Child (Book 2)

Chapter 17

~

I keep the sack containing the fragments firmly in my hand for the rest of our journey back to Whiterun. I thought Vilkas would insist on carrying them, but he didn't say a word. After a day and a half, we step through the gates once again. A dark quiet hangs over Whiterun, and rain pats softly on the cobblestone streets.
"Head up to the Skyforge when you're ready. The others have probably prepared Kodlak's funeral." He says quietly before jogging ahead of me. Finally, after two days with this unfeeling man, I'm alone. I thought I would cry again when I finally got time to myself, but I don't. Perhaps I am unfeeling now too.
I take only a step forward before a voice stops me.
"Ice-Veins! A message to you from Jarl Ulfric." I turn and see one of the new Stormcloak guards holding out a letter to me. I take it from him and he salutes me before marching briskly away.

Dearest Nova,

I write to you with an urgent message. Sofie has fallen ill in the past few days. When she's been awake, she's begged for me to bring you back to Windhelm. While I know you only just arrived in Whiterun, you have permission from both Galmar and myself  to return here to be with Sofie in her time of need. Do not worry about your duties there, I'll send another officer in to replace you. Currently, I do not worry for Sofie's life, but should she get worse I know you would want to be here with her.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak

I didn't worry about crying before, but I now notice the tears running down with small raindrops. I have to begin my journey as soon as Kodlak's funeral is over, not a moment after. I hurry straight up the hill to Jorrvaskr.
When I arrive, the entirety of Jorrvaskr stands in front of Skyforge, as well as the new Jarl and his steward, and Danica of all people. I pass her as I reach the top of the stairs, and she gently touches my hand.
"My condolences, dear. He was a good man." She says. I hug her, mostly just glad to see a friendly face after two long, cold days.
The forge has been decorated with tall red banners embroidered with gold thread in the image of Wuuthrad. These banners are centuries old and precious to us, I know. Usually we keep them hung inside or stored away in a safe place, but today is a special occasion. Candles in snowberry wreaths line the bottom, and in the forge itself stands a funeral pyre, and laying on top of it is Kodlak's body. As soon as I arrive and stand in my place with what remains of the Circle, and the funeral begins immediately.
The Circle has a special funeral chant, just like the initiating chant that I was shown upon my induction. Since I'm in the Circle and I'll have to participate, Vilkas quickly taught me the chant on the carriage ride back to Whiterun. Aela announces that she'll start it.
"Before the ancient flame," she calls.
"We grieve." Everyone responds. Now it's my turn.
"At this loss.." I choke.
"We weep." The crowd mumbles.
"For the fallen," Vilkas says next to me.
"We shout." The rest almost whisper.
"And for ourselves," Farkas finally says.
"We take our leave."
For a few moments, everyone stands in silence before Aela finally steps forward with her torch and places it into the lumber stack, letting the flames slowly creep up towards Kodlak's body. As she does, many begin to walk away. Njada holds Ria gently around her shoulders as they both cry. Eorlund has been standing away to the side, and he carefully walks toward me. I realize what a mess I must look like, my hair soaked and my eyes hollow.
"Did you get all of the fragments back?"
"Yes, I have them here." I tell him as I hand him the sack, it's neck wrinkled from my grip.
"Good, I'll mount them on the display in the mead hall. May I ask a favor?" He says tiredly.
"What is it?"
"There's another fragment, it'll be somewhere in Kodlak's room. I wouldn't feel right going through his things, but you were like a daughter to him. I don't think he would've minded so much if..." He trails off.
"I'll get it." I tell him as I'm already walking down the steps.

~

I start in Kodlak's end table, not yet willing to look through all the maps and papers on his desk. I open the drawer, and inside I see a small leather bound book as well as a piece of purple-black steel, sharpened to a point. Out of curiously, I take both.
The book is filled with Kodlak's scrawled writing, and it seems to be his journal. The first entry speaks of a strange dream beyond interpretation. He speaks of arriving in Sovngarde and watching all of the other Harbingers that came before him going into Hircine's hunting grounds. He writes that as the wolf spirits were about to drag him away, a young woman appeared next to him to help him fight it away. In the next entry, he consults the rest of the Circle about his dream. Skjor and and Aela were very much against it, as I expected. In the next, he speaks of our first meeting six months ago. He mentions something I didn't know of; After Skjor's death and my disappearance, Aela hunted the Silver Hand and practically wiped them out. The final entry is about sending me to hunt the witches, but in it he writes something that catches my eye.

Novariana shows valor, even in this more underhanded time. I have high hopes for her destiny, as I realized that her appearance in my dream may indeed mark her as the Harbinger to succeed me.
I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Novariana can carry the Companions' legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Novariana stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts.
I will not speak to her of any of this, though. It is too much to burden another with. My hope is that she and I can keep counsel over the coming years, that I can impart the wisdom of the Harbingers. All things in time. Firstly, I will seek her assistance in the matter of the witches of Glenmoril. It would appear that our path to the cure is not without some poetic justice for the tricksters who first cursed us.

I immediately slam the journal closed, the weight of his decision on my shoulders. What will the others think? We all expected no one but Vilkas to succeed Kodlak, with his extensive knowledge of Ysgrammor and the history of the Companions; taking the position from him would only serve to further divide us, and divide the Companions by extension. I have truly lost him now, and I have no training whatsoever into taking on this responsibility. Kodlak never would've wanted any of this. In his eyes, Vilkas would've had time, years even, to accept that he wouldn't become Harbinger. I shove the journal into my own belongings; I decide that, for now, no one can know.