Child (Book 2)

Chapter 17

"Kodlak.. Kodlak.." I whimper, begging for him to respond.
"He's gone." Vilkas says quietly.
"I can heal him. I can, just give me some time—"
"He's gone, Nova." He tells me abruptly. I lay in the floor at his feet, sobbing until my whole body aches. From there, I watch Njada slowly reach up and close Kodlak's gaping eyes. Vilkas is right; the silver eyes have lost their shine and life. He has a large wound in his side, and he lays in a pool of his blood. Suddenly, I feel myself being jerked to my feet roughly by the collar of my armor.
"Pull yourself together. We're leaving." He insists.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm going to wipe out the Silver Hand; and you, Dragonborn, are going to help me." He sneers.

~

I sit quietly on my side of the carriage, avoiding Vilkas's glare from the other side. He walked ahead of me all the way back to the stables. He hired a carriage driver to take us to Dawnstar, still not telling me exactly where we were going. Poor Fjori was probably exhausted, so I paid a stable hand to let her stay in one of the stalls for a few days.
Without something to focus on, I think of Kodlak again. I remember the image of Njada gently reaching forward and shutting his eyes, sealing them closed forever. I shudder as an animal-like sound erupts from me, and I collapse into tears again. Kodlak is the closest thing I've had to a father in years. I'm not sure how much more loss and heartbreak my sorry excuse for a heart can take. As I'm sobbing, Vilkas glares at me from the other side of the carriage. It seems that I won't be getting any sympathy from him; not anymore.
"Vilkas.. I didn't know. I'm sorry." I tell him quietly.
"I bet you are." He grunts, not interrupting his glare.
"How.. How did they.." I whimper.
"Came early in the morning, when the guards weren't paying attention and we were all still asleep. There must've been at least twenty of 'em. Kodlak didn't have any trouble with them, not until one came behind and stabbed him, right in the side like that. I don't remember much of what happened after that, but about three managed to get away with all of the fragments of Wuuthrad we've collected over the years. He stayed with us for a while, but he bled out too quickly to get the priestess." He tells me quietly. "He didn't want this, you know. He wasn't ready to go. He wanted to go to Sovngarde, he wanted to be cured."
"I know.. I know he did. He told me. He sent me to kill the Glenmoril Witches, he thought killing them could cure us." I explain. Vilkas sighs heavily and lays his face in his hands.
"And he was wrong, I presume." He growls. I reach out to him and gently touch his arm, but he quickly flinches away. "Do not touch me." He mumbles.

~

We arrived in Dawnstar early that morning: I've never been to Dawnstar before today, but the small town seems to be wrapped in snow and sea. This doesn't stop Vilkas though, he pulls out his map and starts southward, and I stumble after him.
"We're heading for an old fort called Driftshade Refuge. From the outside it's small, but it's much larger inside." He says as he pushes ahead. I can barely keep up. I've never had trouble keeping up with Vilkas before despite my unfortunately short legs, and I wonder if all this time he's been walking slower for my sake.
For hours the sighing of the wind surrounds us, as well as stinging bits of snow that fly into my face. I wonder where we'll sleep for tonight, if it's not night already. It's hard to tell through the thick gray clouds. I remember the sack of witch heads; I left it behind in Jorrvaskr. Silently, I hope that none of the heads belong to Beline's mother. Honestly, I don't even know what we're supposed to do with them now. Obviously, killing the witches didn't work, and I don't know what else we could do. I decide to burn them the next chance I get.

~

Blood spills past the man's lips, and I watch his pupils dilate to nothing through the eye holes in his iron helmet. I feel nothing for this man, the very man that ordered Kodlak's death. He's the leader of the Silver Hand, but he certainly doesn't fight like he is. As I let him slide off of my blade and into the floor, Vilkas kills the only other remaining Silver Hand in Driftshade Refuge. When we entered the room, the two of them were having a laugh over a few bottles of mead and debating what to do with all the pieces of Wuuthrad that lay on the table before them. Seconds later, they both lay dead. We stand silently for a moment in the quiet dungeon, the man's final cries echoing throughout. After the shock of what we've done leaves us, I sit at the table and count the shattered remains of Wuuthrad to make sure they're all there and accounted for. As I'm laying them all out, one piece of the blade cuts my fingertip, and it stings so badly that I wince and drop it.
"Careful." Vilkas hisses, hanging over my shoulder like a vulture over a corpse. "Wuuthrad is a powerful weapon, even now when it's not whole. Some say it has a mind of its own, so you must be respectful." He nags me.
As I'm looking at it, I notice something in the way it's been laid out. I slowly slide all of the pieces together so the edges meet, and see that we have all of the pieces of the blade. The only pieces missing -from the few pictures and diagrams I've seen- is the staff and the small, sharp pointed piece at the top. Vilkas sees what I see gasps quietly.
"Shor's blood... That's all of the fragments. Eorlund keeps the staff in the Underforge and Kodlak kept the only missing piece with him.. The Silver Hand must have had some of these fragments the entire time, keeping them from us." he says quietly.
"Then we'd better be thankful they didn't dispose of any of them." I tell him as I sweep all of the fragments into a sack.
"I suppose."