@haute- Thank you so much. The poem was one of those spontaneous moments that just- worked. So we ran with it. And then the Mae and Cai show was a bit of comic relief that felt good to write. The story is not done with them yet, although their next appearance may not be until the Epilogue. That is mostly because if I gave them anymore “page time” they would take over the whole story!

@Black Hand- Thank you, my friend. We will be “borrowing” Seth off and on again- so…. And yes, Trey also has a role to play beyond rounding up escaping daughters- but not yet. As for safe- I fear Athynae can only promise to stay- well… peeved is perhaps the word.

@Athynae- Trey has probably mellowed somewhat over the years. Probably. Of course- his attitude toward books is still…. Hmm- have you considered a nice trip to Cyrodiil? I have heard he refuses to leave Vvardenfell for any reason….

@Grits- Thank you- and well- Athlain is probably still not completely thrilled with having a “passenger” along every step of the way. Especially one who second-guesses every decision and points out every time he whines about something.

@Destri- You know, I honestly did not “plan” the symmetry- but it is certainly there nonetheless. And I am beyond pleased that you know in Athlain’s reaction as well as your summation of the wonderful dramatic possibilities for what happens next. And your estimate of Mae and Cai is quite similar to my own….

@mALX- Welcome back! Thank you so much.

@D.Foxy- Athynae may have watched the program… But the decision to give poor Athlain not one, but TWO red-headed sisters- that bit of evil is all on me. And I am more of a “Leghorn” man, myself. As in Foghorn Leghorn- “I say- I say- Pay ATTENTION, boy! How you gonna learn anything if you’re always talking?”


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CHAPTER 15

As I walked away from Korst Wind-Eye, my steps felt somehow lighter. The shaman had named me one of the Skaal; surely even as obstinate a chieftain as Heart-Fang would take the opinion of his own spiritual adviser seriously. And that would mean I was closer to finding the truth of Captain Carius’ disappearance. That was important in itself- the Legion commander had given me his trust and the chance to prove myself. Beyond that- perhaps once this mission was done, I could think of returning to my home… and to Athynae. A cloud of doubt passed across my mind then- Aesliip had seemed certain that ‘Thyna was much closer than Vvardenfell. But the concern seemed to slide away as quickly as it had come, disappearing like mist under the spring sun.

Instead, I turned my thoughts and my steps to the west, toward Hrothmund’s Barrow. The weather was clear for a change and a light breeze was at my back. I took the conditions as good omens, surety of a trouble-free journey. And so it proved- at least the outbound portion. I reached the wreckage of the airship and the great barrow in a day’s easy walking. How different the circumstances from the last time I had been there. I was healthy and well-supplied with food; no fears for myself or Athynae troubled me; and I even felt a sort of wistful fondness for the eccentric draugr wizard I had assisted to his final peace.

His passing would have been more difficult for me if not for the words he spoke at the end; it was clear he was relieved to at last be able to cease his labors. And those thoughts reminded me of a letter that I had received from Aunt Serene, near the beginning of my training with the Legion. She had been of high rank in the Legion, I knew, attaining a knighthood when she was not much older than I. Beyond that, she had been the leader of House Redoran for over 20 years. So I had written to- well, to complain is the only honest word- about my father. A particular passage from her response came back to me, as she tried to explain the fears that only a parent could truly understand- and how much greater those fears were for my father.



In your letter, you say that dear Trey has “forgotten what it is like to be young.” I believe that the opposite is closer to the truth- that he remembers his own youth all too well, even as he wishes he could forget it. Because of that, he has tried, perhaps too hard, to protect you and your sisters. Still worse is the burden he carries- the burden of immortality. In the normal course of things, parents watch their children grow to adulthood, even as they themselves grow toward the end of their span.

Barring accident or assassination, Trey will never reach that natural end. He fears that he will live to see you- and everyone he loves- grow old and die. That is a terrible prospect, and he dreads it. So, if he has been reluctant to let you “grow up,” he has his reasons. For his sake, and Baria’s, I would ask that you try to understand those reasons.

Though I had respected Serene’s wishes and tried to understand, I had not. At least not until I had met and parted from Aesliip. The melancholy of those thoughts passed quickly though; and I enjoyed a relatively easy journey in what passed for warm weather on Solstheim, quickly reaching the vicinity of the barrow

Once I was there, rather than struggling through the snow, I gulped a levitation potion, silently thanking Athynae for providing it. Despite the height at which I floated, I could still see evidence of my last visit. Bits of bone and broken riekling weapons and shields littered the ground. Though my injuries from the diminutive fighters were long since healed, I seemed to again feel the bite of their blades and the slashing of their mounts’ tusks. With a shudder, I dropped to the ground just at the entry and quickly spoke the password to gain access.

Inside, the great war axe was still embedded in the stone pedestal. As Svenja had instructed me, I placed both hands upon the haft, feeling a cold wind spring from the corners of the tomb. In addition, a presence seemed to loom out of the darkness as the fires guttered and danced. But whatever it was did not seem to be threatening or malevolent- merely waiting. Choosing my words carefully, I said aloud:

“I, Athlain ap Baria Treyson, do hereby state my true intention to serve as chieftain of the Skaal of Thirsk. In furtherance of my right, I vow that I slew the Udyrfrykte with my own hands, avenging the death of Skjoldr Wolfrunner. The beast’s heart will be placed beside the throne as a sign to all that I am the rightful chieftain of Thirsk.”

When I stopped, the wind died away and silence hung for a moment, broken at last by a booming Nord voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere:

“Athlain Treyson, the blood of the ancestors runs strong in ye. I, Hrothmund the Red, grant ye my blessing to rule over Thirsk. Go now and give our people a place to shelter from the cold and darkness, a place to drink and sing and spin the sagas, a place to rest after the hunt and to have fellowship. Rule long and with wisdom!”

Then all was silent once more, but I felt something settle over me like a warm cloak against the chill, and knew that I had indeed received the blessing of Hrothmund.

When I exited the barrow, I discovered that it was just as well. The previous light breeze and clear skies had given way to a raging storm. The wind shrieked out of the east, blowing snow ahead of it. Levitation was out of the question, unless I wanted to end up in Skyrim or possibly even High Rock. I considered casting an Intervention spell to carry me to Fort Frostmoth, but there was no guarantee that the same storm was not battering the Legion outpost, as well. And the journey to the Skaal village from the fort would be at least as long as the one from where I now stood. I turned my back to the furious blasts long enough to wrap a fur-lined cloak around myself, taking care to cover my mouth and nose. With a grunt of resignation, I hunched my shoulders and turned my steps to the east.

Perhaps some lover of misery would appreciate a detailed chronicle of the two days that followed; I fear I must disappoint any such who might be reading. It was cold, it was painful, and I will be happy to never relive it- not even on the page. The one thing I knew was that to stop would be to die, so I subsisted on dried meat and fruits, supplemented by potions. Landmarks were indistinguishable, except for the rivers that I discovered by walking into them. That was also how I found Lake Fjalding, from which the column of fire still rose. As I reached the far shore of the lake, the wind at last fell away with a last spiteful swirl of snow, and all was calm and silent.

Ice fell from my clothing as I climbed the hill to the ruined mead hall, where I called out to Svenja Snow-Song. The huntress emerged from Brynjolfr’s forge, looking as fresh as if she had just had a night’s sleep in a feather bed. I marveled once more at the stamina- and the strangeness- of the Nords, who not only made this snowy waste their home, but absolutely delighted in it. Her cheerful expression and happy greeting only added to my confusion:

“I know that Hrothmund has granted you has blessing, for I felt it in the air.”

Her smile was genuine and her eyes bright as she spoke, and I wondered how she could so easily put aside the deaths of her clansfolk. Something of my doubt must have shown on my face, for she became serious, taking my hand in hers:

You have spent much time with the Skaal, but you still do not understand our ways. Though many of my people were slain by the Udyrfrykte, their spirits will reside forever in Sovngarde. So long as their deeds are remembered in story and song, they will not die. Athlain, by becoming the chieftain, by making certain that Thirsk will continue, you have ensured that their memories will not fade. They will know whenever we who stayed behind raise a toast or lift our voices in song. It is time for celebration- not for tears. Or it will be as soon as the builders finish their repairs and the mead flows once more.”

She released my hand and stepped back, still with that brilliant smile.

“I thank you, Athlain of Thirsk. The heart of the beast will be placed on the pedestal beside your throne, so that all may know of your bravery. I know that ruling the mead hall can be a great deal of work, and that you have many other tasks before you. I offer to act as your advisor and second-in-command. Tell me your wishes and I will oversee Thirsk when you must be absent.”

She waited, and I detected a hint of anxiety beneath her brave smile. This place was Svenja’s home- her life- her place. Therefore took her hand in turn, holding it in a warrior’s clasp:

“Svenja Snow- Song, know that I am proud to call you friend. I ask that you continue to serve Thirsk and the Skaal as you have done, with strength, honor, bravery, and generosity.”

Svenja’s words and her offer to take care of the mead hall relieved my final concerns about Thirsk. When I had agreed to seek Hrothmund’s blessing, it had been to honor the dead and from a sense of obligation to the living- not because I wished to spend my days in the hall. Fortunately, I was learning that some burdens not only could be shared, but were better so. And that was well, as my primary task still lay to the north, at the Skaal village. It was time and past time for Tharsten Heart-Fang to tell me what he knew.

The storm that had delayed me was a memory, marked by drifted snow and broken trees, but I made good time after leaving Svenja. However, as I got close to the village, I heard shouts and the clash of arms. My first thought was that Gaea Artoria had grown tired of waiting and launched a Legion attack on the Nords. But, as I raced toward the sounds of fighting, I was able to discern animal howls mixed with the voices of the Skaal.

Nightmares should confine themselves to the darkness- whether it is that which follows the setting of the sun or the echoing depths of tombs or caverns. Because a person can avoid the darkness if so inclined, keeping a light always close to hand. Failing that, it is possible to at least prepare for the terrors of the dark. In any event, nightmares should never run free under blues skies and bright sunlight. For if they do, where can one hope to find refuge? The question was not academic- “nightmare” was the only word for the sight that I beheld when I reached the Skaal village. The Honor Guard and the hunters were engaged with some half-dozen or more furred, hulking monsters. The creatures were of a sort I had seen once before- an obscene amalgamation of man and wolf. Werewolves had invaded the village.

Whatever impulse or agency had sent the monsters against the Skaal had been misguided at best. These were not farmers or townsfolk, whose only experience of weapons was to perhaps use a sling to bring down small game. They were hunters and warriors, people who had chosen to live in the harshest conditions imaginable. Beyond that- they loved nothing quite so much as a fight. Working in groups of three or four, they hemmed the beasts in, forcing them back against the buildings, then guarding and striking in a well-rehearsed dance. Unfortunately, my own training and experience did not suit me to these tactics, so I found myself isolated as the largest werewolf vaulted clear of the Skaal and landed in front of me.

He ducked under my first swing and ripped steel-hard claws across my shield, seeking to tear it from my grasp. I gave ground, interposing the silver spikes of my mace between us. When he lunged, I sidestepped, slamming a blow to his hip as he went past. The werewolf turned his fall into a roll and bit down hard on my left leg. I ignored the burning pain and bashed his head- once, twice. The glow faded from his yellow eyes and those terrible jaws loosened. Silence fell for a moment, and I was able to look around. The Skaal stood in groups, some prodding the furry corpses that littered the ground and others tending the wounded. The respite was short, however, as someone called:

“Some of the beasts went into the Great Hall! Quickly- rally to Tharsten!”

The Skaal chieftain had insulted and annoyed me, but I was a man of the Legion- and of House Redoran. My honor would not allow me to stand by while Tharsten was attacked by these unnatural beasts, no matter that I did not particularly like him. As soon as I burst through the door to the Hall, two werewolves set upon me. The next few minutes were a confusion of teeth and claws. My curses competed with the snarling and growls of the monsters as the battle raged through the hall. When it was over, they lay dead, as did one of the Skaal Honor Guard. I bled from numerous wounds and convulsively downed a healing draught. It was then that I realized that Tharsten Heart-Fang was nowhere to be seen.

When I exited the Great Hall, Korst Wind-Eye was healing the wounded. He took one look at me and moved quickly to my side. His brow was furrowed in concern and he asked,

“Were you bitten? Show me where.”

I indicated my leg, as well as the other injuries, and he examined them closely. Then he paused as if puzzled and spoke a low chant, while passing his hands just above the bite on my leg. He straightened and looked at me closely, his eyes half-shut.

“Tell me, did you cast a spell or take a potion to cure disease following the attack?”

When I replied that I had not, the shaman was quiet for some time. At last he said,

“And yet another mystery to which I have no answer. There is something in this that I do not understand. All those who were bitten today were infected- except for you. There is no trace of the disease within you. Beyond that- there is something- strange- about your blood.”

But he shook off his musings with a shrug and added,

“Nevertheless, you protected my people against this attack, and by your actions you have become one of them. Rest now and we will talk on the morrow. Use Rikolfr’s house- and may you restore honor to that place.”

I followed his advice, entering the empty house and building up the fire. Then after removing my armor and washing away the worst of the blood, I fell into the bed. How long I slept, I do not know. What I do know is that I was jolted from my sleep by Athynae’s voice, screaming,

“Athlain! I need you now!”

I found myself standing outside in the snow and darkness, my mace in hand and that scream echoing in my brain. I did not know what had happened to her, but I knew it was no dream. She was in danger- and I had to find her.

This post has been edited by treydog: Oct 22 2011, 04:52 PM

And now the suspense builds even more.

So Athlain is apparently immune (or at least resistant) to the effects of werewolf bites? Hmm, lucky man. Wonder where that came from . . .

I'm glad that Svenja spoke up concerning a role as second in command - while some may see her as being overly ambitious, I see it more as a situation of necessity. She is acknowledging that Athlain has other commitments that may require him to leave the village for long periods of time. What a relief to know that such a capable and competent woman is willing to shoulder the burden of leadership!

And now Athlain knows 'Thyna is in trouble! Oh noes! How is he going to find her now??

I'd imagine he'll bumble across her good-naturedly...

Just kidding, the image portrayed in the beginning of a foolhardy, naive young man has began to give way to a maturing, merely-somewhat naive, young man.

An excellent portrayal of experience building character, which gives this tale its truly human touch.

Then all was silent once more, but I felt something settle over me like a warm cloak against the chill, and knew that I had indeed received the blessing of Hrothmund.

I love this image as much as the blessing itself.

Whew, what a relief to have Svenja offer to take over operations on Athlain’s behalf. Even though I loved to hear her say “Athlain of Thirsk,” I can’t see Athlain spending his happily ever after in “this snowy waste,” as he put it.

I never thought what it would be like to levitate in a snow storm. I think it would make the walk that much longer and colder, knowing that you could be flying if not for the wind.

Whoa, werewolves! I like Korst Wind-Eye’s way of healing. It occurs to me that Athlain might need his resistance to the werewolf germs by the time he finds Athynae.

Caught up again.

Gulp! You have me at the edge of my seat now. Will Athlain make it to Athynae before her mind is poisoned by Hircine's will? I sure hope so, because something tells me that should the worst come to pass, Athynae might not be able to skewer herself with that dagger.

Hmm, an interesting situation for Athlain, bitten yet no signs of Lycanthropy. On first guess, I would say that Trey happened to pass along a few of the effects of his Corprus to Athlain, namely total immunity to disease and blight. Lycanthropy is not a disease that one just "shrugs off," and that it so easily claimed Athynae is testament to that.

Well things have certainly moved forward with that last part. A few old ends tied off and a new section of the plot begun. He will be getting quite a reputation now, as well as being the son of Trey he's the chief of Thirsk (which incidentally is the name of a thoroughly appalling town near where I used to live) a Redoran, a Legionary and a Skaal. I suspect diplomat might be a good job for him soon, though after the events with the East Empire Company perhaps not...

Anyway I must agree with Grits that the image of Hrothmund's blessing was excellent, it really brought that section to life for me.

The attack was dramatic but more important I think was the line:

Perhaps corpus is transmitted from father to offspring? Will Athlain live forever (barring accidents) too? I would have thought Fyr would know, and tell Trey which f he does know Serene appears not to (that little bit was a very nice touch, subtle yet quite powerful). Equally maybe not. If it is fully transmitted and doesn't disappear over generations the Treysons are going to be a rather odd family. Large too.

Then the call from Athynae. And off on another frantic quest. Excellent stuff here.

Hi all!

Yes I'm still alive and kicking...if someone has wondered... Now I'm living in a barack, in the forest outside the Forsmark NPP, and the project is now in its latest phase that is dismantling the equipment and ship it home to Oskarshamn. Also intenet access is not very reliable so...Anyway I'm sorry to not popping in lately!

Now then...I've managed to catch up on Athlain and Thyna! So Trey is showing up as well, that is a good thing, Serene will be very pleased. I wonder can Thyna resist werewolves? I hope she can and I also hope Athlain won't block her in his mind..naah he wouldn't! He can't block someone who loves him, just as Seth most of the times can't block Serene hehe.

I planned to catch up on most of the stories during this project away from home, but I'm sorry to say I haven't! yet.

Also I planned to write down more updates because I do have material, but nope I didn't succeed with that either.

Bear with me please, dear folks!

@haute- There will be a few more turns of the suspense-o-meter in this one (I hope). The resistance (or immunity) to disease was one of the concepts that has been rattling about in my nearly empty attic-space from the beginning. Svenja is a “minor” character who is highly significant to the player character’s path- and then there is the whole Oblivion tie-in, as well. I am pleased that she comes across as I intended.

Finding Athynae- hmmm- perhaps Athlain should have tied a string to her, so as not to misplace her? (Note to a certain Fox- the word is “misplace”). Perhaps not- she does carry blades, after all…

@Black Hand- My very humble thanks for your words- and actually, “good-natured bumbling” is Athlain’s strong suit…. He has changed in ways I did not always anticipate as the story has gone along, and I am pleased to be able to convey those changes convincingly.

@Grits- Thank you, oh writer of beautiful and evocative images. And yes- Svenja is also a blessing- especially for someone who is feeling homesick for dusty old Vvardenfell (or perhaps for wider horizons?) And yes, knowing that he could have flown back, if only it weren’t for that meddling blizzard… sorry- that inconvenient snowstorm- added to the misery. Korst will have much more to say- fairly soon. And it will indeed be interesting to see how Athlain’s resistance holds up when he meets the irresistible Athynae.

@TK- Wonderful to have you reading and commenting. As noted above, suspense will be suspendered a bit more in this next one…. And Athynae’s will is DEFINITELY going to be tested for the next several posts. As to the apparent immunity, I will say this much- you are on the right track.

@Olen- Hmmm, Athlain as diplomat? Would probably work until he got annoyed and reverted back to the “hit it until it stops being a problem” method of dealing with difficulties. A result of reading the many excellent writers now gracing the forum- and thinking about how the environment of Solstheim should affect things- has been that I think more in terms of atmosphere now. Hrothmund’s Blessing was one of those times that allowed me to work in a reminder that it is darned COLD up there. As to the disease question, like TK, you are very much on the right path. And yes- I think it is safe to say that Trey’s family is decidedly “odd.” And now for more Athynae- which I think you will quite enjoy.

@minque- We have missed you! Not primarily your comments (which are welcome), or new additions to Serene’s story (even MORE welcome), but your wonderful presence. Know that we are thinking of you and hope the project will reach a swift, safe conclusion. Athynae’s werewolf troubles will be the focus of the next several posts…. And yes, the prominently absent Trey has finally put in an appearance. Blocking Athynae from his mind? Though Athlain protests a bit, I think the knowledge that someone loves him so much as to be truly “with” him is quite intoxicating.

@Everyone- And now, I am once again pleased to turn things over to the capable hands (paws? I will SUFFER for THAT) of Athynae.

Athynae's Responses:

@All- Welcome back, I really hope you enjoy this edition of the A and A saga. I am so thankful you are here, the amazingly decadent icing on an otherwise simple concoction. I would still be mixing the ingredients and enjoying the cake but having you here to add your icing makes it an addictive treat for me.

@Minque- You have been missed! And just in the nick of time, Athynae may need Serene before this is over….No he can’t block me, though I am afraid that Uncle Seth will try to teach him next time he sees him.

@mALX- Thanks for the short verse, lol.

@TK- Stay tuned, it gets worse before it gets better!

@Grits- Yes, you are right, he may thank the Nine he is resistant when he finds her.


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Shivering in the cold, I woke to total darkness. The fire, down to a few glowing embers, looked like a living being and I was mesmerized by its breathing. How did I end up here so far from all I had ever known? I had grown up feeling as if I were unbeatable; nothing could touch me, short of my parents’ loving arms keeping me safe. I knew weapons; I had been training with them since I was old enough to hold one. There, at home, I never had reason to believe I might lose. Now, looking back, I realized what a false belief that was. Outside the tournament circle were opponents that weren’t training for competition; they were fighting for far more than a trophy; they were fighting for their survival. What a different picture that was- and, as valuable as the lesson was, it might have come too late.

I stumbled my way to the woodpile and rebuilt the fire. I had no way of knowing anything about time, either the time of day or how long I had been asleep or even how long it had been since I stood on the porch of the cottage. Lonely? Lonely is when you can’t find someone to play with, or spar with; lonely is when Mother sent me to my room for some prank, for hurting Athlain, or for being “mouthy.” This was beyond that… as far beyond it as my belief that I was a champion with weapons. I was learning a lot more with this journey than I could have ever imagined possible. Now I just had to make sure I lived long enough for it to mean something.

The fire blazing again, I sat back on the pallet and wrapped the blanket around me. The pain in my shoulder had eased some and although I felt strong enough to use my magicka and perform one of Mother’s healing spells, I didn’t want to let the pain go. For some reason, it seemed necessary. I stared into the flames, watching the colors as they transformed into the faces of all those I loved. The storm of tears was unleashed and I sobbed uncontrollably, at last finding myself lying curled like an infant when my energy was spent.

The wind had begun to blow outside and I could hear it singing its song as it cut through the trees. The chill of it found its way into my hole and hindered the fire’s ability to chase it away. Then, just on the fringe of the wind, I thought I could hear voices. I tried to focus, but all I could make out was low mumbling. The thought that it might be Athlain was gone as quickly as it had come; put that down in the “lesson learned” column.

The voice became clear, a familiar resonance, deep and commanding, with a wild, dark edge to it:

“Come daughter of the blood; you must fortify yourself.”

The only Daedric voice I had ever heard was that of Azura, but somehow I knew this voice. Though not the goddess, it had the same quality. I waited for more, but my mind was quiet again. As much for something to do as from the needs of my body, I drank some water and ate some berries. Just by looking at the fire and the way the logs were burning I could tell time was passing slowly. Then the howling began in earnest. The “voices” were becoming more insistent; I could feel rather than hear them, calling me. Desire to respond involuntarily lifted me from the pallet and drew me towards the makeshift door. As my hand reached to dislodge the wooden panel something deep inside me screamed:

“NO!! They are calling you to your death! If you answer, if you step beyond the cover of this cave, no one can save you.”

This voice came from within me, seeming like a chorus, a combination of all my own experiences, coming together to warn me, to keep me safe, and to remind me that there was a war raging through me. But this war called not on weapons of steel but willpower, strength of heart and soul, fortified by the chorus of voices.

Is if in answer, the Daedric voice called once again. But did I sense a bit of frustration this time?

“Athynae, you must answer the call. It is impossible to resist. It is too late already; it was too late when his teeth sank deep into your flesh. The only way to survive now is to seek the blood of life.”

I was shaking all over; even my insides were shivering. I laid my head against the stone wall as the voices in my head battled.

“They will know you fought valiantly; they expect no less of you, but even your mother knows fighting now is moot. Stop torturing yourself; let instinct guide you, and the pain will stop.”

Something snapped in my head at the mention of Mother.

“Yes- that’s JUST what I’m going to do. I’ve spent my entire life learning to be a healer and learning about weapons and I am going to charge right out into the shining moons and throw it all into the winds of Oblivion.”

Even as the words passed through my mind, my fingers curled around the edge of the wood and I felt rather than heard the satisfaction of the Daedric presence. But the words in my mind were my own:

“Are you really going to do this? You might as well say ‘Sorry Mother for all the time and energy you put into teaching me all that you knew. Sorry for all the nights you sat by my bed, healing me of some self-inflicted injury. If you do not let go of that door, you will die an idiot! The weak, unimpressive daughter of the most beautiful and powerful woman on Vvardenfell.”

My sarcasm, my own defense mechanism, sang with the chorus as the persuasive voice of the god returned:

“You can fight this as long as you want, but in the end you have no choice. You WILL answer the call. Why would you spend all of your time and energy fighting?”

I was learning yet another lesson, this one the hardest of all. Both voices made sense; both voices spoke the truth, or so it seemed. Which voice should I listen to? Did it matter? It would be so easy to move this panel and step out into the forest, under the moons. The moons that would forever change me.

“Forever change me….” Those words were spoken aloud, whispered, in my own small voice.

They seemed to echo through me into the depth of the cave, repeating over and over again. My hand fell to my side. The options the dark voice in my head offered were not choices I had created for myself. If this was going to be the end of Athynae Sarethi, then it would be by my choosing. Answering the call of bloodlust was not an option I would even allow myself to consider.

“Stubborn as the Blight was long is that one. There’s a reason she was the first born after; Azura only knows how Miss Serene keeps her alive.”

The words of the Ahemussa herder rang in my head, words I had overheard after one of my many run-ins with newly purchased, untamed guar. Father had just picked me up and was walking toward the house and Mother’s healing hands.

The physical effort it took to step away from the portal was unlike anything I had ever experienced. My feet seemed to be stuck in mud, and moving them was like lifting a smithy’s anvil. By the time I made it back to the pallet I was soaked with sweat from the exertion. That was all I needed in this cold. I sat, covered myself with the blanket and reached for my silver dagger; silently thanking Azura, the Nine and every other good god I could think of, that I ALWAYS had it like I always had the pouch of marshmerrow. Uncle Seth had given me the same edict regarding the dagger that Mother had about the pouch, only he had added:

“Never be without it. When you disrobe for bed, put it under your pillow. There always has to be a small part of you that NEVER feels completely safe.”

And I always had, although the practice had almost cost one of Mother’s retainers a hand when she came in to check on me after bed. She didn’t have a candle, because she could see in the dark. But I couldn’t- so when she reached for the blanket to cover me up…. Well, let’s just say I had to wake Mother and then I had to change my bedding after she bled everywhere. I didn’t get into trouble because Agatha took the blame- said it was her fault for entering my room without light. I still felt bad; Agatha was one of my favorites. She never came in my room without a candle after that though.

The pain was once again intense; I could feel my blood moving through my body like boiling water. I clutched the dagger to my chest and let my head fall backward against the stone. What was one more pain at that point?

This post has been edited by treydog: Oct 9 2011, 03:50 PM

Emotions run deep and strong in this segment as Athynae begins her battle against Hircine's indoctrination. I do hope Athlain can find her soon, because that is one battle she cannot win alone. She has already come dangerously close to being consumed by the inner beast who is now tearing at the bit to break free, and if that happens, there is not a soul in the world that can save her....

I clutched the dagger to my chest and let my head fall backward against the stone. What was one more pain at that point?

I sure hope it doesn't come to that.

This voice came from within me, seeming like a chorus, a combination of all my own experiences, coming together to warn me, to keep me safe, and to remind me that there was a war raging through me. But this war called not on weapons of steel but willpower, strength of heart and soul, fortified by the chorus of voices.

A wonderfully evocative passage! Don't let Mr. creepy antler-head defeat you, Athynae! You go, girl!

nit:

I felt strong enough to use my magika and perform one of Mother’s healing spells,

Seems your "c" turned tail and fled!

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Oct 9 2011, 02:47 PM

OMG!!! OMG...this was amazing, you really ARE Athynae!!!! All those remarks from her time when she was younger and lived with Serene and Athyn...so incredible ON SPOT!


This f ex!


and this


I do hope she can resist the evil, she just has to, otherwise....

Wonderful wonderful it is, I just will point this out:

S.G.M

Athynae’s internal struggle was absolutely gripping.


The voice became clear, a familiar resonance, deep and commanding, with a wild, dark edge to it:

“Come daughter of the blood; you must fortify yourself.”

I found this part especially chilling. Right after she was thinking about her parents, the Daedric voice calls her daughter. I also love the way you describe the voice.


The pain was once again intense; I could feel my blood moving through my body like boiling water. I clutched the dagger to my chest and let my head fall backward against the stone. What was one more pain at that point?

Yikes! Now I know it’s really bad. And I have no idea how she's going to resolve this.

LOL! Sorry, but I could totally see Seth saying that! Now she must face the curse of lycanthropy...alone?

All responses are from Athynae, as is the post that follows. Thank you all so very much.

@TK- I don’t want Mr. Creepy Antler-head to defeat me either, but I assure you I will not be one of his hounds either way. As for the “nit” well, I did learn how to spell back in the dark ages when they taught phonics…..

@Grits- Thank you so much, honestly sometimes I don’t know whether I am writing the words or if I am just listening to the Dictaphone.

@BH- HUGE SMILE!!! It makes me so happy that I “heard” Seth correctly. If I ever call it wrong I expect you to let me know, conversely if he has any “pearls” to share regarding his assistance with Athynae’s training in the younger days I’d love to hear them.

@Minque- Um, thank you, thank you. I don’t think anyone could have said anything that mattered as much as:



I do love ‘Thyna and it brings me greater joy than I can say to know that I have done her justice for YOU!! I only borrowed her; she was your creation, your dream and for you to say THAT, I now know that I have felt the true Athynae. Know this Minque, I could not have done this without the contribution of your words, in Serene’s story. Through that I met and got to know her and through Treydog, Athlain and Seth along with Serene, I came to know this lovely, wild, stubborn, short-tempered (the list goes on and on). My only desire is that I continue to bring Serene’s daughter to the page in a way that pleases you.

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I closed my eyes; maybe I slept some- I didn’t know, but the fire was dying again. I moved to add some wood and heard footsteps crunching through frozen snow. I picked up my katana and slid the dagger into my boot as I retreated to the shadows at the back of the cave. The katana was heavy in my left hand but I could not even lift it with my right arm. The footsteps stopped and I could hear someone or something rustling through bushes, and then the wooden panel began to move.

“Great, whoever was inhabiting this cave has come home. Could this get any worse?”

Slowly the panel slid back just enough for a boot to slip through, followed by a leg and then I saw the most beautiful sight, an ebony mace with silver embellishments, one I was VERY familiar with. I stepped out of the shadows just as Athlain’s head came through the opening.

“It’s about time you got here.”

The words came out without thought and without expressing any of the tremendous relief I felt that he had found me.

“What is that supposed to mean? I wake up in the middle of the night to you yelling, ‘I need you!’ I charge out into blowing snow in the middle of the night looking for a cave that I only have a passing vision of and that’s the welcome I get?”

“Athlain, I’m in trouble.”

“You’re WHAT?? I... I mean… we… I mean, but how could that have happened?”

“What?”

“But we never….”

I could not wrap my head around what he was babbling about for a moment, then the dawning…Sweet Azura- he could not think that!

“No Athlain, we didn’t, that isn’t what I meant.” I spoke slowly, my exasperation battling with my fondness at his familiar befuddled expression.

His relief was apparent from the sudden gush of air expelled through his teeth. Then he thought further, and raised an eyebrow. Slowly he asked:

“If that isn’t it, then what kind of trouble is it? No, wait- first, tell me why you are even here to begin with.” This was going to hard enough without these difficult questions. Best to answer quickly before he turned it into an argument:

“I was worried about you, I kept having these horrible visions, bloody bodies everywhere. I knew you were in trouble, so I came to find you, to help you.”

“ ’Thyna, I can take care of myself.”

“Oh really? Like you took care of yourself with the skooma and the cabin?” So much for preventing an argument- but… he just made me so angry. I continued, “I didn’t know that yours wasn’t one of those bloodied bodies.”

My challenge was like a match to the kindling of his own temper. Why was it, every time we came together it ALWAYS started out like this? He retorted:

“That was different! And that wasn’t a fight. That was, well, I was sick.”

“Wasn’t it? Seems to me you were fighting pretty hard, and losing.” From where I was at the moment, I knew my sickness sure felt like a fight. And then, instead of being diverted down some verbal side-path, he visibly stopped himself and spoke more calmly:

“But this time it isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you! I sent you to Indarys to keep you safe and now here you are again, traipsing all over this frozen, dangerous island looking for me because of some dream. And speaking of dreams, or thoughts, or whatever it is, have you been… talking to me?”

Our argument was the same as it always was, but Athlain was different somehow; his voice was deeper, and there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put a word to. I wondered which time he was talking about? I felt color rise in my cheeks as I recalled some of the things I had “said” to him over the years- if only in the privacy of my mind. If he would just be quiet for a moment maybe I could tell him what had happened. But how? And what was he going to do when I told him? How was he going to react? I had remained silent for too long, and he again seized the initiative:

“What is it? ‘Thyna, we aren’t children anymore, running through the fields. I have responsibilities, and now I find you holed up in a cave with no more than a threadbare blanket and your katana; where are the rest of your things?”

Thank the Nine it was dark; he hadn’t noticed the blood stains yet. He took a step toward me, and my indecision at how to handle the situation caused me to back away.

“Stop! Stay there. “

“What is the matter with you? Are you going to tell me why you are here or do I just assume that you are suddenly afraid of the dark?”

“OOOOHHH!!! Right! As I recall, you are the one that was afraid of the dark, Athlain! As for why I am here, I told you the day I talked to you. I had to come; I had to know you were safe.”

He folded his arms across his chest and I had to wonder when he had gotten so much more muscular. But his words brought me back to the argument with a crash.

“Well, now you know, so you can go back home AND WAIT FOR ME!”

I wanted to shout at him, I wanted to take my practice staff and beat him black and blue, I wanted…. I wanted this to not be happening. In a small voice, I muttered:

“I can’t.”

“You certainly can.” He had never talked to me in this tone before, and that, coupled with everything else, was just serving to make me angry.

“NO! I can’t. If you would shut up long enough for me to talk I would tell you why.”

He dropped his mace into its loop and composed his face into an attentive expression- one that was at odds with the frustration in his voice:

“Please. Do go on. I am anxious to hear what in the name of Azura could possibly explain why you are here in this dank cave in the frigid cold WITH NOTHING!”

“ATHLAIN, STOP YELLING AT ME! I am trying to tell you.” We had spent our entire lives yelling at each other, but this time I felt like a child being chastised by a parent.

Several moments passed and he wisely opted to stay silent. All I knew to do was tell him what had happened. I stayed in the shadows to keep him from seeing the bloodstains; he had already surmised enough by noticing my lack of baggage.

“I made my way to the cottage where I found you when you were sick. In my mind was that scene- dead bodies and blood everywhere, but nothing else. I didn’t know where it was or where you were or what had happened to you, so I was heading to the Skaal. I had to find you.”

“ ’Thyna…” Again, impatience colored that voice that had changed so much, but the look I shot him must have been enough to keep him from saying more. Good- at least he hadn’t lost all of his senses.

“The day I ‘talked’ to you, I was there mixing potions, preparing anything I might need if I found you sick or injured. I heard someone crying and I thought it was you.”

Athlain raised an eyebrow, “Why would I be crying?”

“I DON’T KNOW! That’s just what I thought; you were the only thing I was thinking about. I grabbed my katana and came to find you.”

I had to tell him, he was my only hope. He was just standing there, looking at me with his arms crossed, and I could not even imagine what he must be thinking. I whispered:

“Only it wasn’t you.”

“No it wasn’t.” His sarcasm brought me to the point a bit more abruptly than I had wanted.

“NO, it wasn’t you. It was a man, naked, lying on the ground writhing in pain… that is until the moons’ light broke the treetops. It was a werewolf and I was serving myself for dinner.”

I’m sure my tone on that last was a bit “fresh,” as Mother would say. But this man should know me well enough by now to realize that I would not have called for help if it weren’t serious. And up until now he had acted as if I had interrupted a meeting of the Redoran council because someone spilled my milk.

He just stood there, his facial expression frozen, his whole body frozen, and I wasn’t much better. I stepped closer, into the light cast by the fire. He reached for me and I threw up my hands.

“No! I can’t, you can’t. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know how long it’s been; I don’t even know if anything can be done. I know that I am infected; I’ve had horrible dreams and I want to go out into the darkness; I want more than water and berries; I don’t know how much longer I can fight this.”

“Let me see please, let me do what I can. I will go see Korst. If there is a cure, he will know, but first I need to take care of you, please ‘Thyna. I can’t help you if you won’t let me see.” His voice was strong, self-assured…but soothing at the same time.

His eyes were filled with tears, mirroring the ones running down my face, and there it was. This must have been what he felt like when I found him in the cottage; the only word I could think of that came close was “helpless,” AND I HATED IT! It made me feel weak and vulnerable, totally unnatural.

I stepped closer and he gently touched my shoulder where the teeth had penetrated. Then he stepped around and looked at my back and his sharp intake of breath told me it was far worse than the front.

“I need to clean the wounds and straighten your collarbone, ‘Thyna; then I will go see Korst.”

He was acting like Mother did when something was bad, detaching herself so she could do what was needed without emotions interfering. I thought about Mother, then I thought about Uncle Seth….

“ATHLAIN! Oh no, the journals.”

His answer was casual, almost as if he was humoring me:

“What journals; what are you talking about now?”

I, on the other hand was frantic, and I told myself it had nothing to do with the feel of his warm, sure hands on my shoulder and neck.

“You have to go to the cottage; you have to get them! Mother left her journal for me when I was at Indarys; she wanted me to read it, but I couldn’t read it all, I wasn’t ready but then I thought maybe if I ready someone else’s- someone who had known her a long time- maybe it would be easier.” The words were spilling out one on top of the other in a rush.

“Whose ‘Thyna? Who has known your Mother longer than my Father or yours?”

“I don’t know if he’s known her longer, but she talks about him in her journal, and I had seen it in your Father’s study. I took Uncle Seth’s journals.”

His hands were suddenly still and there was a long pause, broken only by the sound of the wind and the crackling of the fire. Then came the explosion:

“YOU DID WHAT? ‘Thyna, you have done some pretty stupid things, but this one- oh by the gods, what were you thinking?”

For a moment his voice was the same as it had once been, with that “oh no, now you’ve done it” whine.

“I wasn’t thinking, I’m still not. But you have to get them. AND DON’T CALL ME STUPID!”

But how many times had I called him stupid? I was learning far too many lessons at once. As much as I disliked the thought, maybe on this one he was right. I wanted to say something; I just didn’t know what. There was just that glimpse of the “old” Athlain, and then he was in control again.

“Not before I get you cleaned up and see Korst. Your ‘library’ will just have to wait. Of all the journals you could have taken, WHY did it have to be HIS? That man scares me.”

“Really? Why? He’s just quiet is all.”

As we discussed Uncle Seth, Athlain was cleaning my wounds. I could tell he was just talking to keep my mind off of what he was doing, although I had always known he was scared of Seth.

“Quiet? More like silent, and just, I don’t know, eerie. When he looks at me I feel like he’s thinking of all the ways he could kill me without leaving a mark.”

“OWWWWW!” The sound burst from me as he popped my collarbone back into place, and stars shone briefly against the dark walls of the cave.

“Sorry.”

“He’s not like that. I suppose he can be, being who he is and all, but only if necessary.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Drink this.”

I did so without question, knowing I had made enough potions to fill the pouch I had given him. But as soon as the draught touched my tongue, I knew what it was and I only had a few moments to tell him what I needed to before sleep found me.

“Damn you Athlain; I am not ready to sleep. Listen to me. Whatever happens, I will not become this. If there is no cure …there is only one answer.”

“We are not going to discuss that right now. I WILL find a cure if I have to go all the way to Vvardenfell and get your mother.”

“You and I both know there isn’t time for that. But should it come to that…” I grabbed his face and turned him to look at me. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

The potion was taking effect and I could feel my muscles weakening as Athlain led me to the pallet and helped me down. I watched as he took supplies from his pack and left them by the fire. His movements were stiff, like he was forcing himself to move, while his mind was somewhere else.

“You know, I have always loved you.” His voice sounded far away, but I could still hear him. “I will fix this, ‘Thyna. I will find a cure; there is no other option.”

That new voice…it was self-assured, strong. Somewhere in all this he had become Athlain and not just Trey’s son. He returned to the pallet and placed the blanket from his pack over me. My eyes were closing even as I tried to keep them open. He kissed my forehead and reached under the cover. Every cell in my body screamed as he took my silver dagger from my boot and tucked it into his belt. And I couldn’t move…. He leaned in close again:

“I do love you, and I will be back.”

“And... I... will... kill... you... for... taking... my... dagger.” Slurred and slow, the words did not have the venom that I felt.

This post has been edited by treydog: Oct 14 2011, 03:33 AM

And now, the denoument is in place
And for a post with such astounding grace-
I do think only poetry will suffice
to do justice to such darkness and light...

...shall we begin?


Two hearts together are never easy
to bring into celestial harmony
For just as twin souls attract, they also rack
up tensions that other unmatched souls lack
How many times in life have we seen this?
The snarl that follows a tender kiss
The squabbles over nothing after sweet nothings
The quarrels in counterpoint to dear loving

...and to continue...

Love needs to grow to stay alive
Hearts need to expand more to thrive
Athlain has grown, and a woman's heart
sees, and rejoices, that her other half
Has become and will become that which she yearned
to be part of and hoped to be what she learned
to be the one she looks up to as her greater
(but she'll never admit it till decades later)

... plus the plot

Twists and thickens like the very Charles Dickens
Until we poor readers are out of our wittens
Will our poor heroine succumb to were-madness?
Can our hero revive her to gladness?
How will he ever find healing in time -
unless he some hidden great magic find?
Will our writer turn 'thynae into a wolf...erm...umbrella seller (hee hee)
And then change her back (that's a bit rich!)

All this and more will make readers plead
"MORE! MORE! THIS STORY I MUST READ!"



Me too!

foxy

What's this? Even when one is in mortal peril, they are STILL chomping at the bit and taking potshots at each other? Yup, they were made for each other, all right.

He folded his arms across his chest and I had to wonder when he had gotten so much more muscular. But his words brought me back to the argument with a crash.

“Well, now you know, so you can go back home AND WAIT FOR ME!”

I heard that clunk all the way from here!

He was acting like Mother did when something was bad, detaching herself so she could do what was needed without emotions interfering.

A beautiful reminiscence from Athynae. We can see here why despite all she bickers with him, she clearly admires Athlain as a person. He would never allow for one he cares about to be in pain. The rest of the story summed that up quite well. Despite all they argue, Athynae and Athlain have quite a lot in common.

Nit:

“YOU DID WHAT? ‘Thyna, you have done some pretty stupid things, but this one- oh ny the gods, what were you thinking?”

Athlain was shaking so badly his finger slipped and hit "n" instead of "b!"

“What is that supposed to mean? I wake up in the middle of the night to you yelling, ‘I need you!’ I charge out into blowing snow in the middle of the night looking for a cave that I only have a passing vision of and that’s the welcome I get?”

“Athlain, I’m in trouble.”

“You’re WHAT?? I... I mean… we… I mean, but how could that have happened?”

“What?”

“But we never….”

Oh my goodness. From near panic to joyous relief, then bickering and a hilarious misunderstanding in about ten seconds. Awesome.


He folded his arms across his chest and I had to wonder when he had gotten so much more muscular.



“I do love you, and I will be back.”

“And... I... will... kill... you... for... taking... my... dagger.” Slurred and slow, the words did not have the venom that I felt.

Oh, these two! Athynae and Athlain back together, this is great!!!

OMG!!! You've done it AGAIN! Being Athynae, its incredible, amazing, jeez I can't find enough words (and that is odd being a chatterbox) I read this part several times, smiling and making odd sounds... talking about magic, you must have moved into my head and picked out all the thoughts I've ever had about how Serene's daughter is like!

"But really, Thyna! Losing those journals is not OK, you might get into trouble so let's hope Athlain finds them. Sethyas will not be pleased at all, and neither will I if they end up in the wrong hands...And remember if you need my advice...you know what to do, right?"

Athlain has become a real man now, I'm sure he is wise enough to bring some kind of cure! Lycantrophy is something I am very afraid of....

But I'll say it again..AMAZING story...

Oh Athynae
Please don't bay
Or howl at the moon
For Athlain will help you soon
In spite of the fact you think he's a buffoon...


GAAAAAH !!! Poor Athynae !!! ARGH !! URK !!! What a turn of events !!! Great Write !!!

@Foxy- It never ceases to amaze me…..I love poetry…Thank you from here to there…

@TK- Maybe someday she will learn to treat him more fairly, but I doubt it. And she is just beginning to see all that is there that deserves admiration and all that he has accomplished in such a relatively short time. Thank you for continuing this journey with her, with us.

@BH- Don’t hurt him too badly Uncle Seth, he still has an enormous amount to learn.

@Grits- I am so glad you are enjoying the rolling snowball that is A and A. It is a BLAST writing this, they are so very alike and so very different, and most of all they are so ONE.

@Minque- Again, I reiterate how overjoyed I am that you are seeing the Athynae of YOUR dreams.

“Mother I am so sorry! I promise we will get them back. I just, well, I didn’t think. I had to leave and I had to find answers and Mother I don’t know what is hidden in the pages of your journal that I haven’t yet read but I do know that something is holding me back. And yes ma’am; I know what to do. I love you Mother.”

@mALX- HEHE thanks for the ditty, and thanks for reading. Just knowing I and Thyna have friends that continue to share her story is WONDERFUL.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once I was certain that Athynae was sleeping peacefully, I settled the blanket more closely over her, leaning in to kiss her forehead as I did so. I suppressed a frown at how hot her brow felt against my lips, but nevertheless added wood to the fire, following the wisdom about fevers. I banked the coals so that it would burn through the night and into the next day, warming the cave and its precious inhabitant. But nothing would loosen the icy fear that gripped my heart. I distracted myself by wondering from whence had come the strength that allowed me to remain calm as I examined and treated her wounds, when what I had wanted to do was scream and give myself up to the horror. That had been especially true when her anger and frustration had caused a momentary flash of yellow to light her lavender eyes.

I had seen that color before, many times since coming to Solstheim, under the waxing moons and in the darkness beneath the trees. Seen eyes just that golden hue- hunter’s eyes- wolf’s eyes. Even if she had not told me of the dream, or of the unknown god’s damnable whispers in her mind- I would have known that she carried the disease. Though I would never be a great healer like Serene- or like Athynae herself- I had nevertheless read the books on diseases, common and exotic. And no book in Father’s vast library, nor in Serene’s more specialized collection, spoke of a cure for lycanthropy. I touched the hilt of the silver dagger where it rose from my boot, and shook my head. The ponderous tomes, in their dry, clinical language, never spoke of a “cure;” only an “ending.”

I knew my beloved ‘Thyna had read the same books and I also knew the strength of her will. And that was why I had taken the dagger, even though there would be a price to pay. She might still use her katana for the same purpose, but it would be considerably more difficult than the dagger. And I had also taken it as a promise, a pledge that I would either find a cure- or else return the silver blade to her. And after that… no, I would not think about after. Closing the door to the cave, I moved stones and brush to cover the entry; to hide it- and to make it more difficult for her to leave.

And then I turned my steps toward the Skaal village. Retracing my route drew my thoughts back to the frantic hours of the previous night, just after I “heard” Athynae’s desperate call. Though I had questioned Aesliip’s certainty that ‘Thyna was close, though I had been skeptical of our recent mind-to-mind “conversations”- I could not longer deny the certainty that had gone to the core of my soul- the certainty that the call had come from her, that she needed me. Then too, there was her unerring ability to find me, no matter where I was. She had told me of that she could sense my location and… I had believed her. Throughout my life, she had teased me unmercifully, beaten me black and blue in our sparring sessions, gotten me into perilous situations from the time we both could walk. But she had never lied to me.

The scream had torn me from my sleep, sent me into the darkness in the middle of the village. And… nothing stirred, beyond the smoke rising from chimneys and the stars shining in the night sky. Surely someone else had heard that anguished cry? I went to Korst’s house and banged on the door. He opened it with a look of concern on his face.

“Athlain? What…?”

I did not give him time to complete the question, but grasped him by the shoulders and stared into his face.

“Tell me you heard that. Tell me you know what it means.”

For his part, the Skaal shaman stood completely still, maintaining a neutral expression, even as my fingers dug painfully into his flesh. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and soothing:

“I have heard nothing- until just now. But obviously you did. Come inside and we will talk.”

His calm demeanor had the desired effect, and I released him and staggered inside, to a chair beside the fire. In a wooden voice, I described what had happened:

“It is Athynae. She- called to me, saying she needs me. Something terrible has happened, or she would never have asked for help.”

Korst offered no comment, just lifted one bushy gray eyebrow and built up the fire. I shivered despite the welcome warmth and continued:

“I need to find her, but I don’t know how. All I got was the impression that she is in a cave or a barrow- someplace underground. But that is useless! I have to find her NOW!”

Still without saying a word, the shaman went to a shelf and brought down a small crucible, along with some dried leaves and powders. After arranging them on his worktable, he explained:

“I want to attempt a variation on our ritual for a successful hunt. Do you have something that belonged to Athynae, something she has touched?”

I reached to my throat, feeling the texture of the knitted scarf that I always wore under my tunic. Reluctantly, I drew it out. Korst looked at it and a smile creased his visage.

“That will be ideal.”

He picked up a small knife with a golden handle and a silver blade, reassuring me:

“I will not harm it; I only need a few threads.”

I passed the precious cloth to him and he expertly trimmed away several frayed threads from one end and then gravely handed the scarf back to me.

“Hold onto it while I work and also hold the image of Athynae in your mind. Picture her as you last saw her, with as much detail as you can recall.”

He then began mixing ingredients into the crucible, chanting in an ancient Nordic dialect. After a few minutes, never ceasing his words, he gestured to me to come closer. When I did so, he pointed to the threads and indicated that I was to put them into the crucible. When that was done, he used tongs to fetch a coal from the fire and dropped it into the mixture. A plume of smoke rose from the bowl, at first vertically, and then bending toward the southeast. Still chanting, Korst again indicated with gestures that he wanted me to lean down and breathe in the smoke.

When I did so, it was as if a previously unnoticed door was opened in my mind, giving onto a hidden room. Athynae had always been “present” in my thoughts, but this was different. It was nearly impossible to describe, even to myself, let alone to someone who had never experienced it. Perhaps the simplest way would be to say that what had come to me before were thoughts and memories- some strong and others vague or scattered. And those were still with me- but in a different place. Now, there was something more. I could point without question to where she was at that very moment, and I could feel her fatigue and distress. Her shoulder hurt and she was in the grip of a terrible fear.

I muttered a distracted thanks to Korst and went to gather my gear. As I pulled on my armor and stuffed supplies into my pack, I could still sense my beloved ‘Thyna- waiting for me. I would have “spoken” to her, but I was afraid. I cannot say whether I was more frightened that she would not answer- or that she would.

Of course, I had told Athynae none of this- for a number of reasons. First, we had rather more important things on our minds. Also, I was not sure how she would react. And finally, I did not know if my newfound “ability” was permanent, or just a temporary effect of Korst’s magic. And now I needed his magic again- or someone’s magic. I would not leave her at the mercy of the disease, and the only other alternative to a cure was too awful to contemplate.



“Sleep potion, right.” The potion Athlain had given me was NOT one of mine and I seriously doubted it was one of his. Whoever had bestowed this gift upon him had left out the sleep part. I was immobilized and pain free but the ingredient needed to induce sleep was irritatingly absent, so my body was caught in between while my mind was NOT.

I heard the panel slide into place, and the additional sounds I heard after were of Athlain not only covering the opening so it couldn’t be seen easily, but also barricading me in.

Good, he isn’t going to make it easy for me to be drawn out.

And I knew why. He had heard the thoughts in my head, even though I had not allowed them a voice. He had been aware of the desire of the lycanthropy, and of the Daedra trying to convince me fighting was futile. Worst of all, he had known the other thoughts that battled in my head. The contradictory desires that somehow ran side by side in my mind: the desire for our lips to touch in a loving gesture; even as his proximity, his warmth, the very beating of the pulse in his throat- led me to think of sating the need of love’s horrible opposite, bloodlust.

HE HAD HEARD ME! He heard my own mind turn against me, urging me to satisfy the disease by devouring the one I had called to aid my plight. And he had remained calm through it all. I had not even attempted to “hear” him; I had too many voices in my mind already. And that mental struggle had been a battle of epic proportions. When he stepped close to clean and bandage the wound on my back, his hands were shaking only slightly, but the pause when I pictured myself tearing into his flesh was …

I could feel hot tears running down my face but I still could not move; I felt like my insides were being ripped apart. Have you ever experienced something that should be excruciating- without the pain? Felt as if your flesh was shredded like tearing parchment, as each cell is parted from the next, knowing the damage that was being done and not able to do anything except hold on and hope against all knowledge that it could be healed? The pain itself would have been a welcome relief- a reminder that I was still real, still human, still ME. Just the distraction of the pain would have lessened my focus on all that was being torn asunder as the lycanthropy spread.

The pain in my heart at what Athlain had endured while he was taking care of me was unbearable but also, as much as I hated it, beyond my ability to control. I wondered: When was the last time I felt as if I weren’t in control? I didn’t know that I ever had. I also had not realized before this excursion how sequestered I had been, how protected.

I tried to chase the thoughts of self-pity out of my head; knowing they were another weakness I could not afford. Whoever the Daedra was that whispered such vile promises in my mind, I knew he would seize on ANY sign of weakness. The effects of the potion were gradually fading and the emotional turmoil had taken a toll, dragging my mind to sleep even as my body began to wake. I knew I had to sleep, but the fear of the nightmares that would surely come held me on the brink of the precipice.

I reached for the chain around my neck and drew out the amulet that was so much more than a piece of jewelry; it was a part of me. I had gotten it from Uncle Seth when I was six- right after he had found me a bit tattered from an encounter with some older boys who didn’t want to play with me. I let the memory wash over me, bringing with it the tranquility that only thoughts of home and loved ones carried. I had put the amulet on this same chain when I got home that day and had never taken it off. The only other person that even knew I had it was Mother, and she never asked where it came from or how it came into my possession. But I had no doubt she knew. I let the memories flood into my mind, carrying me somewhere far away, safe and warm; as sleep, peaceful sleep, found me.