» Sat May 28, 2011 3:06 am
After the intensity of our earlier words, an awkward silence fell between us. The feelings we had for one another had been given a name now, and we understood that our friendship had changed profoundly, but we were neither of us certain how to proceed. And it was also clear to me that something had happened to Athynae, either at the fort or in Ebonheart- and whatever it was made her pace the small room with manic energy. The space that had felt empty without her began to close in on me, overfull with emotions and with words- spoken and unspoken. I started for the door, and Athynae gave me an apologetic look, but did not cease her endless circuits of the room. My offer to bring her something to eat was met with a vague wave- whether of agreement or dismissal, I could not tell.
Since I could not find any solution to whatever problem occupied Athynae, I turned my thoughts to my Legion duties. It was too late in the day for me to return to Fort Frostmoth, especially since I would be going on foot. An Intervention spell would transport me instantly to the Imperial Cult shrine, but I would arrive out of uniform- which would lead to uncomfortable questions. Of course, if I timed it late enough, I could probably dash out of the fort in the darkness with none the wiser. But? there was something afoot on this island, something that could attack an Imperial Legion fort and disappear without a trace. I remembered Serene's words from that long-ago night in Ald'ruhn:
"?there are other, darker forces in motion as well. The wind is from the north tonight and it carries a scent of ice. What the signs and portents mean, I cannot say, but my heart tells me that malice is abroad in the world. Best be prepared lest it find you."
Memories of Serene and her foretelling inevitably brought my mind back to Athynae- not that she was ever far from my thoughts. Perhaps all my reasoning was just a way of rationalizing the fact that I wanted to be near her- for one more night, at least. Once I was back in uniform, back to following orders, my life would no longer be my own. And whatever had brought that haunted look to her eyes, 'Thyna would have to face without me.
I descended the stairs and allowed myself to be swept along by the Skaal wake for Erich. Recent and painful memories of my skooma problem blunted any desire to drink much mead- I used a trick borrowed from Father- making sure my mug was always relatively full and taking only small sips while I wandered the hall. I noted with interest that Skjoldr followed the same practice- although he was almost alone in his restraint. Besides competitive drinking, the Nords engaged in a contest of story-telling, trying to outdo one another in outrageous tales of the exploits of the unlamented Erich. And if those stories did not reflect to the dead man's credit- well, he was no longer around to dispute them. As the fires died down and the more enthusiastic revelers fell asleep- or passed out- the stories changed. A gray-bearded fellow named Einar Skaldorson described the Skaal funeral practices- the rituals they performed to prevent necromancy and the beliefs behind them:
"We take the leaves of the holly- and the berries, but only the ripe ones, mind. That shows that the spirit is everlasting, just as the leaves stay green even in the winter. The ripe berries show that the warrior has lived a full span, and has no unfinished business to hold him from the next world. And we add dry, brown leaves of the oak- because even the mightiest of living things must wither and come to an end. Then we set out provisions and protection for the journey- mead, meat, armor and weapons. A few coins and his favorite drinking horn for when he gets to the eternal mead hall- so he can throw the dice and have a swallow whenever he wants. It is best not to be miserly with the grave gifts, unless you want the shade to come looking for what it lacks."
Here the old man took a healthy drink from his own tankard and added solemnly:
"It has become more important of late to observe the proper ways- there's already enough uncanny creatures that roam the forests at night. The Wild Hunt has been heard abroad, seeking to course the unwary, driving lone travelers like so many deer. And it is known that there are men that take the shape of beasts, or beasts that walk like men- who can say which?"
Those of us still able to listen moved closer, happy for the warmth of the hearth- and for the nearness of human company as the wind howled under the eaves. Einar waited until one of the other Skaal passed him a fresh tankard, whereupon he continued in a hushed tone:
"I myself was with a hunting party that found what we took to be a poor, naked madman wandering the woods. We brought him back to camp and offered him some of our fare. But he wanted nothing more than raw venison from the deer we had taken. He tore off hunks of the meat and gulped them down, followed by great draughts of water. We went to our blankets with the setting of the sun, and slept deep, though none of us had imbibed to excess. An unknown time passed, and we were roused by a great clamor of growling and snarling. The moons had just come into the sky, and by their light I beheld a horrible scene- the madman was thrashing about on the ground, as if he was having a fit. Then a red light began to glow around him and he started to- change."
Every eye was on the storyteller now, and I would have thought it an elaborate jest, except that I saw strong men grow pale, and more than one make signs to ward off evil. Meanwhile, the grizzled hunter went on:
"First, he began to sprout hair- or, to call it rightly- fur, all over his body. And then his muscles writhed and rippled, like there was something trying to get loose from under his skin. His fingernails started to grow and his hands turned into claws. And his face- well, it? stretched."
He drained his tankard and resumed the tale:
"At last, he reared up onto his hind legs, looking like nothing so much as a wolf trying to walk like a man. He threw back that awful head and howled, then stared at us with eyes that were wolf-yellow, but had the understanding of a man. He went for Sigmund first- ripped him open with a swipe from his claws. We all drew our weapons then, but couldn't seem to harm him- axes, hammers, swords- it made no difference; the wounds just closed right back up, and the bones knitted together as we watched. And in the meantime, he was biting and clawing at us- and our wounds didn't close. We were losing, though there were five of us, and only one of him. Finally, Anders, our leader, yelled, 'Silver! Use a silver blade if you have one!' I drew from my boot the dagger I had from my grandfather, and he from his. 'Twas this very dagger that I still carry."
He showed us a beautifully-crafted silver blade, the bone handle shaped like the head of a wolf, and with the look of long years on it.
"And I plunged it up to the hilt in the wolf-man's chest. Oh, then he set up a howling such as I never hope to hear again! And he raked at me with his claws, but I got my arm up and blocked him from getting at my vitals. Then he sort of- shrank. While we watched, he changed back to his former shape, looking like nothing but any other corpse. Sigmund was dead where he had fallen, and the rest of us not any too spry, but we cut off the wolf-man's head, and we burned the body. And we put a sprig of what the Imperials call 'monkshood' in Sigmund's mouth before we buried him. We Skaal have a different, older name for the plant."
The old man stared into the fire for long minutes, and I thought the story was done, but he added a final postscript:
"And though that was over 50 winters ago, I don't walk the forests in the dark of night, nor in the light of the moons. No man does on Solstheim, not if he is wise. I am the last one of that hunting party, and all I have left is the memory of that night. And this?." He pulled back his left sleeve to show four parallel scars, deep marks left in his flesh by the claws of a beast that walked like a man but had the shape of a wolf.
I know it's been said before...but this story is brilliant, absolutely brilliant! 
