LW 2. Friend or Foe

Suddenly, the feud between the Companions of Jorrvaskr and the Silver Hand made sense. The Harbinger was a werewolf.

Fenrir wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that Äne was a Wolf like him, or that she had actually dared to reveal her beast form in order to stop him from escaping.  She had taken a tremendous risk, knowing that if the truth of her condition, a cursed creature of the darkness, got out, the repercussions would be disastrous for both her and her guild. Perhaps she believed that Fenrir’s elf-blood would make it easy for her to call him a liar if he squealed. Perhaps she intended to kill him, so to her it mattered little if he knew what she was.

He growled a warning to her. 

She growled back. 

Äne was smaller than him in beast form, even with her thick mane of black fur standing on end. Be that as it may, he wasn’t about to underestimate her again. Her claws were sharp and her fangs were bared; if even the smallest of insects could deliver a deadly bite, how much more a supernatural beast from legend?

“I’m clearly no Silver Hand”, he snarled, “Let me go, Wolf-sister.” His voice sounded much deeper than when he was in elf-form.

Her eyes narrowed into slits, and her muscles rippled as if she was preparing to pounce, “You’ve only proven to me that those cowards aren’t behind this. Being of the beastblood doesn’t clear your name, elf. Far from it.”

He took a step to the side, which she countered readily. He began to circle her, keeping her well well away from his blind side, and she mirrored his movements warily. When Fenrir charged at her, she leapt nimbly out of the way of his claws. Not waiting for Äne to regain her balance, he took off in the other direction, trying to escape from the fight before one or both of them was seriously injured.

He hadn’t gone 20 yards before she was on his back, clawing the fur off his spine. 

“Coward!”, Äne roared.

Arching his back, Fenrir rolled, forcing her to let go of him in order to avoid being squashed. He ran at her, and she dodged. Fenrir followed her, refusing to give her a moment to catch her breath or counterattack. Twice more he tried to flee, and twice more she intercepted him. Both were breathing heavily now, and it was growing clear to Fenrir that he was wasting time. Vilkas must have gotten back to the tree from whatever he was doing, and the tracks of two galloping werewolves were not hard to follow. 

Have it your way, Fenrir thought. If she insisted on a fight, he would show her what he was capable of. With a savage roar, he sprang towards the she-wolf, claws outstretched. She darted under him with a speed he had not realized it was possible to posses, leaving him with only a few strands of black hair from her tail to show for his attack. He hadn’t even landed from his spring before he felt her fore-claws rake across his thigh. 

Hitting the ground hard, he struggled to turn and face her. 

Her tail whipped back and forth angrily.  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be”, she menaced.

He responded by charging her again. This time she didn’t dodge. She also didn’t try to keep herself upright against the full weight of his body. Äne dropped to the ground on her back, and used the force Fenrir had gathered to knock her off her feet against him. As his momentum kept him moving forward, she kicked his stomach hard with her hind legs, sending him flying past her and into a tree. All she had done was reverse her trick. Instead of her going under him, he had gone over her. 

Fenrir knew he was fast. He knew that his entire life, he’d had to be the fastest to survive. Now Äne had duped him twice, causing him to make mistakes that easily could have cost him his life. Why she hadn’t taken the opportunities she’d created so easily to break one of his bones or snap one of his tendons, he wasn’t sure. But she was probably up to something. His back and his pride hurting, Fenrir forced himself to focus. He wasn’t going to beat Äne quickly, she was too smart. But perhaps he could get her to make a mistake.

“Who is the coward?”, Fenrir taunted, deciding to attack the one thing all Nords seemed to value: honor in battle. “Kodlak Whitemane would never have run like you do, from a Mer!” 

Her eyes glinted malignantly, “You knew nothing of Kodlak, elven scum!”

“I knew enough of him to see that his memory is poorly represented by you!

She leapt forward to meet him in a head on attack. Big mistake. Better than he could have hoped for. Äne recognized it was the wrong move too late. Fenrir bit down on her shoulder hard,  knocking her to the ground. He raked his claws across her chest and shook his head even as his fangs tore through her thick fur and into her muscle, ripping the puncture marks open into gashes. 

She screamed in agony and tried to kick him off of her, but he released his hold and pushed her away before she could counter. Blood trickled down her shoulder, and Fenrir might have worried that he’d seriously maimed her, except that he knew firsthand how powerful the healing capabilities of the Wolf were. Already, the opened arteries would be clotting, stemming the bleeding. Of course, she wouldn’t be darting nimbly into the way of his attempts to flee anymore.

“You’ll pay for that”, she snarled, but the pain she was feeling bled into her voice, and it came out as a whine.

“I didn’t want to hurt you”, Fenrir retorted, “You forced me.” 

He would have turned and left, except that a distant wail cut through the air. It was the same voice that had called Vilkas away, the elf was sure. But this time, it wasn’t a summons, it was a scream of agony, so sharp it made Fenrir’s nerves quiver. It appeared he and Äne weren’t the only ones drawing blood in the Rift.

A whimper escaped Äne’s throat. She took a hesitant step towards the direction of the cry, then glanced at Fenrir.

He twisted his ears back, prepared to defend himself, but there was no need to. Äne ran from their battle then, towards whatever had called out.

---

The scent of blood was in the air. Lots of it. 

I will not lose another!, Äne told herself, ignoring the pain that jarred through her with every paw step. The physical exertion of transforming was wearing on her, and if whatever had attacked her shield-siblings was powerful enough to force a cry of pain from Aela, Äne wasn’t sure what her already shredded body would be able to accomplish. But that didn’t matter. She had to fight. She had to try. Kodlak’s death had almost broken her, and Farkas’s fate was looking more grim with each passing second. Äne would not let a third friend be stolen from her.

Suddenly, the woods were much too quiet. The she-wolf slowed her stride and moved forward more carefully. She stalked past the cliff where Aela had been keeping watch to a spot further down and peered over the edge of the drop off. 

The magic could be felt before it could be seen. Her fur stood on end as the air sizzled with electricity, though the sky was clear. A paralyzing burst of lighting arced through the sky, heading upward to hit her squarely in the chest. 

For a moment, she lost control of her body. Äne couldn’t breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t see. Her muscles went limp and her body cold as she fell like a ragdoll down the steep slope before her, hitting rock and root and having no ability to control her fall. Blood began to flow freely again from the wounds Fenrir had inflicted earlier. The world was a blur, and what parts of her weren’t already numb, excruciating pain throbbed underneath the spasms caused by the shock spell that had struck her.

She hit the ground below hard. Ears ringing, the Harbinger could feel her body quivering, unable to remain functional in beast form and therefore returning to it’s human state. Äne could already feel her jaw shifting back into it’s normal place. She struggled to channel her anger, to bend it into fuel she could use to sustain the Wolf. But her strength was expired. As her lungs and heart shrank first, her exhausted body was no longer being supplied with enough blood and oxygen, incapacitating her further.

As she gasped for breath, a cold voice spoke from the shadows. “And here I thought you’d cause some trouble. Those bureaucrats have no idea what kind of enemy deserves a high-risk label. Still, I’ll probably get a promotion for bringing you in single-handedly.” Her vision was still fuzzy and out of focus, but for Äne there was no mistaking the dialect of the Thalmor. She tried to get to her feet and face the Altmer wizard, but he wasn’t alone. Two armored soldiers grabbed her roughly from behind as the robed elf came forward to inspect her. They twisted her still useless arms behind her and she felt thick binds being wrapped tightly around her wrists.

“Don’t bother struggling”, the Thalmor wizard told her, his voice heavy with the characteristic Aldmeri air of assumed superiority that was maddening. “Those binds were made especially for you, Änwin Ravencaller. There’s no escaping them, they’re threaded with silver.”

“What-”, she struggled to speak, still winded. It didn’t help that her body was raking with spasms as it returned to human form. “What have you done to my shield-siblings?”

“That feral beast of a woman and her filthy male friend?” The wizard laughed, “They’re being treated to the Aldmeri Dominion’s finest display of hospitality. Once they’ve been interrogated, we’ll see what creative ways the torturers can dispose of them.”

She lunged forward, prepared to bite her oppressor if she had to, anything to stop his intolerable, cruel arrogance. The soldiers behind her yanked back fiercely, one of them punched her in the gut, giving her a pretty good idea how the Bosmer had felt when she’d been the one looking down, not so long ago.

The wizard hadn’t even bothered to take a step back from her attack, “Foolish girl.” He lifted one hand, electricity sizzling and crackling from it. “Did you know that it’s possible to turn a living person to dust if you only strike them with enough energy? Of course, I’m under special orders to bring you in alive; but there are fates worse than death, wouldn’t you agree?”

She spit on his robe.

That made him move. “Arg! You will learn to show the proper respect for your superiors, filthy dog!”

The tip of his boot rammed into her jaw, making Äne coil into herself. The two Thalmor soldiers laughed as they jerked her back up. The wizard sneered down at Äne, leaning down so that his yellow-skinned face was inches from hers. “I’m going to enjoy bringing you to the Embassy.”

A twang echoed through the trees, and suddenly an arrow was protruding from the neck of the Altmer to Äne’s right. He fell gurgling to the ground.

The wizard jerked back, both hands now sizzling with magical energy. Using one hand, he created a magical ward around himself; with the other he wielded blue sparks of energy. “Who’s there?”

Twang!

The soldier to Äne’s left fell, his elven armor pierced through at the heart.

“Show yourself!”, yelled the Altmer wizard, looking around wildly.

It was silent for a moment, and then a wolf appeared from between the trees, in clear view of Äne and the wizard. It’s coat was a snowy white with blackened points that almost looked like frostbite. It’s yellow eyes took in the scene, which it surveyed with an uncharacteristic intelligence. When it honed in on the Thalmor wizard, the creature twisted it’s ears back and bared it’s fangs in warning.

Behind the wolf, another figure stepped forward, bow drawn and aimed at the last remaining Thalmor. It was Fenrir. He seemed to have come out of thin air, but Äne couldn’t see any magical aura around him that implied he had made himself invisible.

The wizard’s eyes narrowed, “You are interfering with the Thalmor Justiciary. If you don’t surrender yourself immediately, I will kill you.”

The wolf at Fenrir’s feet growled deep in it’s throat.

A wry smile lit the wood elf’s face, “I’d love to see you try.”

“This is the last warning I’m giving you!”, the Wizard insisted.

“You’re right”, Fenrir replied cooly, releasing his loaded bowstring. The ward blocked the blow, but the force behind the arrow shattered the Thalmor’s magical shield and before the  high elf could focus his energy to recreate it, the fangs of the wolf were upon his throat. He fell to the ground, his scream cut off as the powerful jaws clamped shut on his neck, killing him instantly.

The animal released it’s deadly grip and licked it’s bloodstained chops, glancing at Äne before reaching back down and tugging the Thalmor Justicar’s black robe away from his body.

Fenrir was behind Äne quickly, pulling a dagger from somewhere on his body and cutting furiously at the binds. “I think you owe someone an apology”, he told her gruffly.

“I seem to have misjudged you, elf”, Äne answered, still having trouble believing he had actually come back to save her. “Thanks.”

He grunted an acknowledgement.

Äne watched as the white wolf drug the clothes from the dead wizard, leaving him in nothing but a loincloth, boots, and gloves, and dropped them at Fenrir’s feet. The elf made a strange guttural sound that couldn’t have been an actual language, and the animal barked, apparently in response. Äne felt the binds snap loose. Fenrir picked up the robes and dropped them into her black-clawed hands, which were the only part of her body where signs that she was a werewolf still remained. She slid the robe over herself quickly while the elf checked over the bodies of the fallen Thalmor soldiers. 

“You’re going to want to recover your armor, Harbinger”, Fenrir motioned towards the top of the cliff, “It’s probably better that you don’t go around flaunting Thalmor robes.”

“They took Vilkas and Aela”, she told him, struggling to control the horrible emotions that were welling up from within her.

Fenrir nodded without looking at her, brushing blood from his hand onto the furs that were wrapped around his waist. “I know. The main group of Thalmor are mounted and moving fast towards the southeast. Your friends are injured and weaponless, but alive.” He turned and looked her in the eyes, “There are too many for you to take by yourself. Especially with your injuries.”

The Harbinger considered this information darkly, massaging her wrists.

“I would get out of here”, Fenrir continued, “Stay off the main roads for a while and head to Windhelm. The High King will want to know that Thalmor are loose in his country, he’ll probably send soldiers. That’s you’re best hope for your friends, Harbinger. You know this.”

She did know this. Deep in her heart, she knew that even if it was possible to catch up with the Thalmor, they’d subdue her easily and nobody but the Aldmeri Dominion would stand to gain from her actions. But would Ulfric really help her? If he decided to, who was to say it wouldn’t already be too late? She didn’t even know where her friends were being taken. 

“God help me”, she prayed aloud, rubbing a hand over her face.

The white wolf whined and nudged Fenrir meaningfully. 

He responded with several more strange noises, which Äne realized were actually wolf-sounds. 

The animal growled and wagged it’s tail, whining in her direction and cocking his head.

“Is he your pet?”, she asked quietly, peeking at the animal from between her middle and index fingers.

“He’s my brother”, Fenrir corrected her sharply. “His name is Sköll.”

“Your brother?”

Äne took Fenrir’s lack of response to mean that he was serious. “What is… Sköll, saying?”, she asked.

The elf sighed, “He says… he thinks we should come with you.”

Sköll barked and lifted a forepaw, tail wagging more vigorously.

Fenrir walked over to where the arrow that had deflected off the Thalmor’s ward had landed and picked it up, examining the tip, “And Sköll... never tells me to get involved in someone else’s problems.”