The boat ride back to Frozen Wharf didn’t take long, a fortuitous shift in the wind cut my nap woefully short. If we weren’t operating under a crunch to get the possibly infected men to the college, I’d have kept us in town overnight. As it stood, shifting drivers halfway would let us get to Winterhold just as the dawn shift of guards was rising. It was too much a risk to have a half dozen vampires turn all at once, so we only stopped long enough to explain the situation to Bellin and get Jorn home.
Jorn needed to rest, magic healing wasn’t perfect. I’d also given him the task of picking six more of the men from his town, volunteers only. He’d join us in Winterhold with his new contingent while Lodor and the surviving retainer, Harald, would keep on with us. The revelation that at least one vampire had been working with the necromancers was a startling one, and left too many troubling possibilities with the refugee ambush upcoming.
The trip back was cold, miserable, and tiring, but we made it in time for breakfast. The guard was changing as our caravan drew up to the gatehouse, Rolvar was picking crumbs out of his beard. His nose hadn’t quite healed right when I broke it, leaning ever so slightly to the right. He’d complained about that half-heartedly, until I offered to break it again the other way to see if that fixed it.
“Ranger! You’ve come back with friends!” He greeted us, giving Karliene a pat on the head.
“That I have, and more will be coming. Thegn Bellin’s son is assembling a small troop from the Wharf, Kalor of Seacrest is going to meet us with ten good men. What’s happened here?” It was the dawn of the fourth day after we left for Frozen Wharf, hopefully some of our other calls for reinforcements had been answered.
“A miracle, see those banners?” Rolvar pointed to the Jarl’s longhouse, and I wasn’t sure whether to be excited, or mortified. Blue and white bear heads were fluttering next to the usual three pointed crowns. The Stormcloaks had arrived.
“Jarl Ulfric?”
“No, he sent one of his bannermen, Kai Wet-Pommel, and a company sixty strong. Proper soldiers, all of them!” Rolvar sounded happier than I’d ever heard him. Not to let my misgivings show, I nodded.
“Strong arms and good steel won’t be wasted here. What about the Vigilants? Have any of them come to help?” The mages were honestly the more valuable reinforcements, sixty soldiers could have been drawn up from the locals. Maybe the Stormcloaks were better trained, but I’d seen firsthand that martial training didn’t mean shit against magic.
“None yet, but it’s a long ride. You should see the Jarl, he’s been talking about introducing you to the Stormcloak commander since they arrived.” Rolvar stepped away, much to Karliene’s dismay, and waved us into town.
“I’ll see him soon, we have some injured men that we need Jori to see to. I’ll be on my way to the Jarl as soon as they’re taken care of.” I nodded to Rolvar, and whistled for the dogs to start forwards again. The rising townspeople made way for us, not eager to be run over by a mess of sleds.
To say Faralda was angry was like saying Winterhold was a bit smaller than it used to be. The Altmer bristled as I approached, raised her voice when I explained what I needed, and was on the verge of flinging a spell when I told her I was going in regardless of what she thought.
“Johannes!” A familiar voice called from the bridge. Jori was trotting along, a somewhat confused look crossed his face when he saw Faralda’s hand smoldering.
“Jori, just the man I needed. Remember that research you were doing for our friend? I have some unfortunate victims that might need a bit of a solution to that problem that doesn’t involve burning alive.” I pointed to the long sleds the wounded had piled up on. Jori narrowed his eyes, cocked his head, then recognition flashed in his eyes.
“Oh… Oh! Of course, um… Faralda, unless we want a vampire outbreak on the doorstep of the college, it’d be best to let the wounded men inside.” Jori leaned close to quietly disclose the nature of the sickness they were suffering from. Faralda balked, started to form an angry rebuttal, but thought better of it as her eyes tracked the number of armored Nords she had already irritated. I looked over them my self, several men already had hands on pommels and grips, Riga had taken a careful step in front of the twins, both had their bows strung.
“For the good of the College, and the people of Winterhold, I will—” Her face contorted like someone had just branded her. “—make an exception.”
“That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say Faralda. All of you injured, come with me. Leave your weapons, all of them, or you’ll answer to me. Not even a dagger, understand?” I looked to the skeptical nords. Faralda was everything they hated about mages. An arrogant elf, wielding power they couldn’t understand or match by their arm, that would have left the poor and the unfortunate out to die to protect her snooty little club. One by one, they started piling up blades, clubs, axes, and everything else that could be perceived as a weapon.
“Good, come on now. The rest of you, head to the Jarl’s hall and get something to eat, find a bed, whatever you need. Riga, could you pass along that bag of things we wanted to give to Jori? I’ll be around soon.” I dismissed the rest. Riga looked jealous, she had asked a thousand questions about the college after my first visit. I promised her that I would ask Master Mirabelle if she could come along next time I saw her.
Jori led us across the bridge, through the courtyard, and into the great tower to the right, The Hall of Countenance if my memory served. We made it a few steps inside when an older man was nearly trampled by our troop.
“Oof! Jori, what’s the… Jori, who are these men, and why were they allowed on College grounds?” The man smoothed out his ruffled robes, a curious eye measuring us up.
“They’re the First Ranger’s men. They encountered a vampire, these men need to be examined to be sure they weren’t infected. First Ranger Johannes has been allowed to come and go as he pleases, and with the exceptional circumstance, Faralda allowed them in. I’m taking them to the apothecary.” Jori made a quick, nervous explanation.
“Vampirism you say? How interesting! I was quite the alchemist in my days as a student here, I tell you! Everyone used to come to me for focus potions before an examination. Oh, the septims I made…” The old man chuckled to himself, still blocking our way.
“And? Were you going somewhere with that?” I asked the elderly mage. That seemed to snap him out of his recollections.
“Oh! Right, my apologies. I meant to offer my help with a cure if any of your men should need it. Disease cures are a trivial thing, if you’d like the help. Where are my manners, I’m Tolfdir, instructor for Alteration here at the college.” The wizened old man put a hand out to me.
“Johannes, thank you sir, we’d appreciate that. Wouldn’t we?” I looked to the nords. They feigned enthusiasm.
“Oh, of course Master Mage!”
“We’d be in his debt, surely.”
“Well then, after our friend Jori here. To the apothecary!” Tolfdir let out an amused chuckle, like dealing with six possible vampires was just a fun diversion. I liked him. The area we were led to had beds, alchemy and medical implements on one side, and a wall full of stained glass windows on the other with a door in the middle.
“Now, why don’t we see our guests to a comfortable rest. Pick a bed, any bed, Jori or I will be around to see to you.” Tolfdir raised a hand, and lit two hanging braziers with arcane orbs. They released soft golden light, it was warm and felt natural. It reminded me of home, a scorching sun on endless plains of grass and the occasional cedar or pine forest.
Four of the men immediately recoiled, trying to shield their eyes. Clever old man, that was certainly a way to get a diagnosis. Tolfdir chuckled again, waved his hand to replace the little suns, and soft moonlight bathed the room in a blue white. Jori had taken up six small vials, and a small blade. The scholar wasn’t very smart, at least in practical terms. I had to jump between him and the first man he approached.
“Easy Jori, why don’t you explain what we’re going to do before you come up to a man, a man who just fought for his life, with a knife.” I took the knife from him. The Seacrest man settled a touch, but still eyed the mage with suspicion.
“Right, sorry for that. I need a small, a very small, amount of blood from each of you. Just enough to fill these little vials. I have a potion that is made to counter vampires, you might have seen the Ranger use it. If it attacks your blood, you’re infected. We’ll have a potion brewed up to cure it before lunch.” Jori spoke to the room. Tolfdir was already plucking ingredients from the cabinets above an alchemy kit.
I went around to the men one by one, making small cuts for Jori to collect the blood. One perked up almost immediately when we bled the first, his nose twitching. It was a good thing we’d come back straight away, I didn’t much like the evidence of how fast the disease could take root. Once we had our samples, Jori took out his bottle of golden light, and tested each in turn.
“You, Grimvald wasn’t it? You said the vampire barely scratched you.” I asked as his blood sample burned. He hadn’t even needed any help from Riga or I, it looked like a cat scratch.
“That’s right, hardly touched me. Didn’t seem like I should speak up when you asked about injuries, but I thought it best.” The man confirmed. Every single one of the samples burned. Jori, Tolfdir and I shared a concerned look. The elder wizard beckoned us to his work over the cauldron.
“Now, I’m no expert on vampires, but I thought that it was actually a fairly difficult disease to contract. Most of what I’ve read in my years say a proper bite, or ingesting their blood is required. Isn’t that the conventional wisdom Jori?” Tolfdir deferred to the Vigilant.
“Yes, it is. All the books I’ve read suggest the infection rate from claws and some forms of vampiric magic is one in ten, even less for minor exposure. Only one of these men was bitten, Grimvald’s scratch hardly broke the skin. Johannes, how powerful was this vampire?” Jori seemed extremely concerned.
“He was what you’d call a Blooded. No new creature, but not a master, probably not strong enough to start his own coven. There’s dozens of different sorts of vampires though… a book, I can’t remember the name…” Something buzzed in my head furiously, there was a book about all the known vampires, surely they’d have it here in the library.
“Immortal Blood! It was written sometime before the Oblivion crisis, there’s a man, a man named—” I stopped my self as the memory finally unlocked. The man in that book was real. It was written like fiction, but the book was a true account, and the victim was here in Skyrim, turned predator.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“A man named?” They both noticed the abrupt halt. I turned to my bag, and the bag of tomes Riga had handed over. I pulled the bloody sack out of my ruck, and handed it to Jori. He opened it and gagged. Tolfdir took a look, let out a hrumph and took the bag from the younger mage. I searched through the tomes, looking for something that might be a journal. Tucked against the side, there were two thinner books, bound in simple brown leather, and lacking a proper, printed title.
Opening them, I saw that they weren’t written in any alphabet I could read. I handed one to Jori, and one to Tolfdir. “Can either of you read these?”
“Oh, Bretic! It’s not a dialect I’ve seen, but I do know enough of the language to be dangerous! Jori, be a good student and watch the potion, would you?” Tolfdir sat in a chair, flipping through the pages of the journal. Jori handed the other journal back, shaking his head.
“Master Tolfdir, could you look for the name Movarth? In signatures, maybe a self aggrandizing passage about ruling the world, you know, psychotic vampire things.” I thought back to the attempted monologue. That drew a full laugh out of the old man.
“Just Tolfdir is fine, Ranger Johannes. I’ll see about it, but it may be written differently than it would have been in Common.” Tolfdir went about his search, humming a tune. I told the injured men to get some rest, and that we’d have the potion brewed up soon.
“Jori, have you gotten a response from Adalvald?” I took a seat next to him.
“Two days ago, a courier left me a letter at the tavern. Adalvald said that he’d been able to gather three others, good men and women. With some luck, he’d meet two that are supposed to be around Windhelm. Keeper Carcette may send more behind him, but four vigilants is already a huge commitment. Last I was told, we were celebrating a hundred and fifty across all of Skyrim. I’ve been the lone Vigilant assigned to Winterhold for five years now.” Jori kept his voice quiet.
“Seven Vigilants would be a boon well and above anything I expected as it is.” It was great news, especially if the extra two could be found.
“But that only makes six…” Jori seemed confused.
“Uh, you, that’s seven.” I tapped on his head with my knuckles. Jori swatted my hand away.
“Right.” Jori looked slightly embarrassed, and nervous.
“What?”
“Nothing, I just haven’t been on the roads for a long time. The Vigilants have always needed me digging up information in the Arcaneum, or working on potions, or finding forgotten magic. I haven’t actually fought since I came to the college.” Jori was focused on the bubbling cauldron.
“So? I’ll spar with you, I’m sure that a few other mages around here could run you through a refresher course too. You’ve got to have a copy of Magic Fighting For Dummies around here somewhere.” I tried to encourage him. It wasn’t the best news.
“Magic Fighting For… Oh.” Jori realized it was a joke. “I’ve trained in my magic, to be sure that it works and to figure out how difficult it is. A mage that doesn’t do magic is just a scholar with an obnoxious title. I meant that I haven’t actually been in a real life or death fight. I came to the college for a reason.” Jori looked away again, but there was something vacant in his eyes.
“I know that look, I’ve held that look before. You can’t stop fighting, the world won’t let you. If you want to imprison yourself in this place, you’re giving up the rest of your life. You’re coming with me to fight, even if I have to drag you behind the damn sled. Doesn’t do any good to have the best read Vigilant cooped up in a stone box when there are literally dozens of threats coming out of the woodwork. You said it yourself, there aren’t enough Vigilants to deal with all of it. We can’t have you sitting around.” I took a harder line, one where there wasn’t much space for him to wriggle around the point.
“I know that! You’d think there’d be a lot more Vigilants with all those threats, wouldn’t you? People joining the cause because something terrible attacked their farm or village? They do, thirty new initiates joined the same year that I did. Ten of us are still alive Johannes. Ten.” Jori snapped, his usually reserved, cautious demeanor thrown by the wayside. There was a real fire in him if it was stoked right. Maybe it was immoral, goading him into what I wanted, but if he liked calling himself a Vigilant he had to actually get out there to look around.
“Settle, settle. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take away from the things you’ve seen, fought, and survived. Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way. I’m not trying to pin it on someone else, but nine of us died to take down that vampire on the coast. We were completely out of our depth going into that barrow, dealing with the traps, the draugr. You being there probably wouldn’t have saved some of them, but if we’d stopped that vampire before he had a chance to run for the surface, five good men and a young girl would still be alive to fight the next battle.” Anger was a response I could work with. Jori was afraid, or maybe guilty, but that meant he knew that he should be out there, he should be fighting. The mage slammed his hand down on the table, any pretense of quiet argument gone.
“Not trying to pin it on someone else? It sure sounds like you’re blaming those deaths on me! That if I’d been around to use my magic and fix everything with a wave of my hand, the vampire would have died before it could hurt anyone. That’s what you’re saying Johannes, and that is putting the blame on me!” Jori howled. That was the expected result, but something clicked in my head at his words. It was something that forced me to deal with all the gristly truths I’d been trying to ignore, and all the worries I slept away. I couldn’t help but be mad right back.
“No it is not! It’s my damn fault Jori, It’s mine! I took thirty some odd people on a half baked mission to take out a necromancer, and maybe capture one of the Mer Kin. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time, most decisions I make are a hunch on some fragmented memory I barely understand. I’m fucking broken, I know some things, I don’t know others, and I don’t know why! I’ve got a barely competent Jarl pinning all the hopes for his hold on my back. I’ve got these horrid visions of things that are going to happen if I fuck it up, and nobody, not a single fucking one of you in this entire god damned place was doing a fucking thing about it before I came along. Do you realize how stupid that is? A college full of the most talented mages for a thousand miles in any direction, NOBODY DOING A FUCKING THING! A Jarl with most of the power of a king, hundreds of men across the place he could call up for service and a whole armory to equip them with! DRINKING IT ALL AWAY! LIKE IT WILL JUST BLOW OVER! The two men who claim to be rightful rulers of Skyrim, giving a single shit about a major hold before it reaches a boiling point? IMPOSSIBLE! There are at least six different fucking groups that could have gotten their shit together and solved this before now, before it became a crisis threatening thousands, THOUSANDS, of people. And at the end of the day who’s the one spearheading the effort? A random fuckin’ nobody with brain damage.” Jori didn’t deserve the tirade, it wasn’t anger at him.
The situation I found my self in, being responsible for a whole lot of people, the focal point of unfucking all of Winterhold, was the one I’d been worried about when the Jarl offered me the job. I’d told my self that it’d just be a few bandits, a bad mage here and there, then it’d be smooth sailing after the right people got hung. Discovering that it was actually a conspiracy of well educated rogue mages employing a coordinated network of brigands as their proxies? That had not been part of the plan. Two village chiefs were dead, dozens of civilians, and a growing number of soldiers. To top it all off, even if I was successful in wiping out those rogue mages it’d probably kick off a race war when the local nords found out it was all elves that had done it. What was a little bit of genocide against people that had absolutely nothing to do with what they were blamed for?
Some of it could be my fault, some it sure as shit wasn’t. Fenrik and that young girl would still be alive if I’d had a better plan than launching a frontal assault against a fortified position. Hrolfin would be alive if I’d been more aggressive in my first patrols and wiped out those bandits before they left for their raid. Of course, they’d also probably still be alive if that fucking fool Korir knew the first thing about stomping away raiders and insurgents. Jorman and twenty guards probably could have carved a devastating chunk out of the bandits months ago if he’d been allowed. I was torn away from my thoughts when Jori finally said something. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d been shocked quiet by the outburst.
“Nothing that you said is wrong. Plenty of people are to blame for this mess before you are Johannes. You’re doing what I should have done the second Milek stole those tomes, what the college should have done to clean up our own mess. Jarl Korir should have been concerned with it long before you turned up. And for your point about me going to help you, you’re right. More than likely, I could have waved my hand and fixed things. Everything you fought in that tomb was undead, wasn’t it? I’ve spent the past five years learning the best ways to destroy them.” Jori’s anger had settled, he was a more reasonable man than I was. I still had the urge to keep screeching about it all. Thankfully I was a touch too old, and a touch too self conscious of the other mage in the room.
Tolfdir had closed the journal, and was listening intently. The men in the beds were pretending to still be asleep, but I knew they’d heard it all too. I’d been very carefully trying not to let on too much about what I really thought about the whole mess. Avoiding topics, picking answers, trying to keep it straight between what I knew, and what other people knew that I knew. Now I’d messed that up pretty much completely, with a strange mage to boot. The only way it could be worse was if… There she was, right on cue to cement the tremendous error I’d made.
“Master Mirabelle! I’d hoped you would come our way. First Ranger Johannes has brought us a most fascinating exercise.” Tolfdir acted as if I hadn’t just thrown a shrieking fit like a toddler, gracefully taking control of the conversation before Mirabelle could get a word in.
“So I’ve heard. Faralda said it was six possible vampires. Do we know how many are afflicted?” Mirabelle was calm in conversation, but awkward in body language. She hadn’t looked at me but for a moment when she came in, and seemed to be making a point of it not to look at me again.
“All six of them Master. We have a potion brewing, enough to cure all of them, and leave some left over. Ranger Johannes killed the beast that infected them, but I think it would be best to have some extra stock on hand.” Jori pointed to the cauldron.
“A good plan, set the remainder into doses fit for curing the early stages of vampirism. Johannes, those are yours, I expect you’ll need them. Jori, consider this a special assignment you can do to make up for the alchemy ingredients you’ve used up around here. I want two hundred doses ready before you leave, you can use the bulk brewing cauldron in the Hall of Elements.” Mirabelle didn’t falter, not one single bit, but she’d given up her hand. She’d heard not just the yelling, but probably our whole conversation before it. Jori wasn’t so quick in conversation, he’d probably realize it in a few hours, or when he laid down to sleep.
“Of course Master Mirabelle.” Jori went to jot down the order on a piece of paper, Tolfdir raised an eye brow at me. He may have been old, but that just meant he’d had a very long time to hone his mind. Mirabelle caught that and decided that looking at me was inevitable.
“Thank you Master Mirabelle, I appreciate the help. I’ll take anything I can get.” Jori knocked something over on the table, he must have realized her slip up with that prompt. Mirabelle nodded.
“The Arcaneum is open to you, if it would help your endeavor. I have a short list of books that might help with vampires, if Jori hasn’t read them already.” Tolfdir and I both grinned at that.
“Once I have the time, I’ll certainly take you up on it. I do have a favor to ask, if I could.” That caught Mirabelle’s attention. She was probably thinking it was about sending someone along to help me.
“Yes? Go ahead.”
“The girl, Riga, she’s learned some magic, and she has a thousand questions for me anytime the College is brought up. I hoped that you might let her on the grounds, to see the school. Once this business is done, I think she’d make an excellent student.” There was no point pretending like Mirabelle hadn’t heard the full extent of what we were up to.
“I don’t see any harm in it. Tell her to be at the gate, just after dawn tomorrow. Unless you have business with her, she could spend some time as a student before you go out again.” Mirabelle actually smiled. She probably saw a bit of herself in Riga. They both had iron spines and the wit to rival it, if their magic was anything to go on.
“She’ll be there.”
“I look forwards to it. I’ll leave you to your work. Tolfdir, your first class is starting on the hour.” Mirabelle looked to a clock I hadn’t noticed. It was the first one I’d seen.
“Ah! Of course. I was on my way to prepare the lesson when I ran into Jori. I’ll be on it Master Wizard. Ranger Johannes, a pleasure to meet you, and best of luck. I’ll stop by to check on your men here after the noon break. Good day.” Tolfdir smiled, shook my hand again, and followed Mirabelle out the door. That just left Jori and I.
“Sorry for the yelling. The rest of that bag is for you, but I also have to go. The Jarl will have heard that I’m back by now, and he won’t be happy if I keep him waiting.” I made a curt nod to the mage.
“You said what you needed to say. I’ll be ready to leave when it’s time. Go on, I’ll keep my eye on these men here.” Jori patted the small knife I’d used to take the blood, it had a gold sheen on the blade now. It was an unfortunate precaution, but an understandable one.
“I’ll be back tonight to check on them. Thanks for this Jori.”
“It’s the job of the Vigilants, and the right thing to do. Doesn’t hurt to keep the Jarl’s Ranger on side either.” He grinned. At least he hadn’t taken anything personally. I waved and made my way out. Now it was time for the second uncomfortable conversation of the day.