?
"Ah. That," the wizard caught Vilkas examining his wound. "It appears the necromantic curse works at different strengths in different parts of your body. You are stabilized - ah, pardon my language. Must be too difficult for you. You will live. For now. But you need to go to the temple and have the priestesses look at you. Understood?"
"Aye," Vilkas put on his usual mask to cover his displeasure. Not even a pair of oxen could get me there. I will just have to last until I can meet either Mori or Yvaine.
Maybe that would be a good reason to stay at Lakeview for a bit.
"Now that the boring details are out of the way," Farengar grabbed his book, "tell me all about the undead you fought."
XXX
Another book Vilkas pocketed and didn't properly read, just like Hrakni's journals. I wonder, will it come bite him in the butt later?