VI. The Circle
Vilkas handles most of the work assignments around Jorrvaskr, and after some practice, I could almost predict what kind of job he had for me. Today, the usual signs were missing. This time, his eyes carefully avoided mine and his tone discouraged questions.
Go see Skjor. He's got something for you.
Something for me, huh? Not just any Companion looking for work....hmmmm. It must be well outside the workaday collection of recover-the-stolen-warhammer, slay-the-rampaging-sabre cat, or kill-the-escaped-criminal missions that keep The Companions in business. But why me instead of others who've been around Jorrvaskr for much longer?
When I found him, Skjor was no more informative, with merely a brusque order to meet with him that night at the Underforge, a small, hidden cavern below the great Sky Forge of Eorlund Gray-Mane. The place must be very well-concealed because I have been past this outcropping of rock many times without noticing anything unusual. Skjor said he'd be there to show me the way. It all sounded very hush-hush. I thought about asking Kodlak what was going on, but decided I didn't want a reputation as someone who doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut.
Funny, I was just asking Tilma the Haggard, one of our caretakers at Jorrvaskr,if she knew where I might find some alchemy equipment for experimenting on the local herbs and flowers.
I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing, she said, I'm a good keeper of secrets--have to be...in this Hall, she told me.
She's right, but is it really a secret if even the servants know? Of course, the housekeeping staff always knows what's going on behind closed doors, don't they?
Darkness had fallen. It was time to go.
**********
Skjor stood waiting for me outside the Underforge. In the light of a full moon, I could detect the barely visible outline of an irregular stony door where I'd seen nothing unusual before. It opened under Skjor's hand. It's amazing what we overlook when we assume we already know what there is to be seen. We entered a small chamber directly beneath the Sky Forge, where I saw that we had company. A werewolf waited in the center of the room next to an empty ceremonial basin. It made no aggressive moves, in fact, it seemed to be calmly bidding its time. Who was it? Skjor turned to me:
Are you prepared?
The forceful intensity of something like battle-alert shot through my body and mind. Just what was about to happen here? Slow it down, I thought to myself.
What is this place, I asked Skjor.
The Sky Forge, he said, has been around longer than anyone can say, and the Underforge was here long before. It is old with ancient magic. We bring you here to make you stronger, new blood.
A suspicion I wanted to ignore began to take shape in my mind.
It's been a long time since we had a warrior with a heart like yours, Skjor continued. That pitiful ceremony behind the mead hall does not befit warriors such as us.....I hope you recognize Aela even in her present form. She has agreed to be your forbearer.
The praise was heady, but my suspicion was confirmed. They intended to initiate me as a werewolf.
With some difficulty, I did think I could see Aela in the beast's eyes. She was a friend, and I had come to trust her, to rely on her judgment. Plainly, she thought this transformation would be good for me. And yet.....
Where are Kodlak and the others? Shouldn't they be here?
Skjor replied patiently but with the force of conviction: We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift. It's a blessing, not the curse he believes. For the good of The Companions, we take matters into our own hands.
What if I don't want to become a werewolf?
Would I be out of The Companions if I refused? My mind was still racing with both the known and unknown consequences of assent to their invitation. It would change me for the rest of my life....and maybe beyond, as Kodlak feared. By now I knew most of the members of the Circle well enough. Their gift/blessing/curse—whichever you might prefer—did not seem to make them any less human nor even cause them the spiritual distress Kodlak alone seemed to bear. As for the power itself, they called upon their beast-selves only in the most dire situations. Still, I had heard them talking in low tones about the sensations and urges they experienced when their werewolves came out. Every warrior knows the kind of blood-fever that can emerge in the midst of battle or a fight for one's life. Between fight and flight, when fight is chosen, the body and the mind engage it fully. The rational part of oneself quiets in the reactionary demands of the moment. For some, the red mist clouds everything but the impulse to kill and destroy in a storm of rage. Whether that is the mind of survival or of mental fracture, who can say? But the werewolf mind goes beyond even this extreme into true bloodlust, the blood-stirring thrill of the predator in the quivering flesh of its prey. They don't speak of it openly, but I have heard hints at even more.
What if I don't want to become a werewolf?
It is your choice, Skjor said. But to take your place at the heights of The Companions, you must join your spirit with the beast world. To be part of the Circle, your blood must be as ours. But, your choice.
I could not delay much longer. The moment of decision had arrived. The Companions are warriors of prowess, and the Circle more so. I had discovered the ambition in myself to be the best I can be at this life. I am far from that goal at present. This step would surely make me more than I am. But would it make me less, too? I am now a fighter, but I do not enjoy killing, and I don’t want to enjoy killing. Will I be able to control the animal instincts the werewolf feels so that if need be, I may wear the wolf, but the wolf does not wear me? I believe I can, and I trust Aela.
I'm ready, I said.
As she stood motionless in her wolf-self, Skjor slid a blade lightly across Aela's animal wrist. Her blood splashed dark and thick into the ceremonial basin from which I was to drink. I do not remember the taste of the werewolf because what felt like the blackness of death closed my eyes for seconds, minutes, hours--a timeless consciousness with connection to nothing.
When they opened, I felt reborn. I could sense the amplified muscular power in my limbs; I thought I could breathe into these vast lungs enough air to sustain me for miles at speed. My claws and teeth were my invincible sword and shield. I looked out through eyes that were both mine and alien to me. The entire shape of the world had shifted as my body had transformed. I stood taller than I ever had, looking down on the prey below. I realized that I was still in Whiterun, just outside Jorrvaskr, and I desperately wanted to escape the confines of the city walls and the incredulous stares of the Whiterun guards gaping at me from under the arbor of the Gildergreen. The scent of fear and aggression poured from them in waves. I knew my power over them, but I did not want to harm them. I ran.
I had not gone far when I felt the first arrow pierce my hide. I know what an arrow wound feels like, but this was different. The pain of the injury was far less to me than the feeling of shock and anger at their audacity. Fools. Weak, pitiful fools. I heard the inner urging….attack! Tear the prey to pieces! Gorge on their steaming entrails! I forced my mind away from the images that sprang from these thoughts. I did not turn on the prey in counterattack. I ran and never stopped running until the blackness of the change overtook me once more. By then, I was far from Whiterun and Jorrvaskr, but I was not alone. Aela was there to welcome me back.
I stood naked and covered in sweat in the chill night air, still barely believing what had happened to me. Aela handed me my gear. Yours was not an easy transformation, she said. You gave us more trouble than even Farkas did. But you're still alive; you have been born into the pack, sister. You have the blood.
Her words seemed to be outlined in brilliance....the pack, the blood. The visceral force of these new ties pulled at me like nothing I have ever experienced before. I was of the pack, and now I knew what that meant.
Never alone.
We have a celebration planned in your honor, Aela told me. Skjor has discovered the Silver Hand holed up at the run-down fort near Gallows Rock. We're going in there to clean them out. Skjor's already on his way there. We need to get going.
Then came her warning: You have the blood, but be careful where you use it. There are many cowards in this land who cannot stand the sight of glory. For now, you need to rest some before you call on the wolf again. As you grow more certain, you can make it stronger, faster, more powerful. The blood of your foes will strengthen you, if you choose to use it. Feed and grow strong.
That must be what no one said plainly. Even now, Aela gently avoided the true implications of her guidance. Feed and grow strong on the blood of my foes.
I was both disgusted and attracted by the thought. Though my body was human once more, the wolf still lingered, just out of reach but not quite out of hearing.
In my mind, another word erupted in fire, a terrible word for an unthinkable act. How would it be possible to separate what strengthens the werewolf from what degrades the woman? What would I become in the end?
