The Gray Wolf Tales: Part 2 ~ Chapter 4

• Posted by Ben W June 22, 2015 - 1,156 views

  Myst Frost-Borne

          “How? How do you know my husband?” Amelie asked, still wide eyes with shock. And she wasn’t the only one. Tolfdir, Nelecar and Dagur shared her look. All eyes locked onto me, waiting for my answer.

          I rubbed the back of my head, ruffling the blue feathers atop my scalp along the way. “I guess… it’s a little hard to explain. But the simple answer is we’re friends.”

          Her brown eyes looked at me, still dubious on my answer. “Give me more details! Please.” She pleaded to me, truly wanting to know.

          I exhaled, giving her a nod. “We met a little over two years ago. I was heading for Winterhold at the time and found him in the city of Solitude. It was a strange sight for this one. He just kept looking left and right, looking as if he was lost and wary of everyone around him.” I continued to tell the story to Amelie and the others of how I met the Werewolf King himself. How I helped him familiarize himself with the landscape of Skyrim, the laws and government. He had told me that it reminded him of his rule worked, only Wergar ruled the whole continent of Lyssia. However, he didn’t tell me this until after our trust grew even more.

          Not noticing, several people had come into the inn and listened to my tale of Wergar. Though some of them didn’t really like me personally, they stayed and listened because the Dragonborn was involved.  After the telling of the tale, I looked to Amelie. “There you have it, Amelie. You have this one’s tale of how your husband and I met .”  

          The Nord woman looked at me, a little misty eyed. To me, she looked to be fixated on one part in particular.  “He… he spoke of me? All the time?” A hand was to her mouth, looking to try and stifle her sob.

          I gave her a nod.  “Yes, he did. He loved you, and still does, with all his being. Including your… children.” Unable to help myself, I looked down, feeling ashamed for bringing up her deceased young ones.

          Nelecar looked from me to Amelie, having a degree of sorrow on his golden face. “Amelie…” he began. “I’m sorry. None of us-”

          She cut him off. “Nelecar, please. It’s… it’s alright.” Amelie sniffed, trying to calm herself. “I never told any of you on purpose. I thought… all of them dead. At least until I showed everyone my transformation.” She gave a sigh. “That’s how I learned Wergar was alive and how much he’s done for this province.”

          Everyone in the inn gave a nod at her comment, murmuring in agreement to one another. “Your husband has given everyone something to hope for: peace. Hope itself that Skyrim will be safe,” I added in. And it was true. Everyone in Skyrim was pleased that Wergar was here and keeping the peace, in his own way of course. Rough justice, no mercy for those who’d threaten the people or Hold.

          “Amelie,” I begin, drawing her attention, “would you like to see your husband again?”

          Her eyes widen, looking hopeful; mouth twitching, trying to keep her excitement contained within herself. “Yes! Please!”    

          I smiled, chuckling a little to myself. “I’ll get started on a note and hire a courier right away then. Thankfully they are tenacious.” Amelie simply looked at me, tears filling up in her eyes once again. I myself blinked, wondering what she was going to do. After several seconds of silence, she walked up and embraced me in a hug. Gasping a little, I didn’t expect this from her in the slightest. Wrapping my arms around her, I patted her back a little, listening to her sob and whisper, “Thank you,” a couple of times.

          “Shhh…” I whispered into her ear. “It’ll be alright. I promise.” Her cries began to calm down a bit, but the strength of the sobs were potent. My gauntleted hand rubbed her back slightly, easing her a little more. “There you go,” I said.

          “Let’s give those two a little time to themselves,” Dagur suggested, breaking the silence the others felt creep into the inn. Nelecar and Tolfdir nodded in agreement. “Help me with the supplies downstairs, would you two?” He asked the mages.

          “Of course,” the Master Wizard replied with a smile.

          “Sure, why not,” Nelecar said back.

          Together, the three of them walked to the cellar of the inn, just to give the two of us some time alone to speak. Several of the patrons also took the hint and headed out the door, but a couple of them stayed. I didn’t mind, and I doubt Amelie did as well. Taking a step back from her, she spoke before I could. “Thank you… uh…” she trailed off, not knowing my name.

          “Myst. Myst Frost-Borne,” I answered her, my tail swaying a little.

          “Myst,” she repeated with a smile.

          “Walk with me to the College? I’m sure you’ll enjoy the scenery,” I suggested to her.

          Giving me a nod in agreement, I began to lead Amelie out of the inn. However, several steps from the door, it swung open. “Oh, I’m sorry, I-”

          Before I could finish speaking, a fist connected to the side of my face, sending me sprawling to the left.

          “Myst!” Amelie cried, reaching a hand and trying to spring in my direction.

          A hand grabbed her roughly by the arm, keeping her in place. “You’re not going anywhere, Wolf bitch,” the man sneered.

          Looking up with slightly dazed eyes, I saw who they were: men in golden armor, red cloaks tied around their necks and covered with furs to stay warm. One had it around his bicep, perhaps signalling that he was the leader of the small group. “Redcloaks,” I growled, snarling at them, teeth bared. A little blood was starting to slowly crawl down my cheek, dripping from my chin like rain drops. “Wergar told this one all about you bastards.”

          The leader of the group spoke up as Amelie tried to relinquish the grip of the man holding her. “Wergar? That dumb dog is still alive? Figured Lex or Opal may have killed him by now.” He began to laugh. “Oh, how I hope so. His pelt will make a nice rug for us to wipe our boots on.”

          “Mighty tough talk from a grunt of the Catlord army, isn’t it?” I chuckled back.

          Immediately, the man became angered. “Watch your tongue, lizard, or I’ll have you killed and made into a nice pair of boots.” The few patrons that stayed looked scared, their wide eyes frantically looking from the Redcloaks and to me. Looking from the corner of my eye, I motioned for them to move as far away as possible. I knew this would break into a fight, whether I tried diplomacy or not.

          The man saw the patrons move away, getting up from the table. “Men,” he commanded, two of them drawing the crossbows on their backs, “you may fire at them when ready.”

          I stared wide eyed. “What?!”

          “No!” Amelie cried.

          Lining up their shots, I saw my chance. Turning, I yelled. “Get down!” Jumping towards the to now cowering patrons, the Redcloaks fired their bolts. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion: the panicked cries of the man and woman, of Amelie, and the whistling of the bolts. Thankfully, they never reached the two, having their original targets shielded by my body. One bounced off my Ebony armor, falling uselessly to the cold floor of the inn. I cried out in pain as the second one found its way between a gap of the armor, burying itself into my left shoulder.

          I groaned as I fell to the floor with a hard thwack. The bolt was in deep, the sharp edges of the head digging more and more into my scales and flesh as I moved my arm. Blood instantly began to ooze from the wound, turning parts of my armor a maroon shade.

          “Get the cellar! Now!” I yelled at the two.

          Nerves getting the better of them at first, the man and woman quickly got to their feet and sprinting for the cellar door.

          The Redcloaks merely laughed amongst themselves, placing their crossbows back on their backs. “See boys,” the leader spoke, laughing along with his men, “isn’t this fun? Just to watch these pathetic people run away like mice?”

          Amelie looked at the men with a look of horror. “You… you vermin are no better than the Rat King themselves!” Still, she tried to pry the hand from her arm.

          “Stop struggling, dog!” The man barked at her, back-handing her with enough force to knock her off balance and nearly fall backwards.

          “Don’t!” I yelled to the man. “Don’t you dare touch her again!” Despite the pain that roared in my left shoulder, I lifted myself up. Drawing the ebony longsword from its sheath, I continued. “If you even think of touching her again, I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of you for Wergar to tear apart!” I was serious. I was serious and filled with ire.

          One of the men spat at my feet. “Try us, lizard. There’s four of us and only one of you.” Two of them drew their swords, the metal catching the light of the fire pit just right. The runes glisten along the hilt and blade, sending rays of light in almost every which-way direction.

          “Numbers are just that: numbers,” I replied, head and sword lowering. “And it’s not the quantity that matters, it is the quality. Wergar taught me that. He taught me a lot of things.” Looking up, my amber eyes narrowed, the scars along my left one stretch a little. My left palm lay open, an orb of green, yet transparent magic forming. “But the most important thing he taught this one: ‘Always know when to fight back’.”

          The one holding onto Amelie threw her to the ground and drew his sword and dagger, leering menacingly at me. The leader of the group drew his sword, the design and fashion of it nearly identical to that of the others. “Kill him!”

          I never felt more ready in my entire life.

          All they all charged at me, my left arm shot up and unleashed the magic it contained. A concussive blast pushed two of the men down to the ground in a sprawl of man and metal. The bolt dug deeper into me, slicing more of my flesh causing more blood to freely flow. I groaned and winced in pain.

          The leader and the man with the sword and dagger continued to charge forth, unfazed by my magic used on their comrades. Both of them brought their weapons to the side for a slash on my right. The clash of ebony on silver caused a dull clang to sound and resonate off of stone walls of the inn. I grunted, holding the both of them at bay as the Redcloaks added more pressure onto the locking of metal. It was difficult holding the both of them back using only one of my arms, but I was able to, however unsteadily.

          Raising my arm again, the spell regained its vigor, the green transparent orb firing at the leader, pushing him away. The ones that were pushed previously had since gotten up and rushed at me again. Groaning and grunting, I pushed the Redcloak from our sword grind and turned my attention to the ones already on me.

          Their weapons swung in different directions and I knew I could parry both with just my sword. Raising the weapon and my arm, the silver weapons stopped just short of my midsection and head. The pain of the bolt caused me to cry out, making my arm waver. Healing it wouldn’t do any good for me, the projectile still wedged in my flesh.

          “Your magic won’t help you, lizard,” one of the Redcloaks taunted. “Even with it, you are still not a match for all of us.”

          The leader got back up, this time heading for Amelie. “Keep him busy. I have the dog’s bitch,” he sneered. She fought against his grabbing her, but couldn’t throw him off.

          “Amelie!” I cried as she was dragged out the door.

          Something snapped.

          With a roar, I pushed to the men off of me and looked maliciously from one to the other. Squeezing my hand and opening it again, the orb of magic was a different color. It was red.

          “Let’s see if you’re a match for each other!” I shouted, rapidly firing the red magic at the two of them.

          The Fury spell found its mark on the two of them, quickly enveloping the both of them in a red hue. Both glanced at each other and found they were no longer in control of their limbs. “Wh-what is going on?!” one of the cried as the clashing of metal on metal rang out.

          “Fury. It makes anyone fight anyone, ally against ally! This one always knew how to handle you!” I snarled at them as the two comrades continued to fight one another, brother against brother. Turning my head to the right, I walked up to the Redcloak with the sword and dagger in each hand. He was poised and ready for more.

          “You staying here to fight me won’t help you save that dog any faster!” He laughed.

          “Then why not turn your attention towards me instead,” a voice behind the man said. Turning his head, he was greeted by a lightning bolt to his back, causing him to be knocked towards me and falling to the ground. The gold of the armor was now a char black where it was struck. Nelecar stood poised and ready, his right hand aglow with crackling lightning. Tolfdir wasn’t with him, more than likely with Dagur trying to keep and calm the man and woman down. “Arch Mage, I have this. You go rescue Amelie! Now!”

          Giving him a nod, I turned and ran for the door, entering the cold air of Winterhold. The weather was still sunny, but the wind had picked up a little. It sent rivets of snow surging with the breeze, creating white tidal waves that swallowed the tracks that covered the ground. Looking left and right, I could just make out fresh tracks heading out of the small city. They couldn’t be that far ahead. I ran in the direction of the prints, praying to the Hist and Gods that I wasn’t too late.

          Blood continued to freely pour from the wound, sending the warm liquid down my back and down my armor where it could escape. How I desperately wanted to stop and pull the bolt from my shoulder, but stopping would cause what precious time I felt I didn’t have.

          “Amelie,” I called out into the frozen wasteland. “Where are you?!”

          “Myst!” she shouted back before a yelp in pain came next.

          Following the direction of the call, I finally found them near a very large cliff. He was still holding her arm, but positioned her very threateningly towards the edge. There was a gash on her cheek, blood streaking down the Nord’s face. The leader called out, “One false step, and the woman dies!”

          I gritted my teeth, squeezing my sword handle, making my knuckles pop. “You disgusting… vile…!”

          “Ahh, I’m sure you can come up with more colorful names than that to call me, lizard,” he smirked.

          “I do, but they aren’t fit for Royalty to hear.” I knew I had a spell to easily pull Amelie towards me, but it could easily be harmful on her as well. If the grip he had on her was strong enough, it could pull her arm out of its socket and I didn’t want to do that.

          “Royalty? Please,” he scoffed. “She and her filthy dog of a husband aren’t fit to even lick my masters’ boots!” he retorted.

          “You know, you keep calling Wergar that but I believe you fit that role better than he does.”

          “Say that again, and she meets her end!” To emphasize his point, the man brought the Nord woman closer to the cliff’s edge, face red with rage.

          “If you had any honor, guts or balls left, you’d leave her alone and face me instead,” I challenged. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose to ‘a pair of boots’?”  Taunting people normally got the other to take up the challenge. I prayed it would be so here too.

          The man merely laughed. “If you believe that’s going to work, think again. However...“

          “What?”

          “If I win, then I not only get the dog’s wife killed, but I get a nice pair of boots as well.” He laughed with mad intent. Amelie looked terrified, looking to me with large, worried eyes.

          I looked her in the eyes, in a way of reassurance. “If you get the chance to kill this one, that is,” I corrected him.

          Seeming to have reached a deal, the man pushed Amelie in my direction, away from the cliff. She immediately ran and stood by my side. Her gaze quickly fell upon the wooden shaft of the crossbow bolt still lodged in my shoulder. “Myst…,” she began, worry in her voice.

          “A flesh wound, I promise,” I winced. More than anything, I wanted her to pull the damned thing out of me. Seeming to have read my mind, her ivory skinned fingers wrapped around the base of it and pulled with all her might.

          I cried out in pain, eyes widening in surprise despite knowing it was coming. Soon, the cold air met that of warm flesh, causing a different kind of pain to course through my body. Panting, I turned to her, seeing the silver bolt in her delicate hand. “Th… thank yo-”

          I was cut off from my sentence prematurely by the battle cry of the Redcloak and his sword swinging downward between us. Stumbling backward, my longsword was raised and ready to parry his blows. And rain down they did.

          Our weapons clanged against one another as we fought valiantly to try and wound the other. I felt tired, physically and magically; heavy pants leaving my body to form the white cloud of oxygen around myself and the Redcloak and the feeling of emptiness within myself as my magicka reserves were starting to wane. Amelie could only watch from a safe distance, the silver bolt still in her hand and eyes locked on our deadly duel.

          The Redcloak was finally able to get the upperhand on me, swinging his blade just right, knocking my own out of my palm and into the snow. “Xhuth!” I swore aloud in my native tongue.

          With glee in his laughter, he swung at me again, the tip of the silver sword just barely missing my jugular. Taking a surprised jump backward, I felt something: my heel finding the empty space of the cliff. “So this is how the lizard dies: being thrown off the cliff. Guess you won’t be my nice pair of black boots after all,” he mused.

            “Don’t count this one out just yet, grunt,” I replied. Orbs of magic appeared in both of my hands now. In my left was the green of my Push spell and in my right was one of my favorites. Holding out my left, the concussive blast of force sounded and blew him several feet away. My right opened slightly, the purple magic folding and molding to my thoughts desire. In no time at all, a bound weapon was in my hand. The wicked appearance of the blade itself looked like something the Dremora would use, lethal spikes along the blade itself ensured heavy tearing of flesh if it hit. “I’m never without a weapon, but I know you are.”

          The Redcloak looked to his hand to find it devoid of the sword he had just moments ago. “Bu… how?!”

          “That matters very little to this one. What does matter is you are done. As before, I’m going to make sure there isn’t any of you left for Wergar to tear apart!” My amber eyes loomed maliciously at the man, anger taking over. Hurting those close to a friend, or hurting those of family… I will never forgive.

          Walking at first, my strides quickly turned into a run as I raised my blade up to take a slash out of him. Futilely, he lifted his arms up in way of defense. With a cry in Jel, the bound blade bit its way into the golden armor of the Redcloak, tearing away a piece or two of it. Blood sprayed out from the wound, painting the snow and myself in crimson red. The man cried out in pain, placing his hands to try and staunch the bleeding.

          I merely snarled at him. “You can’t stop the bleeding! You don’t have the time.” With a flex, the bound weapon disappeared, but the purple orb of magic remained. Lifting up my right hand, I unleashed the spell. “As this one stated before, there will be nothing left for Wergar to tear apart,” I stated coldly to the Redcloak.

          There was a whoosh as the spell and wind sounded, adding to the chilling ambiance. Standing in a circle, surrounding the Redcloak was a pack of Familiar wolves. They gazed angrily, even hungrily, at him, their eyes locked onto him. Locked onto their prey.

          He looked from the left to the right, wolf to wolf as his eyes widened as fear of the inevitable sake into his being. “Wait,” his now shrill voice sounded, “I-”

          “E’ cre so’os,” I said, turning around and walking towards Amelie.

          As one, the pack sprang, snarling like rabid beasts onto the Redcloak. His screams of pain fell on deaf ears as more of his warm, life blood was spilt on the white snow. They raised in pitch as the wolves tore into his warm flesh, the sound of wet tearing audible to the both of us. Amelie only stared at me, her eyes looking into my own. “Myst…”

          “I’ll be alright,” I reassuringly replied. The wound on my shoulder still wept blood, but my magical reserves were drained. I couldn’t heal the wound even if I wanted to. “Once we’re back at the College, this one will get attention, don’t you worry.” I smiled to her. “Come on, I’m sure Nelecar and the others are waiting for us.”

          She gave me a nod. Together we began to walk back to Winterhold, only stopping momentarily to pick up the ebony longsword that was dropped during the fight. Placing the weapon back in its sheath, we continued on our way.

          The body of the Redcloak laid in the snow, steam rising from the open gashes, bites and tears in his flesh. Even if he wanted to, there was nothing left for Wergar to tear apart. Just as I had promised.