How exactly am I going to do this?
Chip bent over the workbench, grinding his teeth as he pondered the situation. The new armor was coming together nicely. The idea for an upgrade had come to him while they’d been wrestling ghosts in Ysgramor’s Tomb – his current armor wasn’t protection enough any longer. Having Kodlak name him the next Harbinger had cemented the notion in his mind. It wouldn’t do to have the Harbinger running around looking like a thief. Nor did he ever intend to wear the heavy wolf armor favored by Vilkas and Farkas, and which both Skjor and Kodlak had worn. He needed to be able to move freely, the way Aela did. He’d thought hard about what he might want to do, all the way back from the far north to Whiterun.
And then Aela had given him another job.
He wasn’t tasked with retrieving the damned steel axe again, at least, in spite of the twins’ teasing. What she had asked him to do, though, was distasteful in the extreme.
“I need you to do something for me,” she’d said not long after they returned to Jorrvaskr.
“Sure, what is it?”
“We’ve got some traders coming in and we’re short on Ice Wolf pelts. We need about six of them.”
Chip had just stared at her in disbelief for a moment. “You, of all people, want me of all people to go kill wolves?”
Aela snorted. “It’s just business, Harbinger. I don’t care how you get them. Buy them if you wish. Take them off carcasses. Steal them – I assume you have some basic skills along those lines.” One of Chip’s eyebrows had risen at that remark, and Aela had smirked at him. “It doesn’t matter. See if you can find some and I’ll try to have some more interesting work by the time you get back. I’m working on something.”
Chip had several sarcastic comebacks fighting to get out, but he choked them all back. “I’ll take care of it.”
Did you send Kodlak out on chores like this?
“Of course you will,” Aela said. “Try not to take it personally. We still have to have funds coming in and ice wolf pelts are worth a lot of gold.”
“What is this more interesting work you are looking into?”
She shook her head. “I’ll let you know if I’m able to find out anything definite. But Skjor was looking into an old legend that might turn out to be more than just a legend. That’s all I can give you right now.”
I wonder if it has anything to do with that book I found in his room.
He left, grumbling all the way back to his cabin in the Rift because he had to admit Aela’s basic point was right. They needed income. But he wasn’t happy about it. Wolves helped him out, had gotten him out of more than one dangerous situation and even worked to alert him to danger on occasion. He was a wolf, himself; and so was Aela. And besides all that, it made him feel like a child to have potentially the oldest active Companion doling out small tasks to him. He was supposed to be the one in charge.
Then he remembered Kodlak’s admonitions to both Torvar and Vilkas. Nobody was in charge. They were all their own people. He was just there to advise.
Well Kodlak made a damned poor choice, in that case. He should have picked Vilkas. I don’t have enough experience to advise anything or anyone.
Getting to work on new armor had been a rewarding distraction. He smelted and hammered, dyed leather and cut it into strips, and fastened everything together. It was armor in the Bosmer style, solidly put together. It would protect him better than his old, worn armor had; and somehow it felt more appropriate for someone in a leadership role. Once he put it on and adjusted its fit, he felt more adult, more official – just more – than he had before.
And I don’t look like one of Da’s footpads anymore. That helps, too.
Now then. Ice wolves are up north. The nearest place I can think of to find some might be just north of Windhelm.
He ran across the rolling hills east of his home to hire the carriage driver outside Riften, once again feeling guilty that he didn’t have the luxury of spending time with his parents. It wasn’t that long a trip, down over the escarpment; but horses moved faster than he did on foot, and he wanted to be in and out of the city before the moons rose. They were going to be full on this night and he knew that their call would be too hard to resist.
It was still light when he arrived in Windhelm, although the sun was rapidly plunging toward the western mountains. Chip ran into the marketplace to find Oengul, and nearly jumped in delight to find that the old smith had just what he needed – a single ice wolf pelt. Chip almost threw the money at the man, snatching the pelt out of his hands as he mumbled his thanks, turned, and dashed back across the city. If he could get to Sadri’s Used Wares in the Gray Quarter before it closed, he might find himself in luck once more.
“All my goods are legitimate,” Sadri started to tell him as he burst through the door.
Chip wanted to be polite, but he was starting to feel that anxious, twitchy feeling that preceded an involuntary turning. “No time, Sadri,” he panted. “Do you have any ice wolf pelts?”
“Uh… uh…” Sadri stammered, clearly put off-balance at Chip’s abruptness. “Well yes. I have one. Would you like to examine its qual-“
“I’ll take it,” Chip gasped. “Now. Please. I don’t have time.” He slammed a pouch of coin down onto the counter and grabbed eagerly for the pelt. A distant corner of his mind noted that whoever had sold it must have been desperate for funds to part with such a beautiful thing. The rest of him, though, was panicking as his heart rate rose, the hammering in his chest seemingly loud enough to be audible to everyone. “Thanks,” he managed before crashing out through the door.
He was near enough to the dock exit to force his way out the doors and scramble down the stairs in a mad, uncontrolled dash. He turned left and leapt over the stone railing at the end of the dock, landing on a gleaming patch of ice and skittering across it on all fours before regaining some purchase on the snowy bank beyond and dashing up it. He’d barely gotten to the top of the hill, just out of sight of anyone on the docks, when the change came.
There were howls ahead of the great red werewolf, beyond the crest of the hill. Brothers, he thought; but then the human voice inside said pelts. We need four. The wolf whined, but then lifted his nose as a distinctive scent drifted past.
Blood. Meat!
Go! his other half told him.
He bounded up the hill and peered across the snowy darkness. There, he saw a familiar form standing over the corpse of a huge, white troll.
Vilkas.
He trotted forward, reaching the older man just as he turned. Vilkas snarled at the werewolf. Behind him were two silvery wolves, the ones Chip had heard.
“Harbinger,” Vilkas growled, his voice forcing its way out from between clenched jaws. “What are you doing here?”
“Chip,” he managed to say. “Hunt.” He raised his muzzle toward the sky and howled, the howl of a werewolf’s utter delight in the power of the full moons.
Vilkas had stepped away from him and was staring westward, away from the moons. He shook his head. “I can’t, Chip.”
The part of the wolf that was Chip thought very carefully and then spoke, slowly and painfully, even as he was in the shape Hircine had given him.
“How? Vilkas? Moons! Run! Hunt! Eat!” Once he had finished, he stood panting at the effort it had taken him to formulate that many words, while his human consciousness wailed. How can you stand it, Vilkas? Why don’t you turn? Come hunt with me! You must be such a fearsome, magnificent creature!
Vilkas looked up at the sky, shaking his head; and it seemed to Chip that he saw the man trembling.
“I can’t, Chip,” he said quietly. “By Ysmir, it’s taking everything I have to resist right now and the smell of the blood… I…” He caught his breath in something that sounded almost like a sob of anguish. “I’m hunting in this form because I’m testing myself. I dishonored myself, by giving in to the urge for revenge after Kodlak’s death. He did not want revenge for Skjor’s death and he wouldn’t have wanted revenge for his own!”
But he’s gotten what he wanted, Vilkas. Aela and I helped his spirit to Sovngarde. He harbors no ill-will toward you and doesn’t believe you dishonored yourself.
He wanted to say those things to Vilkas, right then and there, but the effort of forming words was still too difficult for him. All he could do was whine, and shake himself.
Vilkas took several steps downhill, in the direction of Windhelm. The werewolf started to follow.
Vilkas turned toward him, snarling, and drew his greatsword.
“No!” he screamed. “Get away from me before I lose control over myself! There is prey up on the hillside,” he choked out. “Go hunt. But you have to leave me alone!”
The werewolf watched Vilkas make his way down the snowy hillside, both impressed by Vilkas’ fortitude and self-control and disappointed at his attitude. He really had hoped Vilkas would join him in the hunt. He knew a fair number of other werewolves now and had never been on a hunt in this form with any of them. But he was on his own, as usual. He turned back to the troll carcass and fed until he was happy and warm. Then he turned his attention westward, to where the wolves and saber cats congregated. He had to find four more pelts.
Chip trudged back up the stairs toward Jorrvaskr. It seemed as though that was all he did, these days – stop in for a moment to pick up another job and then leave. He’d done that the morning after collecting the wolf pelts; he had found Vilkas asleep and Farkas just returning to town. They’d exchanged a glance; Chip noted a twinkle in Farkas’ eye, but didn’t want to ask whether Farkas had been out hunting or had spent the night in more affectionate company. They’d grinned at each other. Chip had felt just a bit envious of his friend before Aela had sent him right back out again.
This time he’d been tasked with exterminating a frostbite spider and her nest out in the volcanic wastes of Eastmarch. Cronvangr, it was called; and when he got there he was startled by the huge spider eggs outside the cavern entrance. He was also startled – perhaps even appalled – by the sight of a mammoth’s carcass and additional tusks and bones scattered about near the opening. If the spiders could pull down a beast that big, he was in for quite a challenge.
The narrow passages in the cavern worked to his advantage. They limited the smaller spiders to a single-file attack, making them easy to pick off with his blades. The primary target, though, was the biggest spider he’d ever seen. It was probably twice as long as he was tall, and skittered about on legs that came up to his shoulders. He had no choice but to wear the creature down with his bow. He was better with that anyway; and fortunately for him, the skinny opening kept the huge beast contained in its lair. He’d stopped to admire its remains for a bit before returning to Whiterun.
The Companions were sharing a meal when he entered Jorrvaskr. He stretched, and yawned, and approached Aela seated at one end of the table.
“The spiders are gone. So what thrilling chore are you sending me on next?”
She grinned at him for a moment. “I’m sorry those jobs weren’t very exciting, Harbinger, but now…”
“But what?”
“I’d be honored if you would join me in my search. I had once heard Kodlak and Skjor talking about the Totems of Hircine, simple objects that can channel the powers of the werewolf in new directions.”
Chip was intrigued. “Like my rings?” When Aela’s eyebrows rose, he held out his hands. “One came from Hircine himself. The other I got on Solstheim and it helps me regenerate health when I’m hunting in my wolf form.”
Aela stared at him. “From Hircine? I’m impressed. But no, these aren’t rings. Once Kodlak started looking for his ‘cure’ I’d wager Skjor didn’t bring it up again. But I was going through his things and found a book I’d never seen before, all about the totems.”
“Oh!” Chip exclaimed before he could stop himself. “I, uh, might have seen that book as well. I… wandered into his room to say goodbye, not long after… well. No matter. You’re saying they’re real, the totems?”
“Yes. I’ve been talking to my sources around the holds and I think I may have heard where one of them lives. As it happens, it’s also on Solstheim. Want to come along?”
Chip suddenly had an overwhelming vision of Rakel, perched on the rock at the entrance to the Frostmoon Crag campsite. His mouth went dry.
“Yes! I’d love to! Absolutely!” There was silence for a moment, and he slowly realized that the entire group was staring at him. Farkas had a one-sided grin that he wasn’t able to contain.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to introduce you to our brothers and sisters on Solstheim. So yes. Let’s go.”
“We hunt together!” she said.
“Are you coming, Aela?”
Chip was already halfway down the dock. They had to go to Northshore Landing, almost directly to the north of Raven Rock, but Chip intended to lead them there via a more central route.
“Yes, Harbinger. I’m right behind you,” she said as he reached the town proper and turned right, toward the Bulwark. “But shouldn’t we be going the other way?”
Chip looked at her and shook his head. “We could hug the coastline, I suppose. But there are all sorts of obstacles between here and Northshore, not the least of which is a glacier. I don’t know about you but I’m in no mood to go for a swim.” He sighed deeply. There wasn’t any point in pretending, and Aela was far too clever to be fooled. “Besides, I really want to say hello to our brothers at Frostmoon Crag on our way through.”
Aela smirked. “And sisters?”
Chip tossed his hands into the air. “And sisters. Yes, go ahead, make fun of me. There’s someone I really want to see again. Are you satisfied now?”
“Yes, Harbinger,” she said, grinning.
“Chip,” he growled. “It’s Chip.”
Raven Rock’s defenses were in part made from basalt columns formed in the Red Mountain’s eruptions and exposed by wind and weather; the city’s main gate tunneled down through the basalt. Ash in the air gave everything an eerie, orange, burnt glow. Chip picked up speed and turned north once he’d made it up to the top of the columns. He remembered this route from his last visit to Hircine’s Shrine, and so wasn’t paying particularly close attention to anything other than the horizon when a sound behind him caught his attention. And then, so did a blast of flame.
It was a spriggan, but not like any spriggan he’d ever seen before. This one was orange and brown and glowed like the embers of a dying fire. It was too close to make his bow useful at all, so Chip set to on it with his blades. It was like stepping into an oven – or into the blast of a dragon’s breath. It was agonizing.
“Aela? Aela! Help?”
He had no answer. All he could do was keep hammering away at the creature as he burned. He felt himself getting closer to the end by the moment.
Can’t die here.
He thought of Dardeh, and the way he was able to explode into a whirlwind of power in spite of his age and bulk making him look slow and heavy. He was certain he could do that, too, if he just focused –
In a last, desperate effort, he sent his blades flying while screaming at the top of his lungs. Somehow, releasing the last of his energy was what he had needed to finish the spriggan and scramble backward out of the ensuing flames. He immediately began using whatever he had at hand to heal himself, panting and staring in amazement at the spriggan’s remains. It had exploded like a flame atronach in spite of being living wood.
It seemed like forever before he felt whole again, and before Aela ran up the slope to meet him. He took a moment to harvest some of the spriggan’s burnt wood and then glared at Aela.
“Nice of you to show up.”
“Forgive me, Harbinger. There are ash hoppers all over the place. You don’t just ignore them.”
Chip blinked. “Ash hoppers? I don’t remember such a thing…”
Aela smirked. “Trust me, you will by the time we reach the snowline.”
Aela was right. They hadn’t gone very far before half a dozen of the long-legged creatures emerged from the sand to attack. They were tiny in comparison to most of the creatures Chip had ever fought, but like the spriggans, they worked with flame. They were deadly. Fighting them slowed Chip and Aela down but they did manage, in the end, to kill them all. Chip sighed and turned yet again toward the snow-capped north.
“The spirit of Skjor is with us on this errand,” Aela said, the comment seeming to come from out of nowhere. “I feel him.”
Chip stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at her. There was something about her expression, and the way she held herself. He suddenly recalled his father Brynjolf, and the things he’d pointed out so often. See that one, lad? See how carefully he walks? He has full pockets and doesn’t want anyone to know. And that one over there…
It was as though a light suddenly flared in his mind.
There was something more between them than I knew before. I’d bet my life on it. No wonder Aela was so determined to have her revenge after his death. She certainly has dealt with it well. And no wonder she’s so interested in finding this totem. It must feel like honoring Skjor.
So, then. Let us honor Skjor.
He said nothing, simply nodded at Aela and continued uphill and northwest. At last the volcanic soil yielded to frost-covered stone. He could see the temple off to his right. Straight ahead he spotted the pass that led through the ice toward their destination – and his. His heart began to flutter in his chest.
I hope she’s there. I hope…
He stopped halfway up the mountainside to pull his cloak around him a bit closer and to check his bearings. A hunter was descending through the pass; they nodded at each other, but said nothing. Chip waited until the man was out of sight and then dashed west from the trail, along the mountainside toward the cave he knew was just beyond the ice. Once he was in sight of the pack members he slowed to a walk. It wouldn’t do to seem too eager.
Hjordis was on the lookout stone, and Rakel stood nearby. Chip felt his pulse increase as he saw her. She was just as lovely as he remembered.
Maybe…
Hjordis snorted. “I don’t trust you, whelp,” she grumbled as he neared them.
“You don’t need to trust me, Hjordis,” he replied as calmly as he could manage. “We’re not staying. This is Aela, from Whiterun. She’s also one of us.”
Hjordis and Aela nodded at each other but said nothing further. It didn’t matter; Chip’s gaze moved past them to settle on Rakel. In spite of his desire to remain reserved a huge grin broke out on his face.
“Hello, Rakel,” he said quietly. “I’ve thought about you so often since the last time I saw you.”
She looked surprised, and blinked. “Are you… making eyes at me? I’m… flattered,” she said quietly. “But…”
That ‘but’ says what I had hoped not to hear.
Chip felt his heart, which had been fluttering like a moth against a lantern, drop. All the hopes he’d been holding near turned to dust and blew away like the ash from Red Mountain.
He took a minute to collect his thoughts, staring down at the snow beneath his feet. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Don’t be concerned. It’s hard not to think about you, you know.” He smiled up at her. “You are absolutely the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, and you’re – like me. But your life out here is very different than mine, and these are your people. So I guess… I understand.”
Rakel smiled. “Thank you,” she said simply. “For the compliment. And for understanding.”
For a few more minutes they spoke to the others of the Frostmoon pack. Aela, never one to run off at the mouth, was her usual taciturn self. Chip still felt good about having introduced her to them, though. It was good for both packs to know the other existed. Even Majni agreed that having contacts on the mainland was a good thing, although he doubted any of the Frostmoon lycanthropes would ever leave Solstheim.
As they returned to the main trail up the pass, Aela chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Chip grumbled.
“It’s not so much that it’s funny, Harbinger. It’s just that now I understand why you were so anxious to come this way instead of hugging the coastline.”
Chip was annoyed. “Please stop calling me Harbinger all the time. I don’t like it. I feel like Kodlak made a mistake, and I don’t like it.” He turned to glare at her for a moment. “Besides, this is just as good a route as any other. All we have to do is get over this crest and drop down the other side of the mountain and we’ll be there.”
Aela chuckled again. “Yes, Chip.” They trudged up the trail for a few more moments and she spoke again. “She’s far too wild for you. Both of them are. They’re much more beast than you are.”
As much as he wanted to be angry at Aela for her observation, he knew she was right. He heaved a heavy sigh. “I know, Aela. It’s just that…”
He never got a chance to finish the thought. A short spear whizzed past, barely missing his head. He heard Aela leap aside out of its way behind him. Up ahead, blending in with the grey shadows cast by the glacier, was a Riekling readying another spear.
Chip didn’t break his stride; he simply drew his blades and rolled forward under the next spear, attacking as he popped up just in front of the creature. The Rieklings were deadly in groups, and their spears were dangerous in the hands of the best of them; but a solo Riekling wasn’t much of a challenge so long as one stayed clear of its weapon. It took only a few flurries of blade strikes to end the small creature. Chip continued up the path toward the pass where their encampment was. He turned back to make certain Aela was with him.
“Watch out!” she cried, pointing uphill. Chip whipped back around to find a pair of Rieklings mounted on cranky-looking boars heading down the path toward them. Chip thought of the wereboars he’d fought in the Hunting Grounds; he had just enough time to be grateful these enemies were much smaller before they were fully engaged.
This battle was longer and much noisier. The boars grunted and squealed. The Rieklings taunted – though he had no idea what their language meant. Aela’s arrows either thudded home into one of the enemies or buried themselves into the snow with a soft whack. And of course his blades clanked and rattled on the Riekling’s gear, Grabber exploding with power when it claimed the souls of either the Rieklings or the boars.
Chip didn’t stop to catch his breath. He wanted to get up to the Rieklings’ encampment before they had a chance to mount a massed attack. Aela ran beside him, silent and with bow at the ready, until they both saw movement up ahead at the same moment.
“Over here!” she cried, drawing the first of the spears toward the side of the canyon. Chip had his bow prepared as well; and as soon as the spear left the Riekling’s hand he fired, catching the small beast solidly in a shoulder. Aela’s arrow followed close on the heels of his. He had to admire what a good shot she was as the Riekling fell from the lookout tower.
There were several more enemies between them and the crest of the pass. One snuck up behind them and managed to graze Chip with a spear; he cried out but turned, growling deep in his throat, and buried an arrow into the creature even while giving silent thanks to Hircine for the powerful bow he wielded. Aela took down another Riekling on the ramps across the pass; and then both of them worked to slay the last of them, riding a larger boar.
Once they’d cleared the way, Chip led them through the pass toward the ocean. To his embarrassment it was neither as direct nor as easy a route as he’d remembered. They had to drop down over sheer cliff faces at several points, as well as creep around another Riekling encampment. He was grateful that Aela didn’t call him out on his choice of route. She simply followed silently, helping him collect the pelts and meat from goats left for them by two ice wolves. He ate one of the goat legs raw; and when he caught Aela smirking at him, waved the bone at her and said, simply, “meat.” She chuckled, nodded, and ate one of the other legs herself.
At long last they dropped down a very steep crevice in the ice, at the foot of which a dock jutted out into the ocean. There was a single boat moored there, its sails neatly furled; and Chip saw movement on the beach near the entrance to the wharf. He peered at the figures, trying to make out exactly what he saw.
“Altmer,” Aela whispered behind him.
He nodded, and took careful aim at one of them. At this distance, he had no doubt that his powerful bow would be able to take them down – at least the first one. He loosed an arrow at the Altmer and, a moment later, watched the figure fall. He readied another arrow, expecting an attack; but it was oddly silent.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Only one?”
“Perhaps,” Aela answered quietly. “But be ready for anything.”
To their surprise, there had only been the lone Altmer sailor guarding the outpost. There were, however, a number of very large, very angry mudcrabs there – not really a problem for them but annoying, nonetheless. Still, Chip felt their energy adding to the power of his bow, and once more gave silent thanks to Hircine for giving him such a weapon to use.
While Aela searched the chests and barrels on the dock, Chip reached the ramshackle shed that clearly served as storage in spite of being mostly open to the elements. He found nothing of note in any of the barrels; but an unlocked chest held gold and lockpicks, as well as an odd item. It seemed to be a thigh bone; but it had been elaborately carved on either end to resemble a wand. He heard Aela approaching over the rocky beach and turned to hold the bone wand out to her.
“Is this what we were looking for?”
Aela took the wand, turning it over and over in her hands and nodding as a small smile spread across her face. “I think so. It definitely matches the description of the totem from Skjor’s old book. Let’s get it back to the Underforge.”
It was pouring down rain when they arrived back in Whiterun, so Chip was grateful for the chance to duck into the shelter of the Underforge. Aela, just behind him, pointed to the three circular altars against the wall.
“That’s where the totems go,” she said. “Put it on one of them and we’ll see what happens.”
Chip placed the bone on the nearest of the altars and then jumped backward as a surge of magical energies leapt from it to him.
“Whoa! I wasn’t expecting that!”
Aela dropped to her knees and raised her hands in a gesture of supplication. “It’s the power of Hircine. We definitely found one of the Totems. You’ve done well, Harbinger.”
Chip sighed.
Harbinger. Well, at least she’s not calling me Brynjolf.
That made him think of Vilkas.
I’m worried about him. It’s not natural to fight your instincts like that. At least it doesn’t seem natural to me.
But what do I know about it? He’s been a werewolf much longer than I have.
“Aela.”
“Yes?”
“Talk to Vilkas, would you? For some reason he thinks he dishonored Kodlak by what he and I did after Kodlak’s death. But I know he didn’t. He’ll … listen to you. I’m not certain he will accept the same reassurance from me.”
Aela stared at him for a moment and slowly broke into a smile. “You know, old Kodlak had a keen eye for a good man. I will talk to Vilkas, Harbinger. Gladly.”
Chip nodded, and turned to leave the Underforge.
I’m Chip Brynjolfsson, and I’m the Harbinger of the Companions. I’m Hircine’s chosen hunter. I’m a werewolf.
He frowned.
And I still don’t know why.