Chapter 31 -- Restoration
*****
Vilkas and I left the next morning. The previous night had... It wasn't quite the worst night of my life, but it was close. Aela was beside herself with grief, and after she'd barely eaten dinner, I took her upstairs to the bedroom, where we cuddled together all night, barely able to share a word.
She was in no state to join Vilkas and I, Lydia already up and waiting as I headed downstairs, offering me breakfast, before letting me know she would look in on Aela, and convince her to at least stay at home that day. I thanked her for the help before heading out.
Vilkas was waiting for me at the stables, already mounted on his horse and rather impatient for me to mount mine. As soon as my arse hit the saddle, he urged his horse on. I caught up in a couple of minutes and simply fell in alongside him. I figured he knew where we were going. I was just going along to kill a lot of people.
Heading east first then north, the further we rode, the more I thought about where we were heading. Vilkas looked at me occasionally and finally offered some explanation. "You might have seen it after attacking Fort Fellhammer. The fort where we are heading is north of that."
"And what's your idea? Apart from retrieving the fragments?"
He cast me with a curious eye. "What do you want, Dragonborn?"
"Tear them all apart with my Thu'um."
"None of them will live after today. This isn't just vengeance. This will be a warning to any and all who dare think or believe they can usurp us." He paused before adding, "I wish you and Aela had approached the rest of us. I understand why you felt secrecy was necessary, but..."
"Trust me, Vilkas, this guilt will take a long time to go away."
"No, my words were harsh, Ragnar. The old man had you doing something that will not only help him, but would eventually help us all. I know my brother has concerns, and we spoke to the old man about it. And we both knew he wanted a cure." He looked my way again. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. The old man trusted you."
I did feel a sense of relief at his words, though the guilt would still remain for some time. He had been right in a way. I hadn't been there to help defend Jorrvaskr. Not only was I a Companion. I was Dragonborn. And I knew just my Thu'um could have turned the tide of battle.
Turning off the main road, we headed through the snowbound landscape towards the once abandoned fort known as Driftshade Refuge, passing by Fort Fellhammer on the way, noticing a couple of the bodies still lying in the snow, unclaimed and unburied since Aela and I had attacked it. The sun still shone though it was dipping by the time we dismounted and approached the target. I used my bow to take out the sentries, needing no more than one arrow for each of them.
At the entrance, we unsheathed swords. Vilkas looked at me. "For Kodlak, Ragnar."
"For Kodlak, Vilkas. None shall live beyond this day."
What happened over the next couple of hours was nothing short of blood-letting. Many of the Silver Hand did stand and fight, though they had no chance of victory, particularly when I unleashed my Thu'um. One or two tried to surrender, but we cut them down where they stood or kneeled. No mercy. No prisoners. They would all die.
The abandoned, crumbling fort was far larger than I imagined, most of it built underground. No room was empty, filled with Silver Hand ready to fight us. More than once Vilkas and I found ourselves outnumbered, but even when we'd taken wounds, we simply fought with renewed ferocity. If we died, so be it, but we would make sure to take most of the bastards with us before the end.
The Silver Hand were, in many ways, prepared for us. They had plenty of warriors, ready to fight and die for their cause. They had wild beasts and a number of traps waiting for the unwary. But in addition to that, they had also captured more werewolves. Vilkas knew none of them, and after releasing one, which attacked us immediately, we had to put the rest down. It was probably the most humane thing to do, rather than leaving them caged up to slowly starve to death.
After leaving a trail of dead bodies behind us, there was always the sense that you were approaching the end. We'd found evidence that one or two of those already dead had been commanders. It appeared the Silver Hand had pulled back to this fort entirely, so we were well and truly wiping them out. Walking up another stairway, Vilkas grabbed my shoulder.
"I think this is it, Ragnar. Through here is the end."
I sensed the same thing. "What do you think?"
"Kill them all, get the fragments, go home. Those are the only things that matter."
I opened the door and strolled in, counting one, two, three... six warriors, all of them armoured, ready and waiting for us. I felt Vilkas follow close behind, no doubt holding his great-sword high, ready to strike. Then I met the eyes of the warrior in middle. Tall. Broad. And anyone else would have found him intimidating. I knew him immediately, as much as he knew me.
"Arnbjorn," I growled.
"You know him?" Vilkas wondered.
"Aye. And what I don't understand is that he was a werewolf."
"No longer," Arnbjorn retorted, "I was found by the Vigilants of Stendarr, who sensed a strength inside me that wasn't the beast-blood. They helped cure me, and I have since spent many months cleansing Skyrim of your filth. But if you're wondering about all this?" He grinned, I guess trying to be menacing. "This was all about you, Ragnar. You took everything from me."
"You chose the blood over your own wife, you fucking idiot. Then you got cured?!"
"I had no choice! I was a dead man otherwise!" he roared, "If she hadn't met you, she would still be with me. And she wouldn't be buried under a few feet of dirt."
That took me aback. "You know?"
He nodded, still glaring. "I have my sources. Everything is your fault, Ragnar. Ever since you killed for that wife of yours. If you'd just stayed out of it, I would still have a wife..."
"Who you couldn't satisfy," I stated, unable to stop the smirk, "She needed me for that. You weren't enough of a man to fulfil all her needs. And trust me on this, Arnbjorn, I definitely made her happy during our time together." That did the job, as he wasted little time releasing a war cry and striding forward. I used my Thu'um, of course. I doubt he knew I was Dragonborn, but I sent five of the six of them flying. "Vilkas, the rest are yours. Arnbjorn is mine."
A couple of the warriors were already wounded from being blown into the walls, so Vilkas wouldn't have too much of a problem. I let Arnbjorn get to his feet, his eyes only for me, as much as mine were only for him. I would like to say it was a long battle, each of us gaining an upper hand at one moment, barely surviving the next, and it ended with an honourable death.
But it was nothing like that. He threw down his sword, and I knew what he wanted. "You carrying any other blade?" I wondered.
"I'm going to kill you with my bare hands, cunt."
I dropped my sword and shield, and undid my chest armour, dropping that to the ground, watching as he did the same. We were both covered in scars. Then we closed the gap between us. It all happened very quickly. Punches. Elbows. Knees. Kicks. There were no rules. The only thing that mattered was winning. I put my head into his nose, causing it to break and bleed, and that gave me the upper hand. A heel into his knee put him down, and a knee into his jaw put him on his back. He'd got a few hits in on me, but he never thought straight the entire fight, far too angry to make the right decisions.
Leaping on him, I left a couple of punches in his face before wrapping my hands around his neck. As he struggled for breath, I just leaned down close to his face. "Just remember she chose the better man," I whispered. It angered him, of course, and he almost kicked me off, but I put a knee into his groin, and that took most of the fight out of him.
I watched life drain from his eyes before his head lolled to the side. I kept my hands tight until I was absolutely sure. "He's dead, Ragnar," Vilkas said quietly.
"Just making sure he's dead," I said, slamming his head into the ground for good measure.
"He's dead," he repeated, feeling a hand on my shoulder, "Let him go. At least leave with a little honour intact." I released him, sitting back on my knees. It was only when I opened my eyes, looking at his body, did I remember that I'd kept my word to Astrid. It was her final request. Kill Arnbjorn. "Take it that was personal?"
Rising to my feet, I met his eyes. "I just remembered that I've kept a promise to someone I loved."
"She's dead?"
"Aye. It was her final request. Kill him," I said, gesturing to the body.
After I'd picked up my armour and weapons, Vilkas gathered up the fragments, we had a search for anything else, finding a few coin and jewels, and I found a diary that definitely belonged to Arnbjorn. I put that in my small pack, wanting to read his thoughts at a later date.
It was dark upon leaving the crumbling fort, but we agreed that we'd head straight back to Whiterun. Two warriors on horseback would draw attention, but no-one would be dumb enough to attack us. It was still dark by the time we rode into Whiterun, both of us still wide awake, no doubt running on the adrenaline of battle. Coming to a stop outside my home, Vilkas offered his hand.
"Thank you, Dragonborn."
"It was for Kodlak, Vilkas."
"Aye. I'll give the fragments to Eorlund in the morning. No doubt we'll have the funeral for Kodlak tonight or tomorrow at the latest."
"I'll come up to Jorrvaskr later, or Aela can at least fill me in when I wake up."
