Chapter 86

He felt his legs screaming out for him to slow down. He struggled for air as he stumbled along through the aim red glow that choked the woods. It was hot. Sweat ran down his cheeks as his side ached. He fell to the ground as an exposed root caught his foot. Gaeolin coughed into the grass as he finally allowed himself to give in to the need for rest.

He knew he could not stay here. The fires were going to spread, and he needed to get as far away from Woodhearth as possible. He could see the birds above fleeing the blaze the invaders had set. He tried to stand, but found himself unable. He let out a sob of frustration, instead making his way on hands and knees to the slope to the river below. His body took the cubs and bruises of the downward slide with no shortage of complaint. By the time he reached the water, there were more than a few bleeding cuts. He managed to sit up, washing his wounds half heartedly.

He had no idea where to go. Everything he had was behind him, burning to the ground. His heart clenched as he remembered the flames as they had consumed the bow that his mother had carved for him. He had tried to get it. But she had grabbed him, throwing him from the house into the bushes behind their home. She had been afraid. Gaeolin had never known his mother to be afraid of anything before.

“Mo mhac (My son), you have to run. Don’t look back. No matter what happens, you have to get out of here. They will be here soon.”

“Run, Galdhaelyn! Get the children out of here!” His father’s voice cut through the sounds of the screams. Gaeolin’s mother hugged him tighter, pushing her son away.

“Find Ohmret. Get yourselves to safety. Head for Cyrodiil. Don’t wait for us.” She drew her short sword, running back inside the house. Within moments, he could hear the sound of her swords doing their work. He was frozen for a second as she fought with the men who were invading their home. But as the sounds of metal on metal grew louder, he remembered her instructions, tearing through the underbrush as fast as his legs would carry him.

And here he was, alone in the woods. He knew he should move on, but he was too tired. His body thanked him as he lay back in the shallow water. The cool felt good on his aching muscles. He closed his eyes, wishing the pain in his chest were as easily remedied. He might have drifted to sleep, were it not for the low growl that came from the water nearby.

He sat up, his heart racing as he caught sight of it. An alit was just south of him along the bank. Its disproportionate body might have seemed comical if the maw didn’t prove equally as fearsome. The rows of sharp teeth split wide in a roar as if began charging the young wood elf. Gaeolin jumped to his feet and made for the road with all he could muster. He slipped on the bank, digging into the muck with his fingers to try and get any and all traction he was able to find. He only barely made it high enough for the creature to snap just shy of his feet. It glared at him, growling in fury at the loss of the meal. He pulled himself up until he reached the plateau of the road. He collapsed and fought for breath.

His clothes were ruined. They now carried the stains of mud, grass, and blood. The boy fell to his knees, letting the onslaught of emotions finally take over. He cried so hard, he thought he would die. He knew in his heart that his mother and father were dead. For all he knew, so was his little brother. He had tried to find him. He looked in all of the places Ommret used to play and hide. No matter how far he walked, or any of the corners he searched. There were only trees, animals, and the orange glow of spreading flames. Why? Why would anyone do this? His cries of anguish were starting to make his side hurt. The longer he cried, the worse the pain became. He clutched the spot, wishing it would stop. It was warm to the touch. Almost as if it were infected. He wiped his tears, lifting his shirt to look. He yelled as he saw the putrid, green tinted circle of cuts. Puss dripped from the wound. An unearthly screech pulled his attention to the road in front of him.

A strange creature hovered above the pavement. Tentacles wriggled around the body, a chain hanging across the front of it. Books were fastened into it, glowing red eyes piercing his soul. He backed away as it opened its mouth to show the rings of deadly teeth inside. It swooped in, latching onto him as he screamed.

********

The atmosphere in the Great Hall of the Skaal was filled with an anxious worry. Faendal sat on the edge of the bed. He wrung the extra water out of the cloth, bringing it to Gaeolin’s head. It had been days… No matter what Auroth or Storn tried, his fever would not break. Gaeolin squirmed beneath the covers. His face furrowed in his sleep. It made Faendal wince with pity as his lover whimpered.

“Máthair… Tá eagla orm…” (Mother… I am scared…)

Inigo paced at the end of the bed. He watched as the two elves worked to help their friend. He had seen Gaeolin go through a lot of danger, even watched him die once. But this… This was the worst he had seen him. He couldn’t say for sure what his friend was muttering. All the Khajiit knew was that he had never known Gaeolin to sound like this before. “Is there nothing more that we can do for him?”

Auroth didn’t look away from his charge. The healing magic was draining him, but he dared not lose his focus. “I am doing everything I know to. Whatever this is, it is not something that normal magic has a lot of hope to undo.”

“We have to find some other way to help.” Faendal re-wet the rag. He looked around the room. “Where is Storn? Shouldn’t he have come back by now?”

“My father needed to take some of the herbs for a blessing at the wind stone. He will return soon. He is going to try one of our rituals.” Frea took a seat. “I told Gaeolin that these books were a danger. It pains me to see how right I was.”

Faendal took a peek beneath the bandages that wrapped around Gaeolin’s waist. He quickly replaced the dressing, having to stifle the need to gag at the smell. No matter how often the villagers tried to clean and readminister the salves and poultices they had the infection continued to become worse. Somehow, the promise of another Skaal ritual did not inspire confidence. “Maybe the wizard can help us.” He looked to Auroth. The altmer shrugged.

“Neloth may have some answers, but I don’t think we have enough time to go to him and return without risking that Gaeolin will die in that time.”

Faendal ran his hand over Gaeolin’s cheek. “Then it’s up to me. Daedric magic did this,” he set down the rag, gathering his bow and quiver, “it stands to reason that feadric magic might also be the answer. Gaeolin had a note that mentioned another of these tomes hidden in Benkongerike. I will search the realm of the Woodland Man myself, and find some way to help Gaeolin. You two keep working here. I will be back shortly.”

Inigo caught him. “Faendal, you should not go into one of these books alone. Surely, seeing what doing so has done to Gaeolin must make you see this. If you must go, I must accompany you. Gaeolin would have it no other way.”

Faendal looked as if he were going to argue. He considered Inigo, knowing that everything he had said was true. With a nod, he agreed. “Very well. You make a good point. Do you need to get anything before we go?”

“Not as long as you are okay handling the archery side of things. I haven’t gotten any arrows yet.”

The wood elf turned to Frea and Auroth. “Please, look after him while we are gone.”

“I will not leave his side.” Frea replied.

Auroth grunted. “I can’t exactly stop healing him anytime soon, I just hope you two know what you are getting yourselves into.” He turned to look at Faendal. “Be vigilant. Mora is cunning, and will try to take advantage of you. He will know how desperate you are.”

Faendal nodded, making his way down the stairs to the door. He shivered as the icy winds of Solstheim whipped against him. The sky had begun to unload its burden of snow onto the land. He nodded to some of the villagers as they passed them. The Skaal had been very kind, even giving them each a cloak of thick bear pelt to help fight off the cold of the island’s northern region. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, Faendal struck out toward the west. His pace was quick, his feet stepping lightly in the drifts. Inigo kept pace, his breath coming in billowing clouds of mist against the chill.

“I know we are in a hurry, but we should not push too hard. It will take us until midday tomorrow to reach the cave. No amount of rushing will change that. I want to help Gaeolin too,” Inigo panted, “but we will be of no help if we freeze or end up being too weak when we finally reach the book. Trust me, the true test will be after we locate it. Nothing we face before hand will compare to the trials of the library.”

Faendal slowed to a stop. “I know… I am just worried. I know he won’t last if we don’t find some way to help him. I do not know what he is dreaming of in his sleep, but he is afraid. Whatever manner of curse has been set on him must be lifted. I can’t bear to see him like this.”

Inigo let his face fall. “It is difficult for all of us. We all know how strong Gaeolin is, and are concerned to see him so debilitated. I can promise you though, that this is not the first time he has faced down death with a stubbornness that he will not admit to. He will come through, especially with us fighting by his side. He is as lucky to have us, as we are to have him.”

Faendal smiled. “Come on then. We should at least try to reach the mountains before nightfall. If we are to make camp, I want to be somewhere that we can be shielded from the wind.” He started off again, though at a much more reasonable pace. “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve gotten the chance to travel together. At least, just the two of us.”

Inigo chuckled. “You are correct. Though, I do wish we had gotten the chance under less stressful circumstances.”

“Recently, all of our circumstances have been stressful.”

“Maybe so,” Inigo admitted. “Still, I think it was worth the struggle to make sure you were alive and well. In any case, I am afraid that Gaeolin would not have allowed us to ignore your absence. He was quite irrational when we first discovered you had been abducted by these fanatics.”

Faendal shook his head. “He’s quite good at assigning me more importance than I deserve.”

“Importance, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, my friend.”

“Maybe, but I don’t have to agree with it.” The bosmer squinted through the swirling snow. If there was a path, it had been obscured by the weather quite some time ago. Using his best estimate they pair continued on in a downward slope into a deep gully between mountains. “Tell me something Inigo. You often have scraps of wisdom.” He blinked as a snowflake deftly managed to fall into his eyes. “Have you ever been in love?”

“I have. And as harsh as it was, I do hope that I can find love again. The joys of it far outweigh the pain in my experience. Why do you ask?”

“How do you avoid disappointing your love? He holds me so high, I am afraid that I have no choice but to fail him.” Faendal turned, his expression hurt. “I tried so hard to be of help, and now I have brought him halfway across the world, and caused him to become injured as a result of my failure. If only I had been able to stop the cultists at Lakeview… And the way he looks at me, like I am the only thing in the world. What do I do? I can’t live up to these expectations.”

Inigo took the elf by the shoulder. “My friend, one cannot live their life with that kind of thought.” He smiled. “As discouraging as it is going to sound, I have to tell you that in love there is no avoiding disappointing someone at some point. It may not be in an overly meaningful way, but we all fall short of what others see in us from time to time. No one is perfect. I can promise you though that Gaeolin loves you with every fiber of his being. You cannot control how he sees you, nor should you try. Focus on being who you are in your heart, and I doubt you will find yourself lacking in his eyes. Mortals, and even the gods themselves, cannot always stop themselves from stepping wrong occasionally. It is kind of you to care so much for him to worry, but it is a worry he would not enjoy. Trust him to tell you if there is a problem.”

Faendal returned his smile, nodding gratefully. “I see why he admires you so. You have a kind heart, Inigo. Thank you for listening.”

“I am always here if you need to talk.” He flicked on ear as the snow began to fall in large flakes. They were about the size of large pebbles now, clinging to everything they touched. “Shall we press on? I fear we may have to stop sooner than we wanted if the weather keeps heading in this direction.”

The wind tore at their cloaks, but could not touch the feeling of companionship that had begun to grow between them. With feet sinking through the white fluff nearly coming up to their knees, the pair set off toward the shelter of the cliffs ahead.