Chapter Thirty Three

The standard chill of the plains of Whiterun hold was somehow worse today. A frigid wind came down from the northern mountains, leaving frost on the few tufts of grass stubborn enough to grow. Gaeolin strained his eyes against the brightness of the setting sun. Despite feeding he still felt a great discomfort being out this early. Auroth followed him, scanning the plains with keen eyes. At the rear of the procession walked Inigo. He walked with his hand on his bow, fur standing on end at the silence they journeyed through.

“Something seems wrong to me.” He said. “We’ve seen nothing more than a hawk for the past day. Where are all the game animals?”

Auroth nodded in agreement. “Omens of our quarry. Iizyolviing’s return to the area likely scared most of the game toward Haafingar or Falkreath. If I were a deer or an elk, I wouldn’t just wait around to be hunted by him.” 

Gaeolin could see his point, and a similar attitude seemed to be with the people of the hold as well. They had run across a farmer and his wife traveling toward Riften two days ago. They claimed their farm had been destroyed by a dragon, his icy breath had ravaged their crops, and his jaws held what remained of their livestock. They had seemed utterly broken. The party had offered to guide them to the nearest town, but they refused. Gaeolin had instead insisted that they accept what little gold they could persuade them to take.  At the end of the encounter, the couple had continued on with eighty septims. 

“Why are we approaching from the southern side of the mountain?” Gaeolin asked. It seemed like following the roads north would have been easier than trekking across the wilds.  

Auroth looked amused. “Trust me, you don’t want to climb on the northern face of this mountain. It has a long history of strong storms, even without a frost drake roosting on it’s peak. I can only imagine it would be even more treacherous now.” He scratched at the stubble of his chin. “Besides, there is an old road up toward Labyrinthian that should make things a little easier. At least, for the last leg of the trip.”

Yeah, before the fight… Gaeolin had been worrying about the inevitable confrontation ever since Arngeir had told him. He had trouble bringing the last dragon they had fought down, and he had been able to shout then.  The idea of facing not just any dragon, but one of the greatest Generals of the Dragon War without his thu’um was less than inspiring. True, they were stronger than that time though. He and Inigo had grown to be more capable than they were, and Auroth was formidable both with his hammer and his spells. But the memory of how strong willed their opponent had been shook him.

Iizyolviing could easily shout them into submission the instant the fighting began. To expect him to allow them to face him on even terms was the very definition of foolhardy. Perhaps it would be a good idea for them to set up an ambush. How did one set up an ambush for a gigantic flying lizard? He was called from his thoughts by a rumbling sound behind him. 

Inigo held his stomach, giving a meek smile. “Excuse me, my friends. It would seem that my gut is saying it is time for dinner.” The elves looked to the west. The sun would be sliding behind the horizon before too long. They had agreed to spend at least half of the night traveling to make it to the foothills as quickly as possible. Gaeolin was inclined to wait until they were farther traveled to make camp. Auroth, however, looked like he needed to stop as well.

“Why don’t we find a place to camp for a few hours? We’ve made good progress already. No need to push ourselves to the breaking point.” Inigo wore the face of one relieved. Auroth said nothing, nodding his agreement in silence.

Inigo pointed off to the east. “There are some crags over there that would provide some shelter from the wind.” They were less than ideal, but good enough for a short respite. The three adventurers made for the point. Once there Auroth began making the fire. He tried striking flint to start with, but soon grew tired of the repeated failures. With a wave of his hand, flames sprung to life in the small gathering of deadwood they had collected. The warmth was welcomed by the two living members of the group. Gaeolin at this point prefered to admire the blaze from a safe distance. 

“You never asked your question.” Auroth looked over to Gaeolin as Inigo began to set up the cooking pot. “In the hall, back at the monastery.”

“I didn’t think it was the best time to bring it up.” The wood elf had to think back to it. “Besides, it isn’t that important.”

“You wanted to know what made me change my thoughts about the dominion.” Inigo hummed to himself as he cooked. It was obvious that he found their conversations awkward to overhear. Gaeolin didn’t answer. He looked off into the distance, studying the landscape. “I can understand your skepticism. Most high elves seem to be in agreement where the Thalmor agenda is concerned.” Auroth prodded the fire with a stick. “Our superiority is all I was taught for a long number of years. During my studies, I reached out to learn about the rest of Tamriel. An unconventional mindset, but it was tolerated. I suppose my tutors thought knowledge of the enemy would be an asset.”

“Most military groups want officers to be able to intuit their opponents.”

Auroth nodded. “Trouble was, the more I learned, the more I wondered why.” He looked across the plains. “Why were we so much better? Magic? Other races can use magic, and some have abilities we do not. We certainly aren’t the greatest warriors. The Redguards have most beat in that vein. As time went on, I felt more and more that it was all just ridiculous intolerance for our neighbors. As you can imagine, that didn’t really make me very popular amongst my peers.”

“Did you fight?” Gaeolin never looked at him.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Auroth gritted his teeth. “Too many places. I guess the most important battle I was a part of was the battle of the Red Ring. I wasn’t around the Imperial City though, my detachment was meant to cut off the nord reinforcements from Bruma.”

“If what I’ve read is correct, you didn’t succeed.” Gaeolin glanced over. “The Nord troops broke the Aldmeri lines and allowed the Emperor to regroup and take back the city.”

“You’re right. The strike against Bruma failed. The battle was very confusing, and my best chance to escape and flee to Skyrim.” Auroth gazed into the fire. The light played on the edge of his scars, his normally sour expression softened to blankness. “I hated what they wanted me to be. All I wanted was to learn, to experience.  My superiors wanted to conquer Tamriel. A whole world of what they wanted life to resemble.” He turned. “I wanted no part of it.”

“You deserted…”

Auroth sneered. “Yes. I turned tail and ran. Most would call me a coward for it, as I’m sure you are willing to think.  I abandoned my position as a matter of personal choice. I would rather live on the run, a coward and traitor, than a murderer.”

Gaeolin considered Auroth. “I think I would have done the same.”

Inigo looked at the pair of them. This was the closest thing to a friendly conversation they had ever shared. It was definitely a step forward for Gaeolin. It wasn’t as hateful as the Khajiit had unfortunately come to expect from his friend.

“I know why you hate my people, Gaeolin. I don’t pretend to think you are wrong for it. Just understand,” he paused, “you don’t have to live with the blame.”

As night fell, the howls of a distant wolf pack began to pierce the darkness. Gaeolin led the way, having his bow drawn in case they met up with the nocturnal hunters. They could now see the bases of the mountains closing before them. A small burial site stood to the west, it’s stone markers like three ominous figures watching them. Auroth’s path indeed revealed itself. It wound up as little more than a worn spot in the underbrush. A strange sound met his ears. He couldn’t quite describe it, turning each way to try and pinpoint it. 

“Do you hear that?” He whispered to Inigo.

“Yes.” The cat came to kneel beside him. “It sounds like some kind of wind chime, but less musical… If that makes sense.”

Auroth made his way in front of them, muttering something under his breath. A silver light wound its way into the air like a wisp of smoke. It wandered through the trees, coming to catch on one of the trunks up ahead. It began to glow a soft purple, morphing into the shape not unlike a person. “A spriggan grove…” The high elf raised his left hand with a ball of flames in his palm. “Be ready.” They all took different paths to surround the creature. Auroth headed straight into the grove, Inigo going to the northwest, and Gaeolin heading to the east to try and get a good first shot.

The soundless moments drug on for what seemed like an eternity. They had to wait for the perfect moment. The spriggan emerged from the tree trunk, bright green lights of the fireflies that swarmed around it mesmerized Gaeolin, making him almost forget what he was seeing.  He would have been frozen forever if it hadn’t been for Auroth’s battle call. “Now!”

Fire filled the night as their attack began. The tree woman screeched in anger as the flames singed her bark. Mosquitoes and other insects seemed to spawn from nothing as her magic summoned them. Even the trees around them began to rain pine cones and loose branches upon them to try and aid her. Gaeolin managed three good hits on her head, the sharpened steel doing little more than annoy her. Inigo rushed with his sword.

His slash met her neck, making her reel back in pain. The shrill sound that escaped her carried through the still night air. Almost as if responding, a chorus of howls rang off of the slopes above them. Without having to look, Gaeolin knew the wolves would be on their heels very soon. Auroth swung his hammer from his back, the head of the weapon wreathed in flame as it crashed down on the spriggan’s head.

She fell to the earth, the swarm surrounding her dispersing as her magic died away. But it was not yet victory. Four mountain wolves circled them from beyond the nearby pines. Their growls could be heard, telling of dripping fangs and burning eyes out in the shadows. The three joined in a huddle, backs together as they waited for the assault. Gaeolin’s sword sang as he drew it from its scabbard. A break in the clouds allowed the silver edge to glimmer in the moonlight. He stared at the trees, straining to see.

From obscurity came the pack leader. He was massive, at least twice the size of any wolf he had ever seen before. His fur was a mottling of black and brown. The thick tufts of hair only increased his fearsome image the closer he drew to them. The other wolves were coming in as well to block any chance of escape. Gaeolin lowered himself, one hand off of his hilt and off to the side. The alpha cocked it’s head at him. Gaeolin kept his gaze fixed on him. To the others, it seemed he was growling at the wolf. 

‘Do not approach, wolf. I have no quarrel with you.’

At this the wolf stopped, looking first to the spriggan’s corpse, then the wood elf. ‘You attacked the forest maid.’ He snarled, hunching down with bared teeth. ‘She called us because you were hurting her. Now you try to tell me you would not harm my pack?’

Gaeolin kept a cold gaze. ‘She would have killed us for passing through her grove. We do not have the proper offering to give. We head to the lair of Iizyolviing. Surely, your pack remembers him through ancient knowledge?’

The wolf laid back his ears. ‘You speak of the ice tyrant. He is long dead. His den is bare. Only the bones of his servants remain. Why do you travel there?’

‘He flies again. I must slay him.’

The wolf gave what must have counted as a laugh. ‘You? Take on a dragon? Save yourself the trouble, we’ll kill you without the climb.’ At that moment, the alpha jumped for Gaeolin, meeting his end on the waiting sword. His fellows backed away as they saw him bleeding. They circled around, trying to get to him. Inigo shot one in the haunch. It yelped, hobbling out of the grove as the other two lunged for Gaeolin and Auroth. The altmer struck with his hammer. There was a sickening crunch as the skull of the nearest wolf collapsed under the force of the blow. Gaeolin slashed with all of his might, ending the last wolf with a clean severed neck. 

Auroth panted. “Not your best attempt at diplomacy, hm?”

Gaeolin shook his head. “No, but it’s hard to generate good faith when you’re standing over a corpse.” He wiped the blood from his blade. “He wasn’t wrong, we could have gone around the grove.”

“We didn’t even know it was here until we were already trespassing. We couldn’t have avoided this.”

“Who knew the trespassing punishments for tree people were so strict.” Inigo mused. 

Auroth gave a little chuckle. He winced, clutching his side. “Damn it… I must have pulled something in the fight.” He looked to Gaeolin. “Could we stop here for the night? I’m not too ashamed to say that I am not nocturnal. I’m sure you would agree it would end better for us if we were all rested before the fight.”

Inigo seemed very much in support of sleeping. He stifled a yawn, perhaps more poorly than he could have. Gaeolin however, couldn’t argue with Auroth’s point. “Very well. Let’s rest here until morning.” He grumbled internally about the fascination with day time activity. As his companions prepared their bedrolls, he scrambled up the branches of a nearby tree. He settled into his roost, watching the plains for any more attackers. As the hours slipped by, the clouds cleared, revealing the sprawling tendrils of the aurora. For just a second, he felt a sense of peace seep into his soul. 

A cold wind swayed the pine, the scent of the needles giving him the illusion of life for the first time since his death. He closed his eyes, thinking back to his childhood. He and Ohmret had spent many days in the branches of the trees around the village. They had hunted small forest cats, gathered fungi for their village healer that he couldn’t reach in his increasing years. The smile he had begun wearing shifted to confusion.  He slowly opened his eyes, solemn as a thought set in that he hadn’t expected.

He couldn’t remember… His brother’s face… Why couldn’t he remember? Something like panic filled him, but not a fear or worry. Regret. How could he have forgotten? His brother had been one of the main things he kept about his past. What did it mean to have even his family starting to fade from his memory?

‘Tiid drun gein bo, naal miiraad uvdez. Dreh nii Krif ni, Geinwovahzen.’ The voice resonated in his mind, sad despite it’s words of support. Gaeolin huddled closer to the trunk of the tree. He had wondered if the disembodied voice would return. It had been long since he heard it. Who was it? Ever since he had awoken his voice, it had whispered to him in the quiet moments. He wished he knew… Now, more than ever, he had questions for the mysterious being. Instead, he decided to ask Inigo the next chance they had to talk. Drawing up his cloak to protect from a slight drizzle, he waited out the night.