Vengeance

I met with Vilkas in his quarters the next morning, just after sunrise. He had spoken of departing right away the previous night but I suggested that cooler heads would prevail in the morning. He thought I didn't want to counter-attack, so I had to settle him down and let him know that I would help but not when emotions were still raw. I could understand his impatience but we couldn't just go running into the lion's den. We needed to formulate at least some sort of basic plan.

Then we'd wipe out the Silver Hand, once and for all.

Aela had handed over every single bit of information she had about the enemy and we soon had an idea of where the Silver Hand headquarters was located. It was going to be a long trek.

"Driftshade Refuge. I've never heard of it," Vilkas muttered.

"This isn't going to be easy, Vilkas. Not only is it on the other side of Skyrim, but it appears to be high in the mountains, at least that's what the map says. Are you sure you don't want to take anyone else?"

"No," he stated adamantly, "This is something for you and I to handle. Farkas isn't in the right state of mind and neither is Aela, if I'm being honest. And don't even get me started on the other members." He then glared at me. "This is for you and me to handle. When we are done, they will only sing songs of the Companions for the rest of time."

'You think either of us are in the right state of mind to do this? Your blood is up and you want nothing but vengeance. And I'm feeling no better than Aela when it comes to feeling nothing but guilt. We're responsible for what's happened. We forced the Silver Hand to respond in such a manner.' I didn't say any of that, of course.

"I wish to leave right away, Ragnar. Are you prepared for what is to come?"

I met his eyes again. The determination was there but I also noticed the beast within. We Companions spoke often of honour and glory in battle. I believed I always fought with honour, though I know in recent weeks that had diminished in the work I had been completing on behalf of Aela. The only justification I gave myself was that I never turned. I had the power of the wolf in my veins, and I used the advantages I had when still a man, but I never turned into a beast itself. I still fought the enemy as a man and I always gave the enemy a clean death. I only hoped that the Gods would eventually forgive me whenever I chose to cure myself.

"Let me grab my things from home and I'll meet you at the stables, Vilkas."

Lydia offered concern as I packed my things back at Breezehome. She trusted me to do the right thing and she understood the reasons why I was travelling with Vilkas. But she was still worried. What did surprise me before I walked out the door is that she actually hugged me. Then she gave me this funny look that I didn't understand until I was on my horse and riding alongside Vilkas, heading east towards Rorikstead again. When I thought about it, I hoped it was only because she cared for my safety and wasn't a signal of any deeper feelings. We had spent a lot of time together recently and, I'll be honest, I liked Lydia and I enjoyed her company. But, like Aela, I only considered her a friend. A close friend, sure, but only that.

Vilkas and I agreed that we'd try and make good time and arrive in Dawnstar by the evening then complete the journey to Driftshade Refuge tomorrow morning. Other than that, the plan was simple. Infiltrate the old fort, wipe out any resistance, retrieve the fragments of Wuuthrad that the Silver Hand had managed to steal, then find their leader and exact vengeance upon him.

"Any idea on who their lead is?" I asked.

"None. I just hope he isn't a Nord."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because any Nord I fight and kill I would still send to Sovngarde, if they were to face me in a battle of honour and fought me with courage. But whoever this Silver Hand leader is, I hope to consign their soul to Oblivion for eternity."

"You have hate in your heart, Vilkas."

He turned and glared at me again. "Of course I do, Ragnar! They took the one man who meant everything to my brother and I. Kodlak was like a father to us, just like he is to Aela and the others, just like he was to you. And he was murdered. There is only one reaction to that. The Silver Hand will be destroyed."

I said nothing, because he was right. My one regret was that I had spoken to Kodlak a number of times, but never truly 'spoken' to him, if you know what I mean. And I also knew that Vilkas was treading a dark path. But I wanted to help my Shield-Brother. I hoped the gods would forgive both of us for whatever we were about to carry out.

We passed most of the journey towards Morthal in silence, trotting through Rorikstead not long after lunch-time, not stopping as Vilkas had brought a bit of food to eat so we didn't have to stop. The weather remained clear until we came to the outskirts of Morthal as we turned east, the mist descending and generally taking a turn for the worse. We didn't pass through Morthal itself, the road to Dawnstar continuing east, and I wondered if we'd actually taken a longer route. I didn't say anything to Vilkas as he continued to brood in silence.

Once past Morthal, the weather truly descended as the snow and wind both whipped in from the mountains in the distance. We both took out our thick fur coats to fight off the cold and the sky took on an ominous darkness that promised only heavy rain, heavy snow and definitely thunderstorms. It wasn't long until lightning flashed across the sky and thunder started to rumble. 'Wonder if people out there think it's another dragon attack?'

"Ustengrav is off to the west somewhere," I stated, simply trying to make conversation, riding close to Vilkas as the weather continued to worsen.

"What's there?"

"Ever heard of Jurgen Windcaller?"

"No."

"He was the founder of the Greybeards. They sent me there to retrieve a horn."

"A drinking horn?" he asked, actually sounding somewhat enthusiastic. 'Should have known. Fighting and booze.'

"I think it may have been. It was either that or something he blew into like a trumpet."

"And the Greybeards sent you to get a horn?"

"It was my final trial to prove that I'm Dragonborn."

"But you can Shout? What more evidence did they need?"

I shrugged. "I guess I had to prove my prowess in battle."

"You've done more than enough with the Companions, Ragnar. You have all our respect as a warrior. And I'm not just saying that because you're also Dragonborn."

"Thanks."

"No need. It is why you were made a member of the Circle so quickly. One question, though, if you don't mind."

"Ask away, Vilkas."

"You've undergone the ritual the rest of us have. Would you consider a cure if one were possible?"

I could do nothing but shrug. "Perhaps. What about you, Vilkas?"

He nodded. "Aye. I have thought about it for a long time now. So has my brother. We're true Nords and we both dream of Sovngarde."

"Do you have any idea of how you can be cured?"

He shook his head. "No. And now Kodlak is dead and he dreamed of a cure too."

"We'll think of something."

"Aye. We will. I just hope there is some way we can save Kodlak's soul."

"I hope so too."

The conversation helped thaw the chill between Vilkas and I until we reached Dawnstar for the evening. I wouldn't have blamed the man if he, in return, blamed Aela and I for the events that have unfolded since my trial. That was our first run-in with the Silver Hand and events had almost spiralled out of control since then. I'll be honest. I blamed myself too. In fact, that's too simple. I was wracked with guilt and part of me simply wanted to stop and weep for the loss of Kodlak. I'm sure Aela was wracked with guilt if her body language around Jorrvaskr was any indication of any inner turmoil she was experiencing.

Covered in snow and chilled to the bone, we arrived in Dawnstar after dark, heading straight for the inn, tying our horses up outside before basking in the warmth of the fire. It only took a couple of minutes to realise all was not well. Vilkas and I shared a glance and he simply stated, whatever the problem is, it had nothing to do with us. We had a job to do.

We spent coin on a room each for the evening, a large meal that filled our bellies and a tankard or two of mead as we conversed with the locals. They soon realised we were Companions but, if asked, simply said we were in the area on a contract. News about what had taken place at Jorrvaskr the previous evening hadn't reached this part of Skyrim, or so it seemed.

We woke at first light the next morning and, during breakfast, discussed what we should do. I had the map of the Hold and it appeared Driftshade Refuge was far away from any of the main roads. After discussing a number of ideas, we eventually agreed that we'd simply go by foot, paying the innkeeper to mind our horses until our return. We opened the door to be greeted by a chill wind but at least the snow had cleared, though the sun, which did appear in the sky, provided next to no warmth.

We barely followed the road for a few minutes before Vilkas pointed towards a nearby mountain range, thankfully not heading into the clouds above us, and said we needed to walk up there. With no real path to follow, we trudged through the knee-deep snow, weight down by our armour and weapons, our feet freezing in our boots within minutes, and I simply hoped we wouldn't be exhausted by the time we reached our objective.

Apart from passing what appeared to be an empty lighthouse to our left, our only company were a few stray goats and a wild fox. The wind continued to whip down the mountain into our faces, thankful that our coats were still relatively dry, buttoned up so only our eyes would have shown. Vilkas had taken the lead and simply strode forward, looking back every so often to make sure I wasn't falling behind.

I have no idea how long we struggled for until we crested a ride and the outline of the fort appeared in the distance through the snowfall. Vilkas raised a hand to halt, slowing his pace and crouching down, hoping the few trees and snowberry shrubs may provide some cover as we approached the outer wall. What may have been once an imposing fort had clearly fallen apart over the centuries.

"What do you think, Ragnar?"

"Two options. I take out the one on top of the fort and hope the other two near the door don't realise where the arrow came from, then we fall upon them. Two, and slightly more difficult, I sneak around, take the one out on top quietly then we fall upon the other two."

Vilkas thought for a moment. "Option one. Take the one out on top and then we can simply fight the other two one on one."

"Okay."

The wind was ferocious considering how high we were so this was always going to be a difficult shot. I placed my sword and shield on the ground so I could get the right balance before stringing the arrow and feeling the tension in the string. I then aimed, but not straight at the Silver Hand on the roof. I had to take into account the fact the wind was into my face and slightly from the left. Once I was sure, I let go. The arrow went straight where I wanted, centre mass of the Silver Hand, and he fell down where he stood, thankfully still on the roof. The two standing guard by the door had no idea. Vilkas and I surged forward, war cries rising from our throat. They actually appeared stunned at our sudden appearance and were barely ready by the time we fell upon then.

We escaped the chill wind inside the entrance, taking a moment to take off our coats. There was no discussion of tactics. It was quite simple. Kill them all. And don't die in the process.

"For Kodlak, Vilkas."

He nodded. "For Kodlak, Ragnar."

And then we slaughtered them. Was any of it honourable? I guess that depends on your point of view. I did not turn and neither did Vilkas. We handled them as warriors, our swords running red with blood as we cut a swathe the deeper we descended into the fort. None of the enemy begged for mercy as they knew there would be no quarter given.

Vilkas fought with a ferocity I'd barely seen before. It wasn't long before he was coated in blood, nearly from head to toe. The whites of his eyes stood out compared to the redness of his face. I think the beast came very close to escaping the more Silver Hand we cut down.

As Aela and I had found at Gallows Rock, it wasn't long until Vilkas and I found evidence of torture. Not of any Companions but we found numerous werewolf bodies, many of them with their heads cut off and mounted on pikes. We also found another couple of werewolves still alive but, as Aela and I had also done, Vilkas sniffed the air and proclaimed them to be feral and they would like attack us as they would the group that had jailed them. Neither Vilkas or I wanted to put them down so we left them there. I did wonder if that was a crueller fate.

We continued to descend into the bowels of the fort, wondering how far below the ground we were now. 'I had no idea the Empire built such forts!' We continued to find groups of Silver Hand, I hesitate to call warriors, perhaps mercenaries would be a better word. Not matter what we called them, we continued to cut them down. That's not to say it was easy. Many had clearly been well-trained and fighting in narrow hallways was difficult at the best of times. When Vilkas had his blood up and continually charged into the fight, I spent more time keeping people off his back then focusing on doing my own thing.

Not a single room went unchecked. Those we found asleep in beds had their throats cut. That was when I knew we had crossed a line, but just as the actions of Aela and I had forced the attack on Jorrvaskr, their attack had broken us apart and I'll admit, I was looking for vengeance too. I did not have the hate in my heart that Vilkas did but, feeling as responsible as I did, thoughts of honour in battle soon disappeared as the blood-letting continued unabated, bodies continuing to fall at our feet. I wondered what both Vilkas and I looked like as we both knew we were approaching the end.

We looked up a set of stairs towards a closed door. "I think this is it, Ragnar," Vilkas said quietly.

"Aye."

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"What we've done today?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I always thought I was honourable. Have always tried to fight with honour. What we've done today… Will the gods forgive me?"

"If they forgive you, then they'll do the same for me."

"I want my soul to go to Sovngarde." He looked at me, his face dripping with blood. "Do you think they would allow me in after this?"

"You've always been honourable until today?"

"Aye."

"Then I guess you could pray for forgiveness. I'm not really sure how it works, to be honest."

"And you, Ragnar? What about your soul?"

"It will recover eventually. But, first, we must deal with whatever we find behind that door."

"For Kodlak, Ragnar?"

"For Kodlak."

Vilkas led the way up the stairs, kicking the door open and cutting down the first Silver Hand in seconds. I followed in behind, charging towards a second Silver Hand, smacking his face with my shield, causing him to stagger backwards before I put my sword through his chest. I turned and weaved just in time as another Silver Hand came at me with an axe, hitting him in the face with the hilt of my sword, hearing the crack of his teeth before I elbows him in the side of the head. I then swept his legs and put my sword through his throat.

I turned to see Vilkas in single combat with another Silver Hand, this one dressed from head to toe in heavy armour. A second Silver Hand was watching that fight before turning towards me. Armed like me, I beckoned her to come forward. She was nimble, I'll give her that, but I just used my strength. Even when hitting her shield, I know she felt that through her arm and up into her shoulder. She didn't stagger badly but it was enough to know that I had the upper hand. I saw the fear in her eyes but there would be no quarter. She was a Silver Hand. And she would die like all the rest.

I eventually knocked the sword out of her hand and she dropped her shield, possibly thinking I would accept her surrender as she fell to her knees. But I was surprised when she looked up at me defiantly.

"Know that I will travel to Sovngarde, beast."

I sent her to Sovngarde.

I turned to see Vilkas still in battle with the last Silver Hand. Dressed as they were, I could only assume this was their leader. Both were armed with great-swords, the clang of steel as the two giant swords met echoing in the otherwise silent room. I offered to help but Vilkas denied that request. This was personal and he wanted to do it himself. I knew Vilkas was a strong man, a fearsome warrior and worthy of great respect, but this Silver Hand, whoever he or she was, would have been worthy of the same respect, had he not worked for an organisation that wanted the end of our existence.

I kept my sword in arm as I beckoned Vilkas on to draw blood and then take his head, just like I had done to the Glenmoril Witches. But he didn't really need me on the side-line, urging him on. Each swing carried all the strength in his arm, all the hate in his heart and all the vengeance of the Companions. Whoever was behind the helmet, they were responsible for launching their attacks, and they were responsible for the murder of our Harbinger. I wouldn't be surprised if Vilkas took his head back to Jorrvaskr when he completed our victory.

"End him, Vilkas!" I roared.

Vilkas hammered into the Silver Hand leader with everything he had and it took the slightly mistake for the great-sword to be knocked free and Vilkas was victories. The Silver Hand leader fell to his knees as Vilkas stepped forward and grabbed the helmet, ripping it from his head.

"You're a Nord," Vilkas muttered without surprise, "Why have you done this?"

The man simply sneered and spat at the ground. "You speak of a company of honourable warriors. But you sold your souls to Hircine centuries ago. You besmirch the very name of Ysgramor and his Companions. By rights, you should not exist. You should be driven from Whiterun and Skyrim. You should be driven into the sea. But not back to our ancient homeland. No, you should be driven into the arms of the damned Akaviri! But know this, there are still those out there who know your secret, who know your shame. They will one day rise up and finally end your order, once and for all."

"How did you find out?" I asked.

He looked at me and laughed. "And there he is. The so-called Dragonborn. To think someone of your bloodline could stand shoulder to shoulder with a group of daedra worshippers. Talos himself must weep, knowing the gift of Akatosh is being spurned by someone like you."

"Answer the question!" Vilkas demanded, placing the tip of the sword at his throat.

"Kill me and be done with it, beast. I shall answer no more of your questions. Just know that this is only the beginning."

Vilkas didn't even hesitate as he lifted the sword and took his head.

We searched the room and found the fragments of Wuuthrad hidden in a strongbox, thankfully unlocked. I also found another Totem that Aela would want to see, placing it in my small pack. Vilkas looked at me curiously but said nothing. I suggested to Vilkas we should clean our faces first, making sure most of the blood was washed off before we looked for an exit. We eventually found a barred door, wandering through to find ourselves back at the entrance to the fort, exiting into the bitter cold and a dark sky, the last vestiges of light over the horizon about to disappear. Without a backwards glance, we hurried back to Dawnstar.

I don't think either of us slept well that night. I can't remember exactly what I dreamed about but I woke not feeling fully rested, and that wasn't just because of the beast-blood. There was something unsettling about Dawnstar that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Vilkas felt it too, mentioning at breakfast of disturbing images that he knew little about. He didn't think it had anything to do with slaughtering the Silver Hand, and I agreed.

We mounted our horses soon afterwards and rode back to Whiterun. We didn't exactly canter but wanted to make good time, hoping to return home just before or just after dark. It didn't particularly matter but I certainly wanted to simply get out of my armour and, being honest, get very, very drunk. I'm pretty sure Vilkas would have agreed with that sentiment. We didn't speak much, if at all, during the entire ride except when we had a quick lunch with food we purchased from Dawnstar. Otherwise, considering neither of us had a great night's sleep, it was a case of trying to stay away in the saddle.

After hearing horror stories of bandits plaguing Skyrim, of all the wild beasts it was possible to run into during a journey, I was surprised that I rarely had any issues travelling from one side of Skyrim to the other. Maybe it was because I always stuck to main roads unless I had no choice. Maybe bandits simply kept to their forts because there were still patrols to keep the peace. Or maybe I was just lucky and managed to complete most journeys without hassle. Travelling with someone like Vilkas probably helped too. The man just looked intimidating. I was a little taller than him but Vilkas was broad.

Whiterun was quiet when we arrived back, the city lit up by braziers as darkness had fallen. I heard music from inside the Bannered Mare, along with plenty of laughter and the sound of conversation. Part of me yearned to enter, grab a tankard and lose myself in it. But I stayed alongside Vilkas as we headed to Jorrvaskr. Inside, the rest of our Companions had already started the wake.

"Did you get the pieces?" Eorlund asked.

"Aye. We did," Vilkas asked.

"Give them to me and I'll start working on building Wuuthrad tomorrow morning."

"How long will it take to complete?" I asked.

"Even with the Skyforge, it will take some days to perfect it. This isn't a job to be done half-right."

"Of course."

Eorlund then waved me closer. "Ragnar, if I may ask a favour?" he whispered. I nodded. "Kodlak kept a piece of Wuuthrad to himself. It's somewhere in his room but, I'll be honest, I don't particularly want to go in there. Would you do it for me please?"

I looked around the room and figured I was probably the best person to do it, considering only Vilkas and I were still sober, and I doubted Vilkas would do it. "I'll go grab it now."

The walk from the doorway leading into the living quarters to Kodlak's sitting room was one of the longest in my life. It hit home that he was really gone. I'd never walk into that room and see him sitting there, reading a book or talking with a Companion, imparting his many years of knowledge and wisdom. Opening the doors to his bedroom was even worse as I looked around and saw mementos from a life truly lived. I had no idea where he would have kept it but I eventually found it after some searching his bedside table. Next to the piece of Wuuthrad was his journal. I felt guilty thinking about, even guiltier when I picked it up, but part of me wondered if he'd written anything about how he could or would have been cured within the journal.

My hands shaking, I opened it and started reading. When I was finished, I simply placed the journal next to me and quietly wept. I'd simply had no idea about any of what he had written. I eventually dried my eyes and simply sat in silence, not really feeling up to even moving. I felt… deflated. And completely heart-broken. 'I wish he'd said something.'

I must have been missing a while because I heard a cleared throat, looking up to see Aela in the doorway. "Ragnar?" she asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

I shrugged. "Fine," I replied, lying through my teeth.

"What have you got there?"

"Kodlak's journal. And a piece of Wuuthrad." Then I remember, reaching into my pack. "I have something for you too. I think I found another totem."

Her eyes lit up as I handed her the little wooden trinket. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"What does…" She paused. "No. I don't want to know."

"About the journal?" She nodded. "There was nothing much about a cure."

"Oh…" I shrugged again. "Ragnar?"

"Yes?"

"Meet me in the Underforge in ten minutes."

"Huh?"

"Just do it. Please."

"Okay."

I waited what I through were ten minutes before I wandered back into the main hall to hear my Companions singing songs of triumph yet of mourning, of brave but fallen warriors. I would have joined in but I wondered what Aela wanted. I had an idea but…

The centre basin in the Underforge was now lit by a small fire. On the ground next to the fire was a layer of furs. On top of the furs waiting for me was Aela. I came to a stop as I could only drink in the sight. The fiery red hair trailing down over her shoulders and resting above her small bare breasts. Her face was clear of the war paint she always wore and she was, I'll admit, beautiful, though smiling at me somewhat awkwardly. She had an athletic body that showed the scars of battle, a flat stomach below which were two fantastic legs, just like Lydia had said. I let my eyes run down her once or twice before my eyes met hers.

"Ragnar?" I think I managed to mumble a reply. "Despite the fire, it is cold in here. Are you going to join me or not?"

By Talos, did I join her. It had been a while since I had last laid with a woman. From memory, it was probably some tavern wench I like spent coin on in Chorrol. But Aela was unlike any woman I'd ever been with before. This was not an act of love or, at least, I don't think it was. As I said, I didn't feel that way about her. I didn't think she felt that way about me. I think, that night, we just needed each other. But it was certainly one of the best nights I'd had since arriving in Skyrim.

Much later, as we huddled under furs to battle the cold, her head resting on my shoulder as I had an arm wrapped around her, she cried. Not about the act we'd just completed. I know why she was and I didn't blame her one little bit. So I just let her cry. No point asking awkward questions or saying something stupid. When she stopped, I kissed her and I think in that instant we both knew it wasn't love though there was an attraction. 'Though if she does want it again, I'm not going to say no.'

"His funeral is tonight," she said as we finally dressed sometime the next morning.

Not even Mehrunes Dagon himself could have stopped me from being there.