Chapter Twenty Seven

Thunder rolled, the winds howling outside the walls of Dragonsreach. A fire burned in the great hall, casting dim light throughout the palace. Ralfar was making his rounds, the guard’s tunic still fresh and new on his chest. He was about to head back up to the second floor, stopping when he heard the doors open. 

When he looked down the steps, he saw nothing. His hand rested on his axe. Something felt wrong… Soft steps came from the pillars to the left. He drew the weapon raising it as a figure came into sight. 

A gloved hand stopped the swing with ease.  From beneath the hood a voice came. “Do the soldiers of Whiterun no longer welcome Gaeolin of Woodhearth as a friend?” The elf lowered his hood, smiling at the nervous guard. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

Ralfar nodded. “Apologies Thane… I thought you were an assassin after Jarl’s head.”

Gaeolin released the soldier, giving him a slight bow. “And there are certainly those who would strike at Balgruuf. Your vigilance is admirable. Sorry to have startled you.” He looked toward the wizard’s alcove. “Is Farengar awake?”

“He was when I last patrolled,  milord. Shall I bring him?”

Gaeolin waved the question away. “No need. I’ll speak to him in his study. Thank you… What was your name?”

“Ralfar, Thane.”

Gaeolin gave him a pat on the shoulder before climbing the steps. As the lad fell out of earshot,  he sighed in relief. His illusion spell had hidden the deep red of his eyes. Though, tricking the guard would be easier than fooling the sorcerer. 

Farengar was hunched over the enchanting lab. A subtle glow of green illuminated his features as he muttered a string of words over a golden amulet. Gaeolin watched, entranced by the swirling lights. The power faded, the necklace still pulsating a bit as the magician scooped it up. “Yes?”

Gaeolin held out the golden lexicon. “I have the cube you asked for. From Mazinchaleft.”

Farengar took the device. He pulled a lens from his robes, scrutinizing the strands of markings etched into the gold. “Wonderful work. The casing is nearly untouched. Again, you prove to be most efficient for doing these petty tasks.”

Gaeolin shrugged off the mage’s words. “It’s a pleasure to be of help. Do I need to see Proventus for my pay?”

“No need to bother. This is more of a personal project. I’ll settle with you myself.” He held out a large sack of coins, nodding to him with no expression. As Gaeolin made to leave, the wizard stopped him. “And as you seem a decent sort, I’ll refrain from revealing your condition. Work a little more on hiding the fangs, or let your gaze wander as you speak to try and keep them out of obvious sight. I’d offer more help, but I’ve not studied Vampirism as thoroughly as others.”

“Thank you.” He once again felt the new teeth in his jaw, mainly out of irritation. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about this, but so far I haven’t had that much of an issue.”

Farengar shook his head. “Believe me, my friend. You will…”

The storm had not let up, the husk of the Gildergleam swaying in the wind as easily as a sapling. The braziers hissed in spite of the onslaught of precipitation. A guard eyed him as he approached the bench where Inigo sat. He twitched a whisker when rain landed on his face. “Well, that didn’t take long. Was the miserable mage pleased with his box? A great dwarven behemoth nearly smashed Mr. Dragonfly’s jar while we were trying to get it.”

Gaeolin tossed him the bag of coins. “He gave us a bonus for quick delivery. We’ll count it out later.” He felt restless, allowing Inigo to take the lead for a moment. His friend looked at him over a shoulder. 

“Something troubling you, my friend?”

Gaeolin drew his cloak tight. “No. I just feel on edge. Ever since the bandits, I keep thinking about how much I lost control. Being in town, surrounded by so many people… it’s conflicting.”

“How so?”

“Like standing in a bakery, not allowed to eat the sweet rolls you’re smelling…”

“Oh…” Inigo coughed, feeling he should have known where that had been going. “Are you, uh… Hungry, at all?”

“Nah, just trying to ignore the smell of everyone.” The pair came upon the Bannered Mare as the rain started to slow. Inigo’s ears perked up at the sound of rowdy singing within. Gaeolin looked at the soaked messages on the bounty board, by no means interested in Mikael’s newest song of lustful intentions. “Hmmm… Sleeping tree camp? That’s past Fort Greymoor, right?”

“I think so.” Inigo looked from him to the door. “Are you sure we can’t stop in? Just for an hour?”

Gaeolin grimaced. “If you want to, you can stay and relax. I don’t think I can be comfortable there. I’m still not quite… at home with myself.”

“But, what will you do then?”

“Probably check out this camp before we take care of the Giant.”

Inigo looked at him with alarm. “Giant?! It’s a giant camp?” He shook his head, turning toward the city gates. “In that case, I’ll forego my social life and go with you.”

“You don’t-”

“If I don’t, you’ll do something stupid, like take on the giant by yourself, and then where will I be? Who will I annoy?” He grinned, eyes shining as the clouds broke above. Thin tendrils of aurora began to peek through, casting an aquamarine glow over the wet stones. 

Gaeolin returned the expression. “Alright then. Let’s go check it out.”

Outside the walls, the plains glistened in the wake of the storm. A racoon scuttled about near a group of pine trees as they traversed the road to the west. Inigo watched the stars, slowly sailing by behind the waves of light that decorated the heavens. Gaeolin walked ahead of him tightening his belt. 

Inigo worried about his companion. As the nights went by, he grew more frail. He wouldn’t eat unless he insisted. And more than anything else, he seemed depressed. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Gaeolin looked back, stopping near a large boulder. “I’ve been better. It’s not really anything we can change.” He looked toward the western watchtower. “These changes are catching up with me. I feel out of place everywhere. No matter how hard I try to hide my condition, I can tell people notice.” He pulled off a glove, inspecting his skin. His tattoos were bold against his ashen flesh. “‘Your skin’s as pale as the snow…’ or, ‘Don’t like those eyes you’ve got…’ I hear people I’ve helped, people I call friends say these things. They hesitate around me. Maybe it’s instinct, like when the prey senses the predator…” He looked up, replacing his glove. “Maybe it would be smart just to accept my nature. I’ve always been treated like a scourge. I guess now it’s just by more than the Dominion…” Inigo stayed quiet. There was nothing to say. Instead, he pressed on, drawing his sword as the smoke from the giant camp came into view.  

The first thing they noticed was the tree. It grew from a small pond, a mist catching the trunk’s purple glow. It’s branches were bare. Even the breeze couldn’t move them. A giant stood by it’s great bonfire, cooking a skeever on a spit. Gaeolin watched the beast, deciding how best they should attack.

Inigo slumped against him. Gaeolin eyed him, cocking his brow. “You okay?”

“Sorry, I almost dozed off there.” Inigo stifled a yawn. Just then, the wind shifted, blowing the scent of the tree toward them. 

It was like drunkenness. Despite having felt wide awake moments ago, Gaeolin felt a weight in his eyes that he’d not felt for months. He blinked to try and rouse himself. “Let’s take care of this quickly. Sneak to his other side, I’ll wait until you’re there, then shoot. When his back is turned, you come at him and bring him down.” Inigo nodded, drawing his blade in silence. Gaeolin crouched down and knocked an arrow. Inigo was just passing behind the giant. But suddenly the ambush turned to the worse. Inigo slipped on the stone near the pond, his foot splashing loudly in the water. The giant turned, raising it’s club in fury at the invader. Gaeolin jumped up, firing a shot into the creature’s chest. 

Soon it became clear that something was wrong. Inigo tried to stand, but could not seem to do so. Whatever magic the cursed tree gave off must have been in the pond as well. The Khajiit was too tired to fight. The giant noticed this, raising his club to end him. Gaeolin fired twice more, throwing down his bow and drawing back his fist as he rushed the monster. 

His punch landed, the sound of breaking bone mixing with the scream of pain the giant produced. He fell, his club abandoned. Gaeolin’s face contorted in an animal like rage. He held out his hand, calling on a power that he didn’t recognize. He glared as the life force of the beast flew through the air, drawn to his hand by dark magic. The giant’s features began to age rapidly. It gasped for air, collapsing as the spell ended. It was dead…

Gaeolin lowered his arm, going to Inigo. “Come on,” he pulled him out of the water, “let’s get away from this thing…” Inigo nodded, looking at his companion with awe.

“You broke its leg… with your hand…” He smiled groggily. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”